Dance of Death (23 page)

By the time he reached his destination, he’d added a more worrying setback to the list. Now that he’d calmed down, he could see how disrespectful he’d been towards Chatfield. While he didn’t regret anything he’d said, Keedy feared that there would be repercussions. Demotion was a distinct possibility and he might even be put back into the uniform branch. For a man who’d sedulously worked his way up,
that would be a humiliation. The only thing worse was dismissal.

Rushing into the police station, he went into the room from which they’d been conducting the investigation. Marmion was checking some notes. He looked up but had no time to welcome his colleague because Keedy blurted out a question.

‘Have you heard from Chat?’

‘No, I haven’t.’

‘Has he left a message for you?’

‘Why do you ask?’

‘Has he?’ Marmion shook his head. ‘That’s a relief, I suppose.’

‘What’s going on, Joe?’

‘The heavens have opened and it’s raining shit all over me. I’m sorry,’ he went on, ‘I didn’t mean to be coarse but that’s exactly how it feels.’

‘At a guess, you’ve had the gloves on with Chat.’

‘Yes – and he was the one who delivered the uppercut.’

Marmion pulled out a chair. ‘Sit down and tell me all about it.’

Keedy preferred to stay on his feet so that he could pace about the room. He explained what had happened and how infuriating it had been to release Allan Redmond from custody. In refusing to support him, Chatfield had made him look ridiculous. That was why he’d struck back at the superintendent.

‘I could be facing the sack,’ he said with a sigh.

‘Chat can be vindictive, Joe, but he’s not stupid. He knows that you’re the best sergeant we have. Getting rid of you over a few hot words would be nonsensical. No, your job is safe but he’ll want to make you pay somehow.’

‘He’s already done that, Harv. It made my blood boil. Have you ever been forced to release a prisoner who should stay under lock and key?’

‘Oh, yes, it’s happened to me a couple of times. The worst case involved
a burglar I’d caught red-handed. I was told that police procedure hadn’t been followed properly – although it certainly had. I not only had to let him go scot-free, I was ordered to apologise to the bastard.’

‘I escaped having to do that.’

‘Then you got off lightly. Yes,’ he added as Keedy flared up, ‘it may not have felt like it at the time but you’ll come to see, in due course, that it wasn’t quite so terrible, after all.’ He studied his colleague carefully. ‘There’s more to it than trading blows with the superintendent, isn’t there?’ Keedy nodded. ‘Then stop prancing around like a scalded cat and tell me.’

Keedy sank into a chair. ‘I met Alice.’

‘How could you? You’re supposed to be on duty.’

‘It doesn’t matter how we met, I just wish that we hadn’t. It ended in a blazing row. Don’t ask me what it was about because that’s personal but … well, we parted in a huff. The worst of it was that she told me what Paul said to her.’

‘Oh, that …’

‘Ellen must have told you about it. Why didn’t you pass it on?’

‘I didn’t want to upset you, Joe.’

‘I’m not upset, I’m seething. When Paul was in the army, he wrote to say how glad he was that his sister and I had become engaged. Now he’s telling her to get rid of me because I’m too old and … you know the rest of it.’

Marmion felt uneasy. He’d had reservations about the match from the very start and, in some ways, his son’s comment had mirrored his own view. Yet he’d come to accept that Alice was entitled to make her own choice and he’d been impressed by the way that Keedy had treated her. Now, however, there’d been a rift. He tried to sympathise with the sergeant. At a professional and personal level, Keedy was reeling from a blow. He needed advice and support.

‘Keep away from her for a while,’ he counselled. ‘Alice is like her mother. They both have a temper if you catch them on the raw. Let her come to you before you go looking for her.’

‘It’s Paul I want to go looking for,’ resolved Keedy.

‘Leave him alone, Joe. Just ignore what he said.’

‘How can I?’

‘It’s the most sensible thing to do.’

‘I don’t feel very sensible at the moment.’

Marmion clapped him on the back and turned the conversation back to the murder inquiry. He talked about his second meeting with Gillian Hogg and his first one with Godfrey Noonan. When he described the agent, he made Keedy laugh.

