‘That was good of you, Mansel.’
‘It was about time someone did it.’
‘Mr Ablatt was very grateful,’ said Hambridge, ‘and there was something else he was pleased about. Gordon called in at the shop. He wanted Mr Ablatt’s advice.’
‘Why does he want advice about mending shoes?’
‘It wasn’t about that. It was …well, the position Gordon’s in. He just doesn’t know what to do and wanted to talk to someone.’
‘Then he should have talked to us.’
‘He’s already done that.’
‘Well, I think we should have another go at him,’ said Price. ‘In fact, that’s why I called, Fred. We should kick some sense into him, if need be.’
‘That’s not the answer.’
‘We can’t rely on Mr Ablatt to make Gordon do the right thing.’
‘There may be another way.’
‘I can’t bloody well see it.’
‘Leave it to me,’ said Hambridge, quietly. ‘It’s no use trying to bully Gordon. The person we have to persuade is not him — it’s Ruby.’
On their return to Scotland Yard, the first thing that Marmion did was to report to the superintendent and explain where they’d been. Once that duty was out of the way, he and Keedy could concentrate on Horrie Waldron. They knew that they could not hold him for long on the two charges. He’d have to be granted bail. Marmion felt that he’d softened the prisoner up by threatening him with the gallows. Having had time to brood, he hoped, Waldron might be more forthcoming now. Keedy asked to speak to him alone and Marmion gave his consent. The interview took place in the cell where Waldron was being held. Like the inspector before him, Keedy had the door locked behind him so that he and the prisoner were alone.
Waldron looked as surly as ever but there was no danger of a second attack on the sergeant. Aware of Keedy’s strength, the prisoner was subdued. He’d accepted that he was in serious trouble and needed to rein in his temper.
‘Well,’ said Keedy, ‘do you wish to change your fairy story?’
‘It wasn’t a fairy story — it was the truth.’
‘So you still can’t tell us how that blood got onto your trousers?’
‘It wasn’t from any murder,’ affirmed Waldron.
‘In that case, it came from somewhere else.’
‘I can’t remember, Sergeant.’
‘Perhaps I should ask Mrs Crowther,’ said Keedy, trying to needle him. ‘She seems to have an interest in what you wear.’
Waldron jabbed a finger. ‘Keep her out of this.’
‘I’m afraid I can’t do that, Horrie, because she’s indirectly involved. By the way, I have a message from her. She never wants to see you again. Mrs Crowther also wanted me to give back those flowers you left on the doorstep, but you’re not allowed flowers in here.’ He clicked his tongue. ‘That was very naughty of you, stealing them from the cemetery and pretending you’d actually bought them. A nice lady like Maud Crowther deserves better than that.’
Waldron was torn between pain and humiliation — deeply hurt that he’d been rejected, and embarrassed that he’d been caught out trying to pass off stolen flowers as some that he’d actually bought. Nothing could heal the breach with Maud. It was hopelessly beyond repair. What made it worse was that he had to hear about it from a detective while locked up in a cell. It made him feel both trapped and powerless. He turned his thoughts to survival.
‘You can’t keep me here for ever,’ he challenged.
‘That depends on whether or not we charge you with murder.’
‘You got no evidence.’
‘We have enough to go on,’ said Keedy, feigning confidence.
‘That means you’re going to invent some. I’ve heard of the police doing that before. When they got no cause to hold someone, they make up evidence against him. They tell lies in the witness box. Well, you won’t play that trick on me, Sergeant,’ he said, tapping his chest. ‘I’m no fool. I know my rights. I know the ropes and I know what to do in court.’
‘In fact, the only thing you
Waldron stamped his foot hard. ‘How many times must I say it?’ he bellowed. ‘I didn’t kill anybody.’
‘Let’s turn to Stan Crowther, shall we?’ said Keedy.
‘Hey, you haven’t told him about me and Maud, have you?’
‘I didn’t need to, Horrie. I upset him another way.’
‘Eh?’
‘I asked him about that blood on your trousers.’
Waldron became shifty. ‘What did he say?’
‘According to him, he never even noticed it.’
‘There you are, then,’ said the other, relieved.
‘So I put another question to him and that shook him for some reason.’ During a long pause, Keedy saw the prisoner’s apprehension intensify. ‘I asked him if he could think of any other way that blood could have got there. Why should he be so reluctant to tell me? Has he got something to hide?’
‘That’s his business.’
‘No, Horrie, it’s yours as well. You and Stan Crowther are linked in some way and it’s not only through his mother. I think you’ve burnt your boats with regard to both of them now.’
‘What do you mean?’ asked Waldron, aggrieved.
‘Well, Mrs Crowther doesn’t want you and your best suit within a mile of her and,’ said Keedy, bluffing, ‘her son is not going to give you a welcome at the Weavers Arms. The likelihood is that Stan will ban you altogether. You really upset both mother and son.’
‘Stan’s got no reason to get on his high horse!’
‘He thinks he has.’
‘I’ll smooth things over with him.’
‘I wouldn’t advise you to try,’ said Keedy. ‘When I left the pub, there were flames coming out of his nostrils. You’re not wanted there, Horrie.’
‘But I done the bugger a favour!’
‘If you mean you had those secret rendezvous with his mother, I wouldn’t call those a favour — and neither would he.’
‘I’m not talking about that.’
‘Then what
Waldron turned away and put both palms against the wall as he leant against it. Profoundly shaken by what Keedy had told him, he needed time to think. Maud Crowther and her son had summarily cut him out of their lives. That created a huge gap. He’d never find another woman who took such an interest in him and there were few pubs in Shoreditch that would want a customer with his reputation. Waldron had been cut adrift. The only way he could think of to appease his mounting fury was to inflict pain elsewhere. He swung round to confront Keedy.
‘I want to make a statement,’ he said.
Ruby Cosgrove was astonished when he called at her house that evening. Fred Hambridge had never been there before and it had taken an effort of will to visit her. Of Gordon’s friends, he was the one she liked most. Cyril Ablatt had been too prone to make speeches, while Mansel Price resorted to suggestive remarks that made her uneasy. She took Hambridge into the front room and apologised that there was no fire in there. Shy in the presence of women, it was minutes before he was able to explain the reason for his visit.
‘It’s about Gordon,’ he said.
She was annoyed. ‘Did he send you?’
‘No, Ruby. He doesn’t know I’m here. Please don’t tell him I came.’
‘I was rather hoping he’d turn up himself.’
