A Bespoke Murder Read online

  ‘I don’t have the answer to that, sir. What I can tell you is that, unfortunately, the incident is not an isolated case.’

  ‘He was dressed in rags and wrapped in newspaper,’ said Emmott with vehemence. ‘Compare that poor devil to the overpaid toffs who buy their expensive suits and thick overcoats from people like Jacob Stein. It’s wrong, Sergeant. Why should some prosper while others live and die in absolute penury? It’s all wrong.’

  ‘I’m inclined to agree with you there.’

  ‘Then why aren’t you doing something about it?’

  ‘I don’t accept that looting and destroying someone’s shop is a legitimate way of righting social inequalities,’ said Keedy, forcefully. ‘It’s sheer vandalism and it’s a crime.’

  ‘Jacob Stein was a symbol of class dominance.’

  ‘He was a man who made the most of his exceptional abilities. As such, he’s entitled to the respect of the general public and the protection of the law.’

  ‘Don’t talk to me about the law,’ said Emmott, frothing. ‘It’s been devised by the rich for the benefit of the rich. Our police are nothing but the lackeys of the ruling class. You should be ashamed to be part of them, Sergeant.’

  ‘We serve people from all ranks of society, Mr Emmott.’

  ‘That’s rubbish!’

  ‘We do, sir.’

  ‘Where were you when that old man froze to death?’

  ‘Where were you when Jacob Stein was murdered?’ asked Keedy, tiring of the barman’s rant. Emmott was stunned. ‘You didn’t know about that, did you? While you were striking your blow for the downtrodden masses, somebody was stabbing Mr Stein to death.’

  The barman paled. ‘Is that true?’

  ‘That murder was probably hatched in this very pub.’

  ‘There was no talk of murder when we set out,’ pleaded Emmott. ‘Most people just wanted to show what they thought of Germans, whereas me and Archie were there on behalf of the deserving poor. We got principles, see? We fight against oppression.’

  ‘I’m sure that you think your motives are laudable,’ said Keedy with an edge, ‘but they won’t stop you being arrested. The same goes for this other person, Archie whatever-his-name-is. We were told that he sells newspapers in Piccadilly Circus. Is that correct?’

  ‘Yes, he’s my best friend.’

  ‘And he holds the same political views, by the sound of it.’

  ‘It’s the only reason we joined that march,’ said Emmott. ‘Me and Archie were not like the others. They wanted to avenge the sinking of the Lusitania, yet only a thousand or so people died as a result of that.’ Drawing himself up to his full height, he struck a pose. ‘We were there on behalf of the millions – yes, millions – of British subjects who are drowning in a sea of destitution.’

  ‘Who else was part of that mob?’ asked Keedy. ‘Apart from you, Archie and your high moral principles, who else set out to destroy Mr Stein’s shop once they’d come in here for some Dutch courage?’

  But there was no reply. Questioned about his own involvement, Emmott was frankness itself but he refused to incriminate anyone else. The information that a murder had taken place in Jermyn Street altered his whole view of the enterprise. He would happily admit that he and his friend stormed the premises of Jacob Stein but he would not identify his companions. Keedy knew instinctively that he would get nothing further out of Douglas Emmott. The barman had clammed up completely. Keedy suspected that the newspaper vendor would react in the same way. Convinced that they were political martyrs, the two friends would endure their own punishment while saying nothing about others who’d been part of the mob.

  Keedy arrested the barman and took him off. On their way to Vine Street police station, they picked up a newspaper vendor from Piccadilly Circus. Two more members of the mob would face charges.

  When her husband broke the news to her that evening, Ellen Marmion was astounded. It was a possibility that had never crossed her mind.

  ‘You’re going to France?’ she gasped, staring in disbelief.

  ‘If it can be arranged, love,’ said Marmion. ‘Then we’ll cross the border into Belgium. It’s where their regiment is heading.’

  ‘You won’t go near the front, surely.’

  ‘We’ll go wherever necessary to arrest the two men.’

  Hand to her chest, she sat on the arm of the sofa. ‘You’ve taken my breath away, Harvey. I mean, it’s such a long way to go.’

