Instrument of Slaughter Read online

  She might be fearful and highly strung but Caroline was patently in need of his help. Club night had come to hold an eerie significance for her.

  ‘What time does your husband leave this evening?’ asked Marmion.

  ‘Seven o’clock on the dot.’

  ‘I’ll be here some time after that, Mrs Skene. That’s a promise.’

  Gordon Leach was putting loaves of bread into the back of the cart when he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned round to see Ruby Cosgrove standing there. He wasn’t sure whether he should be delighted or disturbed.

  ‘Why aren’t you at work, Ruby?’

  ‘I can be late for once. This is more important.’

  ‘What is?’

  She put her hands on her hips. ‘Did you send Fred Hambridge round to me?’

  Leach was stunned. ‘Would you say that again?’

  ‘He came to speak up for you,’ said Ruby.

  ‘Well, he had no right to do that,’ he said, fuming. ‘I’d never send anyone to speak on my behalf – least of all Fred. He’s hopeless when it comes to talking to women. That’s why he’s never had a girlfriend. What did the idiot say?’

  ‘He was only doing his best.’

  ‘I’ll give him a flea in his ear when I see him.’

  ‘Don’t be cross, Gordon,’ she said. ‘What he said made sense. I didn’t think so at the time because I was mad at him – and mad at you as well. I should have known that you wouldn’t trust Fred with a job like that.’

  ‘Are you still mad at me?’

  ‘No – I’m just annoyed at myself for flying off the handle. Fred meant well. He showed me an article that Cyril had written. It was full of big words I didn’t understand but I remember one phrase – “instrument of slaughter”. The article said each man was a dangerous weapon. Put him in uniform and he becomes a killer.’ She grasped his arm. ‘I don’t want you to be a killer, Gordon.’

  ‘There’s no chance of it ever happening.’

  ‘And I don’t want you to do anything that’s … wrong for you.’

  ‘I’m so pleased to hear you say that,’ he said, grinning with relief. ‘Joining a non-combatant corps would sicken me, Ruby. I just couldn’t do it.’

  ‘Then you don’t have to.’

  ‘But I thought …’

  She beamed at him. ‘I’m here now, aren’t I?’

  ‘Does that mean we’re friends again?’

  ‘I never stopped being friends with you,’ she said, before correcting herself. ‘Well, I did for a while when I thought that you’d sent Fred Hambridge to see me. But it soon passed. And that article did make a difference so he did help.’

  ‘He’ll still get an earful from me,’ warned Leach.

  She glanced at the cart. ‘Your round takes you near the factory, doesn’t it?’

  ‘I’ll drive you straight there.’

  ‘Then I might even arrive on time, after all.’ She giggled. ‘Well? Don’t just stand there goggling at me. Do something, Gordon.’ He grabbed her impulsively and planted a kiss on her cheek. She pulled back and saw the white marks on her coat. ‘You’ve got flour all over me!’

  After her late night meeting, Alice Marmion nevertheless arrived at the depot full of vitality the next day. Vera Dowling was not the most perceptive of women but even she noticed the glow in her friend’s face and the sparkle in her eyes. Assuming that it had something to do with the visit to Hannah Billington’s house, she pressed for details. Alice described the house and the delicious tea with mingled awe and gratitude. What she didn’t even touch on was the invitation she’d been given in the main bedroom. The euphoria she felt in the wake of her conversation with Joe Keedy had expunged it from her mind. When Hannah came across to them, therefore, Alice was not in the least embarrassed.

  ‘I was just telling Vera what a wonderful time I had yesterday,’ she said. ‘Thank you once again.’

  ‘It was a pleasure to have you there,’ returned Hannah. ‘We spend so much of our time in these uniforms that it’s good to remind ourselves now and again that we’re still very feminine. Don’t you agree, Vera?’

  ‘Yes, yes, I do,’ replied Vera, nervously.

  ‘We mustn’t let this war turn us into honorary men. That will never do.’

