A Bespoke Murder (26 page)

‘And even to your home,’ suggested the commissioner.

‘It’s
your
job to do that, Sir Edward,’ protested Stone.

‘Our job is to catch the person or persons responsible for all the crimes linked to your family. Once that is done, you’ll be liberated from any perceived threat.’

Stone got up in a huff. ‘I knew I was wasting my time asking for help. Your attitude is disgraceful.’

‘Before you go, sir,’ said Marmion, pencil and pad in hand, ‘I’d like the name and address of the garage. Then there’s the list of people who may feel offended at the way you dispensed with their services.’

Snatching pencil and pad from him, Stone scribbled several lines then paused while he checked the list. He added another name and address then thrust the pad back at Marmion. Slapping the pencil down on the desk, he muttered a farewell and stormed out. The others sighed with relief.

‘I’m so glad you came to my rescue,’ said the commissioner, gratefully. ‘Mr Stone was already here when I arrived. He seems to think that Scotland Yard exists solely to deal with problems relating to him and his family.’

‘He needs someone to blame, Sir Edward. It never occurs to him that he somehow provoked the two incidents with his car. In his codex,
we
are at fault for not mounting a twenty-four-hour guard around him and his property.’ Marmion glanced at the pad. ‘I’ll send someone over to the garage then have these names checked out.’

‘Where did you secure that information about Howard Fine?’

‘Cyril Burridge provided it.’

‘I didn’t know you’d spoken to him again?’

‘We had a chance meeting in Jermyn Street.’

‘It’s made me look at Fine in a new light.’

‘Sergeant Keedy had to revise his opinion of the man as well, Sir Edward. He noticed nothing untoward when he interviewed him. I’ve suggested that he talks to Howard Fine again. In fact,’ said Marmion, glancing at the clock on the wall, ‘even as we speak, the sergeant is on the train to Brighton.’

Dorothy Holdstock walked along with a spring in her step. Having her sister back home again had invigorated her. It was so refreshing to have someone with whom she could discuss things at the end of the day. She knew that Irene was, to some extent, convalescing after her ordeal. Such a distressing experience was bound to leave her nervous and apprehensive. Though her sister kept her spirits up remarkably well, Dorothy suspected that she was still suffering inside. She was glad that Irene had now found a job. Once she started that, it would give her life some stability.

Meanwhile, Dorothy had her own job to worry about. Since she had the keys to the shop, she had to get there ahead of the others. When she reached the front door, there was something she always did before she fumbled in her handbag. She looked in every direction to make sure that nobody was approaching. It was a precaution she took every time she opened or closed the premises. One could never be too careful. There was nobody about this time and yet the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. A warning bell rang somewhere inside her skull. She felt menaced. Someone was watching her.

Howard Fine was not pleased when he was intercepted as he left the house to go to work. Keedy got a very different reaction from him this time. Instead of being ready and willing to give any assistance he could, Fine was tetchy and uncooperative. Keedy observed that the man was wearing what looked like a Jacob Stein suit. It seemed a curious choice for someone who had left Stein’s employ. At first, Fine tried to have the interview postponed but Keedy was insistent. In the end, they walked together to the men’s outfitters where Fine now worked, so that he could invent an excuse to explain why he would be late that morning. He and Keedy then adjourned to a small café. Over a cup of coffee, the sergeant began to probe.

‘Do you know where Mr Stein lived, sir?’ he asked.

‘What an odd question!’

‘Could you answer it, please?’

‘Yes, I do know his address,’ said Fine. ‘It’s in Golders Green.’

‘Are you aware that Mr Stone spends a lot of time there?’

‘That’s only natural, Sergeant. It’s a house of mourning. He’s there to offer moral support to his sister-in-law and her family.’

‘Did you ever meet Mr Stein’s children?’

‘I met his daughter,’ replied Fine. ‘By the time I joined the firm, her brother, Daniel, was in the army and posted overseas. Ruth is a pleasant young woman.’

‘You must have known that she was being groomed to take over the bookkeeping in due course,’ said Keedy. ‘She used to visit the office above the shop. Did you ever go to the office, sir?’

