Under Attack

by Edward Marston

  ‘Certainly not,’ snapped the other, eyes blazing. ‘He won’t be allowed anywhere near the club.’

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  When they reached the end of their shift, they were in high spirits because each of them had something to look forward to that evening. Iris Goodliffe had her night out with Douglas Beckett and Alice Marmion would at last get to spend some time with Joe Keedy. Their excitement was soon terminated. The moment they reappeared, they were pounced on by Inspector Gale who took them straight to her office. Neither of them could understand why they were in trouble.

  ‘Mrs Hellier called here earlier,’ said the inspector. ‘She came to lodge a complaint against you.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Iris. ‘We don’t even know who she is.’

  ‘She owns a dog and claims that you almost killed it.’

  ‘That’s not true at all, Inspector. We tried to save the animal. Alice was brave enough to climb the tree and might have been injured as a result.’

  ‘It’s Iris who deserves the real credit,’ said Alice. ‘When the dog fell, she was able to catch it in her jacket. It was completely unharmed.’

  Thelma Gale scowled. ‘That’s not what Mrs Hellier says.’

  ‘There were witnesses. We’ve taken some of their names.’

  ‘I’m pleased to hear that you did something sensible.’

  ‘What were we supposed to do?’ asked Iris. ‘Leave it up the tree?’

  ‘Don’t you dare take that tone with me,’ said the inspector, administering a verbal slap in the face. ‘Now, then, I’ve had one version of events. Let me hear yours in turn.’ She looked at Alice. ‘You go first.’

  Alice gave a straightforward account of what had happened but failed to remove the frown from the older woman’s face. Iris’s report was altogether more dramatic and portrayed Alice as the heroine of the hour. Having delivered their versions, the least they expected was an apology but it was not forthcoming.

  ‘When each of you joined the Women’s Police Service,’ said the inspector, officiously, ‘I impressed upon you the need to present the right image to the public. They are not used to seeing women in such a role and many of them still object to us. We must not give them an excuse for criticism. That’s what happened in this instance. Both of you were at fault.’

  ‘Someone had to rescue the dog,’ argued Alice.

  ‘I agree but it was not your job. You should have summoned a policeman. Did it never occur to you that, in climbing up that tree, you made it possible for someone to look up your skirt? Certain men would take advantage of that.’

  ‘It never crossed my mind, Inspector. Besides,’ she went on, touching her ankle-length skirt, ‘this covered everything decently. My one thought was to rescue the dog before it fell.’

  ‘But you didn’t rescue it, did you? According to the owner, you actually precipitated the fall.’

  ‘That’s so unfair!’ protested Iris.

  ‘Be quiet!’

  ‘Mrs Hellier was begging us to save him. In the end, we did.’

  ‘Yes,’ said the other, voice rising in volume, ‘but you took off your jacket in the process. One of my officers is letting men look up her skirt while the other is removing another part of her uniform. Have you looked inside that jacket?’ she demanded. ‘It’s probably covered in dog hairs. You’re charged with safeguarding that uniform.’

  ‘I wish we hadn’t bothered,’ muttered Iris.

  ‘Inspector Gale makes a valid point,’ said Alice, stepping in to appease her superior. ‘Instead of weighing up the situation, we acted on instinct. It seemed like the right thing to do at the time but, on reflection, perhaps it wasn’t.’

  Thelma Gale sniffed. ‘I’m glad that, in hindsight, one of you realises that.’

  About to speak, Iris felt Alice’s hand squeeze her arm. It was a signal for her to remain silent. All they could do was to stand there while the inspector upbraided them. Feeling that they deserved praise rather than censure, they both fumed at the injustice of it all. When the reprimand was over, they were sent out with their ears stinging. Iris was livid.

  ‘I wish I’d let that hateful little dog hit the ground,’ she said, vengefully.

  ‘Don’t listen to Gale Force. We did what was right, Iris.’

  ‘And look what we got in return.’

