Read A Bespoke Murder Online

Authors: Edward Marston

Tags: #Fiction, #Historical, #Mystery & Detective, #Mystery

A Bespoke Murder (23 page)

‘What about that group you know here in London? The one you said I’d be too law-abiding to join. You told me that you hit and run.’

‘Oh, that only lasted for days. Brad took me along. They were all
talk, really. I soon got bored with them. I am who I am, Irene – the same Ernie Gill you’ve known all these years.’

Irene looked at him, then down at the article, then back at him again. She was not sure what to believe. Hoping with all her heart that he had nothing to do with the crime, she still had vestigial doubts.

‘How do I know that you’re telling the truth?’

His voice became earnest. ‘Fetch me a Bible,’ he told her, ‘and I’ll swear on that. You know me, Irene. I’m a good Catholic boy. I wouldn’t lie with my hand on the Holy Book.’

‘There’s no need to do that.’

‘How else can I convince you?’

There was a pleading note in his voice. Irene looked deep into his eyes but saw no hint of guilt or dissembling. She looked down at the article once more then she picked it up and scrunched it in her hand. Her smile was edged with slight embarrassment.

‘I think I owe you an apology, Ernie.’

‘Not at all,’ he said, effusively. ‘I’m glad you came. You did the right thing, Irene. I can see exactly what you must have thought and I’m glad I was able to set the record straight.’

‘So am I.’

‘I take my hat off to you for walking in here the way you did. Ladies like you don’t come in here by themselves. They know the kind of greeting they’ll get. It was very brave of you.’

‘I
had
to know the truth,’ she explained.

‘And now you’ve heard it. Come on,’ he said, getting up. ‘This is no place for you, Irene. I’ll walk you to a place where you can get some transport home. Ernie Gill, a murderer,’ he went on, laughing. ‘You should know me better than that. I wouldn’t hurt a fly.’

* * *

Ellen Marmion had been torn between concern and amusement when the two of them turned up soaking wet. Since his house was closer, Marmion had asked to be driven there so that he and Keedy could change into dry clothing. Shoes, socks, trousers, shirts, ties and underclothes were discarded and hung on the clothes line. While the inspector was able to put on a different suit, Keedy had to make do with borrowed items of clothing that neither fitted properly nor suited his taste. He was embarrassed when Alice came in from the garden in time to catch him in a pair of trousers that were noticeably too baggy.

‘What happened?’ asked Alice.

‘Joe is a hero,’ replied her father. ‘He saved a man from being killed and arrested an escaped prisoner. Unfortunately, it all took place in a river.’

As he supplied more details of the incident, Alice’s interest and admiration grew. She tried not to notice that Keedy’s shoes were sizes too large for him or that his coat and trousers did not match. Keedy stressed that it was Marmion who’d rescued and resuscitated John Gatliffe. As a precaution, he’d been taken to hospital and examined before being released. Cochran had been returned to Wandsworth.

‘Does this mean you’ll get some good publicity for a change, Daddy?’ said Alice. ‘You and Joe should be in all the newspapers.’

Marmion shook his head. ‘We’re more likely to be blamed for letting him escape than for actually catching him.’

‘But it was the prison officers who should be blamed for that.’

‘The press don’t make distinctions, Alice. They lump us all together as the forces of law and order. If they have an excuse to take a potshot at us, they will.’

‘Yes,’ said Keedy. ‘They’re already criticising us because we haven’t caught the man who killed Jacob Stein yet.’

‘They can’t expect instant results,’ said Ellen.

‘They can and they do.’

Alice wanted to hear Keedy’s version of the arrest of Oliver Cochran but he was too modest to give it. Instead he told her about the fire at the synagogue and what he found when he went there. It was the first time that Marmion had been with his daughter since she made her decision. Ellen cued her in.

‘Alice has something to tell you, Harvey,’ she said.

Marmion turned to his daughter. ‘Do you?’

‘Yes,’ said Alice. ‘I’m going to join the WEC.’

‘Talk her out of it,’ urged Ellen. ‘You help him, Joe.’

‘This is nothing to do with me,’ said Keedy, holding up a hand.

‘It’s nothing to do with me either,’ said Marmion, calmly. ‘Alice is old enough to make up her own mind and we must respect that.’

‘Thank you, Daddy,’ said Alice.

Ellen was simmering. ‘How can you say that, Harvey?’ she asked. ‘You were as strongly against the idea as I was.’

