Текст книги "A Bespoke Murder"

Автор книги: Edward Marston

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Текущая страница: 11 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Ruth felt increasingly oppressed. Though the wider family was still mourning the death of Jacob Stein, they also kept a close eye on his only daughter in case she should be tempted to take her own life again. Suffocated by their love, Ruth was simultaneously worn down by their surveillance. Privacy was a thing of the past. There was always somebody there and she came to see her nearest and dearest as so many warders changing shifts outside her cell. It was her mother’s turn to be on duty that morning.

‘How are you feeling today?’ she asked, solicitously.

‘I’m fine, Mother.’

‘Did you have a better night?’

‘Not really,’ said Ruth.

‘What kept you awake?’

‘It was the usual thing.’

‘You must stop blaming yourself for what happened,’ said Miriam, gently. ‘Those two evil men were to blame – not you. They’ve both been arrested and will be convicted of the crime. Doesn’t that give you a feeling of relief?’

‘No, it doesn’t.’

‘Why not?’

‘I can’t explain it.’

‘Are you still afraid of them?’

‘Yes, Mother.’

‘But they’re safely locked up.’

‘One of them is,’ said Ruth. ‘The other man is out on bail.’

‘He can’t touch you here.’

‘That’s not the point.’

‘Then what is?’

‘You wouldn’t understand.’

Though Miriam continued to press her for details, her daughter had taken refuge in silence. It was impossible for Ruth to untangle the confused mixture of heightened emotions and irrational fears swirling around inside her. She was taxed by the apparent pointlessness of her existence yet racked by guilt because she had tried to bring it to an end. She felt irredeemably responsible for tarnishing the family’s hitherto spotless reputation.

Miriam reached for what she hoped would be a possible solution to her daughter’s distress, assuring her that everything would seem different when her brother, Daniel, returned. Because there was such a strong bond between them, he had always been able to cheer up his sister. His mere presence, Miriam felt, would act as a fillip to Ruth.

‘He’ll get your Uncle Herman’s letter before long,’ she said.

‘You keep saying that.’

‘Daniel is thousands of miles away. We’re not sure where his regiment actually is at the moment but your uncle will find him somehow.’

Ruth was certain of it. Her uncle was very tenacious and usually got what he wanted in the end. But she had misgivings about the potential return of her brother. While she missed Daniel terribly and longed to have him back home, she feared that the trust between them would be shattered when he learnt what she had tried to do. Shocked by her suicide bid, he would condemn it along with everyone else. Instead of being a loving brother offering her succour, he might turn out to be one more person maintaining a vigil over her.

They heard a car sweep onto the drive and come to a halt. Its door was opened and slammed then footsteps approached. The sound of a key being inserted in the lock told them that it was Herbert Stone, who was allowed to let himself in at any time. He came striding into the living room where the two women were seated on the sofa. Hoping for news about her son, Miriam got to her feet.

‘Is there any word of Daniel?’ she asked, then she saw the mingled fury and sorrow in his face. ‘What’s wrong, Herman?’

‘I’ve just heard appalling news,’ he said. ‘Someone tried to burn down the synagogue last night.’

In view of recent developments, Marmion felt that David Cohen had not been as forthcoming as he should have been with regard to details about the way that the business in Jermyn Street was run. As a result, he decided to call on the former manager at home to press him for more information. Cohen was surprised to find the inspector standing on his threshold when he opened the front door but he quickly recovered his poise and invited the visitor in. They adjourned to the living room. Marmion turned down the offer of refreshment and plunged straight in.

‘Why didn’t you tell me that Mr Stein’s brother had a stake in the firm?’ he asked.

‘It didn’t seem pertinent.’

‘Everything relating to the business is pertinent, Mr Cohen.’

‘I wasn’t deliberately withholding information from you,’ said Cohen. ‘You must make allowance for the circumstances, Inspector. When we talked the first time, I was looking at the shop in which I’d worked for many happy years burnt to the ground. I was overcome by emotion.’

