Текст книги "A Bespoke Murder"

Автор книги: Edward Marston

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Текущая страница: 16 (всего у книги 18 страниц)

CHAPTER NINETEEN

Given the problems they’d had with Ruth, her disappearance was bound to cause panic. Herbert Stone joined Miriam in a frantic search of the whole house. They even scoured the garden. Ruth was not there and neither was her handbag. More telling was the fact that the window of her bedroom had been left wide open. It looked as if she’d climbed onto the roof of the shed below and lowered herself to the ground. Miriam was overwhelmed with guilt. In treating her daughter as a prisoner, she feared she’d forced her into a daring escape bid. As ever, Stone was quick to apportion blame.

‘This is your fault, Mimi,’ he said.

‘I can’t watch her all the time, Herman.’

‘You should have been more vigilant.’

‘I thought that’s what I was being.’

‘Why didn’t you pick up the warning signs?’

‘There haven’t been any,’ said Miriam. ‘Ruth has been so dull and listless. It never crossed my mind that she could do anything as dangerous as climbing out of her room. What if she’d fallen?’

‘That would have served her right,’ he said under his breath.

In the hope that his niece had not long left, he ran out of the house and looked up and down the road. He even went to the road at the back of the property in case she’d left by means of the garden gate. It was all to no avail. By the time he got back to the front of the house, Miriam was standing in the drive. Stone was panting.

‘I can’t see her anywhere,’ he said.

‘Where on earth can she be?’

‘If I had my car, I could go and look for her. But it’s a complete wreck. And Jacob’s car is still in that garage near the shop.’ He scratched his head. ‘Could she be with a friend, perhaps?’

‘I don’t think so,’ said Miriam. ‘Since that awful night, she’s been afraid of meeting anybody. It’s suited her to be shut away in the house. At least, it did until today.’

‘When did you last see her?’

‘It was no more than half an hour ago.’

‘Then she can’t have got far,’ he said, looking up and down the road. ‘The trouble is we don’t know in which direction she went.’

Miriam was tense. ‘You don’t think she’s going to …?’

‘No, I don’t. If she was going to make another attempt, she’d hardly take her handbag with her. By the same token,’ he reasoned, ‘Ruth would take much more than a handbag if she was simply running away.’

‘Why would she do that, Herman?’ asked Miriam in disbelief. ‘We’re her family.’

‘People behave strangely under stress.’

‘Do you think she’s done this deliberately to hurt us?’

‘I don’t believe she knows what she’s doing, Mimi.’

She held back tears. ‘We must tell the police.’

‘I’ve lost all faith in them,’ he said with a sneer.

‘We can’t let her roam about on her own. They need to start a search for her right away.’

He gritted his teeth. ‘Leave it to me. I’ll speak to them.’

They went back into the house. The telephone was in the hall. Stone was about to pick it up when a thought hit him. Miriam was now wringing her hands in anguish.

‘This is dreadful!’ she cried. ‘Haven’t we had enough pain to bear already? Why is Ruth doingthis to us?’

‘I’m not sure that she is,’ said Stone, pensively.

‘Ring the police and raise the alarm.’

‘Yes, but what am I to tell them, Mimi?’

‘Tell them that Ruth has run away, of course.’

‘But didshe?’ he asked, worriedly. ‘Did she go or was she taken? On a warm night like this, she’d have left her window ajar. It’s not inconceivable that someone climbed up onto that roof, got into her room and seized her unawares.’

Miriam was distraught. ‘Are you saying she’s been abducted?’

‘It’s a consideration. When the synagogue can be attacked and my car can be vandalised on your drive, we have to accept that almost anything can happen.’ His eyes darted and the veins stood out on his temples. ‘Ruth may have gone,’ he said, anxiously, ‘but we mustn’t jump to the conclusion that she did so voluntarily. She may have been kidnapped.’

Neither of them worked office hours. When they were engaged in an investigation, Harvey Marmion and Joe Keedy let it take over what was rightly their leisure time. If Keedy had important information to pass on, he knew that he could call at the inspector’s house at almost any time without getting a frosty welcome. After making contact with the True British League, he felt that he needed to discuss his findings with the inspector. When he got to the house, the family had just finished their meal and were grateful to see him, if only because he relieved the taut atmosphere around the dinner table. Marmion was glad to talk about something other than his daughter’s decision to move out. Ellen immediately offered to make their visitor a cup of tea and Alice was amused by his appearance.

