A Bespoke Murder (28 page)

‘Are you following me?’ she asked in a querulous voice.

‘Good evening,’ he said, raising his hat in greeting. ‘There’s no need to be alarmed. It’s just that you remind me of a good friend of mine – Irene Bayard.’

‘I’m her sister.’

‘There – that explains it. I’m Ernie Gill, by the way.’

Dorothy relaxed. ‘Irene has spoken about you.’

‘I saw you yesterday and decided that I must be mistaken. So I came back for a second look today. You must be Dorothy Holdstock.’ She nodded. ‘There was just something about you that was so like Irene. I had to find out the truth. Did I upset you?’

‘It was rather troubling, Mr Gill.’

‘I’m sorry about that. Well,’ he said, looking her up and down, ‘it’s good to meet you at last. Irene’s told me a lot about you. What she didn’t mention was that her sister was such a handsome woman.’

She was flattered. ‘Oh, I’d never claim that.’

‘Don’t be so modest. I only speak as I find.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Irene and I worked together for many years.’

‘So I gather, Mr Gill.’

‘Call me Ernie – everyone else does.

‘Except my lodger, Miss James, that is – she prefers Ernest.’

‘She seemed a sweet old girl when I met her.’

‘She is, Mr Gill … oh, sorry – Ernie.’

‘How is Irene settling in?’

‘Very well,’ said Dorothy. ‘She told me that she wished she’d moved in with me years ago. She only took the job with Cunard to get over the loss of her husband.’

‘Yes,’ he sighed. ‘That really hurt her. I mean, he was so young.’

‘She still hasn’t fully recovered.’

Ernie Gill wasn’t at all as she’d imagined. He was taller, thinner and older than the portrait in her mind. He had a pleasant voice and an easy manner, though there was a faint hint in his eyes of the intensity that Irene had warned her about. Dorothy’s main emotion was relief that he had not been some anonymous stalker with designs on her handbag or, even worse, on her body. Gill was wearing a smart suit and was well groomed. He looked perfectly presentable and she could not understand why Irene had kept them apart.

‘Does your sister ever talk about me?’ he asked.

‘Oh, yes. She’s told me all about the rescue.’

‘I wasn’t going to let my favourite person drown. When I saw her flailing around in the water, I just had to go to her.’

‘Irene is eternally grateful.’

‘I simply acted on impulse, Miss Holdstock.’

‘You can call me Dorothy – or Dot, if you prefer.’

‘I’ll stick to Dorothy. It was my mother’s name.’

‘I inherited it from an aunt.’

Gill was slowly getting her measure. It was not difficult to see why she’d remained a spinster. She had none of Irene’s physical charms and was uneasy in the company of a man. Dorothy didn’t know how to cope with flattery because she was so unused to receiving it. Gill found her dull and fatally old-fashioned.

‘What else has Irene told you about me?’ he probed.

‘She said what a good friend you’d been to her.’

‘You need friends on board a ship. Otherwise, voyages can get very boring, even on a liner like the
Lusitania
.’

‘It seems such a coincidence that both of you decided to leave Liverpool and move to London together.’

He chuckled. ‘Unfortunately, we moved here separately,’ he said. ‘If it was left to me, we
would
have moved here together.’

‘Yes, she mentioned that you were … an admirer of hers.’

‘I’m much more than that, Dorothy. You tell her. Oh, no,’ he corrected himself. ‘It might be safer if you didn’t mention that we bumped into each other like this. For some reason, Irene didn’t want me to meet you. Do you happen to know why?’

‘To be honest, I don’t.’

‘Then let’s keep this meeting as our little secret, shall we?’

Dorothy was uncertain. ‘I suppose that we could.’

‘At least you know who I am now.’

‘Yes, that’s true.’

‘So you won’t have to worry about your sister if she says that she’s meeting Ernie Gill.’ He flashed a smile. ‘As you can see, I’m quite harmless. I’m just a nice, respectable, hard-working barber.’

‘Irene said that you’ve already found a job.’

‘Yes, I work strange hours but I really like it. I’ve made some new
friends as well. In fact,’ he went on, ‘the move to London has been a success in every possible way – especially now that I’ve met you.’

Dorothy emitted an almost girlish giggle.