‘I took that into consideration, sir. I still think that you were unnecessarily taciturn when asked how the two brothers got on.’

‘I happen to value the concept of loyalty.’

‘You allowed it to cloud your thinking. I’m sure that you’re as anxious as we are to catch the perpetrators of the crimes but we can’t do that if you conceal vital facts from us. Mr Stein is dead,’ Marmion emphasised. ‘You’re not being disloyal if you tell me that his brother exerted undue influence over him.’

‘Perhaps not,’ conceded the other.

‘So what wasthe relationship between them?’

David Cohen took time to assemble his answer. Even though he was spending leisure time at home, he was neatly attired in a suit. Marmion wondered if the man ever wore casual clothing. It seemed wholly out of character for him. Cohen began with a warning.

‘What I’m about to tell you, I do so in strictest confidence.’

‘I respect that, sir.’

‘Nobody outside the family is aware of the true situation.’

‘And what situation would that be, Mr Cohen?’

Cohen inflated his chest. ‘The business was not always as successful as it became,’ he admitted as he breathed out. ‘There was a time early on when it ran into difficulties.’

‘Did Mr Stein have a loan from his bank?’

‘He felt it easier to borrow from his brother,’ said Cohen. ‘That way, the bank was kept unaware of the fact that there’d been a wobble in his fortunes. Thanks to the injection of new capital, the business quickly righted itself.’

‘But it remained in debt to Mr Stone.’

‘He was Herman Stein in those days, Inspector, and he was very acquisitive by nature. He believed that his loan had bought him a strong position in the firm. Even after it was repaid, he continued to put in an appearance and keep abreast of the accounts.’

‘That must have been disconcerting for his brother.’

‘It was.’

‘How did the other employees view his interference?’

‘They resented it.’

‘Did they complain?’

‘They left it to Mr Burridge to do that,’ said Cohen. ‘He was the unofficial spokesman and not simply because he was the oldest. Cyril Burridge was a born complainer.’

‘Yes,’ said Marmion with a wry smile, ‘I’ve met the gentleman. I can imagine him speaking out.’ He waited for a response that never came. Cohen was not to be drawn. ‘What do you know about the insurance arrangements for the shop?’

‘Nothing at all, Inspector – I left that to Mr Stein.’

‘Was he punctilious about such things?’

‘Very punctilious,’ replied Cohen.

‘Then I’m bound to ask why he put the arrangements in his brother’s hands.’ Cohen was taken aback. ‘It seems that the whole policy was reviewed a couple of months ago. Thanks to Mr Stone, the shop was carrying much heavier insurance than before.’

Once again, Cohen held back any comment. Marmion could see that the man was startled, yet he refused to express it in words. Nor did he ask how the inspector had come by the information. Insulated by consecutive layers of caution, the manager simply bided his time. Marmion tried to pierce his defences.

‘You didn’t like Mr Burridge, did you?’ he challenged.

‘Is that what he told you?’

‘I deduced it from the way you talked about him.’

‘His work was above reproach, Inspector.’

‘What about his manner?’

‘One learns to accept people’s idiosyncrasies.’

‘Are you claiming that there was no conflict between you?’

‘I was there to make sure that everyone did his job,’ said Cohen, smoothly, ‘and that’s what I did. Mr Burridge is an expert tailor.’

‘Then why didn’t you fight to retain his services?’

‘The decision was not left in my hands.’

‘What if it had been?’

Cohen gave a cold smile. ‘That’s idle speculation and, as such, of no earthly use to us. Mr Burridge left because of a dispute over his wages. I did not hold the purse strings, Inspector.’

‘I’m beginning to wonder what you actually diddo,’ said Marmion, irritated by his companion’s habit of dodging questions. ‘You seem to have managed the business with your eyes closed.’

‘I find that remark offensive,’ said Cohen, huffily.