‘It’s true,’ he said. ‘Noonan was wearing a wig that looked more like a ginger rabbit. It had a life of its own, I know that. When he turned his head away from me, the wig stayed facing me. I was tempted to ask him what he fed it on.’

‘Is he someone to watch?’

‘I think so. And so is Mrs Wilder. I’d bet my pension that he came to Chingford to see her yet neither he nor she would admit it. Noonan is one of those greasy characters who couldn’t tell the truth if he tried.’

‘Why should he want to speak to Mrs Wilder?’

‘Use your imagination.’

‘Was Noonan
hired
by her?’

‘I think that they could be in cahoots somehow.’

‘He stands to gain his revenge but what’s the motive for her?’

‘We know that she and Wilder were living separate lives. Perhaps she became aware that he was getting consolation in the arms of his first wife. That would have incensed her.’

‘Any wife would be upset if her husband had eyes for another
woman,’ said Keedy, ‘but would she want his eyes removed along with his balls?’

‘Mrs Wilder is not any wife. She’s been a performer, used to devising effects in public.’

‘Is that what you call castration?’

‘It’s symbolic, Joe.’

‘Mrs Wilder may have ordered the murder but she certainly didn’t do it herself and neither – from what you say – did that agent. So who was the actual killer?’

‘It might have been Redmond, I suppose.’

‘He’s involved
somehow
. I’m sure of that.’

‘My mind is turning more towards Atterbury. Ideally, I’d like him put under surveillance but Chat bleated about shortage of resources and said he’d “think about it”. We know what that means.’

‘It’s a pity. Putting a shadow on Atterbury might be useful.’

‘Forget it, Joe. It will never happen.’

The taxi drew up outside the house and they got out. Atterbury paid the taxi driver then took out a key. He used it to open the door of the house and ushered Pattinson inside. A man was standing in the shadows on the opposite side of the road. He took out his notebook and put the time of day in it. Then he settled down to keep vigil.

Though she’d suggested they went to the cinema that evening, Alice Marmion couldn’t possibly stick to the agreement. She was in too great a state of emotional upheaval. As soon as her shift ended, she invented an excuse, promised that they’d go another night then apologised to Iris Goodliffe and raced off to her flat. In the privacy of her room, she was able to give full vent to tears and recrimination. She felt no better as
a result. What should have been a brief, delightful encounter with Joe Keedy had somehow degenerated into a row about the very nature of their commitment to each other. How they’d allowed it to happen she didn’t know, but her discomfort had been made worse by the fact that they had bickered in front of Iris. The unstinting praise that Alice had used when describing Keedy to her colleague had seemed hollow.

After going over it a dozen times, Alice decided that she had to confide in someone and the best person was her mother. She dried her eyes, changed out of her uniform and caught the next available bus. The journey was taken up with a rehearsal of what she was going to say. When she actually got to the house, however, the words were promptly forgotten. She simply burst into tears.

‘Whatever’s happened?’ asked Ellen, embracing her.

‘It’s Joe …’

‘Has he been injured?’

‘Yes, Mummy, but not in the way you mean. We’ve both been injured.’

Ellen held her until the sobbing slowly ebbed. She then took her daughter into the kitchen, made a pot of tea and let Alice do the talking. It was a very garbled version of what happened but Ellen caught the gist of it. Alice first blamed Keedy, then herself and finally came round to the view that she was the real victim.

‘It blew up out of nothing,’ she wailed.

‘That sometimes happens.’

‘We just … lost control.’

‘I can see that.’

‘Did you and Daddy ever …?’

‘Oh, yes. We had a lot of arguments along the way.’

‘How did you get over them?’

‘We both came to see how unfair we’d been to each other.’

‘It’s not as easy as that in this case.’

‘Oh, it was never easy, Alice, believe me. I’d sometimes sulk for a week or two but we always made up in the end. You and Joe are both strong-willed. When you have an argument, neither of you is ready to give ground.’

‘But why did we have the argument in the first place?’ asked Alice in despair. ‘I was thrilled when he suddenly turned up out of the blue, even more so because I could show him off to Iris. She’s heard me go on and on about him. What must she think now?’

‘That doesn’t matter,’ said Ellen. ‘Forget Iris. This is about you and Joe. Have you ever had a row like this before?’

