The Stratford Murder

by Mike Hollow

  ‘You’re sure they didn’t belong to Joan Lewis, the woman you found dead in her flat in the early hours of Monday morning – the day before this ticket was issued?’

  A sudden anger flashed in Evans’s eyes.

  ‘What are you accusing me of? Stealing them? Why is it people like you can’t leave honest, hard-working men alone? You should be out there catching the real criminals. Why aren’t you doing something about those bloodsuckers on the black market who make money out of other people’s misfortune? Or those blighters in the docks stealing food from under our noses? Why aren’t you cleaning up the streets, getting rid of those immoral women who prowl about luring men into shameful behaviour and wrecking marriages for the sake of money? I’ve tried to live honestly, but all I’ve seen is crooks who flourish, including at my expense. It’s not right.’

  Jago listened carefully to what Evans was saying, waited for him to calm down, then continued.

  ‘When we spoke to you on Monday you were careful to let us know she wasn’t wearing any rings when you found her, weren’t you? You didn’t have time to notice anything else, but you made sure we went away thinking she didn’t have any rings on.’

  ‘But it’s true, she didn’t. Loads of women have rings like that, but those ones I pawned were my grandmother’s. Ask my wife – she’ll tell you.’

  ‘But your wife’s not here, is she? Perhaps we’d better continue this conversation down at the station.’

  ‘I’m happy to carry on whenever and wherever you like, Inspector,’ Evans responded. ‘But look, can’t we talk about this tomorrow? I’m meant to be on duty in half an hour, and if I’m stuck at the police station people might die. It’s my night off tomorrow, so come and see me tomorrow morning when my wife’s back from her sister’s.’

  ‘How do I know you’ll be here?’

  ‘Don’t you worry about that. I’m always here when Amy gets back from Epping. She’s more precious to me than anything in the world, and I don’t feel easy until I know she’s safely home.’

  Jago studied Evans’s face. He couldn’t help liking the man, but there was something about his easy charm that made it difficult to tell whether he was lying.

  ‘All right,’ he said at last. ‘I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. What time does your wife get back from Epping?’

  ‘She’s always back by half past ten, sometimes sooner if she can get an earlier train. I’m usually home before her, and she doesn’t like to think of me being here cold and tired on my own waiting for her.’

  ‘Right then, Mr Evans, we’ll be back to see both of you at half past ten tomorrow morning.’

  ‘Don’t you worry, we’ll be here.’

  Evans sounded confident and reassuring, but Jago wondered whether he detected a hint of relief behind the bravado.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

  ‘This shouldn’t take long,’ said Jago as they pulled up outside Audrey Lewis’s house. ‘That’s assuming Elsie’s in.’

  His assumption was proved correct. Elsie Marwell greeted them at the door with a neutral expression that revealed nothing about her feelings on seeing the police return. She invited them in and closed the door behind them.

  ‘It’s just a quick question I need to ask you, Mrs Marwell,’ said Jago. ‘It won’t take a moment.’

  ‘Of course. What do you want to know?’

  ‘You remember we showed you that green tunic yesterday?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said cautiously.

  ‘You said you’d never seen it before. But since then it’s been suggested to us that it was the uniform of an organisation that your brother belonged to – something that he and your father fell out over. So I’d like to ask you again. Do you recognise it?’

  Elsie let out a sigh, but whether of resignation or frustration Jago couldn’t tell.

  ‘OK,’ she said. ‘Yes, I do. It must’ve slipped my mind yesterday. I was a bit shocked to hear what’d happened to Joan, so I wasn’t quite myself. Yes, it was something Richard belonged to when he was younger.’

  ‘And there was a disagreement between him and your father?’

