Instrument of Slaughter (25 page)

‘It was spotless.’

‘It was also noticeably short of family photographs, Joe. If they had children, there’d surely be some sign of them. Mr Fussell must be one of the few married Roman Catholics who didn’t become a father. Look at the superintendent,’ Marmion went on. ‘He’s a more typical Catholic. He has lots of children.’

Mansel Price stared at the letter then tore it up and threw it into the fire. He’d called at his friend’s house to tell him that, like Hambridge, he’d been notified about an appearance before a tribunal. Having shown him the letter, Price had destroyed it and thereby declared his refusal to turn up at the appointed time.

‘I wouldn’t go that far, Mansel,’ said Hambridge. ‘I’m looking forward to pleading my case. I’ll remind them about Pitt the Younger.’

‘He’s no bloody use to me, Fred.’

‘You’ll have to face them sooner or later.’

‘I’ll tell them that the letter never arrived.’

‘They may send a policeman next time.’

Price was defiant. ‘They’ll have to send more than one to get me there.’

‘There’s no point in asking for trouble,’ said Hambridge. ‘Listen, on my way home, I popped in to see Mr Ablatt. He’s gone back to work.’

‘How is he?’

‘Well, he’s trying to put on a brave face but he must be in agony. Anyway, he seemed pleased to see me and he showed me something that’s really cheered him up. When he took me round the corner of the house, I saw that someone had painted out all those things on it. I wonder who it can be.’

‘It was me, actually,’ said Price, exhibiting hands that had traces of white paint over the fingernails. ‘I can’t get the damn stuff off.’

‘You should have told me. I’d have helped.’

‘I managed.’

‘That was good of you, Mansel.’

‘It was about time someone did it.’

‘Mr Ablatt was very grateful,’ said Hambridge, ‘and there was something else he was pleased about. Gordon called in at the shop. He wanted Mr Ablatt’s advice.’

‘Why does he want advice about mending shoes?’

‘It wasn’t about that. It was …well, the position Gordon’s in. He just doesn’t know what to do and wanted to talk to someone.’

‘Then he should have talked to us.’

‘He’s already done that.’

‘Well, I think we should have another go at him,’ said Price. ‘In fact, that’s why I called, Fred. We should kick some sense into him, if need be.’

‘That’s not the answer.’

‘We can’t rely on Mr Ablatt to make Gordon do the right thing.’

‘There may be another way.’

‘I can’t bloody well see it.’

‘Leave it to me,’ said Hambridge, quietly. ‘It’s no use trying to bully Gordon. The person we have to persuade is not him – it’s Ruby.’

On their return to Scotland Yard, the first thing that Marmion did was to report to the superintendent and explain where they’d been. Once that duty was out of the way, he and Keedy could concentrate on Horrie Waldron. They knew that they could not hold him for long on the two charges. He’d have to be granted bail. Marmion felt that he’d softened the prisoner up by threatening him with the gallows. Having had time to brood, he hoped, Waldron might be more forthcoming now. Keedy asked to speak to him alone and Marmion gave his consent. The interview took place in the cell where Waldron was being held. Like the inspector before him, Keedy had the door locked behind him so that he and the prisoner were alone.

Waldron looked as surly as ever but there was no danger of a second attack on the sergeant. Aware of Keedy’s strength, the prisoner was subdued. He’d accepted that he was in serious trouble and needed to rein in his temper.

‘Well,’ said Keedy, ‘do you wish to change your fairy story?’

‘It wasn’t a fairy story – it was the truth.’

‘So you still can’t tell us how that blood got onto your trousers?’

‘It wasn’t from any murder,’ affirmed Waldron.

‘In that case, it came from somewhere else.’

‘I can’t remember, Sergeant.’

‘Perhaps I should ask Mrs Crowther,’ said Keedy, trying to needle him. ‘She seems to have an interest in what you wear.’

Waldron jabbed a finger. ‘Keep her out of this.’

‘I’m afraid I can’t do that, Horrie, because she’s indirectly involved. By the way, I have a message from her. She never wants to see you again. Mrs Crowther also wanted me to give back those flowers you left on the doorstep, but you’re not allowed flowers in here.’ He clicked his tongue. ‘That was very naughty of you, stealing them from the cemetery and pretending you’d actually bought them. A nice lady like Maud Crowther deserves better than that.’

