The Stratford Murder

by Mike Hollow

  ‘I told you before that I thought Audrey was possessive, and she was – the sort of mother who thinks the apron strings are a fixture for life. Joan used to say Audrey would insist on baking his favourite cakes for him and giving them to him in front of her as if to make out she was incapable of pleasing him. I think things got a bit tense sometimes, and the reason why Joan moved out was because she wanted to be herself.’

  ‘But that was after Richard had been posted to France. Why didn’t they set up their own home before?’

  ‘Money, I suppose – lack of. He didn’t earn a packet, you know. And of course that was the other reason why they had to wait to get married. You know what the banks are like.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, they don’t let their clerks marry until they’re earning two hundred pounds a year.’

  Jago had heard of this before, but it seemed to be news to Cradock, who opened his mouth as if to ask a question. Carol answered before he could get the words to his lips.

  ‘Don’t laugh, Constable. It’s because a clerk starts on a hundred and twenty a year – less if it’s a woman, of course – and the banks think that’s not enough for him to support a wife, so they won’t let him get married until it’s crept up to two hundred, which takes about five years. They’re worried that if he gets married when his salary’s below that, he might put his fingers in the till. It makes me laugh, but I think Joan found it frustrating, having to wait.’

  ‘So Richard was a bank clerk,’ said Jago.

  ‘Yes, that’s right.’

  ‘Which bank?’

  ‘The National Provincial, same as me.’

  ‘In the same branch?’

  ‘Yes. Why?’

  ‘You haven’t mentioned that before.’

  ‘Well, you never asked me before, did you?’ Carol tilted her head to one side, like a schoolmistress waiting for a slow pupil to answer, but Jago was lost in his own thoughts.

  ‘No,’ he replied eventually. ‘No, I didn’t.’ He took a slow sip of his tea and continued. ‘Now, I want to ask you about another member of the family. You’ve made it clear that Joan didn’t get on terribly well with Audrey, but what about Elsie, her sister-in-law? What was her response to the marriage?’

  ‘Elsie? I’m not so sure what she felt about it. Surprising, really, because she was just like her dad – spoke her mind, you know. She definitely agreed with his views, too – she didn’t approve of free handouts to anyone. But Joan never said whether she’d had any trouble with Elsie.’

  ‘I see. And what about Joan’s relationship with Richard? You said you thought they married for love, but it went sour later.’

  ‘Yes, well, she married Richard, not his family, didn’t she? I think she fell for him hook, line and sinker when they met, and it was all wonderful to start with. Love at first sight, that sort of thing.’

  ‘Soulmates?’

  ‘That’s what she thought. At first, anyway.’

  ‘But not later?’

  ‘Yes, that’s the thing, you see. Richard might not’ve agreed with his dad about politics or the way he made his money, but Charlie was a strong man, and Richard took after him in that respect. He had a strength of character that Joan didn’t have.’

  ‘Strength of character? But his sister told us he was naive and indecisive, lacking in ambition.’

  ‘Elsie said that? Well, like I said, she speaks her mind, but that sounds to me like her dad speaking. Charlie had no time for his son, and she’d think Richard disagreeing with their dad was a weakness, a character fault. She’s never had a good word to say about him.’

  ‘So what do you mean by Richard’s strength of character?’

  ‘Well, put it like this – he had ideas about life, knew where he was going. Joan seemed happy just to tag along behind him, and that appeals to some men, of course, but I had the feeling Richard needed someone with a bit more spark of their own. He was what people call self-obsessed, I think, bound up in himself. He always did what he wanted to do and expected her to fall in line behind. I never saw him show any interest in her life. They were all lovey-dovey at the beginning, but after a while it seemed to me he lost interest in her. Joan said that as time went by he stopped showing her any affection, just got on with his own life. She told me once how she really wanted children, but he wasn’t interested. That happens sometimes, though, doesn’t it? A man falls for a good-looking girl and they get married, but then he finds she hasn’t got much depth behind the looks, not much to hold his attention, and the next thing you know he gets the roving eye.’

  ‘Do you mean he was unfaithful to her?’

