‘I can see that you’ve met him.’
‘He’s an assertive gentleman.’
‘That’s a kind way of putting it, Inspector,’ said Burridge. ‘I’d have called him a bloody nuisance.’
‘Did he have some involvement in the business?’
‘Yes, he did.’
‘And did that entitle him to make decisions relating to it?’
‘Mr Stone thought so.’
‘Was his brother afraid of him?’
‘Everyone were afraid of him — except me.’ Burridge took out his watch and glanced at it before returning it to his waistcoat pocket. ‘How much longer do you need me here, Inspector?’ he asked. ‘I’ve got work to do. Instead of questioning me, you should be looking at people who might be glad that Mr Stein is dead.’
‘Such as?’
‘Start with his brother.’
Marmion was amazed. ‘You surely can’t be accusing Herbert Stone of being party to the murder.’
‘You heard my advice. Take it or leave it.’
‘You must have some reason for naming him.’
‘I’ve got lots of reasons.’
‘What are they?’
‘Find out,’ said Burridge, getting to his feet. ‘Look into the way that the business was structured.’ He fingered his moustache. ‘Will that be all, Inspector?’
Marmion was on his feet. ‘Not quite, sir,’ he said. ‘Why was Howard Fine sacked?’
‘He should never have been taken on in the first place.’
‘Was he such a poor tailor?’
‘Howard never fitted in.’
On that enigmatic note, Burridge gave a nod and departed.
Unlike most of the people Keedy interviewed, Howard Fine was eager to cooperate. He was a tall, slim, dark-haired man in his twenties, wearing an immaculate suit that the sergeant coveted the moment he set eyes on it. They were in a small featureless room that had no natural light coming in. Seated directly under the lampshade, Fine was bathed in an unreal glow. His handsome clean-shaven face was split by a nervous grin and his hands gesticulated whenever he spoke.
‘How long were you with Mr Stein?’ asked Keedy.
‘Five or six weeks in all, Sergeant.’
‘Did you like it there?’
‘Of course,’ said Fine. ‘It was the sort of job that every tailor dreams of. Jacob Stein has a big reputation in the trade. I couldn’t believe my luck when I was taken on by him.’
‘How did that come about, sir?’
‘There was a vacancy and I applied for it. That’s to say, I was tipped off about the vacancy by my uncle who was kind enough to put in a good word for me with Mr Stein. Not that it was as simple as that,’ Fine went on, anxious to dispel any notion of nepotism. ‘I had to show examples of my work and compete with two others on the shortlist. Eventually, I landed the job.’
‘Did you enjoy it?’
‘Yes and no. I enjoyed the work itself but I never felt that I was fully accepted. I don’t know why, Sergeant. I’m affable by nature and do my best to get along with everyone. Somehow it never worked.’
‘Could you be a little more specific, Mr Fine?’
‘Well,’ said the other, ‘it came down to two people, I suppose. I hardly saw Mr Stein himself but I had to deal with Mr Cohen and Mr Burridge every day. Mr Cohen — he’s the manager — resented me for some reason. He was always criticising my work.’
‘What about Mr Burridge?’
‘He was much more of a problem. I hate arguments, you see, and run a mile if someone confronts me. Mr Burridge was always doing that. He didn’t just resent me — he hated me and I still don’t know why. I mean, I tried my best. What more could they ask?’
‘So,’ said Keedy, wishing that the man would twitch less, ‘there was obviously tension at work.’
‘It wasn’t
‘I’m sure it wasn’t, sir.’
‘I was bullied by Mr Burridge and sniped at by Mr Cohen. To tell you the truth, it began to get on my nerves. At least I don’t have that problem in my new post.’
‘And where might that be, Mr Fine?’
‘I work for a bespoke tailor in Brighton,’ said Fine, beaming. ‘It’s not as grand as being in the West End but I’m much happier and I’m able to live at home with my parents. All in all, it’s worked out for the best. Let’s face it,’ he added, lowering his voice, ‘if I’d stayed with Mr Stein, my job would no longer exist. What a tragedy that would have been. Not that it compares with what happened to Mr Stein, of course,’ he said, hastily. ‘I wouldn’t want you to think I’m
Fine launched himself into a paean of praise about Jacob Stein, saying what an honour it had been to work for him, albeit for only a short time. Keedy let him ramble on for minutes then halted him with a forthright question.
‘Why did he give you the sack?’
Stopped dead in his tracks, Fine looked almost insulted.
‘If Mr Stein liked your work enough to take you on,’ said Keedy, ‘why did he dismiss you?’
‘He didn’t dismiss me,’ said the other, petulantly. ‘If truth be told, he wanted me to stay.’
‘Then who got rid of you — was it Mr Cohen?’
‘No — he didn’t have the authority.’
‘Somebody must have sacked you. Who was it?’
Howard Fine winced, his nervous smile replaced by a grimace.
‘It was Mr Stein’s brother,’ he said. ‘Herbert Stone.’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Herbert Stone would never win any awards for patience. Once his brother’s funeral was over, and once he felt that he’d convinced Ruth of the seriousness of her sin in attempting suicide, he turned his attention to the investigation once more. Instead of hounding Harvey Marmion directly, he went over the inspector’s head and spoke to the commissioner. They met in the latter’s office at Scotland Yard. Sir Edward Henry gave details of the progress made so far but was unable to announce the arrest either of the killer, or of the man believed to have used petrol to accelerate the blaze. Stone was peeved.
‘Why is it taking so long, Sir Edward?’
‘Evidence has to be pieced together bit by bit.’
‘Put more detectives on the case,’ suggested Stone.
‘That’s not possible,’ explained the commissioner. ‘The events in Jermyn Street are not the only crimes with which we have to deal. There are scores of other cases demanding urgent attention. I’m doing my best to deploy my men to the best advantage but — with a depleted force — I can’t spare any more of them at the moment.’
‘Perhaps I should hire some private detectives.’
‘That’s your right, of course, but I wouldn’t advise it. No private detective has the resources that Scotland Yard can offer, nor the experience of someone like Inspector Marmion. You seem to have forgotten that he’s already solved one serious crime,’ said Sir Edward. ‘Incidentally, how is your niece?’
Stone’s face darkened. ‘Ruth is still suffering badly.’
‘Was she heartened by the news of the two arrests made?’
‘She will be in due course — when she’s pulled herself together.’