‘I was,’ conceded Marmion, ‘and I left Alice in no doubt about my opinion on the subject. But we can’t let this drag on forever, Ellen. If the decision has been made, we should have the grace to accept it.’

‘You can’t just let it go like that.’

‘What would you have me do?’

‘Let’s discuss this in the kitchen.’

‘There’s nothing to discuss.’

‘I think there is,’ said Ellen, eyes flashing. Forcing a smile, she looked at Keedy. ‘You’ll have to excuse us a minute. We won’t be long.’

She led the way into the kitchen and Marmion followed her. When
the door was shut behind them, Alice was uncertain whether to smile or to apologise.

‘Oh dear!’ she said. ‘You’ve caught us at a rare moment, Joe. My parents almost never have an argument. It’s my fault that they’re about to have one now.’

‘You’re entitled to run your own life, Alice.’

‘Tell that to Mummy and Daddy.’

‘I wouldn’t dare.’

‘Did you ever have arguments with your parents?’

‘All the time,’ he said. ‘When I told my father that I didn’t want to stay in the family business, he almost exploded. My mother was just as bad. She kept going on about the importance of tradition.’

‘I can’t see you as an undertaker somehow,’ she said, then put a hand to her mouth to smother her laughter. ‘Especially in a pair of trousers like the ones you’ve got on.’

‘They were all that your father could find.’

‘You always take such a pride in your appearance.’

‘I like to look smart, Alice. It’s important.’

They looked at each other with mutual affection and there was a long silence that neither of them had any inclination to break. They were simply savouring each other’s company. Alice felt drawn to him once more but controlled her feelings when she recalled that he was not available. She picked up an envelope from the mantelpiece.

‘We had a letter from Paul this morning,’ she said.

‘Yes – so your father said.’

‘I don’t know how he can be so cheery. Living in a trench sounds like being in purgatory. I’d hate it.’

‘So would I, Alice. But your brother is an optimist. Paul always tries to see the good side of things.’

‘There
is
no good side of things at the front, Joe.’ She put the envelope back on the mantelpiece. ‘But I daresay you’ll get your own reports to that effect.’

He frowned. ‘Why should I do that?’

‘According to Daddy, you have a friend who’s just gone to Flanders to work as a nurse there.’

‘Oh – you mean Pam,’ he said, noting the wistfulness in her voice. ‘I don’t think Pamela will bother to write to me. When she told me her decision, we agreed to go our separate ways. She’s going to be fully occupied from now on.’

‘Yes,’ said Alice, barely able to keep a smile off her face. ‘I suppose that she will be. Once you commit yourself to the war effort, you don’t have much time for anything else. I know that when I join the WEC, I can expect to work much longer hours than I do now.’

‘When do you start?’

‘Oh, we’re going to wait until the end of the term. We can’t just hand in our resignations and walk out. Vera – that’s my friend – has promised her parents that she’ll wait until July. I’ll do the same.’

‘So until then,’ he said, looking her up and down, ‘you’ll have some free time on your hands.’

She nodded happily. ‘What about you?’

‘I’m going to be working flat-out until this case is solved. That will probably mean giving up my Sundays as well. But it will be worth it when we nail the killer and the arsonist.’

‘And what happens then, Joe?’

He grinned. ‘It will be fun finding out.’

 

Herbert Stone seemed to be spending more time at his brother’s house than at his own. It was not just a question of consoling Miriam
and helping to monitor Ruth’s behaviour. He had to see to his brother’s business affairs. That meant that he spent hours in the office, going through the relevant books and documents. It took a huge load off his sister-in-law’s shoulders and she was duly grateful. As he was about to depart after another session at the house, Miriam took his hand.

‘Thank you, Herman,’ she said with a tired smile. ‘You’ve been a tower of strength.’

‘I’ve only done what any brother would have done.’

‘We’d have been lost without you.’

‘It’s nothing,’ he said, kissing her lightly on the forehead. ‘Has Ruth gone to bed yet?’

‘She went up a few minutes ago.’

‘Then I won’t disturb her. I thought she seemed much better today. Our words are finally getting through to her.’

‘She was very upset to hear about the fire at the synagogue,’ said Miriam. ‘But she rallied this afternoon. It was possible to have a proper conversation at last.’

‘Do you think she’s out of danger?’

‘I do hope so, Herman.’