  ‘Oh, no, I don’t think so. But I do think perhaps he could’ve been, if the right woman had come along. I just mean there were things he wanted to do in life, whether or not Joan fitted in with his plans. Some men are like that, aren’t they? Only care about themselves, don’t seem capable of loving anyone else. It was like that when he joined the Territorials, she said. He just decided to do it, and never even discussed it with her.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘Do you really? I sometimes wonder whether any men understand women. I think the thing about Joan was she wanted to be loved. She wanted to have one person in the world that she really knew, deep down, and even more someone who knew her as she really was and loved her all the same. She thought she’d found that in Richard.’

  ‘But she was disappointed?’

  ‘Exactly. But don’t get me wrong – I’m not saying it was all Richard’s fault. He was a good man. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t say “was” – it’s just that with him being missing for so long I’m beginning to think the worst. He is a good man. He can’t help the way he is, and I don’t think Joan really gave him a chance. If she wanted to marry him she should’ve accepted him as he was and loved him. She might’ve thought she deserved better, but so did he.’

  Jago thought he glimpsed a tear brimming in Carol’s eye, but before he could be sure she flicked a finger across it and it was gone.

  ‘One last question, Miss Hurst,’ he said. ‘You told us before that you didn’t know whether Joan had any men friends, but I got the impression that perhaps you thought she might have. The question I have to ask you is rather delicate, so forgive me, but the fact is that one of the people we’ve talked to about Joan has suggested she might have been having an affair. Was that true?’

  Carol looked shocked.

  ‘No, she wasn’t that kind of girl.’

  ‘So no men at all?’

  She hesitated before answering.

  ‘Well, in all honesty I can’t say that, but I don’t want you or anyone else to think badly of poor Joan. The truth is there was one man – but only one man. She wasn’t the kind of woman you seemed to think she was when we first spoke.’

  ‘Who was this one man?’

  Carol’s expression suggested she was struggling with how to answer.

  ‘I don’t know as I should say. I don’t want to betray a confidence. I know she’s dead, but even so, it was her private business.’

  ‘I’m afraid nothing is private in a murder case, Miss Hurst.’

  ‘But I’m sure it had nothing to do with her being killed.’

  Jago looked her in the eye and spoke firmly. ‘I’d be grateful if you would assist me by telling me who Joan was having an affair with, if that was the case. Was it?’

  Carol looked down into her lap and nodded her head. ‘Yes, it was,’ she said quietly. ‘If you must know, it was Derek. But please don’t tell him I told you.’

  ‘Her brother-in-law?’

  ‘Yes, Elsie’s husband. I told you what’d happened in her marriage. I think it was simple, really. She needed to be loved, she wasn’t getting love from Richard any more, and then he wasn’t even here. Derek was different. She told me he made her feel like she was loved. She felt there was someone who valued her. He’s not flash, he’s not brave, he’d make a terrible soldier, but he needed her. I think it was as simple as that –
he needed her, and she needed to be needed. I know he was a married man, but him and Elsie …’ Her voice dropped to a whisper. ‘You know, I think she hates him. But I’ve said more than I should. I’d like to go now, please.’

  Jago sat back in his chair, taking in what she had said.

  ‘Thank you, Miss Hurst,’ he said. ‘That’s very interesting, and you’ve been most helpful. I won’t take any more of your time – we’ll say goodbye for now, and thank you again for your help.’

  He got out of his chair and stood by the table as Carol Hurst picked up her handbag. She clutched it defensively to her chest as she made for the door.

  ‘Right, Peter,’ he said, once she had left the tea shop. ‘We need to find Derek Marwell and hear what he’s got to say about this. If it’s true and his wife’s found out, there’ll be hell to pay – and for all we know, maybe it’s already been paid.’

  CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

  As soon as they were out of the ABC tea room’s door Jago strode briskly to the car, Cradock half a step behind him. He slipped into the driver’s seat and started the engine.

  ‘Quarter past six,’ he said, checking his watch. ‘Let’s see if Marwell’s still at home.’