‘Then that makes us quits, sir, because I find your evasiveness equally offensive. I’m trying to find out who killed your employer and all that you can do is to fend me off. Since you can’t give me a straight answer with regard to Mr Burridge, let’s turn to Howard Fine. Were you pleased that he was dismissed?’

‘I felt that it was best for the firm.’

‘Why was that, sir?’

‘He was not our sort of tailor.’

‘He was personable, had excellent credentials and came from a good Jewish family. I would have thought he was ideally qualified to work for Jacob Stein.’

‘That was how it seemed at first.’

‘What went wrong, Mr Cohen?’

‘Mr Stone is best placed to answer that, Inspector. He made the decision to terminate his contract.’

‘Did his brother endorse the decision?’

There was a long pause. ‘He came to do so after a while.’

‘So there was some dissension at first – is that correct?’

‘It did cause a ripple or two,’ confessed Cohen. ‘The fact is that both Mr Fine and Mr Burridge were soon replaced with people who did their respective jobs just as well. Until the tragic events of last week, the business was thriving.’

Marmion detected the slightest hint of a smirk around the man’s lips as if Cohen was congratulating himself on the way that he was refraining from committing himself in any way. It prompted the detective to ask a question off the top of his head.

‘Did you see anything of Mr Stone socially, sir?’

‘No, I didn’t.’

‘What about his brother?’

‘Mr Stein and I did have an occasional drink together, Inspector, and my wife and I were privileged to dine with him and Mrs Stein now and again. Also, of course, I worshipped at the same synagogue.’

‘Indeed? Then I have some sad news for you.’

‘Really?’

‘An attempt was made last night to burn it down,’ said Marmion. ‘Luckily, the alarm was quickly raised and the fire brigade got there in time to put out the blaze before it did any significant damage.’

Cohen was distraught. ‘That’s an appalling thing to do!’

‘We’ve mounted a police presence outside the building and warned other synagogues to take precautions against attack.’

‘Do you think attacks are likely elsewhere?’

‘No, Mr Cohen,’ said Marmion, calmly, ‘I don’t believe that they are. I think it’s more than possible that your synagogue was picked out because it was the one that Jacob Stein attended. He’s being persecuted even though he’s now in his grave.’

When she woke up that morning, the problem that she had taken to bed with her was still there to vex her. Who had been following them the previous day? It was a question that tormented Irene. Though she had seen nobody with her own eyes, she put her trust in the instincts of Miss James. Someone had tailed them to the shops. Irene kept asking herself who it was and what his motive could have been. The obvious candidate was Ernie Gill but he lived on the other side of London and had promised not to get into contact with her until she felt ready. The onus was on Irene to arrange their next meeting.

Over her mid-morning cup of coffee at the house, she came round to another explanation and it was not reassuring. The person following them must have been a thief. Seeing someone as vulnerable as Miss James, he had been waiting for an opportunity to snatch her handbag and run off. Irene’s presence stopped him doing that. She agonised over whether or not to confide her fears in the old lady herself, then decided against it. Miss James rarely ventured out alone. She almost invariably had company that would act as protection. The best thing was to forget the whole episode.

As she was deciding how to spend the rest of the day, Irene heard the click of the letter box and the thud of mail hitting the carpet. She went out and picked up three letters, checking the names on them as she walked back to the kitchen. Two were addressed to her sister but one was for her and she recognised the handwriting of her landlady in Liverpool. Using a knife to slit open the envelope, she took out a cutting from the local newspaper. Beneath a photograph of a small house whose windows had been smashed in was an article that made her gasp. When she noted the date given in the article, her blood ran cold. It was too great a coincidence. Her mind was racing. She had something much more sinister to worry about now than being followed by a mysterious stranger.

Thanks to the quick response, the damage to the synagogue had been swiftly curtailed. The fire had gained a purchase on the double doors but had been unable to spread before the fire brigade arrived. That did not minimise the shock felt by those who routinely attended the synagogue. Several of them had come to view the smoke-blackened doors and to weigh up the implications of the attack. Joe Keedy was shown the full extent of the damage by Rabbi Hirsch. When he broke away, the sergeant was confronted by Herbert Stone.