  ‘Scotland would be much further.’

  ‘It would be a lot safer as well. So many of our soldiers are being killed in Belgium, I find it hard to read the papers anymore. Well, you saw Paul’s last letter. He’s stationed further south, thank heaven, but he’d heard awful things about the battle raging around Ypres.’

  ‘Joe and I may not need to get anywhere near the town itself.’

  ‘All the same,’ she said, nervously, ‘I don’t like it.’

  ‘We can’t let them get away with it, Ellen.’

  ‘Well, no …’

  ‘Think how you’d feel if Alice had been assaulted like that,’ he suggested. ‘You’d want me to pursue them to the ends of the earth.’ Giving her a hug, he kissed the chevron of anxiety on her brow. ‘Don’t worry, love. I did go to France once before in pursuit of a criminal, remember, and I didn’t know a word of French that time. I’ll be a lot better prepared now.’

  ‘Can’t you send someone else?’

  ‘It’s my responsibility. The commissioner put me in charge of this case, so this is not something I feel that I can delegate.’

  ‘Why can’t Joe Keedy go there by himself?’

  ‘One detective can’t arrest two suspects,’ said Marmion, ‘and he certainly couldn’t bring them back alone. When they realise the sentence they’re facing, they’ll seize any chance to escape.’

  ‘In that case, you could be in danger.’

  ‘Stop getting so upset, love. You’ve never been like this before.’

  ‘You’ve never been to Belgium before.’

  He spread his arms. ‘It’s not an ideal situation, I grant you, but I want these two men behind bars. I’ll do whatever it takes to put them there. It’s all part of the inquiry into the looting and burning of Mr Stein’s shop.’

  Ellen made no reply. She took a close interest in her husband’s work and – though he kept any unpleasant details to himself – he found it helpful to use her as a sounding board. As a rule, she simply listened and made a few comments on what she’d been told about an investigation. This time, however, she was raising objections.

  ‘When will you go?’ she asked.

  ‘We have to wait for clearance first. Sir Edward is taking care of that. It could take a day or two.’

  ‘And will you and Joe be entirely on your own?’

  ‘Hardly,’ he told her. ‘We’ll cross the Channel on a troopship. We’ll probably have the protection of a battalion or two of infantry. There’s certain to be reinforcements and supplies going to the front.’

  ‘Will you travel with them in France?’

  ‘Yes – we’ll have bodyguards all the way, love.’

  She was mollified. ‘Oh, well, that sounds a little better.’

  ‘The pity is that I won’t get a chance to see Paul while I’m there,’ he said, ‘but his regiment is somewhere near the Somme. We won’t exactly be on a pleasure trip, so we can’t just move around at will. It’s a shame – I’d love to see our son again.’

  ‘I’d love you to make sure that he’s safe and well.’

  Paul Marmion had been part of a collective enlistment. When it was announced that those who signed up together would serve together, groups of young men had rushed to the recruitment centres. Paul played for a football team that had volunteered as a complete unit. Knowing that their son was among friends gave Marmion and his wife a degree of reassurance at first. However, as the lists of British casualties on the Western Front steadily lengthened, they had serious concerns for Paul’s safety.

  Ellen
stood up and Marmion embraced her again. It had been a long day but he had got home in time for the evening meal. The sound of bubbling hot water took his wife into the kitchen to turn down the gas underneath a saucepan. Marmion followed her and sniffed.

  ‘Something smells tasty.’

  ‘It’ll be another ten minutes yet,’ she warned him. ‘Tell me about the rest of the investigation. Have you made any progress?’

  ‘We think so. Joe Keedy interviewed three suspects and got two more names of people who were there at the time. He went off earlier to arrest both of them. I’ll be interested to hear what he managed to winkle out of the pair.’

  ‘Have you caught the man who started the fire?’

  ‘There were two, apparently. Witnesses talk of seeing smoke not long after the looting began. Then a second man emptied a can of petrol at the rear of the shop and – boom – the fire really blazed.’

  ‘It’s such an appalling thing to do.’

