murder on such slender evidence? It was grossly unfair on him. As she got into bed, she writhed in embarrassment at the memory of her visit to the Three Tuns. It would take a long time for her to live it down.
There was nothing sinister about Gill’s arrival in London. Like many other people, he’d come to the capital in search of work. It was what she’d done herself, after all. While she had a sister to go to, Gill had a friend. Admittedly, Brad Thompson lived in a disreputable area but it was only a temporary arrangement. Once Gill found his feet, he would no doubt move to a better lodging. The question that gnawed away at her was whether or not she wanted to see him again. Irene would certainly avoid him in the short term. She needed time to get over the awkwardness of their latest encounter. Gill had his job as a barber to go to and she’d soon be starting at the toy factory. They’d both be far too preoccupied to enjoy much of a social life.
Meanwhile, she could settle into her new existence. She would soon make new friends at work and enjoy Christian fellowship at church on Sundays. It would be a full and satisfying life, free from the dangers of being torpedoed by enemy submarines. She still had nightmares about the sinking. In her waking hours, however, she kept reminding herself that she’d survived, a blessing bestowed on her for a purpose. That purpose — she felt humiliated to recall it — was most definitely not to make unwarranted accusations against an innocent man. Ernie Gill was her friend. It was time she learnt to trust him.
The car was parked in a yard at the side ofThe car was parked in a yard at the side of the garage. It took them less than a minute to gain entry. Closing the double doors behind them, they loaded the vehicle with combustible materials. The man in the dungarees lit a cigarette, then took several puffs before holding it out to one of h the garage. It took them less than a minute to gain entry. Closing the double doors behind them, they loaded the vehicle with combustible materials. The man in the dungarees lit a cigarette, then took several puffs before holding it out to one of his companions.
‘Here you are, Ernie,’ he said. ‘I think it’s your turn.’
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Harvey Marmion had acquired a well-deserved reputation for being conscientious and few people arrived earlier at Scotland Yard than he did. When he got there next morning, however, he discovered that the commissioner was already at his desk and in urgent need of help. Summoned by a secretary, Marmion hurried along the corridor and found that Sir Edward was besieged by Herbert Stone. The visitor wasted no time on pleasantries. With an accusatory glare, he turned his fire on the newcomer.
‘You’re as much to blame as anyone, Inspector,’ he said, puce with rage. ‘You should have arranged protection for me.’
‘Against what, Mr Stone?’ asked Marmion.
‘There’s been an incident,’ explained Sir Edward.
‘Yes, I heard about the car wheels being removed.’
‘This is more serious, Inspector. Some time in the night, Mr Stone’s car was set on fire.’
‘It was utterly destroyed,’ said Stone. ‘I left it at the garage to have new wheels put on and the windscreen repaired. Somebody broke in for the sole purpose of setting it alight.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that, sir,’ said Marmion.
‘You are indirectly responsible.’
‘I don’t accept that.’
‘Neither do I,’ said the commissioner.
‘The fire at the synagogue was a signal,’ argued Stone. ‘Whoever killed my brother is directing his aim at me.’
‘That’s a rather exaggerated claim,’ Marmion pointed out. ‘I know that you’re closely associated with the synagogue but so are lots of other people. Each of them might feel there was something personal in the attack. My own view is that it’s your brother’s link with it that may have provoked the outrage. When I released the body to Rabbi Hirsch,’ he remembered, ‘he told me that Jacob Stein had been his most generous benefactor.’
Stone shifted his feet. ‘My brother was a generous man.’
‘He was identified with that particular synagogue.’
‘So am I, Inspector — so am I!’
Stone was determined to portray himself as the victim of all the crimes so far committed. Marmion and the commissioner held their peace while their visitor insisted that his brother had been killed as a punishment for him, Herbert Stone, and that the attack on the synagogue and on his motor car were additional acts of persecution. When the man finally paused for breath, Marmion asked a question.
‘Can you name any discontented former employees?’
‘You already know them — Cyril Burridge and Howard Fine.’
‘I was thinking about people who worked for you in one of your warehouses, sir. As well as being a successful importer, I believe that you have widespread business interests. Can you think of anyone you sacked who might have taken umbrage?’
‘People often make wild threats when they’re dismissed,’ said Stone, flapping a hand, ‘but they rarely act on them.’
‘All the same, I think you should compile a list of names, sir.’
‘That’s sound advice,’ added the commissioner.
‘If you
Stone’s brow crinkled as he went slowly through a mental list. Marmion took the opportunity to exchange a glance with Sir Edward, who was clearly grateful for his arrival. The shop, the synagogue and the car were connected by one thing — fire. The pattern was clear. What Marmion could not fit so easily into it was the murder of Jacob Stein. Was that a parallel crime or one obscurely tied to the others? Herbert Stone came back to life again.
‘I can give you a few names,’ he conceded.
‘That would be very useful, sir,’ said Marmion. ‘And while we’re talking about employees with a potential grudge, why didn’t you tell me the real reason you sent Howard Fine packing?’
‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘You suspected that he was a homosexual.’
‘Really?’ exclaimed the commissioner. ‘That is a surprise.’
‘It was no surprise to me,’ said Stone, scowling. ‘I saw through his little charade the moment I laid eyes on him. For my brother’s sake, I gave Howard Fine the benefit of the doubt. When the truth became unequivocal, I sent him on his way.’
‘How did he react?’
‘It was with a barefaced denial, Inspector. But it was no use. I had evidence, you see. I’d hired a private detective to find out if his phantom wife really did exist.’
‘I’m not sure I’m following all this,’ said the commissioner.
‘He tried to pass himself off as a married man,’ said Marmion. ‘It was all a ruse behind which to hide his true sexuality. Not that I blame him for that. People take an unduly harsh view of men with those proclivities.’
‘They should be hanged, drawn and quartered,’ snarled Stone.
‘I don’t think that medieval barbarity is the answer, sir.’
‘I was not having that fop polluting my brother’s shop.’
‘I understood that he was a very skilful tailor.’
‘He was living a lie, Inspector. I exposed it.’
Stone made the announcement so grandiloquently that Marmion could imagine how much he must have enjoyed sacking Fine. He wondered how the tailor would have reacted. Instant dismissal would surely have had a profound effect on Fine and given him a strong motive to strike back. If that were the case, his target should have been Stone and not his brother. Marmion was confused.
‘When he was interviewed by Sergeant Keedy,’ he recalled, ‘Mr Fine claimed that he lived with his parents in Brighton.’
