Instrument of Slaughter

‘It was a rotten thing to do. At least you know he won’t be back.’

‘He might not be,’ said Ablatt, ‘but somebody else came in the night with a paintbrush. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw what he’d done.’

Leach was aghast. ‘Was someone else mocking Cyril?’

‘Oh, no, it was nothing like that. He did us a favour. The whole wall had been painted white and those cruel words have disappeared. There are some good people here,’ said Ablatt, thankfully. ‘I’m sorry I had to lose Cyril to find that out.’

Harvey Marmion returned to Scotland Yard to hear about the arrest and questioning of Horrie Waldron. He, in turn, told Joe Keedy about his visit to Lambeth to see Caroline Skene. They were both keenly aware that they possessed information relating to the murder that they hadn’t passed on to the superintendent. Chatfield knew nothing of Caroline’s existence and the relationship between Waldron and Maud Crowther had also been kept from him. The detectives hoped that they could solve the crime without having to reveal everything to their superior. Should he find out that they’d deceived him, they’d be hauled up before the commissioner.

‘It’s a chance we have to take,’ argued Marmion. ‘I gave my word to Mrs Skene that her friendship with Ablatt would not become common knowledge.’

‘And I did the same to Mrs Crowther,’ said Keedy, seriously. ‘Though I’d never break that trust, I did pretend to Waldron that I was going to, if only to provoke him. He went berserk. I charged him with resisting arrest and assaulting a police officer. That gives us enough reason to hold him in custody while we dig deeper.’

‘I’d like to have a go at him myself.’

‘He’s not very cooperative, Harv.’

‘The Waldrons of this world never are.’ He winked at Keedy. ‘I’ll appeal to his finer instincts.’

‘Horrie doesn’t have any.’

‘Mrs Crowther obviously thinks that he does. I fancy that another visit to her might pay dividends, Joe. Acquaint her with the plight that her admirer is in.’

‘She’ll disown the old bugger on the spot.’

‘Only if she thinks he’s guilty of murder, and the evidence for that is far from conclusive. I’ve brought the trousers back with me, by the way. There’s no doubt in my mind that they’re spattered with blood — but did it get there during the murder of Cyril Ablatt?’

‘It’s possible. Chat, of course, thinks it’s highly probable.’

‘He’s eager to get the case wrapped up so that the press will say more nice things about him. But he’s enough of a detective to know that we need more evidence or — praise God that this happens — a confession out of Waldron.’

Keedy chuckled. ‘You’re more likely to get a volcanic eruption.’

‘I’ll remember to wear a tin hat.’ Marmion seemed to drift off into a world of his own for a few minutes. When he emerged from his daydream, he was surprised that Keedy was there. ‘Off you go, then. Talk to Mrs Crowther first, then call at the pub. Her son told you that Waldron had returned there that evening with the same clothes he had on when he left. Ask him if he noticed any bloodstains on the trousers.’

‘What will you be doing?’

Marmion adopted a fighting pose. ‘I’ll be going three rounds with Horrie Waldron,’ he said, cheerfully. ‘Want to place a bet on the outcome?’

Alice Marmion pointed out that it was not too late to change her mind but Vera Dowling was adamant. She didn’t wish to go to tea at Hannah Billington’s house that afternoon, though she was looking forward to hearing every last detail about the visit when her friend came back. After loading the lorry, they were having a brief rest. Alice was excited at the thought of the visit to a grand home. It would be a one-sided treat. Alice would never dream of inviting Hannah to tea at her own house and especially not at her digs. She’d be too embarrassed to show the older woman the place where she lived. Hannah had seen it from the outside when she dropped Alice off there but she had no idea how poor the accommodation was. Vera, curiously enough, had a better room in a larger house and she’d pressed her friend to join her there, but it was an offer that Alice had politely turned down. Had she been sharing accommodation with Vera Dowling, there was no way that Keedy would have been able to make contact with her the previous night. Indeed, the evolving friendship with him would have been virtually impossible.

‘I told Mummy about your idea,’ said Vera.

‘What idea?’

‘That plan of yours to go abroad.’

‘Hey, hold on a minute,’ said Alice. ‘Nothing’s been decided. It was only a possibility that I was considering.’

‘I mentioned it in my letter to Mummy. She’d die rather than let me do anything as adventurous as that. And, yes,’ she went on, anticipating her friend’s comment, ‘I know that I’m supposed to be old enough to make up my own mind, but I’d never defy my parents. What about you, Alice?’

‘If it meant that much to me, then I’d go — whatever the protests at home.’

‘You’ve made up your mind, haven’t you?’

‘No, I haven’t, Vera. At the moment, there are too many things keeping me here. You’re one of them,’ said Alice, bringing a smile to her friend’s face. ‘And there are …other reasons why I’m not ready to charge off across the Channel just yet.’

Vera’s eyes sparkled with interest. ‘What are those other reasons?’

‘They’re private.’

‘Can’t you even give me a hint?’

‘No,’ said Alice, firmly, ‘because it would be in your next letter to your mother. That means it would get passed on to my mother, who’d be very upset that she had to hear things about me second hand.’

‘I never thought of it like that.’

‘Please bear it in mind.’ She clambered into the lorry and sat behind the driving wheel. Vera got in beside her. ‘I’ll ask you one more time,’ said Alice. ‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like afternoon tea in a mansion?’

‘No, no, no,’ replied her friend. ‘I’d be like a fish out of water.’

Marmion took him by surprise. Because Waldron was used to being interviewed in a room at a police station, the inspector chose to speak to him in the cell where he was being held. It was cramped, cold and austere. To show that he was not afraid of the prisoner, Marmion had the door locked behind him. He studied the gravedigger for some time before speaking.

‘I thought we’d have a little chat,’ he began.

‘I’ve said all I’m saying to those other two stupid fools.’

‘Superintendent Chatfield is not stupid, I can assure you, and neither is Sergeant Keedy. They’ve had years of experience of questioning suspects, and the kind of mindless abuse that comes out of your mouth just washes off them. For the record, they both believe that you’re a guilty man.’

‘I done nothing!’ wailed Waldron.

‘Making a run for it at the cemetery and trying to kill the sergeant — I wouldn’t call that nothing.’

‘The sergeant deserved it.’

‘Yet you came off worst,’ said Marmion, looking at the bruises on his face. ‘There’s not a scratch on him. You picked the wrong man to take on.’

‘I didn’t murder anybody,’ insisted Waldron.

‘Then how did that blood get on your trousers?’

‘Who knows? I pick up all sorts of things in my job.’

‘You seemed very anxious to wash those stains off.’

‘They’re my working trousers.’

‘Then why didn’t you wear them to work today?’

Waldron refused to answer. Seated on the edge of the narrow bed, he turned his back on his visitor. Marmion took a step forward and tapped him on the shoulder.

‘What’s his name?’ he asked.

‘Who are you on about?’

‘You’re not clever enough to do this on your own, are you? Someone put you up to it. He probably paid you.