Under Attack Read online

  On his way back to Scotland Yard, Keedy chided himself for showing his hand too soon. Whatever his feelings about Peebles, he should have kept them well hidden. That’s what Marmion would have done. Until there was enough evidence to make an arrest, he’d have shown patience and restraint. Keedy had been too impulsive. Because of a description given to him by a hotel receptionist, he’d decided that Norris Sprake’s chauffeur had been the killer. His dislike of the man had made him speak too soon. It was foolhardy and unprofessional. The row with Alice was partly to blame for his behaviour. It was a distraction that he couldn’t seem to shake off. Desperate to solve the case and have time to spend with her, he’d seized on a possibility without first exploring it. He’d even rung Marmion and told him of his discovery.

  As for the argument with Alice, he still couldn’t decide if that was his fault or hers. The simple fact was that they’d turned a moment of reconciliation into an excuse to push each other away. Neither of them had wanted an estrangement yet that was what they’d ended up with. When he got back to the office, he was penitent.

  ‘I’m sorry, Harv,’ he said. ‘I went in too hard too soon.’

  ‘How did Peebles respond?’ asked Marmion.

  ‘He was offended.’

  ‘Then you handled it badly, Joe. There was no point in warning him that you had suspicions. He’ll be on his guard now.’

  ‘Peebles was so smug and irritating. He’s taken over Miss Kane’s office as if it was his by right. When he told me that they’d miss her, he was lying through his teeth. He was glad to shunt her out of the way. In short,’ said Keedy, ‘getting rid of her sounded as if it could be one of the motives behind the murder.’

  He went on to describe in detail his interviews with Peebles and Sprake. Though he regretted alerting the chauffeur to his suspicions, he felt that he’d learnt a great deal about the two men during his visit to Barnes.

  ‘Sprake was so calm and collected,’ he recalled. ‘You’d have thought that his business partner had simply retired and not been brutally murdered. He seemed so prepared for the loss of Donohoe.’

  ‘Did you ask him about Club Apollo?’

  ‘Yes – he gave me the same answer as Peebles. He’d never heard of it.’

  ‘Did you believe them?’

  ‘Oh, I’m certain they were both being honest about that. There was a twinge of annoyance in their voices that they weren’t aware of the club. Talking of which,’ said Keedy, ‘how did you get on there?’

  ‘It was a productive visit, Joe. I think that Chat ought to hear about it as well. Let’s see if he’s alone in his office.’

  They walked along the corridor, knocked on the superintendent’s door then went into the room. Chatfield was keen to hear what Marmion had to say about the club. Since he’d met both men, Keedy was interested in the exchanges with Saul Rockwell and Jonathan Ulverton. The fact that the string quartet had a female member also intrigued him but it was Marmion’s revelation about Patrick Armitage that really startled him. It was the cue for Chatfield to take over.

  ‘It’s strange that you should mention him,’ he said, ‘because he was standing in this very office earlier this morning.’

  ‘What did he want?’ asked Marmion.

  ‘He wanted to complain to you, Inspector. Since you weren’t here, he came to me instead and gave vent to his spleen.’

  When he told them what had happened, the detectives were amused but not surprised. Armitage had done what they’d expected of him. Chatfield assured them that he’d sent his visitor away with his tail between his legs.

  ‘One of you should go to the hotel,’ he decided.

  ‘I hope you’re not asking us to apologise to him, sir,’ said Keedy.

  ‘There’s no need for that. Thanks to the inspector, we now have a link between Mr Armitage and Club Apollo. I think he needs to be questioned about that link. It could be instructive.’

  ‘Then I suggest that the sergeant goes to the hotel,’ said Marmion.

  ‘Why is that?’

  ‘First of all, he and the manager got on so well together.’ Keedy gave a laugh of disbelief. ‘Second, I feel it’s time for me to go back to Birmingham again. Adrian Donohoe has adjusted to the crisis very quickly and his mother may have got over the initial shock by now. I’d like to talk to them both.’

