‘The hospital and the search come first,’ decided Marmion. ‘Mrs Skene will have to wait her turn in the queue. Let’s go.’
They left the office and walked side by side down the corridor.
‘I bet Ellen was pleased to see you home a bit earlier last night,’ said Keedy.
‘Yes, I got a warm welcome.’
‘How is she?’
‘I suppose that “long-suffering” is the best way to describe her. But that’s true of all police wives. She had one piece of good news for me — a letter from Paul. We hadn’t heard from him in ages and Ellen was starting to worry.’
He told Keedy about the contents of the letter and how it could be read in different ways. While his wife had been heartened by its apparently positive tone, Marmion had noticed the hints of despair between the lines. In his judgement, their son was bored, depressed and angered by the futility of war. Of the friends with whom he’d joined up so enthusiastically at the outbreak of hostilities, over half were either dead or wounded. It was a sobering statistic.
‘Luckily,’ said Marmion, ‘Ellen was simply happy that he’s alive and well. She was thrilled to hear that Paul was in line for a promotion. Like any other mother, she clings to good news like a limpet.’
Keedy was cynical. ‘Is there any good news about the war?’
‘That’s a fair point.’
‘Look how many policemen who joined up have been killed in action. What must their families think of the efforts we’re putting in on behalf of a conchie?’
‘You know the answer to that,’ said Marmion, not wishing to rehearse a familiar argument once more. ‘Oh, there was something else that Ellen had been saving up to tell me.’
‘What was that?’
‘She thinks that Alice has a new chap in her life.’
‘Is that surprising? She’s an attractive young woman.’
‘Yes, but she’s always confided in her mother in the past. When she was asked directly about it, Alice denied there was anyone this time.’
‘Then perhaps your wife is wrong,’ said Keedy.
He already knew about Ellen’s suspicions because Alice had told him about the exchange with her mother. Keedy was anxious to guide Marmion away from the subject because he found the subterfuge difficult. Besides, he still considered himself no more than a good friend of Alice Marmion. Though he’d recently seen her twice in succession, their meetings were too infrequent for anything more serious to develop. That, at least, was what he told himself.
‘When it comes to men,’ said Marmion with a grin, ‘Ellen is never wrong.’
‘What makes you say that?’
‘She married me, didn’t she?’
Maud Crowther was a creature of habit. Having run the Weavers Arms with her husband for so many years, she was accustomed to working long hours in the public gaze. She took pride in her appearance and would never venture outside the house until she’d curled her hair, applied her make-up and put on smart clothing. As she examined herself in the mirror that morning, she could hear the cat crying to be let in but she made him wait until she was satisfied with the way she looked. When she did finally open the front door, the animal darted in through her legs and scurried off to the kitchen to eat the food she’d put in his bowl. Maud, meanwhile, was transfixed. On the doorstep in front of her was a large bunch of flowers. She had no idea who’d left them there or why. Scooping them up, she inhaled their fragrance and smiled. When she took them into the house to put in a vase, she realised that there was a card tucked in among the blooms. On it, in a rough scrawl, was a single word.
‘Horrie Waldron!’ she said to herself. ‘You old rogue.’
News at the hospital was better than expected. The Reverend James Howells had shown the first signs of regaining consciousness. His eyelids had flickered and his lips had started to move as if he was trying to say something. It was still too early for the detectives to talk to him but they were pleased with the improvement in his condition. Marmion asked the doctor in charge of the case to contact Scotland Yard the moment that the patient was able to speak. Though no interlopers had so far been spotted, the policeman was kept on duty outside the room. Marmion always put safety first.
He and Keedy talked to the curate’s parents but learnt nothing from them that they hadn’t already gleaned from the vicar. Their son kept in regular contact with them by letter but his private life was largely a mystery to them. They, too, were bolstered by the news from the doctor and were eager to be allowed to see the patient again. The detectives left them in the waiting room and drove back to Scotland Yard where Chatfield — true to his word — had a search warrant for them. In the event, it proved unnecessary. When they got to Waldron’s address, the landlord admitted them without even asking to see the warrant.
A big, shambling, flat-faced man, he was clearly used to his tenant’s uneasy relationship with the police and was prepared to tolerate it. Indeed, he had the look of someone who’d had his own brushes with the law and who therefore took any visits from detectives in his stride. After warning them about the smell they’d encounter, he unlocked the basement door and left them to it. They were met by the stink of leftover food, unwashed dishes and rising damp. Keedy opened a window to let in fresh air, noting that the glass hadn’t been cleaned in ages.
‘This is more of a lair than anything else,’ he complained.
‘It’s probably all that he can afford, Joe.’
‘How can anyone live in conditions like these?’
‘Thousands of people do,’ said Marmion, ‘all over London.’
Their search did not take long because Waldron owned little in the way of clothing and nothing in the way of luxuries. His room contained a low bed, a chest of drawers, an upright chair and a wardrobe with scratches on the doors. Tucked away in a drawer they found a couple of shirts, some detached collars, two pairs of socks in need of darning, threadbare underwear, a pack of cards and some tobacco. The only real surprise was in the wardrobe where a new suit hung beside an old coat and a pair of corduroy trousers, shiny through overuse. Also in there was a pair of black shoes and a lone tie. To their amazement, the shoes had been polished to a high sheen.
‘I’ll bet he doesn’t wear
‘No,’ agreed Marmion, ‘he saves them for a special occasion and I think we both know what it might be.’
Keedy laughed in astonishment. ‘He wears that suit when he goes calling on Maud Crowther. That’s why it’s here.’ He felt the material. ‘It’s good quality.’
‘Then the probability is that she bought it for him. Waldron could never pay for a bespoke tailor. The rest of his clothing looks like hand-me-downs.’
They turned their attention to the scullery. The larder was almost bare and the drawer beside the sink had only a few items of cutlery. Unwashed plates lay on the table. Potato peelings and other kitchen waste stood in an enamel bowl. It was the trousers that made their visit worthwhile. Taken down from the line, they were now draped over the back of a chair. When he picked them up, Marmion could feel that they were still damp. He held them up to the window and saw the marks on the knees and the shins.
‘What do you think these are, Joe?’ he asked.
‘Bloodstains.’
‘Ask him how they got there.’
The first customer was waiting outside the forge for them. While Jack Dalley unlocked the door and dealt with the man, Percy Fry unharnessed the horse and led him into the stable. He then started work beside his boss. Having driven his wife across to Dalley’s house, Fry had brought him back to Bethnal Green on the cart, a journey that took longer than usual because of heavy traffic. They were both kept busy for hours. Since Elaine Fry was not there, they missed the mid-morning cup of tea that she always brought them. Instead, it was Fry himself who had to make it. When he came back downstairs with the tea, the two men took a break.
‘It was considerate of Elaine to come again,’ said Dalley, ‘and I know that Nancy will appreciate it, but I’m not sure that it was wise. Your wife looked as if she ought to have stayed in bed, Perce.’
‘Elaine will perk up as the day wears on.’
‘We don’t want to impose on her.’
‘She was keen to go, Jack. She felt that she was able to help yesterday.’