‘What are you going to do about this?’ demanded Stone.

‘As you can see, sir, we’ve assigned two uniformed policemen to stand guard here. That will continue around the clock.’

‘It’s too little, too late. We needed protection beforehand.’

‘We had no indication that the place was in danger.’

‘When the situation is highly volatile, as it is at present, then it’s always in danger. You should have foreseen that, Sergeant.’

‘We’re not fortune-tellers, Mr Stone,’ said Keedy, determined not to be browbeaten. ‘We can’t predict the future. The question you should be asking is not why this synagogue was attacked, but why none of the others in London was singled out.’

Stone blenched. ‘Is that true? Ours is the only one?’

‘Yes, sir.’

Keedy was not pleased to see him. He had simply come to take stock of the damage and to see if there were any clues that pointed to the culprits. Unhappily, there were none so far. A man walking his dog reported seeing a lorry driving away at high speed but it could not definitely be connected with the blaze. Detectives were still going from house to house in the vicinity in search of potential witnesses.

Stone clearly took an almost proprietorial interest in the synagogue and, judging by the way the two men talked together earlier, he seemed to be an intimate friend of Rabbi Hirsch. Since he could not avoid speaking to Stone, Keedy took advantage of the opportunity to question him.

‘I understand that you had more than a passing interest in your brother’s business affairs,’ he said. ‘Is that true, sir?’

Stone’s jaw tightened. ‘What if it is?’

‘You even had some say in who was employed there.’

‘Jacob always turned to me for advice.’

‘It was rather more than advice, Mr Stone. When I interviewed Howard Fine, he told me that you’d dismissed him in person.’

‘He should have gone much sooner,’ said Stone with disdain.

‘Why was that?’

‘He did not belong, Sergeant.’

‘Your brother apparently thought he did.’

‘He was the only one who did. Fine was a disruptive influence.’

‘In what way?’ asked Keedy, surprised. ‘He struck me as a rather harmless and inoffensive fellow.’

‘You didn’t have to work alongside him.’

‘Neither did you, sir.’

‘I picked up the vibrations from the other members of staff,’ said Stone, bristling. ‘Burridge loathed him and – though he was far too well bred to voice his concerns – so did Mr Cohen, the manager. Howard Fine was a mistake. That’s why I sent him on his way.’

‘Do you think that he could be vindictive?’

Stone glared. ‘His type often can be.’

‘What exactly do you mean by “his type”?’ asked Keedy.

‘I leave you to guess. But if you’re asking if he should be treated as a possible suspect, the answer is no. Howard Fine wouldn’t have the guts to seek revenge,’ said Stone, contemptuously. ‘As far as I was concerned, his departure was a case of good riddance to bad rubbish.’

‘Yet he was able to find employment almost immediately.’

‘Then he’s someone else’s problem now.’

Keedy was puzzled. When he’d spoken to Fine, there’d been no hint of vengefulness in the man. He’d accepted his dismissal and found more amenable work elsewhere. Evidently, there had been a deeper rift in the Jermyn Street shop than the tailor had indicated. What had actually happened during his time there, and why was Stone showing such animosity towards a man with whom he hardly ever came into contact? What had Howard Fine done to upset him?

Stone shifted the conversation to another former employee.

‘You’re going to ask me about Burridge next, aren’t you?’ he said. ‘I might as well tell you that I wasn’t sorry to see him go. That was no reflection on his work, mind you – it was exceptional. But his manner could be abrasive,’ said Stone. ‘He was respectful towards me and my brother, of course, but Mr Cohen had difficulties with him.’

‘Did he complain about them?’

‘No, Sergeant – David Cohen wouldn’t do that. He never told tales. He believed in settling differences by means of tact and diplomacy.’