  She gave them a farewell nod and walked away. Alice was able to relax. It was all over. Whatever had happened between them at the house was forgotten. She wouldn’t be invited again and she was happy about that.

  Alice banged the side of the lorry. ‘Come on, Vera,’ she said, making her friend jump in alarm. ‘We’ve got work to do. Let’s go.’

  Caroline Skene was sorely tempted. When she saw her husband putting on his coat to go off to the social club, she had an urge to beg him to stay in for once so that she wouldn’t be left alone. It was an impulse she quickly mastered. To keep him there, she would have had to explain why and she couldn’t do that. Accordingly, she let him put on his cap, adjust it slightly in the mirror, then give her his usual peck on the cheek before he left the house. The moment the door closed behind him, the whole place felt cold, undefended and vulnerable. Marmion had promised to come but she sensed that he was not there yet. Caroline ran straight upstairs to the front bedroom and looked out through a chink in the curtains. She was able to watch her husband stroll along the pavement until he was swallowed by the darkness. The street looked completely empty but she was convinced that her stalker was there. Her heart pounded and a film of perspiration appeared on her brow. The man was out there and she was utterly alone.

  For several minutes, she was paralysed. She stood there like a statue, unable to move or to think clearly. When she did regain some control over her limbs, she went to the cupboard where she kept a bottle of whisky hidden behind a pile of clothing. There was a small glass in there as well. Pouring herself a tot, she replaced the bottle and sat on the edge of the bed to sip the whisky. Sharp and reviving, it gave her a temporary courage. She told herself that she was not in danger. The front and back doors of the house were locked. If necessary, she could lock herself into the bedroom as well. Nobody could get in. The stalker would surely tire of standing out there in the cold before too long. She simply had to hold her nerve. A second sip of whisky gave her added strength. Caroline felt that she could, after all, cope with the situation.

  A loud noise from downstairs shattered her confidence. What had she heard and was it any kind of threat to her? Could it be that her husband had returned? She went out onto the landing and called his name. There was no answer and the house still felt empty. Draining the glass, she left it on the dressing table and was emboldened enough to go downstairs. It was her home. She ought to feel safe. The living room was empty and there was nobody in the front room. Caroline then went into the kitchen and was startled to see that the door had been forced open. As she moved forward, someone who’d been flattened against the wall came up behind her and put an arm around her throat and a hand over her mouth.

  ‘Do as you’re told,’ warned a voice. ‘I don’t want to hurt you.’

  Caroline almost fainted. He’d come for her at last.

  Harvey Marmion asked the driver to pull up around the corner. He and Joe Keedy then got out and split up so that they could enter from either end of the street where the Skene house was located. Someone was loitering immediately opposite it. When Marmion got closer, he saw that a man had simply been waiting while his dog relieved itself against the wheel of a car. The two of them moved off. Having come into the street at the opposite end, Keedy beckoned the inspector over to look at a horse and cart that stood in the shadows. Marmion let his torch play on the painted board at the rear of the vehicle. He read out the bold lettering.

  ‘Jack Dalley. Blacksmith. Bethnal Green.’

  They were in the main bedroom now. Caroline was too terrified either to speak or move. She sat perched on the edge of the bed and his eyes ran hungrily over her.

  ‘I first saw you at Nora’s wedding,’ he explained. ‘You hardly noticed me but
I never let you out of my sight. I found out everything I could about you and I started to watch. I know you better than your husband does, Caroline,’ he said with a snigger. ‘I saw what you did when his back was turned. You let Cyril Ablatt in one night and I watched the light come on in this bedroom. Why him?’ he cried. ‘Why bother with a mere boy when you could have had me? Well, no matter. You’re mine at last now. I’ve lived with a corpse for too long. I need a real woman.’

  As he touched her shoulder, she recoiled. ‘Leave me alone – please.’

