The suggestion was one Sinclair had already acted on, though for a different reason. Knowing that Madden would like to see him while he was in town, he had invited Billy Styles to join them for lunch, and it had been agreed they would all gather at the Yard before setting off.
‘We might look in on Bennett afterwards,’ he said when his former colleague appeared shortly after midday, having been escorted upstairs to the chief inspector’s office by one of the commissionaires. ‘That is, if you can tear yourself away from Aunt Maud’s boiler.’
‘Oh, don’t worry about that.’ Madden looked wry. ‘The matter’s out of my hands. Lucy’s taken charge. I think her mother underestimates her. But as for her comings and goings — I’m supposed to enquire into them — well, they’re a complete mystery.’
‘Ah, the joys of fatherhood!’ Sinclair chuckled heartlessly.‘Well, here’s another one for you. We’ve got a little time to waste. You might care to cast an eye on it.’
He tossed Madden the file, and he was still leafing through its pages, his brow creased in a familiar scowl, when Billy knocked on the door and came in.
‘I’ve been reading about your exploits, Inspector.’ Madden rose with a smile to greet him. ‘That was a nasty business at Wapping; you must tell me all about it. Something else, too.’ He tapped the file with his finger. ‘I’ve spotted a familiar name, someone I want to ask you about. But it’ll keep till lunch.’
The restaurant Sinclair had chosen was in Westminster, within walking distance, and on the way over he warned his guests not to get their hopes up.
‘It used to be a decent place. But the food’s appalling wherever you go now. One can only pray for a miracle.’
In vain, as it turned out. The fish pie they chose from the menu materialized as glistening, whitish lumps, barely edible, and the chief inspector was the first to push his plate away.
‘I was given an American magazine the other day,’ he said gloomily. It was the issue before Thanksgiving and the cover had a picture of a table groaning with food. Turkey, ham, pumpkin pie; fruit and nuts. I tell you I was close to tears.’
Billy caught Madden’s eye. A name you said, sir?’
‘That’s right. I spotted it when I was going through the statements you took down in Southwark. Nelly Stover …?’
‘Oh, her?’ Billy emptied his glass of beer. ‘She’s a tough old bird. I interviewed her myself. She’s got a stall in that market where Alfie Meeks worked. Claims she knew him. She was the one he asked to look after his stuff when he went off.’
‘Knew him? From before he came to the market?’
‘She said she’d remembered him from when he was a kid. Over in Bethnal Green. That’s where Alfie grew up.’ Billy cocked an eye at his old mentor. ‘Is that where
‘If it’s the same Nelly Stover. Tell me, did she mention having a husband? Bob was his name, I think. A merchant seaman.’
Billy grimaced. ‘Then it’s her, all right. She told me her old man copped it in ’42. His ship went down in the Atlantic. Torpedoed. I’d asked about him because I thought with them both coming from Bethnal Green one or other might have known something more about Meeks. Who his friends were, for example. But she said they’d moved away from there years ago and she hadn’t seen Alfie again until he turned up one day at the market with his folding table and a suitcase of goods. She didn’t recognize him, but when she heard his name she went over to say hello and tell him who she was. That’s how he came to leave his stuff with her.’
Madden mused for a moment. ‘Did she happen to mention her son?’ he asked.
Billy shook his head.
‘Why?’ Sinclair asked. He’d been listening to them with interest.
‘It’s coming back to me now.’ Madden smiled. ‘He was a handful. Not a bad boy, just wild. In with the wrong lot. I caught him trying to break into a tobacconist. I knew if I charged him he’d end up in a borstal, so instead I dragged him off by the scruff of his neck and put him in Nelly’s hands. She had a fish and chip shop then, and the way I heard it she walloped him so hard with one of her saucepans he had bruises for weeks. But he never put a foot wrong again so far as I know, and the last I heard he’d got himself a job.’ With a sigh he turned back to Billy. ‘I’m sorry to hear about her husband. Tell me, how did she strike you? Is she well? She must be on her own now.’
‘Not quite. She’s got a couple of grandkids living with her. I know, because she shut up shop while we were still talking and went off to collect them. Told me if I had any more questions I’d have to come back another day.’ He grinned. ‘A tough old bird, as I say. But I liked her.’
‘So she knew Alfie when he was a boy …’ Madden was looking thoughtful. ‘I might have guessed. It was a close-knit community.’ He caught Billy’s eye. ‘Alfie’s father was a villain called Jonah Meeks. He was the worst kind of bully; hated by all. His body was fished out of an abandoned cistern one day. It was ruled an accident.’
‘Yes, I got that from records. And his mother died when he was ten. Nelly Stover told me. There was a stepmother later, but she’s gone, too. He didn’t seem to have any family. Nor friends, come to that.’
‘Did she know about the Wapping business?’ Sinclair asked. ‘Before you told her, I mean?’
Billy nodded. ‘She said she couldn’t understand what Alfie was doing in that sort of company. Said he was a sad little man.’
While he was speaking, the head waiter had appeared beside their table. He bent to whisper in Sinclair’s ear and the chief inspector rose to his feet.
‘Would you excuse me? I’ve a call.’
He was back after only a minute, and it was plain to see from his expression that something momentous had occurred. He signalled at once for the bill.
‘That was Bennett,’ he said, glancing at Madden. ‘Do you remember me telling you about that French detective who came over here before the war to help us with a case?’
‘The one who’d been in charge of the Fontainebleau case?’
Sinclair nodded. ‘Commissaire Duval. Well, he’s just been on the phone from Paris. Don’t ask me how he got through, but it seems our guess was right. It’s Marko we’re after. Duval says there’s no mistake.’
‘How does he know?’ Madden’s voice carried an edge of excitement. ‘How can he be sure?’
‘I’ve no idea.’ Sinclair rose and his two guests followed suit. ‘But we’ll find out soon enough. Bennett wants us back right away.’ He touched Madden’s arm. ‘You, too, John. He made that clear. He’s got something to tell you.’
‘Angus … at last!’
The assistant commissioner looked up from his desk as Sinclair came in. Several sheets of paper covered with his scrawl lay on the blotter in front of him; he’d been peering down at them.
‘Madden, how are you?’ He had just caught sight of the chief inspector’s companion. ‘Come in, please.’ He rose and they shook hands.
Bennett gestured to the chairs that were already lined up, facing his desk. His face was a little flushed.
‘Duval asked for you first, Angus, but you were out, so the switchboard sensibly put him on to me. He’d been trying for a couple of days to get through. Said in the end they’d “gone to the top”, whatever that means, but it’ll give you some idea of how important they think this is. Unfortunately we only spoke for five minutes before the telephone people cut us off. However …’
He paused to catch breath, and as he did so he sought Madden’s eye.
‘Angus will have told you already. It’s the same man.’
Madden nodded. ‘We were wondering how they knew.’
‘It was that list Solly Silverman had on him. They’re diamonds that were stolen in Paris on the eve of the German occupation. From a furrier, Duval said. I’ve got his name here …’ Bennett scrabbled among the scattered sheets of paper. ‘Sobel …’ He peered down through his glasses. ‘He’d bought them that same day from a dealer. He meant to make a run for it to Spain. He was Jewish, you see …’ Glancing up, he found the chief inspector’s gaze on him.
‘Yes, he’s dead. Murdered. Garrotted.’