  ‘Yes. That wasn’t long before my father died. Richard had some rather foolish ideas about politics when he was younger, and he didn’t like it when Dad challenged him. But someone had to, otherwise he’d have gone on believing those stupid notions for ever. Dad was right – it was all a lot of romantic nonsense and could never work in the real world. My father was a realist, you see, and that’s why he was successful in business. He never had any time for idealistic claptrap. He used to say that in the end it’s all about pounds, shillings and pence, and the more of that you have, the better your life will be. Other people can talk about inner peace, he said, but that doesn’t put bread on the table. Only hard graft does that, and he always worked for his family – he wasn’t going to wait around doing nothing and expecting other people to pay his bills.’

  ‘So clearly you agreed with your father.’

  ‘Yes, of course I did. I thought Richard was naive and indecisive, and lacking in ambition, but I hoped he’d see sense eventually.’

  ‘Do you think he did?’

  ‘Yes, I think he did, to some extent at least. I think when things started getting so bad politically in Europe he realised fancy ideas like giving people free money weren’t realistic. The only thing that made sense in the world as it is was to fight, and I think that’s why he joined the TA.’

  ‘Your mother wasn’t pleased to discover I had that uniform, but she didn’t say why. She didn’t want to talk about it. Why do you think that was?’

  ‘She probably just thinks like me. That that part of Richard’s life is in the past, and it’s not who he is any more. He’ll come home from this war a hero, and that’ll open doors for him. I think our mother’s probably worried that it’ll be bad for his career prospects if people find out he used to be mixed up with the Kibbo Kift, so she’d rather all that was buried in the past, where it belongs.’

  ‘And you think she’s right.’

  ‘Yes, I do. He was an embarrassment to our father, and I don’t see why he should be an embarrassment to our mother as well. He means everything to her. That’s why she didn’t want him to join the TA.’

  ‘She hasn’t mentioned that to us.’

  ‘Well, I don’t suppose there was any need to. She was just worried as a mother.’

  ‘Did he tell you before he joined up?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘But not Joan?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Someone told us they thought he hadn’t.’

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t know what passed between him and his wife, would I? He might’ve thought she’d get tearful, try to stop him. I could imagine her doing that.’

  ‘What was Joan’s attitude to Richard’s past?’

  ‘I think she went along with whatever he wanted to do. To be frank with you, I think all that stuff about politics and economics that he was interested in was above her head. I don’t think she understood it. I think the romantic side of it appealed to her, the idea of making everyone happy in three easy steps – she was a pretty soft sort of girl, a bit of a dreamer – but I don’t think she was bright enough to see through it for the nonsense it was. If our father had lived longer he’d have been against them marrying, I’m sure.’

  ‘I’ve been thinking, sir,’ said Cradock as he got back into the car outside Audrey Lewis’s house. The obvious retort sprang immediately into Jago’s mind, but he didn’t like to discourage the boy.

  ‘Well done,’ he said. ‘Are your thoughts in a fit state to share?’

  ‘Yes, I think so. I’ve been thinking about that brother of Ernie’s we met, Martin Sullivan, the one I recognised from the Regal on Sunday night, who disappeared into the toilets and never came out.’

  ‘I remember. What about him?’

  ‘Well, the first time we met Beryl, she mentioned she’d been at the Regal Sunday night with her boyfriend. I thought that was a bi
t peculiar myself, her going to the pictures where she worked, but anyway, the thing is, when we talked to her this morning, she said he didn’t walk her home at the end. He just nipped off and didn’t come back. And she said his name was Martin. Now, I know there might’ve been a dozen blokes at the Regal called Martin, but if he disappeared like that at the end it makes me wonder whether his other name’s Sullivan.’

  Cradock sat back in the passenger seat, as if bracing himself to hear his reasoning demolished, but Jago simply nodded his head.

  ‘Good thinking, Peter,’ he said. ‘So what do you suggest we do next?’

  ‘Go and ask Beryl what her boyfriend’s surname is and where he lives?’

  ‘I think that would be very sensible.’ Jago checked his watch again. ‘If she’s working tonight, she’ll be at the Regal already. If she’s not, she could be at home, but I’d rather not provoke her landlady to wrath, so let’s try the cinema.’