  ‘I’ve earned you,’ he said with a grin, ‘and you can’t refuse me, can you? If you do, I’ll tell your husband what you got up to with Ablatt. Then his father will know and so will everyone else in the family. Everyone will know what Caroline Skene does when she’s on heat like a bitch.’ Grabbing her by the hair, he stole a long, guzzled kiss. She turned away in disgust. ‘You’ll have to get used to that, my love. You’ll be seeing a lot of me on your husband’s club nights. I followed him there so I know where he goes and how long he’s away. That gives us plenty of time.’

  He loomed over her and began to take off his coat. She was horrified.

  ‘It was you, wasn’t it?’ she asked, quailing. ‘You killed Cyril.’

  ‘Yes, I did,’ he boasted. ‘I wasn’t having him touching you anymore. It was my turn. I saw you walk to the corner with him that night. You didn’t even know I was there, sitting on the cart, did you? I had my chance and I took it. I drove round to the bus stop where he was standing and pretended that I had to take the cart to Jack’s house in Shoreditch. Ablatt recognised me from the forge,’ he went on. ‘When I offered him a lift, he couldn’t get on the cart quick enough. All that I had to do was to drive into a dark corner and murder the little bastard.’ She let out a scream. ‘I hid the body under some sacking and took it to Shoreditch at night.’ As she shrank back in disgust, he tried to justify it. ‘I did it for you, Caroline,’ he insisted. ‘Don’t you understand? I did it for you and me.’

  Before she could stop him, he pushed her back on the bed and climbed on top of her. She was pinned down helplessly and his hands were all over her. Because he was thrusting his tongue into her mouth, she couldn’t even cry for help. When he lifted her skirt up to her waist, she felt as if she was about to die.

  Then came the knock on the door.

  Marmion knew that she was in the house and wondered why she didn’t answer his knock. When he looked upwards, he saw the curtains in the front bedroom twitch. He knocked for the second time but he could still hear nobody coming. As he looked through the letter box, he was able to see into the kitchen. The sight of the open door galvanised him into action. After signalling to Keedy, he ran down the side entry of the house and reached the kitchen door, pausing only long enough to note that it had been forced open. Rushing into the house, he looked up the stairs.

  ‘Are you up there, Mrs Skene?’ he asked.

  Though there was no reply, he knew that she was there. Keeping the torch in his hand to use as a weapon, he thundered up the stairs and went into the main bedroom. Caroline was spreadeagled on the bed with her clothes dishevelled. Before he could ask her what had happened, Marmion was hit from behind by a jemmy. He collapsed on to the carpet.

  Joe Keedy was waiting by the cart. The front door of the house was flung open and a figure came hurtling out. When he saw someone standing beside the cart, Percy Fry tried to scare him away by brandishing the jemmy but the man held his ground. It was a different encounter this time. Unlike the inspector, Keedy was not distracted by a woman on a bed. Instead of having his back to Fry, he was facing him. He crouched down in readiness to fight. Fry got close enough to recognise him as one of the detectives who’d called at the forge. Keedy couldn’t be frightened away. It was Fry who began to wilt. They were only yards apart now. Keedy held out a hand as if to take the weapon. Fry flew into a panic. He hurled the jemmy at Keedy but the latter ducked and it whistled harmlessly over his head.

  Fry tried to run away but it was a race he was never going to win. He managed the best part of thirty yards before his legs began to hurt and his lungs seemed on the point of bursting. Every inch of the way, Keedy was gaining on him. As his quarry started to slow down, he put in a spurt that brought him close enough to jump on the man’s back. Fry staggered on for a few more yards but the extra burden was too much for him. He crashed to the ground and grazed his forehead in the fall. But he was far from finished. Fry was a strong man. Rolling over, he managed to dislodge Keedy with a fearsome punch. The sergeant replied with punches of his own but they seemed to have little effect. Fry had been toughened by years of working in a forge. When he caught Keedy with a hook, it made his head ring.

  Taking advantage of the momentary lull, Fry attempted to get up and run off again but Keedy recovered instantly. He stuck out a leg and tripped his adversary up, diving on top of him and using his weight to pin him face down on the pavement. When Fry continued to buck, squirm, kick and turn the air blue with expletives, Keedy brought the fight to an end, holding the man’s head in both hands and banging it on the hard stone until Fry’s body lost all resistance. Handcuffs were speedily fixed to the prisoner’s wrists, then Keedy stood up and turned him over. Percy Fry lay twitching on the ground.