‘The last time I saw you,’ she recalled, ‘you were wearing some of Daddy’s clothes and now you’re dressed like a workman.’

‘It was a necessary disguise, Alice,’ he said, ‘and at least this old suit fits me. When I put on your father’s shoes, I realised that I could never step into them properly because they were far too big.’

‘You’ll replace me one day, Joe,’ said Marmion. ‘Who knows? You might even be promoted above me.’

‘That will never happen, Harv.’

‘You’re the coming man. I’m one of the resident has-beens.’

He took Keedy into the living room so that they could talk alone.

‘What was going on when I arrived?’ asked Keedy. ‘I thought I detected some tension in the air.’

‘You did, Joe. Alice has decided that it’s time to find a place of her own and Ellen positively hates the idea. I’m caught somewhere in the middle.’ He gave a wry grin. ‘Such are the trials of family life.’

‘I’m on Alice’s side. She’s entitled to spread her wings.’

‘Don’t you dare say that to Ellen. It’s a sensitive topic.’

‘You can rely on me, Harv.’

When they’d settled down, Keedy described his visit to the Lord Nelson and gave his assessment of the organisation. He felt that it had serious intentions and was untroubled by inhibitions of any kind. Whether or not it had been involved in any of the incidents under scrutiny, he was not sure, but he got the impression that the two men he met were more than capable of violent action. The scruffy pub that was its unofficial headquarters had made him think that the group was short of money and poorly supported. In fact, as he came to realise, the Lord Nelson was at the heart of an area in the East End where it was most likely to find recruits. People like Brad who lived cheek by jowl with Jewish immigrants were seething with resentment at their growing numbers and influence. He wanted his country to be reserved solely for those who were, in his opinion, truly British.

‘Then it’s no coincidence that they chose a pub called the Lord Nelson,’ noted Marmion. ‘Horatio Nelson was a British hero who kept hated foreigners at bay.’

‘I never thought of that,’ admitted Keedy. ‘It wouldn’t be quite the same if they met at the Black Bear or the Railway Inn.’

‘Where does their money come from?’ asked Marmion.

‘They get contributions from bigots who think like them, I daresay. The one chap spoke about an anonymous donation large enough to buy a lorry.’ He showed the leaflet to Marmion. ‘And they print this sort of inflammatory stuff in large quantities. I’m told they have a sizeable fighting fund at their disposal.’

‘Did they give you their names?’

‘One was called Brad and he was clearly just a foot soldier. The other man pulls the strings. Like me, he chose to conceal his name.’

‘And you say that he had an educated voice?’

‘Yes,’ replied Keedy. ‘He spoke well, whereas Brad sounded as if he had a brain the size of a pea. He’s the sort of character who talks best with his fists. His boss was very different. In fact,’ he said, as the idea dawned on him, ‘if you took away his suit and put him in a pair of dungarees, he’d answer the description of the man seen with the petrol can at the fire in Jermyn Street.’

He broke off as Ellen arrived with the tea. She put the tray down and told her husband to take charge of pouring. Then she gazed at Keedy with a blend of curiosity and wistfulness. After she’d left, he remarked upon it.

‘That was a funny look Ellen just gave me.’

‘It’s much better than the hostile ones I was getting earlier, Joe. Hell hath no fury like a wife who thinks her husband isn’t supporting her in the way she expects.’

‘Thanks for the warning. I’ll stay single.’

‘Oh, don’t misunderstand me,’ said Marmion. ‘I’m all in favour of marriage. I love it. But it does have its moments of turbulence.’ He started to pour the tea. ‘How does this group differ from the others that our lads have been watching?’

‘It’s smaller, more extreme and wilder in its denunciation of the Jews. If it ever got into power – God forbid! – it would initiate a series of pogroms. As it is,’ said Keedy, ‘the League is restricted to more modest targets.’

‘Do you think that Jacob Stein’s shop could be one of them?’

‘I couldn’t say, Harv. They gave very little away.’

‘Are you going back on Friday?’

‘I can’t wait.’ He took a cup of tea from Marmion. ‘Thanks.’

While he poured his own tea, Marmion told him about his conversation with Sir Edward Henry and how the commissioner believed that the inspector had finally worked out how the murder must have been committed. There was something else to tell Keedy.

‘You know that I’ve put David Cohen under observation,’ said Marmion. ‘Well, it’s produced an interesting result.’

‘What was it?’

‘He was seen boarding a train to Brighton.’

‘That’s where Howard Fine lives.’