‘If only her brother would come home,’ he said, irritably. ‘It would make all the difference.’

‘Why is it taking so long for news to get through?’

‘I don’t know, Mimi. All that we can do is to wait.’ He jumped in surprise when the grandfather clock immediately behind him started to chime. ‘Goodness – is
that
how late it is?’

‘You’d better go home.’

She escorted him to the door and opened it for him. After giving her a farewell kiss, he put on his hat and walked across to his car. It was
mid-evening and the vehicle was in shadow. He was about to get into it when he noticed that his front wheels were missing and had been replaced by piles of bricks. Someone had smashed his windscreen as well. Stone stood there, quivering with fury.

Miriam was still at the door. ‘Is something wrong, Herman?’

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Irene was halfway back to the house before she realised that she’d forgotten to ask Ernie Gill if he’d followed her when she went to the shops with Miss James. It no longer mattered. Her prime objective had been to find out if he was involved in a murder in Liverpool. Now that he’d convinced her that he was completely innocent of the charge, she chided herself for having suspicions about him. Relieved that he’d not committed a heinous crime, she also absolved him of lying in wait to trail her. Why should he do that? What did he stand to gain? When he could go drinking with friends, he’d have no motive for making such a long journey in the hope of a glimpse of her. Irene had been wrong to suspect him of stalking her and even more wrong to imagine his being capable of murder. When they worked together on the
Lusitania
, Gill had sometimes played unwelcome pranks but that was the extent of his misdemeanours. She felt thoroughly ashamed at the way that she’d confronted him. It was a poor reward for a man who’d come to her rescue at sea.

When Irene let herself into the house, Dorothy was waiting.

‘Where have you been?’ she asked. ‘I expected you here when I got back. It’s getting dark outside.’

‘I had to go out, Dot.’

‘Have you been shopping again?’

‘No,’ said Irene. ‘I went to see Ernie.’

‘I thought he lived miles away.’

‘He does.’

Dorothy laughed. ‘I think that you’re closer to him than you like to admit, Irene. When will I get to meet this admirer of yours?’

‘How many times must I tell you? Ernie is just a friend.’

‘I wouldn’t go all that way if someone was … just a friend.’

‘It won’t happen again, Dot.’

‘We could have him here for tea one Sunday.’

‘No,’ said Irene. ‘I told you before. He’s not coming here.’

‘But I’d like to meet him. Miss James said that he had a nice voice and was obviously fond of you. Why hide him away?’

‘I wouldn’t want him to get the wrong idea.’

‘Chance would be a fine thing,’ said Dorothy with a sigh. ‘I’d settle for a man getting
any
sort of idea about me but I don’t seem to interest them. I don’t know why.’

Irene was sympathetic. ‘It may happen one day.’

‘Who’d look at a woman of my age?’

‘They still look at me.’

‘I’m going to die an old maid – just like Miss James.’

‘You’re not at all like Miss James,’ said Irene, hugging her. ‘You hold down a good job and you do just about everything for the church. Don’t keep putting yourself down, Dot. In your own way, you’ve been really successful.’

‘It doesn’t feel like it.’

‘People rely on you. You’re important in their lives.’

‘There is that, I suppose.’

‘I know a way to cheer you up,’ said Irene, heading for the cabinet. ‘Let’s have a glass of sherry, shall we?’

‘The bottle’s almost empty.’

‘That’s why I bought another one when I went shopping.’

Irene took two sherry glasses from the cabinet, then filled one of them from a bottle. There was just enough left in it for the other glass. She handed one to Dorothy and picked up the other.

‘Good health!’ she said.

‘Health, wealth and happiness,’ said Dorothy, taking a sip. ‘I needed that. I feel better already.’

‘Let’s go and sit down.’

‘What about the cooking?’

‘That can wait.’

Irene went into the living room and sat on the sofa. Dorothy chose the armchair opposite her. She saw her sister glancing round.

‘I know what you’re thinking,’ she said. ‘This place is dowdy. It badly needs decorating. I just never got round to it. By the time I’ve got home from work, I’ve run out of steam.’

‘I’m here now, Dot. We’ll do it together.’

‘Unless you get a better offer, that is.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, I’m not persuaded that you’re here for good, Irene. You’re too good a catch. Ernie Gill may not be your choice but I don’t think you’ll be short of offers.’ After another sip of sherry, Dorothy was emboldened. ‘Pass one of them on to me, will you?’

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