A Bespoke Murder (19 page)

‘I know, Alice.’

‘You don’t go into the police force unless you like some sort of physical action and the best place to get that is in a war.’

‘Your father thinks very highly of Joe. He says that he’s going to be an outstanding detective.’

‘He’s got a good teacher in Daddy.’

‘The very best,’ said Ellen with a proud smile.

She put milk into two cups then used the strainer as she poured tea into them. Ellen added sugar before stirring. They took their tea back into the living room and sat down.

‘You have to feel sorry for Joe, I suppose,’ said Ellen.

‘Why?’

‘Well, I didn’t know this until your father mentioned it. I thought
that what stopped Joe from joining the army was a desire to stay at Scotland Yard.’

‘I thought that as well.’

‘There was another reason, Alice. It seems that he’s been seeing a young lady for some time – a nurse at St Thomas’ Hospital.’

‘Oh.’ Alice was shocked. ‘I didn’t know that.’

‘Joe didn’t want to go abroad for months on end,’ said Ellen. ‘The irony is that his plan has backfired.’

‘I don’t follow.’

‘She’s
the one who volunteered to go to the front. While Joe is left here, his young lady is on her way to work in a field hospital. That was why he was able to come to tea on Sunday, you see. Since she’s no longer here, Joe was at a loose end.’

The news was like a punch in the stomach for Alice. She had fond memories of her time alone with Keedy and felt that he’d enjoyed her company as well. Now, it appeared, she was merely a distraction for him while his beloved was abroad. The faint hope she’d started to nurture was snuffed out like a candle. It was a painful moment.

Since she was at home all day for the rest of the week, Irene tried to make herself useful, helping to clean the house and offering to do some shopping. When she asked Miss James if there was anything she could get for her while she was out, the old lady surprised Irene by joining her on the outing. They left the house together and walked arm in arm. Miss James carried her white stick and used it to tap the pavement in front of her. Irene soon got used to the sound it made. She also grew accustomed to the regular greetings that Miss James attracted from passers-by. The old lady was clearly an established figure in the area. She recognised all the voices and was able to put names to faces. There
was something oddly comforting about it. Irene wondered how long it would take her to acquire the same sort of popularity in the community. She tried to memorise the names of the various people who spoke to Miss James.

It was a long walk to the shops but the old lady made no complaint about that. She was much more robust than she looked and kept up a steady pace. It was when they turned into the main road that Miss James stopped.

‘Is he still there, Mrs Bayard?’ she asked.

‘Who do you mean?’

‘Someone has been following us since we left the house.’

Irene looked over her shoulder. ‘I don’t see anyone.’

‘Oh, he’s there somewhere.’

‘How do you know that, Miss James?’

‘There’s nothing wrong with my ears, dear.’

They walked on until the shops came into view but it was no longer a pleasant stroll for Irene. She was on edge. Every few seconds she looked uneasily behind her. There was nobody in sight but she trusted the old lady’s instinct. Someone
had
followed them. She was sure of that now and it was unsettling.

Marmion found time that afternoon to call on the commissioner in order to bring him up to date on the progress of the investigation. Sir Edward Henry was wearing one of Jacob Stein’s suits over a white shirt with a wing collar. His black shoes were gleaming. Marmion wished that he could look as elegant but his build seemed to vitiate any attempt at being stylish. He told the commissioner about the interviews with the two former employees of the firm. Sir Edward was startled to hear that one of them had pointed the finger of suspicion at Herbert Stone.

‘That’s a preposterous suggestion,’ he said.

‘It may seem so on face value, Sir Edward, but I still think we should pay some heed to it. Mr Stone was clearly more involved with his brother’s business than we imagined.’

‘What could he possibly gain by his brother’s death?’

‘That’s what we need to find out,’ said Marmion.

‘Then you’re going on a wild goose chase, Inspector,’ said the commissioner with clear disapproval. ‘My advice would be to look elsewhere for suspects. I’d exonerate Mr Stone from any connection with the destruction of the shop in Jermyn Street.’

‘Then why did Mr Burridge direct our attention at him?’

‘It must have been done out of spite.’

‘He didn’t strike me as a spiteful man.’

‘You said that he was singularly unhelpful.’