‘There’s no guarantee that Cohen is going to meet him, of course. It seems unlikely. We won’t know the details of his visit until the man shadowing him gets back. But, if the two of them arein cahoots, it would explain a lot.’

‘What about Cyril Burridge?’

‘Oh, he’s not linked to either of them. He disliked Cohen and despised Fine. In fact, I think you’d be hard put to find someone whom Burridge actually admires. There’s iron in that man’s soul.’

‘How did it get there, Harv?’

‘Search me,’ said Marmion. ‘I’m just glad that I don’t have to work alongside someone as dour and unfriendly as that. Yet, by all accounts, Burridge is a happy family man, so he must be a different person at home. He lives with his wife and son, who – you won’t be surprised to hear – is also a tailor. There’s a daughter as well but she married and moved to Lincoln. There may turn out to be a connection between Cohen and Fine but I can safely say that neither of them would ever have been invited to the Burridge abode.’

They drank their tea and reviewed the case in detail. Keedy was about to offer a suggestion when they were interrupted by the sound of loud voices in the kitchen. Marmion was on his feet at once.

‘The debate is still going on,’ he said with a tired smile. ‘I’d better separate the combatants before they come to blows.’

‘Why not send Alice in here? If she’s looking for a flat, I may be able to give her one or two ideas.’

‘I won’t say that in front of Ellen or she’ll explode. But, yes, I will send Alice in for a chat. She needs to calm down as well.’

Marmion went out and the argument quickly subsided. Keedy finished his tea and put the cup back in the saucer. A moment later, Alice came into the room, distinctly shamefaced.

‘I’m sorry about that noise, Joe. It was my fault.’

‘You want to move on, I gather.’

‘Mummy’s trying to keep me here,’ said Alice, ‘but I’ve reached the stage when I need to live on my own.’

‘I know that feeling very well.’

‘By rights, I should have gone years ago.’

‘That’s exactly what I said.’

She peered at him. ‘By the way, why are you dressed up like that?’

‘I’m a storeman at a factory in Kent. At least, I was until I got the sack for trying to stir up trouble.’ Alice was perplexed. ‘I’m not serious. It was a story I had to invent to win somebody’s confidence.’

‘Did it work?’

‘I hope so,’ he said, ‘or I could be in extremely hot water on Friday. But let’s put that aside and talk about you. Ideally, what sort of area would you like to live in?’

‘I haven’t got that far yet, Joe. The way I’m feeling at the moment, I want to get out of London altogether.’

‘This row with your mother has really upset you, hasn’t it?’

‘We both flew off the handle,’ she confessed. ‘I suppose that I’m to blame. I was so angry that I even threatened to leave the country altogether. I said that I’d go to the front as a nurse or something.’

‘Hey, hold on,’ he said. ‘Don’t youdesert me as well.’

When she realised what she’d just said, her cheeks coloured slightly. She’d forgotten that Keedy’s girlfriend had been a nurse and had left him to go to Flanders. Alice felt awkward but Keedy was not offended. He was feasting his eyes on her. The glow in her cheeks only added to her appeal. A slow smile spread across his features.

‘I won’t let you go abroad, Alice,’ he said, softly. ‘I like having you here. To be frank, I like it very much indeed.’

Dorothy Holdstock was in a dilemma. If she admitted that she’d met Ernie Gill, her sister would demand to know why she’d kept the information a secret for so long. On the other hand, if she didn’t tell Irene about what Gill had said, she would be misleading her about the man. He’d lied about his mother’s name to one or both of them. It was obviously a trick he used to ingratiate himself with people. Dorothy reproached herself for being so easily taken in. What was the real reason he’d followed her? And how did he know where she worked? She knew that Irene had not told him the address of her shoe shop. How had he found it out? There was another concern. Gill had clearly not meant to be caught trailing her. If she had not sensed his presence, how long would he have continued to dog her footsteps?

Not for the first time, she wished that she’d not been so naive, so ready to believe a man for the simple reason that he paid her a compliment. Gill was a plausible rogue. In essence, that’s what Irene had been telling her all along. She had the sense to keep him at a distance whereas Dorothy had succumbed to his easy charm at their very first encounter. Instead of upbraiding him for daring to follow her, she’d ended up admiring him. She was being used. That was the point of it all. Gill had conceived such a passion for Irene that he was using her sister as a means of getting closer to her. He’d pressed her for details of what Irene had said about him. She was the only reason that he’d moved to London. After failing to woo her at sea, he was pursuing her on dry land.

