Instrument of Slaughter

‘The killer might have needed an accomplice.’

‘Why?’

‘A dead body is easier to carry if there are two of you.’

‘It’s possible that someone else was involved, if only as a lookout. The killer was obviously a cautious man. He’d take no chances. Thank you, Constable,’ he said to the policeman. ‘You can get back on duty now. Keep everyone out of the lane for the time being — especially any press photographers.’ As the policeman went off to take up his position, Marmion turned to Keedy. ‘What’s your immediate reaction?’

‘It’s someone that Ablatt knows.’

‘That was my view.’

‘All that we’ve heard about him so far points to the fact that he’s a bright lad. In that photo we saw in his bedroom, he looked young and strong. He wouldn’t be easily overpowered unless he was taken unawares.’

‘Exactly,’ said Marmion. ‘If he was approached by an acquaintance, he’d be off guard. The trouble is that he’d have a hell of a lot of acquaintances. Since he worked in a library, he must know any number of people.’

‘One of them might be the phantom artist.’

‘Who?’

‘I’m thinking of the man who painted those things on the side of Ablatt’s house. The father had no idea who he was but it must be a neighbour with a malicious streak in him. We need to find out who he is.’

‘Or who she is,’ corrected Marmion. ‘A woman can handle a paintbrush as well as a man. I know that Alice can. When I papered her room last year, she insisted on painting the door and the window frame. As soon as we’d done that, of course,’ he said, face puckered with regret, ‘our daughter decided to move out of the house. We could have saved ourselves all that trouble.’

Keedy was sceptical. ‘You surely don’t think we’re looking for a female killer, do you?’

‘We need to consider every option. There’s no evidence to suggest that the artist and the killer are one and the same person but it’s a possibility we have to bear in mind. As for the murder itself,’ Marmion continued, ‘it’s highly unlikely that a woman committed it because of the brutality involved and the physical strength needed. On the other hand, there could be a female accomplice, someone who incited the crime in the first place. The fairer sex has become a lot more aggressive since the war started. Don’t forget that it’s women who hand out white feathers.’

‘Accusing someone of cowardice is a long way from plotting their death.’

‘I accept that.’

‘And what sort of man lets a woman talk him into committing a murder?’

‘The kind who are naturally inclined that way,’ said Marmion, levelly. ‘We’ve met quite a few of them in this job. They just need that final push.’

‘No,’ said Keedy, ‘I disagree with you there, Harv. I don’t believe a woman is involved in any way.’

‘What about the lady in that photograph we found?’

‘I was forgetting her.’

‘She could be indirectly culpable. If her husband discovered her friendship with Cyril Ablatt, he might have been enraged enough to kill him.’

‘We need to track the woman down.’

‘That’s what I intend to do — after we’ve interviewed the victim’s three friends. I’ll start with Gordon Leach. The family bakery is not far from the Ablatt house. I’ll find it. You can tackle Fred Hambridge. You’ve got his address. If you go there first, they might be able to tell you where he works.’

‘What about the third friend — Mansel Price?’

‘Try his address as well. Find out where he is. If you can’t reach him this morning, leave a message to the effect that we’d like to speak to him. By the time he gets it, he’ll know why.’

‘Yes,’ said Keedy. ‘This will be on the front page of the evening’s paper. Everybody in London will know.’ An image of Superintendent Chatfield popped into his mind. ‘When he gave his statement to the press, I hope that Chat asked for any witnesses to come forward. Somebody may have seen something.’

‘It’s a long shot but you never know.’

‘I take it that you’ll have use of the car.’

Marmion grinned. ‘It’s a privilege of rank.’

‘When do I get my own transport?’

‘When Sir Edward retires and you succeed him as commissioner.’ He slapped Keedy playfully on the arm. ‘Come on, I’ll give you a lift to Hambridge’s house. It’s on my way to the bakery. Then I’ll see you back at Scotland Yard. The superintendent will want a report on the progress we’ve made so far.’

Keedy raised an eyebrow. ‘I didn’t know we’d made any.’

‘Then you should remember just how much information we’ve gathered. Lots of it may be irrelevant but I fancy that we’ve already made one or two crucial discoveries.’ He gave a chuckle. ‘The trick is to work out which ones they are.’

When she heard a vehicle drawing up outside the house, Ellen Marmion hoped that it might be her husband, returning for a late breakfast. In fact, it was her daughter who climbed down from the lorry she’d been driving and used her key to let herself into the house. Ellen was delighted to see her.

‘Alice!’ she cried, embracing her. ‘What a lovely surprise!’

‘I can’t stay long. I came to scrounge a cup of tea.’

‘I’ll put the kettle on at once.’

Alice followed her into the kitchen and watched her fill the kettle under the tap before setting it on the stove and using a match to ignite the gas. Ellen turned to appraise her daughter with a mixture of pleasure and disapproval.

‘I can never get used to you in that uniform,’ she said, clicking her tongue. ‘Khaki is such an unflattering colour.’

‘It cost me two pounds,’ said Alice, defensively, ‘and I like it.’

‘I preferred it when you worked as a teacher and wore your own clothes.’

‘There’s a war on, Mummy. I’m far more use working for the WEC than I would be keeping a classroom of noisy children in order. Even you must realise that by now.’

‘Frankly, I don’t but I’m not going to argue about it.’

‘Thank you.’

Alice Marmion was a comparatively tall, slim, lithe woman in her early twenties with attractive features and bright eyes. Against her mother’s wishes, she’d given up her job at a nearby school in order to join the Women’s Emergency Corps, one of the many women’s organisations dedicated to helping the war effort. It was interesting work that confronted her with a whole range of problems but it involved long hours and kept her at full stretch. Ellen noticed the signs of fatigue.

‘You look tired,’ she said, anxiously. ‘Are you getting enough sleep?’

‘Who cares about sleep when there are so many jobs to do?’

‘I do. It’s important.’

‘So is helping people in dire circumstances.’

‘Oh, I do wish you still lived at home so that I could take care of you.’

‘I can cope perfectly well on my own, Mummy.’

‘I worry that you don’t get enough food.’

Alice laughed. ‘As a matter of fact, I’ve put on weight.’

‘Then you’re not getting the right kind of food.’

‘Stop worrying about me. I’ve been in the WEC for well over six months now and I’ve looked after myself all that time. Living on my own gives me the kind of freedom I could never enjoy here.’

Ellen was hurt. ‘You make this house sound like a prison.’

‘I didn’t mean to. I was very happy here — when I was younger, that is. I just felt too old to be living with my parents.’

‘We miss you dreadfully. At least,’ added Ellen, ‘I certainly do. Your father is hardly ever here so I miss him as well. They got him out of bed around five o’clock this morning for the latest crisis. I probably won’t see him again until it’s time to turn in.’ She pulled a face. ‘Who’d marry a policeman?’

‘Daddy must have warned you what it would be like.’