‘Exactly, Sir Edward – that’s why we should take seriously the one piece of information that he gave voluntarily.’

The older man snapped his fingers. ‘I’d dismiss it like that.’

‘Mr Stone’s role in the business will bear investigation,’ said Marmion, doggedly. ‘The more we know about the politics inside that shop, the better we’ll be able to understand what was going on.’

‘This case is nothing to do with what was
inside
the shop,’ said the other. ‘It was provoked by the German name on the outside. Yes, I know that you think that the murder was orchestrated but I’m coming around to the view that it was a random act by an opportunist who went upstairs to rob the safe.’

‘How would an opportunist know where the safe was kept?’

The commissioner pondered. ‘I can’t answer that, Inspector.’

‘And why stab Mr Stein to death? From what we’ve learnt about him, he was not a strong man. Someone who wanted to grab the
contents of the safe could easily have brushed him aside.’

‘It took years to build up that business, remember. However unequal the odds, I don’t think Mr Stein would have given up without a fight. That was probably his undoing,’ said Sir Edward. ‘If he’d let the man take what he wanted and concentrated on escaping a burning building, he’d still be alive today.’

‘I very much doubt that,’ insisted Marmion.

Rather than start an argument with him, the commissioner decided that they should agree to differ. He told Marmion about Stone’s visit and his threat to hire private detectives to handle the case. The inspector found the news interesting but unsurprising.

‘I told him that no private detective had our resources,’ said Sir Edward, ‘and would certainly not have your abilities.’

‘Mr Stone is not entirely persuaded of my abilities, I fear.’

‘Then he should be. You identified, chased and arrested the two villains implicated in the rape of his niece. There’s not a private detective alive who could have got the authorisation that
we
obtained.’ Sir Edward plucked at his moustache. ‘I should have made that point to Mr Stone. It beats me why he should even entertain the notion of hiring private help. It would have no positive value to him.’

‘Yes, it would, Sir Edward,’ said Marmion. ‘Mr Stone can
control
a private detective. He can’t control us.’

‘You’re imputing a very dark motive to him.’

‘We have to look at this case from every conceivable angle.’

‘Are you saying that he’d deliberately muddy the waters?’

Marmion was firm. ‘I’m ruling nothing out.’

‘Well,’ said the commissioner, ‘it’s not for me to interfere. You’re in charge. All that I can do is to offer advice. With regard to Mr Stone, I believe that you’re barking up the wrong tree but … only time will tell
which of us is right.’ He brushed a speck of dust from his sleeve. ‘What does Sergeant Keedy feel?’

‘He’s sticking to his theory that there’s an anti-Semitic element.’

‘Is he following up that line of inquiry?’

‘He is, Sir Edward,’ said Marmion. ‘His first port of call is a man I could not recommend more highly.’

‘Why is that, Inspector?’

‘He’s my brother, sir – Major Marmion of the Salvation Army.’

Raymond Marmion had been a committed Salvationist for a long time and had been promoted to the rank of major after fifteen years as an officer in the organisation. The silver crest on his uniform denoted his status. Younger than his brother, he had the same solid frame and an open face with the sheen of religiosity. His receding hair threw the high-domed forehead into prominence. Though he had heard a great deal about Marmion’s brother, Keedy had never met him before and he was struck both by the similarities between the two men and by their glaring differences. They met in Raymond’s tiny office in a ramshackle building. Keedy immediately noticed the graze on the other man’s temple.

‘No,’ said Raymond, touching the wound gingerly, ‘my wife has not been attacking me with a beer bottle. Lily would never do that. I was hit by a stone while trying to help someone up from the pavement. It’s not the first time that’s happened, unfortunately.’

‘You’re a brave man to work here,’ complimented Keedy. ‘The East End is a jungle at times. If the kids are not hurling missiles at you, they’re trying to knock helmets off policemen on the beat. They have no respect for authority.’

‘And still less for the word of God, alas. But,’ Raymond went on, ‘you
didn’t come here to discuss our mission. I take it that my brother sent you here. How can I help?’

Keedy did not need to give full details of the case in hand. Since he always kept an eye on his brother’s work, Raymond had been following its progress in the newspapers. He gave a sympathetic hearing to Keedy’s theory then opened a drawer in the table to take out a sheaf of papers. He found the relevant page.