Waldron was torn between pain and humiliation – deeply hurt that he’d been rejected, and embarrassed that he’d been caught out trying to pass off stolen flowers as some that he’d actually bought. Nothing could heal the breach with Maud. It was hopelessly beyond repair. What made it worse was that he had to hear about it from a detective while locked up in a cell. It made him feel both trapped and powerless. He turned his thoughts to survival.

‘You can’t keep me here for ever,’ he challenged.

‘That depends on whether or not we charge you with murder.’

‘You got no evidence.’

‘We have enough to go on,’ said Keedy, feigning confidence.

‘That means you’re going to invent some. I’ve heard of the police doing that before. When they got no cause to hold someone, they make up evidence against him. They tell lies in the witness box. Well, you
won’t play that trick on me, Sergeant,’ he said, tapping his chest. ‘I’m no fool. I know my rights. I know the ropes and I know what to do in court.’

‘In fact, the only thing you
don’t
know is how to tell the truth.’

Waldron stamped his foot hard. ‘How many times must I say it?’ he bellowed. ‘I didn’t kill anybody.’

‘Let’s turn to Stan Crowther, shall we?’ said Keedy.

‘Hey, you haven’t told him about me and Maud, have you?’

‘I didn’t need to, Horrie. I upset him another way.’

‘Eh?’

‘I asked him about that blood on your trousers.’

Waldron became shifty. ‘What did he say?’

‘According to him, he never even noticed it.’

‘There you are, then,’ said the other, relieved.

‘So I put another question to him and that shook him for some reason.’ During a long pause, Keedy saw the prisoner’s apprehension intensify. ‘I asked him if he could think of any other way that blood could have got there. Why should he be so reluctant to tell me? Has he got something to hide?’

‘That’s his business.’

‘No, Horrie, it’s yours as well. You and Stan Crowther are linked in some way and it’s not only through his mother. I think you’ve burnt your boats with regard to both of them now.’

‘What do you mean?’ asked Waldron, aggrieved.

‘Well, Mrs Crowther doesn’t want you and your best suit within a mile of her and,’ said Keedy, bluffing, ‘her son is not going to give you a welcome at the Weavers Arms. The likelihood is that Stan will ban you altogether. You really upset both mother and son.’

‘Stan’s got no reason to get on his high horse!’

‘He thinks he has.’

‘I’ll smooth things over with him.’

‘I wouldn’t advise you to try,’ said Keedy. ‘When I left the pub, there were flames coming out of his nostrils. You’re not wanted there, Horrie.’

‘But I done the bugger a favour!’

‘If you mean you had those secret rendezvous with his mother, I wouldn’t call those a favour – and neither would he.’

‘I’m not talking about that.’

‘Then what
are
you talking about?’

Waldron turned away and put both palms against the wall as he leant against it. Profoundly shaken by what Keedy had told him, he needed time to think. Maud Crowther and her son had summarily cut him out of their lives. That created a huge gap. He’d never find another woman who took such an interest in him and there were few pubs in Shoreditch that would want a customer with his reputation. Waldron had been cut adrift. The only way he could think of to appease his mounting fury was to inflict pain elsewhere. He swung round to confront Keedy.

‘I want to make a statement,’ he said.

Ruby Cosgrove was astonished when he called at her house that evening. Fred Hambridge had never been there before and it had taken an effort of will to visit her. Of Gordon’s friends, he was the one she liked most. Cyril Ablatt had been too prone to make speeches, while Mansel Price resorted to suggestive remarks that made her uneasy. She took Hambridge into the front room and apologised that there was no fire in there. Shy in the presence of women, it was minutes before he was able to explain the reason for his visit.

‘It’s about Gordon,’ he said.

She was annoyed. ‘Did he send you?’

‘No, Ruby. He doesn’t know I’m here. Please don’t tell him I came.’

‘I was rather hoping he’d turn up himself.’

‘I think he’s afraid to,’ said Hambridge, fishing a piece of paper out of his pocket. ‘Would you read that, please?’

She took it from him. ‘What is it?’

‘It’s an article that Cyril wrote for the parish magazine. He gave me a copy. It wasn’t printed in the magazine. Father Howells said that it was unsuitable.’

‘Why?’

‘I don’t know but it upset Cyril.’