‘We have spats all the time but they mean nothing.’

‘Have you accused him of looking at other women?’

‘Yes, but I was only teasing him.’

‘So what was different this time?’

‘It was his response,’ said Alice, lower lip trembling. ‘In the past, he’s just laughed. This time he really took offence.’

‘Joe didn’t
have
to tell you about this other woman.’

‘I know.’

‘It wasn’t as if he was trying to deceive you.’

‘But it’s something he should have told me in private,’ said Alice, ‘and not when I’m on duty with another policewoman. It popped out as if Joe wanted to get it off his chest.’

‘I’d take that as a good sign.’

‘So why did I behave so badly?’

‘It takes two people for an argument,’ said Ellen, philosophically. ‘There’s something between you that has never really been sorted out.’

Alice nodded. ‘I just wish I knew what it was.’

There was a long, heavy silence. They drank their tea and simply enjoyed the pleasure of being together. While she was upset to hear of the rift, Ellen was glad that Alice still felt able to turn to her. When her daughter had insisted on having a flat of her own, her mother had at first been hurt. Time had softened her pain. She’d now come to accept that Alice had a right to her independence even though it meant that she saw so little of her. But her daughter was there now and she was in need of sympathy.

‘Is it
my
fault, Mummy?’ asked Alice.

‘No, it isn’t.’

‘That’s what Joe will think.’

‘There are faults on both sides and he’ll know that. But you must remember something,’ Ellen went on. ‘When he saw you, he was sneaking away for a few minutes from a murder investigation that’s putting a lot of pressure on him. It’s the same with your father. He’s all tensed up when he gets back here. His mind is still on his work.’

‘I’d like to believe that was the case with Joe but it wasn’t.’

‘What
do
you believe?’

‘I believe that … he may be unhappy about our engagement. He’s always been like a rock until now but the rock was crumbling today. Joe is wondering if he really wants to marry me and – if you want to know the truth – I’m no longer sure that he’s the right husband for me.’

‘What did I say?’ asked a voice.

Shocked to realise they’d been overheard, the two women turned to see Paul Marmion standing in the open doorway. He was grinning with satisfaction.

‘You’ve come to your senses at last, Alice,’ he said. ‘Get rid of him.’

During the time they’d been away, Detective Constable Gibbs had handled any information that came in. People often took days before
their memories were jogged or before they felt they might have something significant to report. Keedy sifted through their statements.

‘This is the most promising,’ said Keedy, holding up a sheet of paper. ‘A man named Wainwright claims that he saw someone, who answers the description of Simon Wilder, walking along Old Church Road around midnight.’

‘How well could he see in the dark?’

‘Wainwright had been walking his dog for some time so he’d have adjusted to the dark. Also, he works as an engine driver. You need good eyesight to drive a train.’

‘Does he specify an exact place in the road?’

‘Yes,’ said Keedy, ‘and it’s not far from where the body was found.’

‘We need to talk to Wainwright,’ decided Marmion, lifting another report from the table. ‘It looks as if I might need to see him myself, Joe. You appear to be needed elsewhere.’

‘Do I?’

‘Yes, there’s a request from Odele Thompson for you to call at her flat as a matter of urgency. There’s something she wants to tell you.’

Keedy pulled a face. ‘I’ve heard it before!’

‘She doesn’t mind how late it is when you get there.’

‘Then she’s out of luck. Why don’t you go and see Miss Thompson while I have a word with Mr Wainwright?’

‘That sounds like the answer.’

‘It will be a false alarm, I warn you. She’ll have nothing new to tell us.’

‘You never know.’

They spent another hour assessing all the information gathered and linking it to existing intelligence. There’d been a number of putative sightings of Wilder – or someone very much like him – and they’d all happened in the same area. It was encouraging. They were slowly
narrowing down the possibilities of where he’d actually been on the night when he was killed.

By late evening, when they were both starting to yawn, they split up to make separate inquiries, meeting up afterwards to compare stories on the drive back to Scotland Yard. First to recount his interview, Keedy turned out to have had the more productive visit.

‘Wainwright was insistent that it had been the murder victim,’ he said. ‘He remembered how the man glided along the pavement, almost as if he was dancing.’

‘Then it
was
Wilder!’