  ‘Then off you go,’ said Chatfield. ‘As for you, Sergeant, you can go to the hotel. Since you have such a rapport with the manager, he’ll be delighted to see you.’

  Keedy looked as if he’d just swallowed a rotting onion.

  Burge waited half an hour before he went back to the shop. By that time, the old man had swept up the shards of glass and shovelled them into a bucket. He was now nailing wooden boards across the window. Burge strolled up to the shop.

  ‘Trouble?’

  ‘It was them bleeding kids,’ said the old man, sourly.

  ‘See which ones?’

  ‘Naw, they was too quick.’

  ‘Why pick on you?’

  The old man descended from his ladder and closed one eye, studying Burge intently through the other. He lowered his voice.

  ‘Seen you before. You wanted an ’at.’

  ‘Still got it?’

  ‘Naw, someone took if orff me.’

  ‘Why was that?’

  ‘You’re a copper, ain’t you?’ said the old man, suspiciously. ‘You arsk too many questions.’

  There was no point in denying it now. Hitherto, the shopkeeper would never have dared to cooperate with the police but the situation had changed. He’d been attacked by one of the gangs and their persecution of him might well continue.

  ‘You need help,’ said Burge. ‘This is only the start.’

  ‘I’ll manage.’

  ‘Manage much better if those kids weren’t causing mayhem.’

  ‘Nobody can stop ’em.’

  ‘Yes, they can. All we need is ammunition – names, addresses, how they operate. Take them to a juvenile court and they’ll be locked away. Windows would be safe then. People round here could breathe easier. Think about it.’

  After lengthy consideration, the old man grunted. ‘Come inside.’

  Back in his natural milieu, Patrick Armitage cruised around the hotel with accustomed aplomb. There was no sign of the anger he’d displayed at Scotland Yard. He was relaxed, vigilant and in control. When he saw Keedy enter, he gave him a polite welcome. Only when they’d adjourned to his office did the manager’s mood change.

  ‘I spoke to Superintendent Chatfield earlier on,’ he said, sharply.

  ‘So I’m told, sir.’

  ‘You had no right to question my staff while I wasn’t here.’

  ‘The duty manager raised no objection.’

  ‘He resented being grilled.’

  ‘If that’s how he wishes to describe our brief conversation,’ said Keedy, ‘then so be it. He was very obliging at the time.’

  ‘You’ve cast a shadow over the Devonian.’

  ‘I would’ve thought that Mr Donohoe’s murder had already done that, sir. Be grateful that the crime didn’t actually take place here. If it had, then you’d have had guests pouring in with morbid interest. That wouldn’t have been good for the sedate image of the Devonian, would it? Don’t you agree, sir?’

  ‘Yes, I do,’ conceded the other. ‘It’s a great relief.’

  ‘At least, there’s something we agree on.’

  Armitage eyed him warily. ‘Why have you come back here?’

  ‘I was wondering if you might be able to throw light on a couple of things, sir. When I looked through the list of guests staying here on the night of the murder, I came across a name that interested me.’

  ‘And what was it?’

  ‘Thomas Day,’ said Keedy. ‘Do you recall the gentleman?’

  ‘I’m afraid that I don’t, Sergeant.’

  ‘That’s a pity. Your receptionist led me to believe that you had an almost encyclopaedic knowledge of your guest list.’


  ‘He was overstating my ability.’

  ‘So you’ve never heard of a Thomas Day?’

  ‘I’ve already told you that,’ said the other, petulantly.

  ‘Then I’ll move on to another name and I know for a fact that you’ll recognise it this time.’

  ‘Who is the person?’

  ‘It’s not a person,’ said Keedy, ‘it’s a place – the Club Apollo.’

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘You applied to join it, sir.’

  Armitage bristled. ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘The inspector was there this morning and given permission to look through the list of people who were turned away. You were one of them.’

  ‘My face didn’t fit, that’s all.’

  ‘It wasn’t your face that let you down, sir, it was the feeling that you might not be committed enough to the values of the club.’