Joe Keedy could not go in one of the suits he usually wore. The address on the leaflet was in a rough area of the city and he didn’t wish to look out of place. Returning to his flat, he changed into the tatty old clothing he kept by way of a disguise. With his flat cap on, he looked at himself in the mirror and decided that he could easily pass as a manual worker of some kind. When he set off, he had the leaflet from the True British League stuffed in his coat pocket.

It took him over half an hour to reach the Lord Nelson, a shabby pub with a fading image of the great naval hero on the sign that dangled outside. Keedy went in and showed the leaflet to the barman. After sizing him up, the man directed him to a door at the rear. Keedy knocked, opened the door and went into a rectangular room with beer crates stacked against one wall. Seated behind a bare table was a big brawny man in his forties with a gleaming bald head and a broken nose. Another man – younger, slimmer and whose wavy brown hair was parted in the centre – was reading a newspaper in the corner. He glanced up at Keedy then went back to his paper.

‘What d’you want?’ demanded the first man.

Keedy held up the leaflet. ‘I came about this.’

‘What about it?’

‘I liked what it said.’

The man was cautious. ‘Oh, yeah – why was that?’

‘I hate Yids,’ said Keedy with a snarl. ‘I used to work in a factory that was taken over by one. First thing the long-nosed bastard did was to lower our wages. When I tried to organise a protest, he booted me out.’

‘Where was this?’

‘It was in Ashford, down in Kent.’

‘What sort of factory?’

‘We made furniture. I was a storeman.’

‘What’s your name?’

‘What’s yours?’ asked Keedy, meeting his unfriendly gaze.

The man stopped to appraise him. His tone was hostile.

‘We get lots of people who say they support our aims,’ he said, ‘but they turn out to be shit-scared of doing anything about it. You look as if
you
might be one of those.’

‘Then you’d better ask Mr Liebermann.’

‘Who’s he when he’s at home?’

‘The rotten Jew who kicked me out of the factory,’ said Keedy. ‘He won’t forget me in a hurry. His wife used to have this little dog she was mad about. She was always cosseting it. Well, she won’t be doing that anymore,’ he added with a cackle, ‘because I killed the bleeding thing. It’s the reason I had to get out of Ashford and come to London.’

Keedy heard the newspaper rustle slightly and realised that the man he was talking to was not in charge. It was the other one who was assessing him, listening carefully for any signs that he might be an impostor. Keedy walked over to him and pushed the paper aside.

‘Since you don’t want me,’ he said, ‘I’ll find someone who does. I heard you were people who meant business but I can see I was wrong about that.’ He turned on his heel and walked away. ‘Thanks for wasting my time.’

‘Wait!’ said the man with the newspaper. Keedy halted. ‘Why didn’t you give a name?’

‘It’s because I’m as careful as you two are. The police are after me.
How do I know you won’t pass my name on to them?’ The big man guffawed. ‘What’s he laughing at?’

‘Brad hates coppers,’ said the other. ‘He’d never help them.’

‘Neither would I – unless they did what they ought to do and arrested every Jew in the country and deported them.’

‘What do we call you, then?’

Keedy shrugged. ‘Call me what the hell you like.’

‘How long have you been in London?’

‘I came here three weeks ago.’

‘And is this the first time you’ve got interested in a group like ours and given serious thought to the Jewish conspiracy bent on taking over Britain?’

Unlike the first man, he had an educated voice and a shrewd gaze. If Keedy was to get accepted, he had to impress him somehow. He therefore claimed to have been part of a mob that stormed through the East End after news of the
Lusitania
tragedy broke. Having seen the police reports of the incidents, he was able to give accurate details of a particular attack. Drawing on information gathered by detectives, he talked about two other groups with similar objectives, saying that he tried to join them but found their activities were largely confined to holding public meetings and pamphleteering.

‘If you believe in something,’ he asserted, ‘you should be ready to stand up for it. I’ve got no time for theories that never get put into practice. So unless you’re the type of people who’re ready to defy the law and use force, I’m off.’

‘He sounds angry,’ said Brad with approval.

‘We’ve had angry people in here before,’ recalled his companion. ‘When we put them to the test, however, they turn out to be useless.’

‘I’m not useless,’ insisted Keedy. ‘Just try me out.’

‘There’s more to it than poisoning a dog,’ warned Brad.

‘I didn’t poison it. I strangled it to death with its lead. And if Mrs Liebermann had been there, I’d have strangled the old bitch as well.’