  They drove to the Regal and told the page boy in the foyer they needed to speak to Beryl. There was no sign of Conway, but the boy was happy to take his instructions from Jago and soon reappeared with Beryl. She was wearing her usherette’s uniform and carrying her torch.

  ‘I’m sorry to drag you away from your work, Miss Hayes,’ said Jago. ‘I really will only keep you for a moment. It’s just that when we spoke to you last time you mentioned your boyfriend’s name was Martin.’

  Beryl gave him an apprehensive look.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Jago. ‘I’m not here because anything’s happened to him. I just need to know his surname, and his address.’

  ‘It’s Sullivan,’ she replied. ‘Martin Sullivan, and he lives in Windmill Lane. It’s number 41, a flat over a greengrocer’s shop – you can’t miss it.’

  ‘Thank you. And you said he didn’t walk you home from the cinema. I believe you said he just nipped off with some flimsy excuse and didn’t come back.’

  ‘Yes, that’s right.’

  ‘What was the flimsy excuse?’

  ‘Well, it was a bit personal, really. He said he wasn’t feeling too good, said he had a touch of gippy tummy and would have to go to the Gents. He said he might be a long time and I wasn’t to wait, I’d have to see myself home. Then off he went. Not so much as a sorry or a goodnight, or see you again, or even hang on a bit and I’ll walk you home.’

  ‘Annoying for you, I imagine.’

  ‘Yes, of course. But I hadn’t known him for very long, and to tell the truth I wasn’t all that bothered about him, so I thought fine, I’ll be off home by myself and you can forget about another date, even if you want one.’

  ‘So how did you happen to meet in the first place?’

  ‘He just started talking to me one night at the Regal. Came out with the usual sort of chat, said he’d like to get to know me better, so we went out for a drink a couple of times. It turned out he was very interested in cinemas and quite fancied working in one himself. Said he’d like to be a cinema manager. I told him he’d have to start at the bottom and work his way up. He said something a bit cheeky then, but it made me laugh, so he said maybe he could start out by taking me to the pictures. I thought he meant go somewhere else, but he said no, the Regal, so I could sit back and enjoy the film for once while the other girls did the running about. I suppose that was his sense of humour or something, but anyway, I said yes, so that’s how we came to be there on Sunday evening. Not a big romance, as you can see – he turned out to be a bit of a disappointment.’

  Jago thanked her for the information, and he and Cradock took their leave. They returned to the car.

  ‘You were right, Peter,’ said Jago. ‘About his name. Well done.’

  ‘Thanks, guv’nor. Shall we go and ask him what he was up to?’

  ‘That’ll have to be tomorrow. Right now I have to go and see Mr Soper at the station.’

  ‘Right, sir. The thing is, I’m thinking if Martin Sullivan was in the Gents all that time and I didn’t see him come out, could that be because he was hiding and came out later when everyone had gone home and let the thieves in?’

  ‘Clearly, Peter. That’s a reasonable conclusion to draw. It also prompts another question – did he get any help from Beryl? And for that matter, was Joan involved in some way? After all, it turns out she knew another Sullivan from the past, didn’t she? Ernie, I mean.’

  ‘There’s something else too, sir. I’ve just thought. We’ve got a man who behaves oddly at a cinema that has its safe blown open the same night, and he seems to have a bee in his bonnet about British troops in Northern Ireland. I mean, blowing things up and Northern Ireland – do you think there could be some kind of link with the IRA?’

  ‘It’s an interesting idea, Peter. The Irish Republicans have certainly been very active over the last year or two, especially with that big bomb in Coventry just a week before the war started.’

  ‘Do you think our safe-breakers could’ve got their explosives from the IRA?’

  ‘I don’t know. I’ve heard some reports of them using gelignite, but I’m not too well up on how they make their bombs. Most of the accounts I’ve read talk about things like aluminium powder and rubber balloons.’

  ‘Rubber balloons? You mean like balloons for children’s parties?’