  ‘That’s arrant nonsense!’

  ‘I’m only repeating what it said in the record book.’

  ‘What does it matter, anyway?’ said Armitage, recovering instantly. ‘It’s water under the bridge now.’

  ‘How did you first hear about the club?’

  ‘I don’t see that that has any relevance to your investigation.’

  ‘It might do, sir, if Mr Donohoe had mentioned it to you.’

  ‘Well, he didn’t.’

  ‘But he must have been chairman of the panel that interviewed you.’

  ‘Yes, he was.’

  ‘So who did try to recruit you? Was it Mr Ulverton?’

  ‘That’s a private matter, Sergeant.’

  ‘And what happened afterwards?’

  ‘I’m not prepared to discuss it.’

  ‘I sympathise with your position, sir,’ said Keedy. ‘You’re eager to join an exclusive club yet you’re barred by no less a person than Gilbert Donohoe, one of your regular guests at the hotel. You’d have expected him to have spoken up for you out of friendship. Yet he didn’t. Why was that, do you think?’

  ‘The matter is closed, Sergeant.’

  ‘I’m very impressed that you could afford to join the Club Apollo. I know what the annual membership fee is. You have deeper pockets than I imagined, sir.’

  ‘My financial situation is of no concern to you,’ said Armitage, peevishly.

  ‘Let’s go back to Mr Donohoe. If I’d developed a friendship with him over the years and was then rejected by the club of which he was a co-founder, relations between us would have been very strained. Didn’t that happen in your case?’ asked Keedy. ‘Didn’t you wince every time you saw him?’

  ‘No, Sergeant, we carried on amicably as before. I’ve learnt to rise above any mild setbacks and carry on as if they never existed. It makes for a quieter life.’

  Keedy realised that he would get no further with this line of questioning. Being refused membership of a club would certainly have needled Armitage but, in itself, it was unlikely to have provided him with an urge to commit murder. He’d need a much stronger reason to hate Gilbert Donohoe.

  ‘Is that all?’ asked the manager, anxious to get rid of him.

  ‘Not quite, sir,’ said Keedy. ‘Let’s return to Thomas Day …’

  As he boarded the train at Euston, Marmion was looking forward to reviewing the case in depth on the journey to Birmingham. In the event, he found himself thinking about Keedy instead. Something was amiss with his relationship with Alice. Marmion was too finely attuned to the sergeant’s moods to be unaware that a rift had occurred. It had clearly affected Keedy’s judgement. Had his private life been as happy as it usually was, he would never have made the mistake of bungling his interview with Peebles. His mind had been on Alice. As her father, Marmion was bound to worry. Both she and Keedy were strong characters. Dissension between them was never easily resolved. The longer their dispute lasted, the more their stances would harden.

  The train was steaming over the border into Warwickshire before he was able to give the murder his full concentration. They needed help. While they’d identified possible suspects, they’d failed to build a convincing case against any of them. London accounted for only a small part of the victim’s life. It was in the Midlands that he’d made his name and where he spent the bulk of his time. Marmion was hoping that he could gather more evidence about Donohoe on his home turf. The crime might have taken place in London but it was not impossible that the killer hailed from Birmingham. Marmion might be heading towards him at that moment.

  As on the previous occasion, he took a taxi from the station to the Donohoe residence. Though the victim’s son was not there, his wife was and for once she was not playing the piano. Marmion found her in the lounge, reading from the Bible. When he apologised for disturbing her, she raised a forgiving hand.

  ‘I’ve been hoping you’d come sooner or later, Inspector,’ she said. ‘I’d like to know what’s going on.’

  ‘Your son could have told you that, Mrs Donohoe.’

  ‘Adrian is too busy trying to cope with the upheaval this has caused. My husband was a pillar of strength in every sense. When he disappeared, his whole empire tottered a little.’

  ‘Do you think that your son will be able to make it more stable?’

  ‘He’ll do his best,’ she said in a voice that was devoid of any optimism. ‘He lacks his father’s drive but – God willing – this may be the making of him.’