  ‘Forget about the inspector and forget about that dreadful Mrs Hellier. Yes,’ said Alice, ‘it was very unpleasant being yelled at like that but we came through it and we still have a treat to come this evening. You’re going to the cinema with Constable Beckett and I’ll be seeing Joe.’

  Iris brightened. ‘I was forgetting that,’ she said. ‘Wait until I tell Douglas what happened – he’s bound to take our side.’

  ‘In your position, I wouldn’t even mention it. He’s taking you out because he likes you. Enjoy the evening. Don’t start off by moaning about what happened on our shift. I’m certainly not going to tell Joe about it,’ said Alice. ‘We have much more important things to discuss than a dog up a tree.’

  On their drive back to Scotland Yard, Marmion and Keedy were able to pool information and speculate on what the latest development meant for the investigation. Marmion was interested to find out more about Jonathan Ulverton and the source of his wealth.

  ‘He’s a very different person from Sprake,’ he said. ‘They wouldn’t get on at all. Ulverton is far too ostentatious.’

  ‘They do have something in common.’

  ‘I didn’t spot it, Joe.’

  ‘They both love books. Ulverton is devoted to Charles Dickens while Sprake prefers Robert Louis Stevenson. It’s a choice between Mr Pickwick and Long John Silver. Which one would you pick?’

  ‘I think Allan Quatermain is better than both of them, to be honest. My vote goes to King Solomon’s Mines. It’s a great yarn.’

  ‘Ulverton puzzled me,’ said Keedy.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘He was too helpful. I found him a bit overwhelming. Why did he have to keep boasting to us about the Club Apollo?’

  ‘It’s very dear to his heart – and, of course, it meant a great deal to Donohoe as well. It was only a matter of time before we found out about the place because someone in Donohoe’s family would have told us. I think that Ulverton wanted to make sure that we only saw what he wanted us to see.’

  ‘Do you think he’s hiding something?’

  ‘I always think that about people with money.’

  Keedy laughed. ‘So do I.’

  ‘How did you get on with the steward?’

  ‘Oh, we had a pleasant chat but he was too clever to give anything away. Rockwell was Donohoe’s choice for the job. He’s fiercely loyal to the club. I did get something useful out of him, though.’

  ‘What was it?’

  ‘Some people find it hard to take rejection, it seems,’ said Keedy. ‘When they’re refused membership, they turn nasty. One of them was so upset, apparently, that he came back at night and smashed a few windows.’

  ‘Did they have him arrested?’

  ‘Rockwell said they had no proof and Donohoe told him to forget the whole incident. But it shows you how far someone will go if his pride has been hurt.’

  Marmion turned to him. ‘Are you thinking what I am?’

  ‘Donohoe was chairman of the committee that discussed any membership applications. He had the final say in every case. Anyone who was turned down would know that he was the man to blame. Is that what happened?’ suggested Keedy. ‘Did someone feel so upset that he took his revenge on Donohoe?’ He waited for a reply that never came. ‘You didn’t answer my question.’

  ‘I was thinking about a related question,’ said Marmion. ‘What is so special about the Club Apollo that it makes wealthy men so eager to join?’

  It was Burge’s turn to buy a pint for someone else this time. Shortly after he got to the Mermaid Tavern that evening, he saw Everitt White walk in. He immediately ordered a beer for him. Still in uniform, White raised his tankard in acknowledgmen
t.

  ‘How did the interview go?’

  ‘Got the job and started work this morning.’

  ‘Well done, Cliff!’ He lifted the tankard again.

  ‘Can see why the commissioner wants the gangs off the streets – bleeding dangerous out there.’

  ‘Nobody would be stupid enough to tackle you.’

  ‘Yet the little devils did.’

  Burge told him about the loss of his hat, producing a barrage of jeers and a firm pat on his back. White was amused at first but he became more serious when he heard what had happened to the hat. He was amazed that Burge had been so passive.

  ‘I’d have gone in there and demanded it back,’ he said. ‘If the shopkeeper had refused, I’d have arrested him on the spot.’

  ‘I couldn’t do that, Ev. I’d give the game away.’

