Eve of the Isle (40 page)

Charlie stood with his hands behind his back. ‘Can I get Mrs Kumar a cup of tea?' he asked quietly.

Moody's head shot up. ‘There'll be time enough for tea when I've got this statement down on paper. Now,' he said as he settled himself in his chair, ‘my first question is to you, P.C. Merritt. After all I've heard from Mrs Kumar, I understand that you have been following up a case that I had officially closed in February of last year. What's more, you have deliberately withheld information. Now that, son, is an abuse of the trust and confidence put in you as a member of His Majesty's police force.'

Eve stood up and, to Charlie's horror, burst out, ‘It was me that didn't want him to tell you. It's got nothing to do with Charlie!'

Charlie reached out and gently sat her down. ‘Eve, don't upset yourself—'

‘She has every reason to be upset,' interrupted the police sergeant angrily. ‘And so have you, son. You do realize, I suppose, that your decision to investigate a case that I personally closed might cost you your job?'

Charlie's whole body tightened. ‘No, Sarge, I was only trying to—'

‘And all this was going on whilst we had the Yard boys here,' roared Moody, jumping to his feet. ‘Just think what they would have made of it, if they knew you were consorting . . . assisting and abetting . . .' He didn't seem to be able to throw enough at Charlie as his lips quivered and his eyes bulged. ‘Running around Shadwell like a blue-arsed fly—'

‘I did nothing of the sort,' Charlie retaliated only to
draw a look of fury from the other's face. ‘I only did what my conscience told me to do. If you remember, I tried to tackle you about a personal matter at the time, but you waved it aside.'

‘What bloody rubbish!' Moody stalked round the desk and dug a finger into Charlie's chest. ‘You are a loose cannon, Merritt, and the Force can't be doing with coppers going it alone. You've got yourself into a right mess here, and with this body being found today and what I've heard from this . . . this
lady
,' he glanced contemptuously at Eve, ‘you don't deserve the uniform you are standing up in. Take the law into your own hands would you? Who do you think you are, flamin' Sherlock Holmes?'

This comment irked Charlie. He was trying to control his temper, but when Moody continued to stab his chest and insinuate that he had struck up a liaison with a woman of dubious character, Charlie retaliated.

‘That's uncalled for,' he retorted. ‘Mrs Kumar deserves the same respect as any other member of the public. She has been through a great deal and was brave enough to try to discover the facts surrounding her husband's death—'

But Charlie's indignant words were cut short as Sergeant Moody bawled fiercely into his face. ‘You're dismissed, Merritt. From this moment on you can leave all the investigations to those who know best. I'm suspending you from duty until I make me mind up what to do with you. And you'd better start praying
that I don't decide to take this to the Super and spill the beans.'

Charlie wiped the spit that had come from Moody's trembling lips from his cheek. He glanced down at Eve and wondered for a second if he should grab her and haul her away with him. It's what his heart was yearning to do, but his head was saying something else. He knew that no good came of any action done or word said in anger and Moody was taking him to the limits of his endurance. He no longer cared for himself. His first concern was for Eve and it would only make things worse for her if he interfered. He tried to give her a swift glance of reassurance, then turned on his heel and with shoulders pulled back left Moody's office.

As he walked past the desk, a new recruit turned to look at him, a fresh-faced copper, just like he had been two years ago. Enthusiasm and eagerness shone out of his eyes as he watched Charlie stride down the corridor.

But if he had been addressed, Charlie couldn't have brought himself to reply. He was trying to contain his anger, resentment and dislike of Moody as he pushed open the doors of the changing rooms with furious force.

Robbie was standing at the washbasin and looked up sharply. ‘Charlie, what the blazes . . .'

Charlie began to strip off his jacket. His fingers were shaking and the colour that had left his face whilst standing in the office now swept to his cheeks in a hot wave.

Drying his face with a small hand towel, Robbie sauntered over. ‘I heard Moody bawling as I came in. What was that all about?'

Charlie sat heavily down on the bench. ‘He's got Eve in there. She had to look at another body today. It's Singh, the lascar I told you about.'

‘Christ!' Robbie exclaimed. ‘What do you make of that?'

