‘That was another lie,’ said Stone. ‘It’s true that he lives in the family house but his father is dead and his mother is in a nursing home.’ He smirked. ‘My private detective was very thorough.’
‘Perhaps you should have hired him to guard your car, sir.’
Stone glowered. ‘I find that remark flippant, Inspector.’
‘Then I withdraw it at once,’ said Marmion, pleased to see the smile on the commissioner’s face. ‘It was only a passing comment.’
‘What are you going to do about last night’s outrage?’
‘If you tell me the name of the garage, I’ll send detectives there to investigate. Meanwhile, I’d advise you to exercise caution. There does appear to be someone stalking you.’
‘I need a police bodyguard.’
‘I don’t believe that it’s justified, sir,’ said the commissioner.
‘But I’m under threat, Sir Edward,’ wailed Stone. ‘You’ve seen what they did to my car.’
‘That’s tantamount to an attack on your property, Mr Stone, but not on your person. If someone had designs on your life, they’d surely have struck by now.’
‘I agree with Sir Edward,’ said Marmion. ‘I don’t believe your life is in any way in danger. When I urge caution, I’m really asking you to keep your wits about you. The best way to avoid further incidents is to anticipate them. I believe you already have private security at your warehouses. Extend it to your other businesses.’
‘And even to your home,’ suggested the commissioner.
‘It’s
‘Our job is to catch the person or persons responsible for all the crimes linked to your family. Once that is done, you’ll be liberated from any perceived threat.’
Stone got up in a huff. ‘I knew I was wasting my time asking for help. Your attitude is disgraceful.’
‘Before you go, sir,’ said Marmion, pencil and pad in hand, ‘I’d like the name and address of the garage. Then there’s the list of people who may feel offended at the way you dispensed with their services.’
Snatching pencil and pad from him, Stone scribbled several lines then paused while he checked the list. He added another name and address then thrust the pad back at Marmion. Slapping the pencil down on the desk, he muttered a farewell and stormed out. The others sighed with relief.
‘I’m so glad you came to my rescue,’ said the commissioner, gratefully. ‘Mr Stone was already here when I arrived. He seems to think that Scotland Yard exists solely to deal with problems relating to him and his family.’
‘He needs someone to blame, Sir Edward. It never occurs to him that he somehow provoked the two incidents with his car. In his codex,
‘Where did you secure that information about Howard Fine?’
‘Cyril Burridge provided it.’
‘I didn’t know you’d spoken to him again?’
‘We had a chance meeting in Jermyn Street.’
‘It’s made me look at Fine in a new light.’
‘Sergeant Keedy had to revise his opinion of the man as well, Sir Edward. He noticed nothing untoward when he interviewed him. I’ve suggested that he talks to Howard Fine again. In fact,’ said Marmion, glancing at the clock on the wall, ‘even as we speak, the sergeant is on the train to Brighton.’
Dorothy Holdstock walked along with a spring in her step. Having her sister back home again had invigorated her. It was so refreshing to have someone with whom she could discuss things at the end of the day. She knew that Irene was, to some extent, convalescing after her ordeal. Such a distressing experience was bound to leave her nervous and apprehensive. Though her sister kept her spirits up remarkably well, Dorothy suspected that she was still suffering inside. She was glad that Irene had now found a job. Once she started that, it would give her life some stability.
Meanwhile, Dorothy had her own job to worry about. Since she had the keys to the shop, she had to get there ahead of the others. When she reached the front door, there was something she always did before she fumbled in her handbag. She looked in every direction to make sure that nobody was approaching. It was a precaution she took every time she opened or closed the premises. One could never be too careful. There was nobody about this time and yet the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. A warning bell rang somewhere inside her skull. She felt menaced. Someone was watching her.
Howard Fine was not pleased when he was intercepted as he left the house to go to work. Keedy got a very different reaction from him this time. Instead of being ready and willing to give any assistance he could, Fine was tetchy and uncooperative. Keedy observed that the man was wearing what looked like a Jacob Stein suit. It seemed a curious choice for someone who had left Stein’s employ. At first, Fine tried to have the interview postponed but Keedy was insistent. In the end, they walked together to the men’s outfitters where Fine now worked, so that he could invent an excuse to explain why he would be late that morning. He and Keedy then adjourned to a small cafe. Over a cup of coffee, the sergeant began to probe.
‘Do you know where Mr Stein lived, sir?’ he asked.
‘What an odd question!’
‘Could you answer it, please?’
‘Yes, I do know his address,’ said Fine. ‘It’s in Golders Green.’
‘Are you aware that Mr Stone spends a lot of time there?’
‘That’s only natural, Sergeant. It’s a house of mourning. He’s there to offer moral support to his sister-in-law and her family.’
‘Did you ever meet Mr Stein’s children?’
‘I met his daughter,’ replied Fine. ‘By the time I joined the firm, her brother, Daniel, was in the army and posted overseas. Ruth is a pleasant young woman.’
‘You must have known that she was being groomed to take over the bookkeeping in due course,’ said Keedy. ‘She used to visit the office above the shop. Did you ever go to the office, sir?’
‘No, I didn’t. It was the holy of holies. Mr Cohen was the only employee who was allowed up there.’
‘What about Mr Burridge?’
‘He was kept downstairs with me. Where are these questions heading, Sergeant?’ asked Fine, irritably. ‘I do have work to do, you know.’
‘So do I, sir. Your work only involves making a suit; mine has rather more significance. It concerns a foul murder and a case of arson, not to mention some ancillary crimes.’
He went on to tell Fine about the fire at the synagogue and the mischievous attack on Stone’s car that left it with tyres missing and a broken windscreen. The tailor appeared to be shocked by the information about the synagogue but expressed no sympathy for the fate of Stone’s vehicle. Instead, he was almost amused by what had happened. Keedy saw the smile flit across his features.
‘You don’t have much respect for Mr Stone, do you?’
‘May I be frank?’
‘It would be appreciated.’
‘I loathe the man,’ said Fine, crisply.
‘Is that because he dismissed you?’
‘It’s because he invaded my privacy, Sergeant.’
Keedy could see the simmering fury in his eyes, something that had not been there at their first meeting. For his part, Fine realised that the sergeant knew his secret. There was no point in trying to deceive him on that score. Absent parents and a fake wife could not be invoked as a smokescreen. When the sergeant studied him, the tailor remained impassive.
‘We had some trouble finding you,’ said Keedy. ‘Why didn’t you leave a forwarding address with your former colleagues?’
‘I had no wish for them to get in touch with me.’
‘Were they so hostile towards you?’
‘Cyril Burridge certainly was. The others displayed a more muted hostility — except Mr Stein, of course. He respected me.’
