‘Really? I’m not so sure. For him this is art, and he’s the artist, and I’m sure it was all done in the best possible taste. We may just have to remind him of the provisions of the Obscene Publications Act, even though it doesn’t actually define what obscene means.’
‘He’ll probably have a pretty good idea, though.’
‘Precisely. I’m not sure there’s anything in that envelope that a magistrate would be likely to judge obscene, but it’d be wise for Conway not to cross the line in future. For now, all we need to know is that they’re his. We’ll have to tell him we’re keeping them as evidence, and if he wants them for his competition he’ll have to get some more prints made. I think I’ll advise him to get the permission of the ladies concerned before he submits them, too, if he hasn’t already done that, otherwise he might discover he’s acquired a black eye or two.’
‘Shall I get a search warrant from the magistrate to search the Sullivans’ house too?’
‘No, that’ll take too long. Get in touch with the superintendent and ask him for a written order to search. If we suspect they might have explosives hidden on the premises, he can do that – just say we’re asking for it under section 73 of the Explosives Act 1875. Tell him we’ve got reasonable ground for believing an offence has been committed with respect to an explosive and it’s an emergency. We don’t want the house blowing up while they’re locked in the cells. That should do the trick.’
‘So young Ernie’s dropped them right in it, hasn’t he? Without his alibi they’re sunk. But what I don’t understand is what’s in it for him?’
‘Perhaps it’s simply the satisfaction of knowing that he’s done his civic duty.’
Cradock looked at Jago cautiously. Sometimes he just couldn’t tell whether his boss was being serious.
CHAPTER FORTY-FOUR
Cradock looked at the clock on the wall of the CID office. It was coming up to five o’clock, the time when people with normal jobs might start thinking about going home. Sometimes he envied them: in the CID you had to put in whatever hours the job required. He wondered how Jago had put up with it all these years, and whether that was why he’d never married. Too busy to find the time? It was a question he was certainly never going to ask: the detective inspector wasn’t the sort of man you could expect to get to know, especially if you were a detective constable. He never dropped his guard.
He was lost in these thoughts when Jago came in through the door.
‘Right, Peter,’ he said. ‘It’s about going-home time now, isn’t it?’
Cradock’s face brightened. ‘Time for us to knock off, you mean, guv’nor?’
‘Knock off? At this time? Don’t be ridiculous. No, I meant for the bank. That fellow Pemberton down at the National Provincial said he didn’t like to keep the girls at work after dark, and it’s nearly sunset now, so Carol Hurst should be just about finishing work. There’s something I want to ask her.’
‘Really, sir? What about?’
‘I’m curious to know whether there’s anything more she knows about this idea of some kind of affair between Joan and Conway. It was Carol who first told us she thought Joan was a bit of a flirt, and she also said she thought her marriage had gone a bit sour, but she didn’t say anything about an affair. Yet when we spoke to Cynthia Carlton yesterday, she claimed Joan had been having an affair with Conway, and she even suspected Joan was in the family way. You’d have thought Joan might’ve said something to her closest friend about all that, wouldn’t you?’
‘I suppose I would, yes,’ Cradock replied. ‘And there was something about those photos we found.’
‘Yes?’
‘Well, it’s just that there weren’t any of Joan in that envelope.’
‘Well done, Peter – very observant of you.’
‘Thank you, sir. Mind you, I’m not sure it means anything. The fact that Conway persuaded those girls to let him take their picture doesn’t mean he was in that kind of relationship with any of them.’
‘There was one of Cynthia, and it appears she was one of his old flames.’
‘Yes, but maybe he included that one because he’d finished with her. He might’ve thought it’d be bad taste to put a picture of his current girlfriend into a competition, especially if he knew Joan was … well, you know.’
‘In the family way?’
‘Yes,’ said Cradock, embarrassed to feel his face flushing.
‘You may have a point, but in any case we’ll have to speak to Conway about those photos, and before we do I’d like to know whether Carol can tell us anything more about this relationship he had with Joan, if it really happened. There’s something else, too. The last time we spoke to Carol, she was starting to tell us about Richard Lewis and his funny ideas about economics, and the big falling out he had with his dad, but then the bank manager came in and interrupted us. There’s bad feeling in that family, isn’t there? And it seems to be all about money – Charlie Lewis’s money. I want to know if she can tell us more about that.’
‘And there’s no time like the present, eh, sir?’ said Cradock, making little effort to conceal the glumness in his voice.
‘Exactly,’ said Jago, picking up the phone. ‘I’m going to call the bank now.’
Ten minutes later Jago parked the car outside the bank in time to meet Carol Hurst as she emerged onto the street.
‘There’s a rather nice ABC tea room just down here,’ he said after they had exchanged greetings. ‘I expect you know it. They do some very good toasted tea cakes, and I thought you might like to join us for one.’
He felt a tinge of disloyalty to Rita and her cafe on hearing himself recommend a rival establishment, but was reassured to notice that his suggestion seemed to have brought a