  He glanced over his shoulder to check the traffic, but it was almost blackout time, and anyone who could be at home would be there by now. At least there’d been no sirens yet, he thought, so if they were lucky they’d get this done before the Luftwaffe paid their nightly call. He set off for Carnarvon Road. When they reached the house he knocked on the door, and after a short wait it was opened by Audrey Lewis. Before he could ask for Marwell she welcomed them in.

  ‘What a pleasant surprise,’ she said. ‘You’re just in time to join us. Do come through to the dining room. We’re about to start.’

  Curious to know what was about to start and who ‘we’ were, Jago turned to Cradock with a shrug and followed her down the hallway. Audrey led them into a room and shut the door behind them. Inside, the blackout curtains were drawn, but the electric light was off: the near-total darkness was relieved only by a paraffin lantern with a red glass set on a table. In this dim light Jago was struck by how sparsely the room was furnished – just the table, a few wooden chairs and a small cabinet. It reminded him of the room in which Joan’s body had been found.

  ‘Take a seat, gentlemen,’ said Audrey softly. ‘I think Madame Zara’s about to make contact with the other side.’

  Jago noticed Cradock’s uncertain look and motioned him to sit down at the table. He recognised the other people sitting round it: Audrey to his left, then her daughter, Elsie, then Madame Zara, and finally Derek Marwell and Greville Ballantyne. All had their eyes closed, none of them acknowledging the two policemen’s arrival. Jago kept his open.

  Madame Zara gave a low moan, then expressed greetings to someone unseen.

  Audrey leant towards Jago and whispered: ‘That’s Black Hawk, her spirit guide.’

  Jago said nothing. He thought he glimpsed Madame Zara’s eyes opening slightly, then quickly closing as she uttered a long sigh.

  ‘He says he has a message about Richard,’ she said.

  Audrey let out an almost inaudible gasp. ‘Tell me – please tell me – where is Richard?’

  ‘He’s safe and well, in France.’

  ‘Oh, thank you,’ said Audrey, louder, her voice now breaking. ‘What else can he tell me?’

  ‘Nothing. That is all. But he says he has a message for the policeman. Something you need to know about Joan – he says he knows who killed her.’

  There was a gasp from Jago’s left as he scraped his chair noisily back from the table and stood up.

  ‘All right,’ he said sternly. ‘That’s enough. If he knows so much, ask him to tell us about the baby.’

  ‘Baby?’ said Audrey, her voice rising to match his as her eyes opened wide. ‘What baby? What are you talking about?’

  Jago noticed that all eyes were now open, including those of Madame Zara.

  ‘I’m sorry, everyone,’ said the medium. ‘We have to stop now. I think we’ve upset the spirit guide – he’s fading away.’

  ‘What’s all this about a baby?’ demanded Audrey, ignoring her friend.

  Jago strode to the door and switched on the electric light.

  ‘I’m talking about the baby Joan was expecting,’ he said. ‘If your spirit guide can’t tell me, perhaps one of you can. Who knew about it?’

  No one spoke.

  ‘I’m waiting.’

  Another silence followed. Jago could see that everyone was avoiding his gaze. Only Cradock was looking at him eagerly, waiting for something to happen.

  ‘All right, if none of you’s willing to tell me, I’ll tell you.’ He turned to the medium. ‘Mrs Ballantyne, you knew, didn’t you?’

  His use of her real name seemed to deflate her other-worldly air. She looked around the table, as if seeking help.

  ‘No, of course I didn’t. How could I?’

  ‘Because you’re a medium.’

  ‘But no one in the spirit world told me anything about a baby.’

  ‘That’s not what I mean. It’s because you’re a medium that people tell you things – things that other people don’t know.’

  ‘Joan didn’t tell me anything.’

  ‘I’m not talking about Joan. I’m talking about someone else who came to see you – a young lady from the cinema, called Cynthia Carlton. You told me yourself, didn’t you, when you were boasting about saving her life? She’s the only person who’s admitted to suspecting Joan’s condition, and you’re the only person in this room who’s mentioned knowing her. She’d found out, hadn’t she? And she told you. It’s true, isn’t it?’