The younger man studied Keedy then turned to his friend.

‘What do you think, Brad?’

‘No harm in trying him out,’ said the other.

‘I fancy that he sounds too good to be true.’

‘Then I’ll be off,’ snapped Keedy, looking round. ‘If this dump is your headquarters, you’re obviously short of cash. I want to join an organisation with the money to do something serious.’

‘Oh, we’ve got money,’ said the younger man. ‘Thanks to an anonymous donation, we were able to buy a lorry. That makes it a lot easier to get around. And we’ve built up a healthy fighting fund.’ He subjected Keedy to a long stare. ‘Very well,’ he said at length, ‘let’s put you on trial. Be here this time on Friday.’

‘Where am I going?’ asked Keedy.

‘You’ll find out.’

‘Right – I’ll be here.’

‘We’ll be waiting,’ said Brad.

Keedy walked to the door and opened it. He turned back and addressed the younger man who was reading his newspaper again.

‘You didn’t tell me your name,’ said Keedy.

‘That’s right,’ replied the other, ‘I didn’t, did I?’

After a full day, Herbert Stone finally found time to call on his sister-in-law. He moaned about the destruction of his car and complained bitterly about the uselessness of the police. It was only after he’d ventilated his many grievances that he remembered his niece.

‘How is Ruth?’

‘She’s still in a world of her own,’ said Miriam.

‘It’s not healthy to be like that.’

‘We’ve tried everything to bring her out of it, Herman.’

‘Let me have another talk with her,’ said Stone. ‘I can usually get through to her. Where is she, Mimi?’

‘Up in her bedroom – I’ll go and fetch her.’

Leaving him in the living room, she tripped up the stairs. Her brother-in-law, meanwhile, took out a box of small cigars. Selecting one of them, he bit off the end and spat it into the fireplace. Then he lit the cigar and inhaled until it began to glow. A distant cry made him hurry into the hall. Miriam came running down the stairs.

‘Ruth is not here,’ she said in alarm. ‘I’ve looked everywhere. She’s just disappeared.’

Having started work early, Harvey Marmion habitually finished late, so it was a pleasant surprise to his family that he managed to get home by mid-evening. He had a welcoming kiss from his wife, then waved a greeting to Alice who was perusing a seed catalogue in the living room. Marmion followed his wife into the kitchen, which had a pervading aroma of cooked vegetables.

‘What’s happened?’ he asked.

‘Nothing much,’ she replied.

‘I can smell tension in the air.’

‘It must be the cabbage or the onions.’

He lowered his voice. ‘Have you and Alice had a row?’

‘No, we haven’t. In fact, I apologised to her for stepping on her toes a little yesterday. We’re friends again.’

‘So domestic harmony has been restored?’

‘It is now that you’re back home.’

He gave her a warm hug. Ellen had spoken too soon. Now that both her parents were there, Alice joined them to pass on her news. She’d refrained from telling her mother when she first got back from school because she knew that it would provoke an argument. Alice was relying on her father to respond more calmly and reasonably to her decision. When they saw Alice’s expression, they sensed that an announcement was coming.

‘Why don’t we step into the living room?’ suggested Marmion. ‘There’s less of a pong in there.’

‘Cooked veg has a lovely wholesome smell,’ insisted Ellen.

‘Then I’ll be glad to eat it when it’s fresh out of a saucepan instead of having it the usual way – after it’s been kept warm in the oven for hours.’

They adjourned to the living room and sat on the sofa.

‘You’re not at school now,’ he said as his daughter remained on her feet. ‘Take a pew – there’s no charge.’

Alice perched on the arm of a chair and took a deep breath.

‘I’ve been doing some thinking,’ she said, ‘and I reached a decision. I know it will come as a shock but I think we’ll all benefit in the end.’

‘That sounds ominous,’ said Ellen, worried.

‘What is this decision, Alice?’ prompted her father.

‘I’m going to find a place of my own.’

Ellen was aghast. ‘You mean that … you’re leaving home?’

‘I feel that I need a little more space, Mummy.’

‘But there’s plenty of space here – especially since your father is at work most of the time. You’ve even got a free hand in the garden. What more space do you need?’

‘Don’t get so het up about it, love,’ said Marmion with a hand on his wife’s arm. ‘Alice is not only talking about physical space.’

‘That’s right, Daddy,’ said his daughter.