Irene deserved to be warned but that could only happen if her sister confessed that she’d been deceiving her. Dorothy could simply not do that somehow. It would break the trust between them. It would also expose Dorothy as the impressionable and inexperienced woman that she was. Gill was cunning. In telling her to keep a secret, he’d made her his accessory. He’d won her over. Now that he’d been exposed as a liar, she felt that she’d betrayed her sister. Did she tell Irene the truth or did she remain silent? It was an agonising decision.

Ruth Stein had read somewhere that criminals always returned to the scene of the crime. Yet she was a victim. It simply did not make sense. Because of the vile memories it held for her, she had every reason to avoid Jermyn Street. What had taken her back there? The remains of the shop were illumined by the street lamp nearby. The place looked forlorn and abandoned. It was impossible to believe that it had once been a vibrant business. Ruth’s gaze flicked upwards to take in the office where she and her father had been when the attack started. It was there that he’d met his death, although the full details had been kept from her. There was no glass in the two windows and the frames had been burnt to extinction. Her stomach lurched at the thought of her father’s body being consumed by flames.

She had no idea how she’d got to the West End and only a dim memory of how she’d escaped from the house. Now that she was there, however, she began to discern a purpose in the visit. It was an act of confrontation, a determination to stand up to a terrible event instead of letting it dominate her. All that Ruth had wanted to do at first was hide her shame. Unable to cope with what had happened to her, she’d even considered suicide. That had been unforgivable and she’d sought ways to redeem herself. Facing up to her ordeal was, she dimly perceived, part of the answer. But it was something that she had to do on her own. If her mother or her uncle had taken her there, it would not have been the same.

The rape had diminished her as a person. Having the courage to return to the place where it happened, she felt, was the first stage in the process of growth. Ruth had to rediscover her confidence and redefine herself as a young woman. She refused to spend the rest of her life cowering before a gruesome event. She had to get beyond it. Without realising it, her brother had helped. Daniel would be told the details of what had occurred that night. She didn’t want him to come home and find her whimpering in her room. He’d be devastated that she’d tried to end her life but she might win back his love and respect if she demonstrated some spirit. In joining the army, her brother had shown bravery. It was time for Ruth to show a different sort of bravery, to prove that she could face a hideous experience in her past without flinching.

She walked to the rear of the building and stood beside the entrance to the alley. It was in shadow now. Only yards away from where she’d been assaulted, she wanted to walk to the exact spot but she began to falter. Ugly memories filled her head and her eyes misted over for a second. When she could see clearly, the alley was still there and so was the challenge. Ruth had to walk up it in defiance, as a means of boldly facing her attackers. Hands bunched tightly and with her heart beating like a drum, she took a first tentative step then a second, longer one. Though she was shaking all over, she went on with quickening strides, past the site of the rape and on to the end of the alley. The sense of achievement was thrilling and she felt a surge of power coursing through her. Ruth had gained a sense of control.

When she turned round, however, her elation evaporated. A figure had appeared at the other end of the alley, blocking her way. He was only there for an instant. In fact, he vanished so swiftly that she wondered if she’d really seen him. No longer afraid, she went back down the alley and out into the street. She felt proud of what she’d done but the fleeting encounter stayed in her mind. It was strange. Though she’d only glimpsed the figure in silhouette, she felt that she somehow knew the man.

It was two years since the Criminal Record Office had come into being. Initiated in 1869 and modified in 1871, it had originally been called the Habitual Criminals Register and was a list of all offenders who’d been convicted and imprisoned. Details were kept of their appearance, their crimes, their sentences and the dates of their discharge from various prisons. Photographs were a vital component of the records and, since 1901, fingerprints were also retained, thanks to the man who was now the commissioner. It was during his time as Inspector General of the Bengal Police that Edward Henry, as he then was, realised the importance that fingerprinting could hold in the fight against crime. His book, Classification and Uses of Finger Prints, had been adopted as a guide by the Indian Government and had led to the setting up in Britain of the Fingerprint Bureau.

‘Where would we be without Sir Edward?’ asked Marmion, looking at a set of fingerprints. ‘He made our job a lot easier when he reminded us that each of us has a unique set of fingerprints.’

‘Yes,’ said Keedy, ‘a set of dabs can be a great help.’

‘Not that they’re any use to us now, Joe. What you need is a nice clear photograph of him – assuming that he doeshave a criminal record, of course.’

‘I’m certain he does, Inspector. You get a feeling about some people and Brad was one of them. He’s seen the inside of a prison.’

