Instrument of Slaughter

They were interrupted by a knock on the door. When Leach opened it, Ruby Cosgrove threw herself into his arms. After hugging her for a moment, he eased her inside and closed the door.

‘What’s brought you here, Ruby?’ he asked.

‘When I heard the news, I just had to come.’ Seeing Price for the first time, she broke away from Leach. ‘Hello, Mansel.’

‘How are you, Rube?’

‘I’m terribly upset by what I heard.’

‘It wasn’t Gordon he banged on the head — it was only Father What’s-is-name.’

‘We know him,’ she emphasized. ‘Gordon and I saw him in church last Sunday. He was so friendly. Father Howells was going to marry us.’

Price sniggered. ‘I thought you were after this three-day licence.’

‘No,’ said Leach, firmly. ‘That’s out of the question now. We don’t need it any more.’

‘You mean that you and Gordon are not going to get married, after all?’ Price shook his head. ‘I wish the pair of you would make up your bleeding minds.’

‘Watch your language, Mansel,’ warned Leach. ‘I won’t have you swearing in front of Ruby. As for the wedding,’ he continued, shooting Ruby a nervous glance, ‘our plans are not definite at the moment.’

‘Yes, they are,’ she said, decisively.

Leach gaped. ‘Are they?’

‘That’s unless you’ve changed your mind, Gordon.’

‘No, no,’ he said, happily. ‘I’m dying to get married.’

‘Then we leave the date exactly as it was,’ she explained. ‘We’ll have to ask the vicar to take the service, of course, but I’m sure he’ll agree to that.’

‘Wait a minute, Rube,’ said Price, hands on hips, ‘there’s something you’re forgetting. Me and Gordon will be hauled up before a tribunal soon. Fred Hambridge has already had his summons. We’re the next in the queue. How can you walk down the aisle with Gordon when he’s likely to be locked up in prison with me? We’re conchies. Doesn’t that mean anything to you?’

‘There’s no need to be sarcastic with me, Mansel Price.’

‘Then don’t plan for something that can’t possibly happen.’

‘But it can,’ she insisted. ‘My father explained it to me. There’s a way for Gordon to stick to his principles without being imprisoned.’

‘No, there isn’t.’

‘He can join a non-combatant corps. They never have to take part in a battle and sometimes they don’t even leave this country. You’d be safe, Gordon, and I’m sure we’d get permission from your commanding officer to go ahead with the wedding in the summer.’ Squeezing his hands, she smiled lovingly at him. ‘Isn’t that the perfect solution?’

Leach could sense that Price was simmering with rage. He played for time.

‘Let me think it over, Ruby,’ he said, tactfully.

On his third visit to Shoreditch library, Marmion took Joe Keedy with him so that he could get the sergeant’s opinion of the librarian. When they arrived, Eric Fussell was in a meeting with his deputy so they had to wait. It gave them the opportunity to scour the shelves. Keedy was fascinated by an illustrated guide to angling.

‘It must be years since I got my fishing rod out,’ he moaned. ‘I used to love sitting in the sun on a riverbank when the fish were nibbling.’

‘You go fishing every day in this job,’ said Marmion with a grin. ‘If you use the right bait and remain patient, you always catch something in the end.’

‘The trouble is that it’s usually small fry, Harv — petty thieves and so on. I’d rather just toss them back into the water.’

‘We’re after more than small fry now.’

‘Then we need a big hook and a large net.’ Keedy replaced the book on the shelf and looked towards the librarian’s office. ‘I think he’s deliberately keeping us waiting. What’s he doing in there?’

‘He’s probably still trying to find out who supplied us with all that information about his feud with Cyril Ablatt. It riled him to think that one of his assistants had dared to betray him.’ He saw someone behind the desk. ‘It certainly wasn’t that lady.’

‘How do you know?’

‘It’s his wife, Mrs Fussell.’

Keedy looked at the portly woman writing something in a pad. She wore spectacles and had her hair pinned up at the back. Putting the pad aside, she reached out some books from under the counter and took them to a shelf nearby. As she stacked them wearily in position, she looked as if she was doing a tedious chore. Clearly, she didn’t share her husband’s zeal for the working at the library.

Marmion saw the door of the office open. The deputy librarian came out, followed by Fussell who beckoned the detectives over with a lordly crook of the finger. All three of them went into the office. After Keedy had been introduced to the librarian, they took a seat. A copy of the Evening News lay on the desk.

‘I hope that you’ve brought me some glad tidings,’ said Fussell.

‘I’m afraid not, sir,’ said Marmion.

‘You must have made some progress.’

‘We’re still gathering evidence.’

‘That takes time,’ said Keedy.

‘We have to sort out the wheat from the chaff, you see. The strange thing is that people don’t always tell us the truth,’ said Marmion. ‘Well, you’re a good example, sir. You told me what an outstanding assistant Cyril Ablatt was even though you’d done your level best to unload him onto another library.’

‘I explained that,’ snapped Fussell.

‘Indeed, you did — but only when someone had provided me with the facts.’

The librarian was tetchy. ‘Why are you bothering me again, Inspector? I would have thought you had plenty to keep you busy.’ He indicated the newspaper. ‘You have another case on your hands now and someone doesn’t like the way you’re handling the first one. You and the sergeant are more or less ridiculed in that article.’

‘Don’t believe everything you read in the papers, sir,’ said Keedy.

‘The impression given is that you’re both floundering.’

‘Appearances are deceptive,’ said Marmion, easily. ‘But let’s leave the press to its own peculiar ways. We came here to ask you about Father Howells. I believe that you know him, Mr Fussell.’

‘Yes — I’ve seen him here a number of times.’

‘He’s also a friend of yours, isn’t he?’

‘Everyone who comes into the library is a friend of mine. I make a point of fraternising with the readers. It’s important to understand their needs and to be aware of their likes and dislikes.’

‘You’re avoiding the question, sir.’

Fussell looked blank. ‘Am I?’

‘You knew James Howells as a friend, didn’t you?’

‘We often had a chat when he came in here, Inspector.’

‘And was the friendship no closer than that?’

‘Why should it be?’ asked Fussell.

‘When we visited the house where he lives,’ said Marmion, ‘we found his address book. Your name was in it.’

‘There’s nothing unusual in that,’ said Fussell, smoothly. ‘James — Father Howells, that is — was a regular visitor here. It’s not surprising that he kept the address of the library.’

‘But that’s not what he did,’ said Keedy. ‘He kept your home address.’

The librarian’s face was impassive but his eyes flicked to and fro.

‘Why did he do that, sir?’ asked Marmion, watching him intently. ‘Do you worship at St Leonard’s, by any chance?’

‘No, I do not,’ said Fussell, stiffly. ‘My wife and I are Roman Catholics.’

‘Did you ever meet him socially?’