A Bespoke Murder

‘It weren’t.’

‘Do you think he’d be too finicky?’

‘I need to like my clients.’

‘That lets Mr Stone out, then.’

‘Oh, you’re wrong,’ said Burridge, sarcastically. ‘He were my favourite of the two brothers. It’s just that I’d have preferred to measure him for a coffin rather than for a suit. Question answered?’

‘Answered with beguiling honesty,’ said Marmion. ‘While you’re being so candid, sir, perhaps you’d answer this. Why didn’t Jacob Stein stand up to his brother?’

‘I wish I knew.’

‘You must have a theory.’

Burridge smiled. ‘I try to avoid foul language.’

‘Did you know that there’s been another incident related to the family? An attempt was made to burn down the synagogue they attended. What’s your reaction to that?’

‘First I’ve heard of it,’ said Burridge, looking surprised.

‘Are you sorry to hear the news?’

‘What happened?’

‘The fire brigade got there in time to prevent any real damage.’

‘I’m glad to hear that.’

‘Do you have no other comment?’

Burridge hunched his shoulders. ‘No — should I?’

‘Well, it does rather undermine your suggestion that we should take a closer look at Herbert Stone with regard to the events that occurred here. There may be some financial gain once the insurance claim is settled,’ said Marmion, ‘but that’s not proof positive that he was in any way connected with the crimes. And a devout Jew like Mr Stone would hardly set fire to his own synagogue.’

‘True.’

‘So you can cross him off your list of suspects.’

‘I don’t have one, Inspector. You’re the detective.’ He adjusted his hat. ‘My wife will be wondering where I am. I must go.’

‘Answer this before you do, sir. It’s a question that I put to Mr Cohen and he was unable to help me.’

‘Nothing unusual there.’

‘Howard Fine was appointed by Mr Stein then dismissed by his brother. Why?’

‘Ask Mr Stone.’

‘My colleague, Sergeant Keedy, did just that, sir. Mr Stone said that he simply didn’t belong and was causing unease among the rest of the staff.’

‘There’s your answer.’

‘He didn’t explain why Mr Fine didn’t fit in.’

Burridge gave him a shrewd look. Marmion had the feeling that he would not get a reply but he was mistaken. After thinking it over, the tailor eventually spoke, lowering his voice as he did so.

‘Have you met Howard Fine, Inspector?’

‘No,’ said Marmion, ‘he was interviewed by Sergeant Keedy.’

‘And is the sergeant a man of the world?’

‘I’d say that was a fair description of him, sir.’

‘Then I’m surprised he didn’t notice something about Howard. On the other hand,’ Burridge continued, ‘it got past Mr Stein as well. Howard were very good at concealing it.’

‘What are you talking about, Mr Burridge?’

‘Howard Fine talked endlessly about his wife.’

‘Is there any law against that, sir?’

‘No, Inspector. It just seems an odd thing to do when you’re not actually married.’

‘Do you mean that he was just living with a woman?’

‘Howard were not interested in women,’ said Burridge, sourly. ‘Only in men like him.’

Careful not to advertise his destination, Howard Fine asked the taxi driver to drop him off outside a bank. He paid his fare and waited until the taxi had driven away before walking around the corner. Impeccably dressed and carrying a cane, he strolled gently along the pavement until he came to a large house with steps leading up to the front door. He paused to make sure that nobody was watching him then he went up the steps. The door opened before he even reached it. The steward was a dapper individual in his forties.

‘Good evening, Mr Fine,’ he said, standing aside to let his visitor step into the hall. ‘We haven’t seen you for a while, sir.’

‘I had to spend a week or so in London,’ said Fine.

After closing the door, the steward took his hat and cane.

‘We’re glad to have you back in Brighton, sir.’

‘I’m very glad to be back.’

Keedy was startled. ‘Are you telling me what I think you’re telling me?’

‘I’m only reporting what Mr Burridge said to me.’

‘How reliable are his instincts?’

‘I don’t think he’d make a mistake about a thing like that.’

‘Then I shouldn’t have done so either.’

‘You weren’t looking for it, Joe,’ said Marmion.

‘There were signs, Harv. I should have spotted them.’

The detectives had met in a pub at the end of an eventful day to share a drink and compare notes. Glad to be back in his own clothing again, Keedy was in a good mood until he was jolted out of it by the news that Marmion had just passed on. He ran a hand through his hair and pursed his lips.

‘That explains why Mr Stone dismissed him,’ he said.

‘Yes, I don’t think he’d have any sympathy for gentlemen of that persuasion,’ said Marmion. ‘I fancy that the actual dismissal would have been nasty, brutish and short.’

‘Then why did Fine have no recriminations about it?’

‘That’s a good question, Joe.’

‘He gave me the impression that he was glad he left and that he’d found a better situation. I got the feeling that he might have enjoyed working in Jermyn Street much more if Cyril Burridge hadn’t constantly bullied him.’

‘Now we know why Burridge acted like that.’

‘Yes, Harv, he doesn’t sound as if he believes in tolerance.’

‘Burridge wouldn’t know the meaning of the word.’

Keedy took a long swig of his beer and smacked his lips.

‘After the day we’ve had,’ he said with feeling, ‘that tastes better than ever. I don’t know how you can drink whisky when there’s beer of this quality to be had.’

Marmion raised his glass. ‘I prefer it, Joe.’

They sipped their drinks and fell into a companionable silence. The pub was frequented by detectives from Scotland Yard and they could see several of their colleagues. Keedy was already close to finishing his first pint but Marmion was nursing his whisky and soda and taking only an occasional taste. It was Keedy who resumed the conversation.

‘So where do we go from here?’ he asked.

‘I would have thought that was obvious.’

‘You want me to interview Mr Fine again?’

‘He needs looking at more closely, Joe. He certainly has cause to bear a grudge against Mr Stone.’

‘Perhaps it was him who removed the wheels on that car.’

‘I doubt that,’ said Marmion. ‘Everything I’ve heard about Howard Fine suggests that he’s not a man to get his hands dirty.’

‘He could have paid someone else to do it.’

‘It seems like a paltry form of revenge.’