  Vera Ballantyne’s head dropped. She gazed down into her lap and nodded. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Right. And who else knew?’ He stared at Audrey expectantly.

  ‘All right,’ she said, ‘I knew too. Vera mentioned it to me.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell me earlier, Mrs Lewis?’

  ‘Surely it’s obvious. Put yourself in my shoes, Inspector. Why would I want to do that? She’d brought shame on her husband and his family, and when I heard she’d died I hoped no one would ever know. I thought it was something we could keep within the family.’

  Jago glanced at Elsie, but her face remained impassive.

  ‘And you, Mrs Marwell? Did you know?’

  Elsie returned his gaze, her eyes widening in astonishment. ‘No, I certainly did not. I had no idea.’

  ‘Your mother didn’t tell you?’

  The question seemed to anger her, and she replied through gritted teeth, looking Jago in the eye. ‘No, she didn’t.’

  Jago turned to the men.

  ‘Mr Ballantyne. Did you know?’

  Ballantyne looked shocked. ‘No, certainly not. How would I know about something like that? It’s women’s business, surely.’

  ‘And finally you, Mr Marwell.’

  Derek Marwell gulped. He opened his mouth, but no words came, and as his eyes flitted from one person to another round the table it looked as though he couldn’t think of what to say. Finally he turned towards his wife, looking at once guilty, frightened and beseeching.

  Elsie Marwell said nothing at first, but her face flashed with anger, as if a dam within her had been breached. She sprang from her seat and leant forward towards her husband where he sat, her finger stabbing at his face.

  ‘You pathetic liar,’ she hissed venomously. ‘You thought I didn’t know, didn’t you? What did you take me for? I knew what you two were up to – amateur dramatics my eye. She didn’t love you, you know. She did it to spite me and my mother. What are you? Useless, that’s what. You’re so incompetent, you couldn’t even have an affair with my sister-in-law without getting her pregnant. You killed her, didn’t you?’

  Marwell sat in shocked silence as Elsie turned to Jago.

  ‘I know what he did, Inspector. That cap you told me about – the sailor’s cap you found at the flat. He must’ve known wh
at he was going to do that night. He was going to murder the woman who was about to reveal what a useless swine he is. Then when we found that sailor stretched out on the street he could see the man was so drunk he’d passed out, so he went back to that shop doorway – he’d have to walk right past him on his way to his fire-watching duty. And when he saw the man was still there, with his cap on, he stole it and left it in her flat where he knew you’d find it. You’d draw the right conclusions, and he’d be in the clear.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’ cried Marwell, his eyes widening as at last he found his voice. ‘This is all madness, Inspector. Don’t listen to her.’

  ‘You’re the one who’s mad,’ said Elsie. ‘You were so scared when you found out she was pregnant you panicked, you decided to kill her, and when you saw that sailor you thought it’d be an easy way to cover your tracks. You couldn’t bear the thought of having to be a man and take responsibility for your actions, so you decided to get rid of Joan and let someone else swing for it. You’re just a coward. I despise you.’

  Marwell crashed his chair back and stood up, glaring at her.

  ‘Shut up, you stupid woman,’ he sneered. ‘You’re not so bad at amateur dramatics yourself, are you? But you’re not fooling anyone. I know what you’re doing – you’re trying to pin the blame on me when you’re the one who did it. You couldn’t accept a rival, could you? Joan was everything you’re not – she had imagination, a sensitive spirit, a gentle and caring heart. It was only knowing her that made me see you as you really are – as hard as nails and as cold as ice.’

  Cradock got out of his chair and moved discreetly to guard the door.

  ‘Mrs Marwell,’ said Jago quietly to Elsie. ‘He betrayed you, didn’t he? Humiliated you. And you wanted revenge.’

  Elsie’s expression turned from rage to panic as his words sank in.

  ‘Help me, Mum,’ she pleaded. ‘Tell him I didn’t do it!’

  Audrey took a packet of cigarettes from her handbag and lit one, then rose from the table and took up a position standing beside a bookcase. She drew slowly on the cigarette before speaking.