‘No, I didn’t. It was the holy of holies. Mr Cohen was the only employee who was allowed up there.’

‘What about Mr Burridge?’

‘He was kept downstairs with me. Where are these questions heading, Sergeant?’ asked Fine, irritably. ‘I do have work to do, you know.’

‘So do I, sir. Your work only involves making a suit; mine has rather more significance. It concerns a foul murder and a case of arson, not to mention some ancillary crimes.’

He went on to tell Fine about the fire at the synagogue and the mischievous attack on Stone’s car that left it with tyres missing and a broken windscreen. The tailor appeared to be shocked by the information about the synagogue but expressed no sympathy for the fate of Stone’s vehicle. Instead, he was almost amused by what had happened. Keedy saw the smile flit across his features.

‘You don’t have much respect for Mr Stone, do you?’

‘May I be frank?’

‘It would be appreciated.’

‘I loathe the man,’ said Fine, crisply.

‘Is that because he dismissed you?’

‘It’s because he invaded my privacy, Sergeant.’

Keedy could see the simmering fury in his eyes, something that had not been there at their first meeting. For his part, Fine realised that the sergeant knew his secret. There was no point in trying to deceive him
on that score. Absent parents and a fake wife could not be invoked as a smokescreen. When the sergeant studied him, the tailor remained impassive.

‘We had some trouble finding you,’ said Keedy. ‘Why didn’t you leave a forwarding address with your former colleagues?’

‘I had no wish for them to get in touch with me.’

‘Were they so hostile towards you?’

‘Cyril Burridge certainly was. The others displayed a more muted hostility – except Mr Stein, of course. He respected me.’

‘How much time do you spend in London?’

‘None at all, really,’ replied Fine. ‘The last occasion was when I came to see you at Scotland Yard. I must say,’ he added, ‘that it was more comfortable being questioned there than in surroundings like these. You didn’t make me feel under suspicion last time.’

‘Is that what I’m doing now, sir?’

‘I don’t think you came to Brighton just to see the pier.’

A new side to Howard Fine was emerging. He was petulant and waspish. His hatred of Herbert Stone was no longer concealed. Keedy was mildly unsettled by him. Since he had such a natural passion for the opposite sex, he could not understand a man who spurned it in favour of his own. Fine was calm, watchful and secretive. As he looked into the tailor’s inscrutable face, Keedy had no idea what he was thinking. He fell back on a direct question.

‘Are you sorry that Jacob Stein is dead?’

‘No,’ answered Fine, ‘I don’t believe that I am.’

‘Why is that, sir?’

‘It’s because his brother will suffer as a result.’

‘Are you sure about that?’ asked Keedy. ‘It’s been suggested that Mr Stone might somehow be implicated in the murder.’

Fine was astonished. ‘Who gave you that idea?’

‘I can see that you don’t agree with it.’

‘I do and I don’t, Sergeant.’

‘You can’t have it both ways, sir.’

‘Then let me clarify my comment,’ said Fine, leaning forward. ‘I don’t agree that Mr Stone was responsible for his brother’s death. There’s no reward for him in it and that petty tyrant is driven by the lure of reward. At the same time, however, there’s something else you ought to consider. The man is certainly capable of murder.’

‘What makes you think that, Mr Fine?’

‘He made death threats to me.’

Keedy blinked. ‘Did he do so to your face?’

‘Oh, yes, and he didn’t let it rest there. To prove that he was in earnest,’ confided Fine, ‘he had me beaten up one night by a hired thug. I was in hospital for two days.’

‘Did you report this to the police?’

The tailor shot him a look. ‘They’re not anxious to help people like me, Sergeant. You should know that. Besides, I had no proof that Mr Stone was behind the assault. I heeded the warning,’ said Fine, ‘and got out of London altogether. He can’t touch me down here.’

It was Alice Marmion’s turn to do yard duty during the mid-morning break. Ordinarily, she would have spent her time preventing any arguments between the children from escalating into fights or picking up those who fell down in the playground. In fact, there were very few incidents calling for her attention, so she was given time to brood about what had happened the previous evening. The discussion with her mother about Joe Keedy had left her feeling resentful and she tried to understand why. She could not blame Ellen. Every mother wanted
her daughter to marry a suitable man and raise a family. It was natural and expected. When she was younger, Alice had shared the same ambitions.