  Marmion was still groggy as he came up behind them. He’d wrapped a towel around his head to stem the flow of blood. In the dark, it looked like a turban.

  ‘Are you going to arrest him, Joe?’ he asked. ‘Or shall I?’

  They’d decided that the announcement had to be made when they were all together. It was therefore several days before their opportunity came. Marmion and Keedy, meanwhile, were praised in the press and Superintendent Chatfield got his share of reflected glory. Two heinous crimes had been solved in less than twenty-four hours. It was finally over. Events in the war returned to dominate the headlines. The inquest into the death of Cyril Ablatt came and went. The funeral took place, organised by Caroline Skene, whose name had been kept out of any of the reports of the case. Now in custody, Percy Fry would never admit that the murder arose out of his obsession for an attractive woman. All that he owned up to was killing someone he hated for being a conscientious objector. That was enough to satisfy the law.

  It was over a meal at the Marmion house that Alice and Keedy finally had their chance. Ellen had spotted the signs in her daughter. Alice was vivacious, talkative and laughing too loud at the amiable banter. When there was a natural pause, she felt her mother’s hand on her arm.

  ‘I have the feeling that you have something to tell us,’ said Ellen.

  Alice started. ‘Do you, Mummy?’

  ‘Is it that promotion you hinted at or have you decided to go abroad?’

  ‘I hope it’s not that job over there as a dispatch rider,’ said Marmion. ‘There’s plenty of valuable work to be done here, Alice.’

  ‘I won’t be going abroad, Daddy. I can guarantee that.’

  ‘That’s a load off my mind.’

  ‘No,’ Alice went on, ‘it’s nothing to do with the WEC – though that will be affected before too long. The thing is …’

  As her daughter searched for words, Ellen stepped in excitedly.

  ‘I was right, wasn’t I?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes, Mummy, you were.’

  ‘So there is someone, after all.’

  Alice nodded then glanced across at Keedy. Her parents gave a contrasting response. Ellen was so thrilled that she kissed Alice on the cheek and laughed approvingly. Marmion, on the other hand, turned to stare in dismay at Keedy. He’d been deceived by the person he valued as his closest friend. He realised now why Alice had been unable to spend New Year’s Eve with her parents. She’d been with Keedy instead. Fond as he was of the sergeant, Marmion knew only to well of his reputation as a ladies’ man. Over the years, he’d seen girlfriends come and go. It distressed him to think that his own daughter would follow in their footsteps.

  ‘How long has this been going on?’ he asked, curtly.
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  ‘Sound a bit more pleased, Harvey,’ said his wife.

  ‘I want to know how long you’ve both pulled the wool over our eyes.’

  ‘It wasn’t like that, Daddy,’ argued Alice.

  ‘Then what was it like?’

  Keedy spoke up. ‘The answer to your question is that it’s been going on long enough for Alice and me to make up our minds. I can’t blame you for thinking that this is just another case of Joe Keedy having fun with a new girlfriend. It’s not like that at all, Harv,’ he stressed. ‘That life is behind me now and I’m glad. We’re serious about this. Alice and I plan to get engaged.’ The news produced a whoop of joy from Ellen and a deepening frown from her husband. ‘You’re the first to know.’

  ‘It’s kind of you to let us in on the secret,’ said Marmion, dryly.

  Ellen nudged him. ‘Don’t be like that.’

  ‘How am I supposed to be?’

  ‘I think you’re forgetting something,’ said Alice, smarting at his grumpiness. ‘You and Mummy used to meet in secret for the best part of a year before you dared to tell her parents. They didn’t like you at all at first.’

  ‘It’s true,’ said Ellen. ‘My father thought he was unworthy of me.’

  ‘There you are, Harv,’ said Keedy, brightly. ‘You must have felt the way that I’m feeling now. We shared the same uncomfortable experience.’