  ‘We’ll get him eventually,’ he said, determinedly. ‘We managed to find the garage where he bought the petrol and the owner remembered him well enough to give us a good description of him. It tallies with what some of the others told us. I issued the description to the press when I made a statement about the murder. That will be tomorrow’s headline.’

  ‘What about the rape?’

  ‘We’re keeping quiet about that, Ellen. It’s what the family wants. They also want the body, of course. I had Mr Stein’s rabbi hassling me this afternoon.’

  ‘When can it be released?’

  ‘Later this evening, with luck,’ he said. ‘The post-mortem is almost complete. It’s been given top priority.’ He heard a door open upstairs. Feet then descended the stairs. ‘Here comes Alice.’

  ‘She’s been marking books up in her room.’

  ‘Has she said anything else about the WEC?’

  ‘Not a word, Harvey.’

  ‘Then I won’t bring it up.’ He turned to greet his daughter as she came into the kitchen. ‘Hello, teacher – how are you?’

  ‘Very well, Inspector,’ she replied, turning a cheek to accept a welcoming kiss from him. ‘You’re back earlier than usual.’

  ‘Is that a complaint?’

  ‘No, Daddy, it’s quite the reverse. It’s a nice surprise.’

  ‘Your father has to go to France,’ said Ellen.

  Alice blanched. ‘Going to France in the middle of a war?’

  ‘It’s all part of the investigation,’ he said.

  Marmion gave her a brief explanation. Pleased that the two men accused of rape were being pursued, she was naturally worried about her father’s safety. He did his best to allay her fears.

  ‘What if they’re actually fighting at the front?’ she asked.

  ‘I think that’s unlikely,’ he replied. ‘They only set sail today. However, if they are in the trenches when we get there, Joe and I will have to put on a helmet and go in search of them.’ He laughed at the expressions of horror on their faces. ‘I was only joking.’

  ‘That kind of joke is not funny,’ chided Ellen. ‘I worry about Paul every day. Now I’ll have you to worry about as well.’

  ‘So Joe Keedy is going with you, is he?’ said Alice.

  ‘I couldn’t stop him. You know Joe. He loves action.’

  ‘Make sure you bring him back in one piece.’

  ‘He can look after himself, I promise you.’

  Alice pondered. ‘What are your chances of getting a conviction?’

  ‘Why do you ask that?’

  ‘Well,’ she said, seriously, ‘we all know how difficult it is to get a successful prosecution for rape. It’s one of the reasons some women won’t even report the crime.’

  ‘That’s a fair point,’ he remarked.

  ‘It would be a terrible shame for you to go to all that trouble to arrest these two men, only to see them walk scot-free from court.’

  ‘That won’t happen, Alice.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘No,’ he admitted. ‘When a case goes to court, you can never be one hundred per cent certain of the outcome. Juries have minds of their own. They sometimes come up with unexpected verdicts.’

  ‘That could happen in this case,’ said Ellen, siding with her daughter. ‘Don’t misunderstand me. What those two men did was dreadful and they should be imprisoned for it. I’m just thinking how it would look in court. On one side, you’ve got two soldiers, fighting for their country and putting their lives at risk. On the other, you’ve got a teenage girl who’s bound to be a bundle of nerves. It will be her word against theirs.’

  ‘Are you suggesting that we don’t bother to go to France?’

  ‘No, Harvey, I’m just saying that it could be a waste of time.’

  ‘We won’t simply be arresting them for what they did to Ruth Stein,’ Marmion pointed out. ‘Several other crimes were committed. We’ll want to question them about their possible involvement in the attack on the shop. They may have a lot to answer for.’

  ‘I never thought of that.’

  ‘Mummy’s comment is very apt,’ Alice reflected. ‘What will happen in court? Everything turns on the evidence of the victim. To be cross-examined about what the attackers did to her would be a humiliating experience for any woman. How will this girl stand up to it?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Marmion.

  ‘Is she the sort of person who’d convince a jury?’

  ‘I can’t say, Alice. The truth is that I’ve never met Ruth Stein.’