‘And he may well do so again.’

The two men were seated behind Marmion’s desk as they leafed through the records. It was painstaking work but Keedy insisted that it would pay dividends. He was keen to identify the bald man whom he’d met at the Lord Nelson. All that they had to go on was a first name and a hunch but Marmion had learnt to trust his colleague’s hunches. As he turned over another page, he remembered Keedy’s visit to the house the previous evening.

‘What did you say to Alice?’ he asked.

‘We had a pleasant chat, that’s all.’

‘Well, she was in a lovely mood this morning. And she was much more tactful with Ellen. Every time her mother tried to start an argument, Alice managed to calm her down.’

‘I don’t think Ican claim any credit,’ said Keedy.

‘You perked my daughter up, I know that.’

‘I simply told her she was making the right decision.’

‘She’d need more than that to lift her spirits.’

Keedy beamed. ‘It’s the effect I have on women.’ As a new face came into view, he took a close look. ‘That’s like him. In fact, it’s verymuch like him but …’ He shook his head. ‘No, it’s not him. He’s got the same broken nose but the eyes are different from Brad’s.’

‘So is his name,’ observed Marmion. ‘He’s Eric Hubbleday and he can’t possibly be your man. Look what it says here.’

Keedy read the note aloud. ‘Deceased – March 10, 1914.’

‘Let’s move on.’

As they continued to sift through the records, Keedy let his mind wander to other aspects of the investigation.

‘Did you have a report on David Cohen’s movements?’

‘It was on my desk when I arrived.’

‘What did it say?’

‘Cohen took the train to Brighton, had a drink in a pub, then went to call on someone with whom he’d once worked.’

‘Was it Howard Fine, by any chance?’

‘You’ve guessed it, Joe.’

‘What do you conclude from that?’

‘When he talked about Fine, the manager wasn’t telling the truth. Either both of them were involved in a plot to kill Mr Stein, or they’re on – how shall I put it – intimate terms.’

‘I thought that Cohen was a married man.’

‘It’s often the case,’ said Marmion. ‘When I was in uniform, I helped to raid a club in Soho. We went looking for pornography but what we found was a club for effete gentlemen. Almost all of them turned out to have wives and children.’

‘Are you keeping the manager under observation?’

‘Oh, yes – and I’ve got a pair of eyes on Howard Fine as well.’

‘What motive could they have for killing Mr Stein?’

‘One may well emerge, Joe,’ said Marmion. ‘What they did have were means and opportunity. Cohen had the keys to the shop, after all. He could have let someone in surreptitiously at night.’

Keedy was dubious. ‘I don’t see Fine as a killer somehow.’

‘Looks can deceive. Think how many respectable-looking men have turned out to be ruthless murderers – Dr Crippen, for instance.’

As they talked, they continued to flick through the pages so that Keedy could study the photographs. Eventually, he slapped his hand down on a particular page.

‘That’s him, Inspector,’ he said.

‘Are you sure?’

‘If I had any, I’d bet my life savings on it.’

‘You were right about him having a record and it’s not a very pretty one – assault and battery, malicious wounding and armed robbery. He was only released from Pentonville last year.’

‘Do we pay him a visit?’

‘No,’ said Marmion, studying the face in the photograph, ‘we have to catch him in the act of breaking the law. You meet up with him and that other man on Friday. If this True British League is really bent on destruction,’ he went on, looking up, ‘we’ll be standing by to arrest the whole damn lot of them.’

‘Does that include me, Inspector?’

Marmion slapped him jocularly on the back. ‘You’ll be the first we put the cuffs on.’

Miriam Stein was tugged repeatedly between relief and apprehension. Delighted that her daughter was back home, she feared for Ruth’s mental condition. It was not in her nature to be so headstrong. In the space of a week, however, the girl had contemplated suicide, then climbed out of her bedroom and fled. Miriam had been overjoyed when a uniformed policeman brought Ruth safely back to Golders Green the previous evening. She’d also been amazed at how excited Ruth had been, accepting the strictures of her mother and her uncle with a quiet smile on her face. It was only now, after a late breakfast together, that Miriam was able to probe deeper into the mystery of what had happened.

‘Why didn’t you tell us where you wanted to go?’ she asked.

‘I couldn’t do that, Mummy,’ said Ruth, ‘because Uncle Herman would have stopped me.’

‘He might have tried to talk you out of it.’