But the right man had failed to appear and children remained only a distant possibility. What upset Alice was the way that her mother subtly reminded her that time was against her. Most of her contemporaries were either married or engaged. Several were pushing perambulators. As she thought about it now, she realised that her age was the problem. She was too old to stay at home and have her life shaped by her parents. Loving and supportive as they were, they were also a handicap. Keedy’s brief visit had given her great pleasure. She should have been allowed to wallow in her memory of it. Instead, Alice was forced into a spat with her mother. No relationship with a man could blossom with someone looking over her shoulder like that.

She had to move. That was the realisation that dawned on her. Alice had outgrown her family, yet stayed within its bosom. She needed a place of her own, even if it was only a bedsitter. It was something she could readily afford. Though she gave her mother a token rent each week, most of her salary was saved. Her expenditure was relatively small. Buying herself some freedom would be a wise investment. The longer she thought about it, the more convinced she became. There had been a time when Vera Dowling, who also lived with her parents, had suggested that they might find accommodation together. That arrangement had no appeal for Alice. Much as she liked her friend, she did not want her social life to be hampered by her. If she and Vera lived together, Alice could never invite a man to tea. Her friend would be in the way, another form of obstruction.

It was the moment to strike out on her own. On top of one important
decision, Alice now made another. She would tell her parents that she was looking for somewhere else to live. It would give her freedom to grow. Her mother would protest but her father would be more sympathetic to the notion. He would also do something that made her tingle all over. He would pass on the news to Joe Keedy.

‘Are you back already?’ asked Harvey Marmion.

‘It’s almost noon, Inspector,’ said Keedy.

‘Is it? Where the hell has the morning gone?’

‘Most of mine was spent on the train.’

‘That was preferable to starting the day by going three rounds with Herbert Stone. He was camped in the commissioner’s office when I got here.’

‘What’s his complaint this time?’

‘It’s a genuine one – someone set fire to his car.’

Marmion gave him an edited version of the conversation with Stone. He explained that detectives had been unable to find any telling clues at the garage but were still searching. Keedy was interested to hear that new names had come into play as potential suspects. The people concerned were being tracked down and interviewed so that they could be eliminated from the investigation.

They were in Marmion’s office. He was behind his desk and Keedy flopped into the chair opposite him. It was the sergeant’s turn to describe his morning. Referring to notes he’d made on his way back to London, he talked about his meeting with Howard Fine. When he mentioned the beating taken by the tailor, Marmion was roused.

‘Why didn’t he mention that to you before?’

‘I think I’ve worked that out, Inspector,’ said Keedy. ‘He didn’t want to tell me the reason he’d been threatened because it would have been
too embarrassing for him. Now that I’ve had an insight into his private life, Fine was ready to talk about the incident.’

‘Do you believe he was telling the truth?’

‘I’m certain of it.’

‘Well,’ said Marmion, thinking it over, ‘it certainly gives him a strong motive for wanting to hit back at Mr Stone.’

‘He almost burst out laughing when I told him about the car.’

‘Wait until he hears that it was set on fire.’

‘I knew nothing about that when I spoke to him,’ said Keedy. He looked at the sheet of cartridge paper in front of the inspector. ‘What have you got there?’

‘It’s a plan of the shop in Jermyn Street,’ explained Marmion. ‘I did a rough sketch based on my visit there yesterday. Come and have a look, Joe.’

Keedy got to his feet and walked behind the desk. Standing behind the inspector, he peered over his shoulder at a ground floor plan. The names of the rooms had been marked. Keedy was surprised there were so many of them. Moving the sheet aside, Marmion pulled out the one underneath it. The second sketch was of the first floor of the building. Once again, rooms were named and the position of the safe marked in the office. When the two sheets were side by side, Keedy scrutinised them.

‘What do you notice?’ asked Marmion.

Keedy grinned. ‘I notice that you’d never make a living as an architect,’ he said with a grin. ‘None of the lines are straight and it’s obviously not drawn to scale. One of Alice’s pupils could do better than that.’