  Staring ahead of her, Ruth sat upright in bed. Her face was drawn and her eyes were pools of despair. Miriam Stein sat on a chair beside the bed, holding her daughter’s hand and trying to temper her criticism with tenderness. Ruth had lost her nerve. Having taken enough of the pills to make her feel ill, she’d abandoned her suicide attempt and turned in a panic to her mother. After treatment in hospital, Ruth had been sent back home again.

  ‘Suicide is a criminal act,’ said Miriam, quietly. ‘Judaism is very clear on that. Someone who commits suicide is considered to be a murderer. Is that how you wished to be remembered?’

  ‘No, Mother,’ whispered Ruth. ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘You’d have brought such shame upon the family.’

  ‘I did it because of my own shame.’

  ‘Remember your teaching. You must think of your soul.’

  Ruth nodded and tears began to form. She was sick, distraught and helpless. Conscious that suicide was anathema in her religion, she had nevertheless been unable to resist the impulse to end her life. She would now have to face further guilt and misery. Her life had become even more unbearable.

  Miriam waited a short while then rose to her feet.

  ‘I’ll send in Rabbi Hirsch,’ she said, moving to the door. ‘After you’ve spoken with him, your Uncle Herman wants to see you.’

  Ruth was frightened. Closing her eyes, she started to pray.

  CHAPTER NINE

  One day in her sister’s company convinced Irene Bayard that she’d made the right decision in coming to live in London. There was a dimension of peace and security there. Dorothy Holdstock led an uncomplicated life. She had a full-time job, a small circle of friends and she shared her home with an undemanding old lady. Miss James occupied the downstairs front room behind thick lace curtains. In spite of her disability, she remained active. She would visit friends on most days and her younger brother would come up from Brighton once a fortnight to take her out for lunch. Much of the time, Dorothy was unaware of her presence. It was only when Miss James emerged to visit the bathroom or to make use of the kitchen that the two women had a proper conversation. A copper bell was the link between them. When it was rung three times, it was a signal for Dorothy to enter her lodger’s domain.

  ‘Does she still clean her own room?’ asked Irene.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said Dorothy. ‘I offered to do it when I clean the rest of the house but Miss James wouldn’t hear of it. She doesn’t like anyone else in there and she’s quite
able to spruce the place up.’

  ‘How old is she?’

  ‘I daren’t ask and she wouldn’t, in any case, tell me. She gave up having birthdays many years ago.’

  ‘I admire her independence.’

  ‘Oh, it’s nothing compared to yours, Irene.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ said Irene, surprised by the envy in her sister’s voice. ‘I’ve never been really independent.’

  ‘Yes, you have,’ countered Dorothy. ‘When most women lose a husband so young, as you did, they’re likely to shrink back into their shell. You came out of yours. I couldn’t believe it when you told me that you were going to sail thousands of miles a year across the ocean on a Cunard liner. If that’s not independence – what is?’

  ‘It’s not as wonderful as it sounds,’ warned Irene. ‘I was a member of the crew and I had no independence at all on board. If I’d been a passenger, of course, it would have been a different matter.’

  ‘Weren’t you afraid when you sailed from New York this time?’

  ‘No, Dot, I wasn’t.’

  ‘But there were threats to all shipping from the Germans.’

  ‘I ignored them and got on with my job.’

  ‘What would you do if the same situation arose again?’

  Irene was brisk. ‘It won’t arise,’ she said. ‘I never wish to go to sea again. My home is here now. All I need to do is to find a new job.’

  ‘There’s no hurry – you’ve earned a rest.’

  ‘I’m not the restful type.’

  Dorothy laughed. ‘I discovered that years ago,’ she said. ‘You’re always on the go. I could never keep up with you.’

  It was late evening and the two of them were sitting in the living room with a glass of cheap sherry apiece. As she looked around, Irene saw that the wallpaper was fading and that the paintings chosen by their parents were still on the wall. Time had stood still in the house. It was at once comforting and saddening. If she was to live there on a permanent basis, Irene thought, she would insist on redecoration. But that could wait. All she wished to do now was to ease back into an old existence.