‘This is what you need, Sergeant,’ he said.

‘What is it?’

‘It’s a list of organisations – tiny groups in some cases – that try to blame the woes of the world entirely on the Jews. We don’t have pogroms here, thankfully, but we have people who conduct their own forms of persecution. If you’ve been in the police force for any length of time,’ continued Raymond, ‘then I don’t need to tell you how much immigrants have suffered in the East End.’

‘I remember the riots from years ago,’ said Keedy.

‘Russians seemed to get the worst of it because of their large numbers. Many of them had been hounded out of their own country for committing the crime of being Jews. Eastern Europe in general drove them west.’ Raymond gritted his teeth. ‘They came with nothing, Sergeant – except hope, that is. It was soon extinguished.’ He handed the list over. ‘I’ll need to keep that but you’re welcome to jot down those names.’

Keedy studied the paper. ‘Very few seem to have addresses.’

‘That’s deliberate. They move around all the time, holding meetings in different places so that they can’t be tracked.’

‘How many of these groups are still active?’

‘It’s difficult to say,’ replied Raymond. ‘Some disappear for long periods then suddenly spring back to life. And, of course, the real
militants may belong to a number of groups, shifting to the one that’s planning some action at any particular time.’

‘Beatings, destruction of property, poison pen letters?’

‘All that and much more – they had a field day when the
Lusitania
went down. That was a signal to go really wild. German homes and businesses were the principal targets but Jewish immigrants from other countries were caught up in the wave of violence. I speak from personal experience,’ said Raymond. ‘We sheltered some of them in this very building.’

‘Have things died down now?’

‘There are still rumblings below the surface.’

Taking out his notepad, Keedy copied the list onto a blank page. When he’d finished, he handed the sheet of paper back to Raymond.

‘Thank you, Major. You’ve been very helpful.’

‘I’m always ready to assist the police.’

‘The inspector has obviously got you well trained. I hope that we’ll be in a position to help you in return one day.’

‘Oddly enough, I was about to suggest that.’

‘Oh?’

‘Do you play a musical instrument, Sergeant?’

‘No,’ said the other, ‘I’m tone deaf.’

‘Then it sounds to me as if you’re better off with a bass drum. You’re strong enough to carry it and clever enough to beat it. Can we count on you joining our band on Sunday morning?’

Keedy was alarmed. ‘Hey, now hold on a moment,’ he said, backing away. ‘I’m not volunteering for the Salvation Army.’

‘Don’t you want to save sinners with rousing music?’ asked Raymond, grinning broadly. ‘It’s very rewarding work.’

‘I’ll take your word for it, Major.’

‘Our door is always open.’

‘The inspector warned me that you’d try to recruit me.’

‘I’ve been trying to recruit Harvey for almost twenty years but he says that he has important work to do.’ He indicated the crucifix on his collar. ‘What’s more important than serving Jesus Christ?’

The detective wisely chose not to reply. Although there was a humorous note in Raymond’s voice, Keedy had no wish to be drawn into an argument with him. Even on their brief acquaintance, he could see how plausible and persuasive Major Marmion was. Keedy had been brought up in the Anglican Church but rarely attended services now. Religion was something that had gradually faded from his life. It was not the moment to rekindle it.

Raymond gave him a firm handshake and pumped his arm.

‘It was a pleasure to meet you, Sergeant Keedy,’ he said.

‘The pleasure was mutual.’

‘You have a devoted admirer in the family.’

‘Oh,’ said Keedy, misunderstanding, ‘Inspector Marmion is not always full of admiration for me. If I make a mistake – and I do that from time to time – he comes down on me like a ton of bricks.’

‘I wasn’t talking about Harvey. I was referring to my niece.’

Keedy was jolted. ‘Alice?’

‘Who else? Your name often comes up when we all get together. Alice speaks very well of Joe Keedy.’

‘Thank you for telling me.’

The news brought a smile to his face and ignited a memory of their time together washing the dishes the previous Sunday. Until he turned up at the house, Keedy had forgotten how attractive Alice Marmion was. It had been months since he’d last seen her and she’d matured in the interim. It made him look forward with anticipatory delight
to their next meeting. Conscious that Raymond was watching him, Keedy became serious and waved his pad.