  ‘May I ask some questions about the family?’

  ‘I assumed that you did that with Adrian.’

  ‘He was not as helpful as we’d hoped, Mrs Donohoe. When he was asked about the Club Apollo, for instance, he didn’t wish to talk about it.’

  ‘I’m quite happy to do so, Inspector. I liked the place.’

  ‘You attended concerts there, I believe.’

  ‘Oh, I did more than that,’ she said, getting as close to a smile as she could. ‘I actually commissioned some of them. That’s to say, my husband sought my advice about which musicians we should book and what music we should request. As a result, I was able to listen to bespoke concerts.’

  ‘That must have been a delight for you.’

  ‘Oh, it was. My only regret was that there weren’t enough of them.’

  ‘In essence, it is a gentlemen’s club.’

  ‘Yet I never felt we were there on sufferance.’

  ‘How did you get on with Mr Ulverton?’

  ‘Oh, he’s charming and so is his wife. They act as hosts on Ladies’ Nights at the club. That’s not a role Gilbert and I would have relished.’

  ‘What about your son?’

  ‘Adrian didn’t have the slightest interest in the club. He’s the wrong age, for a start, and preoccupied with other things.’

  ‘Mr Ulverton was rather critical of him.’

  ‘Well, he’s no reason to be,’ said Clara with maternal defensiveness. ‘Adrian is a wonderful son and a good businessman. How can Jonathan Ulverton be so critical of him when he’s never even met him?’

  ‘He didn’t explain that, Mrs Donohoe.’

  She was doing her best to exert self-control but Marmion could see that she was quite fragile. He questioned her as gently as he could.

  ‘Have you ever played a part in your husband’s business activities?’

  ‘None at all, I’m pleased to say. That’s probably why they flourished.’

  ‘Did your husband ever discuss his ambitions with you?’

  ‘Naturally,’ she replied. ‘When he got to know Jonathan Ulverton, he asked me what I thought about a club that offered its members classical music. And I was the only person in whom he confided his political ambitions.’

  Marmion started. ‘I didn’t know that he had any.’

  ‘He was approached more than once to stand for Parliament and the idea seemed to grow on him. He told me once that he’d love to be Lord Mayor of Birmingham. Gilbert said that it would be a businessman’s dream.’

  It was yet another side to the murder victim and Marmion was duly impressed by the man’s
versatility. He wondered if Ulverton knew that his friend was nurturing ambitions for a political career later in life.

  ‘Did your husband ever talk about retirement?’

  She gave a brittle laugh. ‘He didn’t know the meaning of the word.’

  ‘But there must have been a point when he planned to hand over to his son.’

  ‘Gilbert thought he would live for ever, and he will – in our hearts.’

  ‘How are your daughters coping with their loss?’

  ‘They’re both married. They have someone to help them through it. And they, in turn, have been so kind and considerate to me. What’s happened has been truly dreadful but it’s brought us all closer together.’

  ‘Does that include your son?’

  Marmion saw her eyelids flutter and feared that his question had offended her.

  ‘Yes,’ she said at length. ‘I suppose that it does.’

  Since he had the luxury of a car at his disposal, Keedy asked the driver to take him to the site in Stepney where the murder had occurred. Uniformed policemen were still keeping people away from the area. Detectives had just finished their detailed search. They’d found evidence of a struggle and a few tiny items – ignored by riverside scavengers – which could conceivably have belonged to the victim. Keedy chatted for a few minutes with the leader of the team, then broke off when he saw Clifford Burge walking towards him. They exchanged greetings.

  ‘How are you getting on?’ asked Keedy.

  ‘Enjoy being back on my old stamping ground.’

  ‘It’s a pity it’s been overrun by gangs.’

  ‘They won’t terrorise the place for long.’

  ‘That sounds promising.’

  ‘I’ve made headway – thanks to Everitt White.’

  ‘Yes, he’s the reason this search has been taking place. He discovered that this is where the murder victim’s shoes were found. How do you know Inspector White?’