  ‘Yes, I believe they use acid that has to burn through the balloon before it detonates the explosives, so it gives them time to get away. Something like that, at any rate. I’m not an expert.’

  ‘Sounds a bit barmy to me. I thought they used clocks.’

  ‘Yes, well, as I said, I’m no expert. And whether the IRA’s in the habit of supplying gelignite to people who want to steal money from cinemas I certainly don’t know.’

  ‘Could we find out?’

  ‘Oh, yes, Peter. We’ll find out.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  Divisional Detective Inspector Soper was standing in his office, looking out of the window when Jago entered.

  ‘You wanted to see me, sir. About the case.’

  ‘Ah, yes, the case,’ said Soper. ‘Got your man, eh?’

  ‘What man, sir?’

  ‘I don’t know his name. Tompkins told me you’ve brought a Welshman in to do with that young woman’s murder. The usherette. Good work. Case closed, eh?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I mean there is a Welshman, but we haven’t brought him in. We’ve been to see him to ask about some rings he’s pawned, and I very much suspect those rings belonged to Joan Lewis, the woman who was murdered, but we haven’t charged him with anything yet.’

  ‘I see. Well, what about that safe-breaking business at the Odeon?’

  ‘The Regal, sir.’

  ‘Yes, the Regal. Where have you got to with that?’

  ‘We don’t know who did it yet, but we’ve got our eyes on a young man called Martin Sullivan, who we think may’ve hidden in the cinema when it closed that night and helped whoever blew the safe to get in. But we’re not sure yet. It appears the young man also has an interest in Irish politics. DC Cradock has raised the question of whether there might be a link to the IRA.’

  ‘I knew it – Irishmen. I told you, didn’t I?’

  ‘Well, sir, actually I don’t think you—’

  ‘Yes, explosives, cash – it’s as plain as the nose on your face. It’s the work of Irish Republicans.’

  ‘Except they’re not Irishmen, sir, as far as we can tell.’

  ‘Scratch at the surface, John, and you’ll find an Irishman underneath. You just have to scratch hard enough.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Now, if there’s any trace of Irish Republican activity in this business, you must talk to Special Branch. You know what they’re like – that sort of thing’s definitely their parish, and they won’t want us tramping all over it. Who’s that high-up in Special Branch that you got pally with when you were seconded to them?’

  ‘I think you must mean Mr Ford, sir, but I don’t think I can claim to be pally
with him – he is a detective superintendent, after all.’

  ‘Well, acquainted with, then. But he must be quite pally with you if he wants you to go and work for him.’

  Soper’s words came as a surprise to Jago, but his face didn’t show it.

  ‘Excuse me, sir, but how did you know that? I’ve never mentioned anything of the sort to anyone here.’

  ‘In my job I hear things, John, and that’s one of the things I’ve heard.’

  ‘Well, I can assure you I have no plans to transfer to Special Branch. The experience was useful, and so’s the connection with Detective Superintendent Ford, but I like my job here.’

  ‘I’m glad to hear it, John – I wouldn’t want to lose you. Filling vacancies is the very devil of a job these days, with the force so stretched.’

  Jago was still wondering whether he was being commended as a valued officer or identified as a potential source of unwanted paperwork when Soper continued.

  ‘So anyway, if there’s the slightest whiff of the IRA in your investigation, I advise you to go and report it to your friend Mr Ford at the earliest opportunity. I don’t want them coming down on me like a ton of bricks for encroaching on their responsibilities.’

  ‘Yes, sir. I’ll call him immediately, and see whether he can give me a few minutes tomorrow.’

  ‘That’s the ticket. And get those chaps behind bars, or we’ll all be in trouble.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ said Jago, suddenly feeling the need for an early night. ‘We’ll do our best.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  The only time Detective Superintendent Ford could give him was first thing in the morning: at a quarter past seven, in fact. As Jago made his way to the railway station he hoped the track had survived the night’s bombing, and was relieved to find that the service was running at something close to normal. By ten past seven he was sitting in Ford’s office at New Scotland Yard.