Deceived: THE BRAND NEW NOVEL. No one knows crime like Kray.

by Roberta Kray

  With her mind full of conflicting notions, she headed for Taylor’s. On her way, she thought some more about the picture. If she folded it in two, then only Dan would be visible. She could use the same story she’d told the Daily Mirror photographer: that she was looking for her cousin. Perhaps then people would be more willing to help.

  She went over to the doorway of a boarded-up shop, stopped and reached into her bag. It broke her heart to have to fold the photograph – she’d never get the crease out again – but she had to do it. There wasn’t time to get a copy made. Anyway, if it meant she stood a better chance of finding Dan, it was worth the sacrifice. She gritted her teeth and quickly made the fold before she could change her mind.

  She set off again, walking briskly towards the station. The sky had lightened and a thin glimmer of sunshine was breaking through the clouds. A good omen, perhaps. The last couple of hours hadn’t exactly been fruitful. Things could only get better, right? She clung on to this hope as she headed for locksmith number two.

  Taylor’s was bigger and busier than the other shop. There was a short queue and she had to wait while keys were being cut. There were two men working, both small and round, with the same sandy-coloured hair and similar features. Definitely father and son. It was another five minutes before she finally made it to the counter. She painted on a smile and said to the older man, ‘Hello. I’m looking for Dan Jonson. I don’t suppose he works here, does he?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Dan Jonson,’ she repeated. ‘He’s my cousin. We lost touch during the war and I’m trying to track him down. He’s a locksmith. He used to live round here.’ As she reached into her bag for the photograph, the man glanced over his shoulder.

  ‘Jimmy, you ever heard of a bloke called Dan Jonson?’

  The younger man stopped what he was doing. ‘Can’t say I have.’

  ‘A locksmith, by all accounts. Wasn’t there a Dan working over at Bailey’s? Tall bloke.’

  Judith’s heart skipped a beat. ‘Yes, he’s tall.’

  ‘No,’ Jimmy said, ‘there’s no Dan there. You’re thinking of Don Edwards, and he’s long gone.’

  ‘Am I? Yes, you could be right.’

  Judith put the photograph on the counter. ‘This is Dan.’

  The older man gazed at it and shook his head. ‘Can’t say he looks familiar. Jimmy, come and take a gander at this.’

  Judith watched Jimmy’s reaction, and what she saw set her pulse racing. His eyes flicked from the picture to Judith and back to the picture. Indecision hovered on his face. There was a long pause – too long – before he too shook his head. ‘No, I don’t know him.’

  He was lying. She was sure of it. ‘You do. You recognise him, don’t you?’

  Jimmy grew defensive. ‘I just said, didn’t I? I’ve never seen him before in my life.’

  ‘Look, I’m not here to cause any trouble, I swear. If you could just tell me where to find him and—’

  ‘I can’t tell you what I don’t know, lady. I’ve never set eyes on the geezer.’

  ‘Please,’ she urged, ‘if you know anything, anything at all. I really need some help here.’

  But Jimmy remained unmoved by the plea. ‘If I could, I would. Now I’m sorry but I have to get back to work.’

  Judith turned to the older man in the vain hope that he would provide some support, but all he did was push the photograph back towards her.

  ‘Sorry, love.’

  Frustration made her want to storm round the counter, grab hold of Jimmy and shake the truth out of him. What was wrong with the man? She could sense, however, that no amount of persuasion – violent or otherwise – was going to make him change his mind. Not right now, at least. He had taken a position and was going to stick to it.

  A new customer came into the shop and Judith was obliged to pick up the photograph and step aside. She hesitated, but knew there was no point in staying. This was a battle she wasn’t going to win today. ‘Thank you,’ she said stiffly before walking out.

  Back on the street, she took a moment to absorb what had just happened. If she was right – and she was certain she was – Jimmy had recognised Dan, but only from the picture. The name itself hadn’t meant anything to him. When he’d been asked about Dan Jonson, he hadn’t batted an eyelid. It was only when he’d come over to the counter that his whole demeanour had changed. She sucked in a breath as the full implication of this sank in: Dan was alive but he was using a different name. Or maybe Dan Jonson hadn’t been his real name in the first place. That would explain a lot. Why no one remembered the Jonson family, for instance. Although there could be a more disturbing reason why nobody would talk.

  She felt a chill run through her as she thought of Alfred Tombs. Could Dan be involved in something bad? No, she couldn’t believe that of him. There had to be another explanation. But what? She remembered what Annie had said about men losing their memories, but even if that had happened, it didn’t account for Jimmy’s reaction.

  Although she had intended to use one of the station payphones and call round all the locksmiths in the surrounding areas, she couldn’t see the point now. Her only other option was to visit each one personally, showing the photograph without mentioning a name. She worried that it would be a waste of time, that no one would tell her anything even if they did recognise him, but with little else to go on, there was nothing to lose.

  She went over to the bus stop and checked out the information on the board. She found there was a bus going to Shoreditch and decided that would be as good a place as any to continue the search. With the help of the A–Z she’d be able to find her way round. While she waited in the queue, she stared fiercely at Taylor’s. She had to figure out what to say next time she approached Jimmy. She couldn’t let it go. His lie was the one chink of light in what to date had been a pretty dismal day.