As she read the article, Ruby could hear Ablatt’s voice declaiming the words. His style was so distinctive. At the same time, his argument in favour of pacifism was cogent and sincere. She recognised phrases that Gordon had quoted to her from time to time. Now she knew from whom they came. She passed the article back to him and he slipped it into his pocket.

‘Why did you bring that, Fred?’

‘I wanted you to understand what Gordon believes in.’

‘He’s told me dozens of times.’

‘That article isn’t only what Cyril thought. It covers all four of us. He let us read it before he sent it off.’ He rubbed his hands nervously. ‘All I’m trying to say is that you put Gordon in an awkward position.’

‘I want to marry him,’ she said. ‘What’s so awkward about that?’

‘You’re trying to make him join a non-combatant corps.’

‘Well, yes, I think it’s a good idea.’

‘It’s a very bad idea for Gordon,’ he argued. ‘If he does that, he’ll feel rotten. He’s dying to marry you, Ruby. He talks of nothing else when I’m alone with him. But he doesn’t want to betray his ideals – the sort of thing you read about in that article. Gordon is a good Christian. He hates the very idea of war.’

‘So do I.’

‘Then let him do what he’d planned to do all along.’

Her suspicion was aroused. ‘He
did
send you here, didn’t he?’

‘No, no, I swear it.’

‘Don’t lie to me, Fred.’

‘I came because I thought it might help. Gordon is suffering.’

‘How does he think
I
feel?’

‘He doesn’t know what to do.’

‘Then you can pass on this message,’ she said, angrily. ‘He can start by speaking for himself instead of sending you to speak for him. This is between me and Gordon. You shouldn’t be butting in, so I want you to leave now and not come back. If he hasn’t got the courage to talk this over, then he doesn’t deserve me.’ Close to tears, she opened the door to show him out. ‘You can tell him that as well.’

Hambridge was chastened. He left the house wishing that he’d never gone there in the first place. His intervention had only made matters worse.

The problem was that Alice Marmion might have been mistaken. The offer that Hannah Billington had made was ambiguous. It could well have been an example of the older woman’s kindness and had no other implications. As she thought it over in the safety of her digs, Alice began to feel guilty. Her abrupt departure must have seemed very rude to her hostess. Not that Hannah had complained. On the drive back, she was unfailingly polite to Alice and made no mention of her earlier invitation. To show that she hadn’t taken umbrage, she said that Alice was welcome to come back for tea on a future occasion.

‘You can bring Vera next time,’ she said. ‘The girl needs some kind of treat.’

Something had happened in the bedroom but Alice still didn’t know what it was. She might have had nothing to worry about. Had she stayed, she could have slept in a borrowed nightgown in one of
the other bedrooms. She would have been driven to the depot next morning by Hannah and been very grateful. At the back of her mind, however, was the outside possibility that there’d have been an alternative sequence of events. While the other woman was married, she was happy in her husband’s absence and had stressed the importance of having plenty of elbow room for herself. She was clearly fond of Alice and had complimented her on her appearance a number of times since they first met. Hannah had also got her to admit that there was no man in her life. Such deliberate probing could have had a purpose.

The frustrating thing was that Alice would never know the truth. It would only have emerged if she’d had the courage to stay. Though she planned to tell Vera all about the house, she’d make no mention of the strained moment in the main bedroom. Vera was too innocent about the ways of the world. Yet Alice did feel in need of the support and protection of a close friendship. Alone in Hannah’s house, she’d been isolated and defenceless. Alice never wanted to be in that position again.

Sitting at the table, she began to write a letter to Joe Keedy.

Superintendent Chatfield was disappointed. They had a confession out of the prisoner but it wasn’t the one for which he’d hoped. Harvey Marmion was much more tolerant. A crime was involved but he was nevertheless amused.

‘It’s all to do with rabbits,’ explained Keedy.

‘Rabbits?’ echoed Chatfield, wrinkling his nose.

‘That’s how he got the blood on his trousers, sir. On the night in question, Waldron broke into the garden of a house and opened every hutch there. That’s why he had the spade with him, you see. He used it to kill them and some of the blood inevitably spattered his trousers. After putting the rabbits in a sack, he hid his spade near the Weavers Arms and went round to the back door.’

‘I can imagine why,’ said Marmion. ‘It’s to do with food rationing.’