‘According to the inspector,’ said Keedy, ‘Cyril Burridge was far from being either tactful or diplomatic. In fact, the wonder is that he lasted so long in your brother’s shop.’

‘He had his virtues,’ conceded Stone, ‘and he knew how to keep his head down whenever Jacob and I were about. When he was given his notice, however, he told me precisely what he thought of me and he didn’t mince his words.’ He smiled, darkly. ‘My back is broad,’ he boasted. ‘Insults like that just bounce off me.’

Keedy wanted to pursue the topic but the rabbi was beckoning Stone over to him. The sergeant managed to get in one more question.

‘How is your niece bearing up, sir?’

‘Not too well,’ admitted Stone. ‘Ruth is still reeling from what happened to her and to her father. She’s still very fearful.’

‘There’s no need to be,’ said Keedy. ‘Gatliffe would never dare to go anywhere near her and Cochran is safely locked up in prison. She has nothing to fear from either of them.’

When the telephone call came, Sir Edward Henry was as annoyed as he was disturbed. After ridding himself of some biting criticism, he left the room and headed down the corridor to Harvey Marmion’s office. He knocked on the door then let himself in. Seated behind his desk, Marmion looked up from the report he was studying. He could see from the commissioner’s expression that something dramatic had occurred.

‘What’s the trouble, Sir Edward?’ he asked.

‘I’ve just had a phone call from the Home Office.’

‘And?’

‘The staff at Wandsworth can’t do their job properly.’

Marmion understood. ‘Oliver Cochran?’

‘Yes,’ said Sir Edward. ‘Somehow – God knows how – he’s managed to escape and is on the run.’

Major Raymond Marmion was such an irregular visitor to the house that Ellen always made a fuss of him when he did turn up. He had called in that afternoon to borrow his brother’s lawnmower and was immediately pressed to have tea, sandwiches and a slice of homemade chocolate cake. To someone who deliberately led a fairly spartan existence, it was a rare moment of indulgence for him.

‘Since I joined the Army,’ he said, relishing the cake, ‘I’ve had to makefar more tea than I ever have chance to drink. I just get so much more pleasure out of satisfying the needs of others.’

‘You’re a saint, Ray.’

‘We don’t believe in canonisation.’

‘Well, you should do.’ Ellen cut herself a slice of cake. ‘I hear that Alice came to see you to discuss this mad idea she has of joining the Women’s Emergency Corps.’

He was more tolerant. ‘Is it such a mad idea, Ellen?’

‘We think so. Alice has a profession to follow.’

‘She feels that she wishes to help the war effort.’

‘Is that what you advised?’

‘Good Lord, no,’ he said, smiling. ‘I’d never try to tell Alice what to do. I merely provided a pair of ears so that she could go through the pros and cons. She’s well aware of the disadvantages of the scheme, so it’s not an easy decision. It partly depends on this friend who teaches at the same school.’

‘Her name is Vera Dowling. She’s a rather timid creature.’

‘Miss Dowling is ready to follow Alice’s lead, it seems, but she’s getting impatient. Alice thinks that her friend may get fed up with waiting and will volunteer even if she has to do it on her own.’

Ellen did not like the sound of that. Vera Dowling was a young woman who needed someone else to tell her what to do. If she was suddenly deciding to take independent action, it would act as a spur to Alice and that was worrying. Ellen tried to explain why she and her husband opposed the notion. Raymond listened with his customary patience and attention, making sure that he didn’t take sides. It was important for his sister-in-law to air her grievances so he let her talk uninterrupted.

Barely a minute after Ellen had finally reached the end of her peroration, they heard the front door being opened. Alice had come home from school. At the sight of her uncle, she grinned broadly and rushed to embrace him. Then she looked at her mother and back again at Raymond.

‘Something’s been going on,’ she said, suspiciously. ‘I sense a conspiratorial air in this kitchen.’

Raymond held up both hands. ‘Don’t look at me,’ he said. ‘I only came to borrow your father’s lawnmower.’