‘I don't know. But Moody dragged it all out of her, everything, including the Shadwell business. He tore me off a strip saying I had no right to take the law into my own hands. He was furious it happened at the time when the Flying Squad were here, insinuating it would have looked bad for him. But what got my goat was when he accused Eve of being. . . being a. . .' He shook his head, running a hand through his thick, dark hair. ‘It was inexcusable, the slant he put on Eve and me.'

Robbie folded up his jacket and shrugged. ‘You don't want to take it too seriously. If I know Moody, the Yard thing is what upset him most. He would lick the soles of their boots if they told him to and yet he'll never get a promotion, not in a million years. He's a glorified clerk, an ignoramus.'

Charlie gave a grunt. ‘Well, that ignoramus has just suspended me.'

‘What? He can't do that. He hasn't got the authority.'

‘Robbie, I'm beginning to feel like I don't give a damn. I don't care for myself but what he said about Eve . . . it was just so bloody unfair.'

Robbie sat down beside him. ‘So you're beginning to wake up are you?'

Charlie shook his head. ‘Wake up to what?'

‘Come on, you need a drink.'

‘I'm going to wait for Eve.'

‘It won't look good for her, you know, hanging around. And anyway, Moody will send her back by car as it's still parked at the front. The new boy, Moody's little protégé, is eager to drive.'

Charlie thought about this. He wanted to be with Eve but knew Robbie was probably right.

‘All right,' he agreed without conviction.

‘Good man,' said Robbie as he folded his uniform into a locker. A few minutes later they exited the station through the rear door and walked across the car park to the street. Charlie felt as though he was letting Eve down. What was happening in there? What was Moody saying to her?

Several streets away, Robbie unlocked his car. ‘Don't like to park this little beauty right under Moody's nose,' he told Charlie as they climbed in. ‘The old bastard would think I'd been up to no good.' He laughed and winked at Charlie. ‘Which, in a manner of speaking, is true.'

Charlie's thoughts were still with Eve and what she might be suffering under Moody's verbal assault when he realized what Robbie had said.

It was only when they were standing in a hotel bar off the Strand half an hour later, that Charlie began to understand how slow off the mark he had been.

Chapter Twenty-Three

E
ve walked into the warmth of the front room to find Peg and Joan asleep in their chairs. Peg had her mouth open and her arms folded across her chest. Joan was snoring softly, her face lost under her hair, which was now entirely grey like Peg's.

She looked at the clock on the mantel. It was half past eight. She was exhausted from all the questioning. Neither had she eaten, though the young officer who had driven her home had made her a cup of tea at the station.

Leaving the room quietly, she went upstairs. Samuel and Albert were fast asleep too; their first day back at school had tired them. Eve kissed their soft hair. They looked so peaceful with the covers tucked up to their chins.

She made her way down to the kitchen and thought about Joseph as she put on the kettle. Had Peg and Joan walked him back to the cottage?

Making a strong cup of tea Eve sat at the table. Her hands were still shaking as she lifted the cup. She still couldn't believe what she'd seen: the lifeless body of
Somar Singh. He had walked towards her in the back room of the Drunken Sailor with that menacing look on his face. She had had no doubt it was him, especially as he had still been wearing the jacket with the row of brass buttons running down the front.

Sergeant Moody had told her they had recovered the body from the Thames that morning, but it was not as bloated as Dilip Bal's. Standing in that mortuary room she had felt as though she was in the middle of a recurring nightmare. She had longed for Charlie to be by her side, but Sergeant Moody had kept them separated. Over and over again she had repeated her answers, telling him all she knew. She hadn't wanted to say that Charlie had helped her, but in explaining how she knew Somar Singh, she had to reveal her journey to Shadwell and the events that had taken place after.

Eve leaned forward, dropping her head in her hands. She was so tired she couldn't think straight. All these deaths . . . how were they connected to Raj?

She longed to talk to Charlie, but she had no idea where he was or when she was likely to see him again. Had Sergeant Moody really suspended him? He hadn't done anything wrong. He had tried to help her and in doing so had incurred this punishment.