‘That comes to the same thing. He’d have got his way. I’d have been kept here and might never have been able to screw up my courage again. Don’t you see? I had to go.’

‘To be candid, Ruth, I don’tsee.’

‘I had to overcome my fear of those two men,’ explained Ruth. ‘I was terrified of seeing them again in court when I gave evidence. I wanted the whole case to be dismissed. Then I saw how weak and cowardly that was of me, so I did something about it.’

‘Yes,’ said Miriam, ruefully, ‘you frightened the life out of me and your Uncle Herman. He thought you’d been kidnapped.’ ‘I’m sorry about that, Mummy. I rather hoped that you wouldn’t even notice that I’d slipped out. I hoped to be home before either of you even realised that I was missing.’

‘We were on tenterhooks for hours.’

‘I didn’t mean you to suffer.’

‘Your uncle was so frustrated,’ said her mother. ‘He couldn’t go looking for you because he didn’t have his car, and he couldn’t use your father’s car because that’s still in the West End garage where the police had it towed to examine it. It was maddening, Ruth. However,’ she went on, taking her daughter by the hand, ‘if going back there helped you in any way, then I’m glad you did. I just wish that we’d known about it in advance. Didn’t you trust us to understand?’

‘No, Mummy, I didn’t.’

‘Why not?’

‘I didn’t understand myself until I got there.’

Miriam leant across her and gave her a kiss. When she sat up again, she took out a handkerchief and mopped up the tears that were forming in her eyes. She’d always believed that she had a close and trusting relationship with her daughter but the last week had fractured that illusion. Ruth was a complex and conflicted young woman. Adversity had reduced her to a point where her whole life had seemed pointless. Somehow she’d rallied. With no assistance from anyone else, Ruth had found the nerve to risk climbing out of the house in order to visit a place that Miriam could never bring herself to go because of its associations. Her daughter had somehow shrugged off those grim associations. She seemed completely restored.

‘It wasn’t just for my own benefit,’ said Ruth, happily. ‘It was for all the family. I wanted to make you proud of me again. I wanted you to see that I’ve got the strength to live through this. I’ll get better,’ she went on. ‘I know it. I’m not going to let this ruin my life. I owe it to Daddy. It’s what he would have expected of me.’

Bursting into tears, Miriam stood up and put both arms around her. The worst was over. The daughter that she knew and loved had come back to her at last. It was a miracle.

Irene was baffled. Her sister was so odd and nervous over breakfast that she wondered if she was ailing in some way. Dorothy insisted that she felt fine and left the house much earlier than usual. It was almost as if she’d wanted to evade scrutiny. Irene washed up the breakfast things and wondered what had provoked the strange behaviour. She continued to worry about her sister until the mail finally arrived. All of a sudden, Dorothy vanished from her mind to be replaced by someone else. As she read the latest cutting sent by her landlady, Irene felt so dizzy that she had to sit down. To make sure she’d not been mistaken, she read the piece again. There was no error. His name was there in front of her. She needed a nip of brandy to help her recover.

She was in a quandary and needed advice. Yet the only person she could turn to was her sister. Miss James was in the house but she couldn’t possibly be told what Irene had learnt. It would distress the old lady too much. Dorothy was the person to help. Forgetting the strain existing between them at breakfast, Irene put on her coat and hat before venturing out. The cutting from the Liverpool Echowas in her handbag and its contents had lost none of their power to shock and frighten. They haunted her all the way. When the shoe shop finally came in sight, Irene almost ran the last forty yards.

Dorothy was astonished when her sister opened the door and stepped breathlessly in. She could see at once that something was amiss. One of her assistants was serving a customer, so Dorothy took Irene into the storeroom and closed the door behind them.

‘You look terrible, Irene. What on earth has happened?’

‘ Thishas happened,’ replied Irene, taking the cutting from her bag and handing it over. ‘It’s him, Dot.’

Dorothy read the item with rising horror. She could hardly breathe and prickly heat broke out all over her body. A sense of profound guilt burnt inside her. The article disclosed that the police conducting a murder inquiry in Liverpool were searching for a man named Ernest Gill.

‘What am I to do, Dot?’ asked Irene. ‘He’s my friend.’

‘I know.’

‘It must be a mistake. He’d never do such a thing. He swore to me that he wasn’t involved. Should I believe him?’

Dorothy bit her lip and wrestled with her conscience. This changed everything. Her sister deserved to know the truth.

‘I’ve got something to tell you, Irene,’ she said.

‘Have you?’

‘It’s about Ernie.’