  ‘If your hat was on sale, he was receiving stolen goods.’

  ‘Most of the items in there could be described that way. I know how the system works. Old man’s the local Fagin. Kids steal items of value for a small fee then he sells them for a profit.’

  ‘Are you certain?’

  ‘Saw it with my own eyes.’

  Burge went on to describe the way that a boy had arrived with a pair of shoes and sold them to the shopkeeper. White’s interest increased at once.

  ‘What sort of shoes?’

  ‘Good ones, by the look of it – black and well polished.’

  ‘And what size were they?’

  ‘Too far away to see.’

  ‘Were they small, medium, large?’

  ‘Large, I’d say.’

  White quaffed most of his beer at speed, then asked for directions to the junk shop. He told Burge to stay at the tavern until he returned.

  ‘Where you going, Ev?’

  ‘I’m going to get your hat back.’

  ‘Shop’ll be closed.’

  ‘Then it’ll have to be reopened for me, won’t it?’

  Guzzling down the remains of his drink, he put the tankard back on the counter and headed purposefully for the door.

  Having got there before the designated time, Iris Goodliffe had been standing on the corner for almost fifteen minutes before doubts started to set in. What if Beckett didn’t turn up? What if he’d had second thoughts about the arrangement and changed his mind? What if – and this was her greatest fear – he’d only invited her out in order to win a bet with some of the other policemen? Iris was hurt. She’d gone to such trouble to improve her appearance and her efforts had been wasted. Instead of coming to take her out, Beckett was probably in the pub with his friends, laughing at her expense. After another ten minutes, she gave up and moved swiftly away.

  ‘Hey!’ yelled Beckett. ‘Don’t go, Iris.’

  She turned and saw him hurrying towards her. ‘You came, after all.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking about it all day. Nothing would’ve stopped me.’

  ‘That’s so kind of you, Douglas.’

  ‘Everybody calls me Doug.’

  ‘Then I’ll do the same.’

  Iris looked at him properly. Never having seen him out of uniform before, she was impressed by the sight of him in a suit and hat. He’d gone to some lengths to look smart. Admittedly, Beckett was several years older than her but their respective ages were irrelevant. She had an admirer. That was enough.

  ‘Which film do you want to see, Iris?’ he asked, politely.

  ‘You choose, Doug. Whatever it is, I’ll enjoy it.’

  After trying the door and finding it locked, White banged on it hard with his fist. Above his head, a sash window creaked as it was opened. The old man’s head popped out. His voice was an uncouth rasp.

  ‘We’re closed.’

  ‘Good,’ said White. ‘It means we won’t be interrupted.’

  ‘What d’you want?’

  ‘Let me in and I’ll tell you. Keep me waiting and I’ll get angry.’

  ‘I’ve done nothing wrong, have I?’

  ‘That depends – now open up.’

  The shopkeeper vanished and the sash window was closed. White, meanwhile, stared through the glass. The mangle stood where he’d been told it did and Burge’s hat was still on top of it. After a while, the old man came into the shop and unlocked the door. White barged his way in.

  ‘I don’t have any trouble with the police,’ said the shopkeeper.

  ‘I’m glad to hear it.’

  ‘We keep to the letter of the law.’

  ‘I doubt that very much.’ White looked around. ‘I want some black shoes.’

  ‘I can’t sell you anything out of hours.’

  ‘I’m not buying them. I’m repossessing them.’

  The old man was wary. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Fetch me the shoes that came in earlier today.’ He snapped his fingers. ‘Don’t waste my time. You bought a pair of shoes from a boy. Where are they?’

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘Then let’s have this discussion when I put you under arrest, shall we?’

  ‘No, no,’ cried the old man, ‘there’s no need for that. The police know me around here. We have … an arrangement. That’s why they never bother me.’

  ‘Ah, so you have a deal with the bobbies on the beat, do you?’ said White with a knowing chuckle. ‘Is that how it works? They look the other way. I’ve got bad news for you, sir. I don’t take bribes.’

  ‘I’ve done nothing wrong.’