Eve wiped a tear away.

What was she to do now?

Charlie was still drinking his beer when Robbie ordered his third whisky at the bar. The clever lighting in the
hotel, the gold and black décor and glass tables gave a sophisticated glow to the big, well-furnished room. Charlie would have preferred not to have gone as far as the Strand, but Robbie seemed intent on visiting this watering hole. He had greeted the uniformed man outside with a smile and was addressed as Mr Lawrence.

Charlie sat quietly with his thoughts as Robbie continued to talk to people he knew. They were all very well dressed and occasionally Charlie caught the cutglass accent of a tall man in his late fifties to whom Robbie was particularly attentive. Beside him there was a blonde woman wearing a fur stole, smoking a cigarette in a long holder.

‘Friends of yours?' asked Charlie as Robbie finally took the chair beside him.

‘Harry Burnett,' said Robbie easily. ‘Heard of him?'

Charlie shrugged and shook his head.

‘Retired from the Force. Moved out to Essex last year. She's his . . . well . . . you might say, companion. But then, Harry has plenty of those.'

‘You seem to know a lot of people.'

Robbie grinned. ‘I make it my job to know them. And for them to know me.'

‘Are they friends of Johnny too?'

Robbie slid the whisky over his tongue, narrowing his eyes. ‘Yes, I suppose you could say we're all on nodding terms.'

Charlie looked again at the man and back to his friend. ‘What's going on, Robbie?'

‘I thought you'd never ask.' Robbie smiled and leaned forward, his good looks seeming, to Charlie, to be a little less smooth: his eyes had a furtive look and his fingers shook a little as they held the tumbler.

Charlie tilted his head. ‘I suppose I've tried not to see what I don't want to see.'

Robbie chuckled. ‘Bury your head in the sand, so to speak? Not a bad idea, but you have to be selective. Best to bury it and be paid for it.'

‘You're on the take, aren't you?' Charlie said, watching Robbie's face as it lost its candour. ‘You and Johnny. These people and the crowd you mix with, it's all for a reason. The car, the clothes, the women, the gambling and the drinking—'

‘I'm simply making the job pay,' Robbie replied smoothly. ‘You won't hear me complaining or whingeing, I just make the very best of what I have. And look where being straight has got you, Charlie. You said yourself tonight that Moody's attitude was bloody unfair. And all you did was a good turn and not a penny to show for your trouble, except a copper's wage packet. Now, can you look me in the eye and tell me that's what life is all about?'

Charlie gazed into his friend's shifty eyes. ‘No, I couldn't tell you that. But I don't believe you've got it perfect either.'

‘How do you know? Give it a try and see what it's like. Meet a few of my friends, socialize. I told you once that it was who you knew not what, remember?'

Charlie smiled. ‘Yes, I do. But I wasn't ready then to believe my friend was bent.'

Robbie didn't bat an eyelid. ‘Think on this Charlie, I'm still sitting here with a job whilst yours is in jeopardy.'

Charlie had to agree with Robbie on that. If Moody went higher and took it to the Super, there was a chance he could be dismissed.

‘Come on, have a chat with my friend. Lighten up and enjoy yourself.'

‘What is it you're up to?' Charlie asked. ‘Protection? Prostitution? Pimping? Or has it a classier touch? Are Venetia Harrington and Bunty all part of the game?'

Robbie sat back slowly, dislike filling his face. ‘I don't care for your tone, Charlie. I am, after all, trying to help.'

Charlie stood up. ‘I don't need that kind of help.' He began to turn away when Robbie caught his arm.

‘You know, you're a fool, chum.'

Charlie could think of no answer. Instead he shook off the tight grip and strode out.

It was raining as he stood on the pavement and listened to the swish of tyres on the wet streets. Then, with the roar of London's nightlife in his ears, he turned up his collar and hunched his shoulders, and set about the long walk to Stepney.

The next morning, Tuesday, Eve woke the boys early. ‘I'm sorry I didn't see you last night.'

They sat up in bed. ‘Peg said you was at the police station.'

‘Yes, to help with their enquiries.' She wasn't going to say she'd been at the morgue again.