‘You’d better wear ear plugs when you use it, Uncle Ray. It makes the most terrible clanking noise.’

‘I can put up with that.’

Alice saw the cake. ‘I wouldn’t mind a slice of that, Mummy.’

‘I’ll make a fresh pot of tea,’ said Ellen.

‘Thank you. Then you can tell me what you were saying about me before I came in.’

‘You weren’t even mentioned, Alice.’

‘Then why is there such an atmosphere?’

Ellen clicked her tongue. ‘You’re imagining things.’

While her mother went to the sink to fill the kettle, Alice turned to her uncle. Honest by nature, her uncle would never dissemble. He anticipated her question and sought to divert it.

‘You werethe subject of discussion, Alice,’ he told her, ‘when I had an unexpected visitor yesterday.’

‘Oh – who was that?’

‘Sergeant Joe Keedy.’

‘Why did he come to see you, Uncle Ray?’

‘He knows how long I’ve worked in the East End and how closely I’ve watched the activities of dissident elements in the area. We often have to pick up the pieces afterwards, you see. I was able to help him with a list of names.’

‘And you talked to him about me?’

‘Let’s say that your name came into the conversation.’

Alice was curious. ‘What did Joe have to say?’

‘It’s not what he had to say but the way that he said it.’

‘I don’t follow.’

‘You’ve made something of a conquest, Alice.’

‘Oh, I don’t think so,’ she said with a touch of sadness. ‘Joe is only interested in his girlfriend. She’s a nurse, apparently, and she’s gone to Flanders to work in a dressing station.’

‘I can only tell you what I heard,’ said Raymond.

‘And what was that?’ asked Ellen, lighting the gas.

‘I heard a man who is extremely fond of my lovely niece.’

Alice was pleased. ‘Did he say that in so many words?’

‘He didn’t need to,’ explained Raymond. ‘It was the way that Joe said your name. That’s what gave him away.’

It was encouraging news but Alice was not quite sure how to take it. While she was delighted to have made a good impression on Keedy, she was critical of him for taking an interest in her when his affections were already engaged elsewhere. Her own feelings about him had not changed – Alice still thought him a handsome, engaging and thoroughly mature man. That put him streets ahead of any of her other admirers. Yet he was unavailable. She had to keep reminding herself of that. Keedy was already spoken for and she had to respect that fact. When she came out of her reverie, she saw that her mother was offering her a slice of cake on a plate.

‘Oh,’ said Alice, taking it from her, ‘thank you, Mummy.’ She had a first bite of the cake before announcing her decision. ‘By the way, Vera and I have made up our minds at last.’

Ellen braced herself. ‘Have you?’

‘Yes – we’re going to join the WEC.’

As soon as Keedy entered Scotland Yard, he saw Marmion coming towards him with a sense of urgency. Instead of being able to report on his visit to the synagogue, the sergeant was turned round and bundled into a waiting car. Marmion settled in beside him and the vehicle set off.

‘Oliver Cochran has escaped,’ he said.

Keedy gaped. ‘How the hell did he do that?’

‘Let’s worry about that when we have him under lock and key. We have to catch him as soon as possible, Joe. If this gets into the press, they’ll start asking about the offence with which he’s charged and Ruth Stein’s name may be leaked.’

‘We must stop that happening, Inspector. I’ve just spoken to her uncle. The girl is still struggling badly. The last thing she needs is to see her name all over the newspapers. What’s the situation?’

‘We’ve launched a manhunt. Cochran won’t get far.’

‘He’s young and strong. If he’s clever enough to escape from Wandsworth, he could be very difficult to find.’

‘I don’t think so,’ said Marmion, confidently. ‘He realises that he can’t stay at liberty indefinitely. In my view, that isn’t why he broke out of prison. Cochran has only one purpose in mind.’

‘What’s that, Inspector?’

‘He wants to get his revenge on John Gatliffe.’