  ‘You’re starting to make me angry. Where are those damn shoes?’

  Scuttling behind the counter, the shopkeeper reached down and brought up the shoes he’d bought earlier. White snatched them from him and inspected them. They were of the highest quality.

  ‘You were about to sell stolen goods,’ he said, menacingly. ‘My guess is that that’s how you make your living. You buy cheap from young thieves, then sell dear. Who brought you these?’

  ‘I don’t know his name.’

  ‘Ah, so you admit a boy did bring them here.’

  ‘He found them down by the river. That’s his patch.’

  ‘Does he belong to the Warriors or the Spirits?’

  ‘I can’t tell you that,’ said the old man in alarm. ‘They’d kill me.’

  Grabbing him by the arm, White put his face inches away from him.

  ‘Would you like to hear what I’d do?’ he said with a malevolent smile.

  Marmion was in his office when the superintendent suddenly walked in with a grim expression on his face. Chatfield had just endured hostile questions from the press and it had been more harrowing than he’d expected. Without invitation, he sat in a chair.

  ‘How did you get on, sir?’ asked Marmion.

  ‘They treated me as if I was the killer instead of being the person hunting him. Reporters have no respect for reputation. I had to be very severe with them and put them in their places.’

  ‘I’m sure you did it very effectively.’

  ‘Where’s Sergeant Keedy?’

  ‘I’ve sent him back to the Devonian Hotel to see what he can find out when the manager is not on duty. There’s also the possibility – a faint one, maybe – that Adrian Donohoe is still there.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Chatfield, ‘that was something I noticed in your report. What sort of man would open a London club then forbid his son to join? It’s inexplicable. And why did Mr Ulverton show such animosity towards Adrian Donohoe?’

  ‘That’s one of many conundrums, sir.’

  ‘It’s high time we started solving some of them.’

  ‘We’re doing our best, Superintendent.’

  ‘Try standing up in front of the press and saying that. I felt as if I was facing a firing squad today. They’re supposed to help us not to shoot us.’

  It was not often that Chatfield admitted being under pressure. Dealing with the press was something he flattered himself he could do better than anyone. His skills had failed him this time. He looked weary and out of sorts.

  ‘Perhaps
an early night might be in order,’ said Marmion, helpfully.

  His visitor jumped up like a startled hare. ‘I’m not deserting my post because of a spat with the press. That would be a dereliction of duty.’

  ‘You’ve been here for well over twelve hours, Superintendent.’

  ‘I’ll stay here around the clock, if necessary. My stamina is legendary, as you well know. It has to be in this job.’

  He went on to talk about occasions when he’d worked all night on difficult cases and, as a result, earned the success he deserved. All that Marmion could do was to nod in agreement and hope that his visitor’s fatigue would eventually get the better of him. As it was, they were interrupted by a knock on the door.

  ‘Come in,’ called Marmion.

  ‘This came for you, Inspector,’ said the policeman who entered the room.

  Putting down a parcel and an envelope, he went out again.

  ‘Whatever have you got there?’ asked Chatfield.

  ‘I’ll be intrigued to find out, sir,’ said Marmion, opening the envelope and taking out a letter. ‘It’s from Inspector White of the River Police,’ he went on, reading the message. ‘He’s the man who found Donohoe’s body for us. He thinks he may have found something else as well.’

  ‘Oh? What is it?’

  Using a pair of scissors to cut the string on the brown-paper parcel, Marmion took out a pair of black shoes. He held them up for examination.

  ‘White believes these may have come from the murder victim, sir.’

  Clifford Burge was so pleased to get his hat back without having to pay for it that he bought White another pint of beer. Leslie Burge was also at the Mermaid now so all three of them celebrated what was a minor triumph. White had frightened the truth out of the shopkeeper and learnt that the boy who’d brought in the shoes belonged to the Evil Spirits. The ones who specialised in keeping the shop well stocked with hats were members of the Stepney Warriors. By dint of putting the fear of death into the shopkeeper, White had even got some names to pass on to his friend.