  8

  Judith didn’t know how far she’d walked, how many miles she had covered, but her legs and feet were aching. And for what? Of all the locksmiths she had visited after Taylor’s, none had identified Dan. The only thing her tour had produced was a nagging hunger – she hadn’t eaten since breakfast – and a sense of alienation. There was something about the East End that disconcerted her. She was an outsider here, someone who didn’t belong, and the knowledge made her uncomfortable.

  It was getting on for four o’clock as she traipsed back up Kellston High Street towards the café. Maybe some food would revive her. She had spent all day talking to people who had nothing to tell, and the effort had been exhausting. What she needed now was a chair to sit down on and something to fill her stomach.

  Connolly’s was quiet, with only a few tables taken. She chose a seat by the window and looked over at the board where the day’s specials were listed. Her budget was tight and she couldn’t afford to spend too much on meals. Her gaze slid down the list as she looked for the cheapest option.

  A thin, dark-haired waitress came over with a notepad. ‘What can I get you?’

  ‘Tea, please. And I’ll have a baked potato.’

  The girl scribbled it down. ‘Anything else?’

  Judith decided she might as well ask. She took the photo of Dan out of her bag and held it up. ‘I’m looking for this man. I don’t suppose you’ve seen him in here? Or anywhere else, come to that.’

  The girl stared at the picture for a while, then shook her head. ‘Sorry, I haven’t. But I’ve not worked here long, so …’ She gave a shrug. ‘Sorry.’

  Judith nodded, unsurprised. She’d already got used to disappointment. ‘Thanks anyway.’

  She put the photograph away, settled back and gazed out of the window. Jimmy was still her only decent lead, but she’d have to tread carefully there. There was no point in approaching him again until she had a plan as to how she was going to do it. While she racked her brains, she watched the people going by, and the buses and cars. London was such a busy place. She’d thought Westport got crowded in summer, but it was nothing compared to here. Everyone seeme
d to be constantly on the move.

  Her tea arrived and she drank it gratefully. She was parched. Glancing at her watch, she wondered if it was worth going to the West End and having a wander round for a couple of hours. But just the idea of it made her feel tired. No, she’d get an early night and start off fresh tomorrow. If she was going to check out the locksmiths around New Bond Street, she’d have to find a library close by and make another list. There were still plenty of businesses to visit in the East End too; she’d barely covered a quarter of them.

  When her food arrived, she tried not to wolf it down. Never had a baked potato tasted so good. There was margarine on it rather than butter, but even that didn’t detract from its tastiness. When she’d finished, she put her knife and fork down and sat back with a sigh. Somehow things always seemed better when you had a full belly. She mustn’t get downhearted. Her search had only just begun and there were bound to be setbacks.

  The waitress came over and put another cup of tea in front of her with a smile. ‘On the house, love. You look like you need it.’

  ‘Oh, thank you.’

  The girl pulled out a chair and sat down opposite her. ‘I’m Elsa, by the way.’

  ‘Judith.’

  ‘So, Judith, who is he, this feller you’re trying to find? That’s if you don’t mind me asking.’

  Judith didn’t mind. The waitress was the first person she’d met who’d actually shown any interest. ‘My husband, Dan.’

  ‘Ah, disappeared, has he?’

  ‘It’s a long story.’

  ‘That’s all right, I’m on a break. What makes you think he’s in Kellston?’

  ‘I don’t know that he is. I only came here because it’s where he grew up. I thought someone might remember him.’ Judith hesitated, wondering how much she should tell, but there didn’t seem any good reason for holding back. She quickly ran through it all, from the telegram telling her that Dan was missing to the photograph she’d seen last week in the Daily Mirror.

  Elsa raised her eyebrows. ‘So you think he’s still alive?’

  ‘I suppose it sounds crazy, but I’ve never really believed he was dead. And I know you’ll think that’s only wishful thinking or denial or whatever you want to call it, but it’s how I feel. Sometimes you just know things. It’s hard to explain.’

  ‘Have you got the Mirror photo?’

  Judith nodded, took it out of her bag and placed it on the table. ‘Here,’ she said, pointing. ‘This is Dan. He’s got his face turned away, but I’m sure it’s him.’

  Elsa studied the photograph. She peered and frowned. ‘Mm, it’s not much to go on.’

  ‘It’s enough,’ Judith said sharply. She could read the scepticism on the girl’s face. ‘I don’t expect you to understand. Why would you?’

  ‘I didn’t mean it that way,’ Elsa said. ‘Honest, I didn’t. All I meant was that London’s not the easiest place to find someone – especially if they don’t want to be found.’

  ‘Sorry,’ Judith said, regretting that she’d snapped. ‘I’m just tired. I think I must have walked across half of east London today.’

  ‘And not a sniff?’

  ‘Well, there was a sniff as it happens.’ Judith recounted what had taken place at Taylor’s.

  ‘So, you see, I’m pretty sure Jimmy recognised Dan from the photograph, but not from the name.’

  ‘Which makes it tricky.’

  ‘But at least I know he’s out there somewhere, that I’m not just chasing after rainbows. If I could only get Jimmy to talk …’

  Elsa glanced around the café, then leaned forward and lowered her voice. ‘Oh, they won’t tell you anything, not the people round here. You could show them a picture of the bleedin’ King and they’d swear they’d never set eyes on him before. They close ranks if you’re not one of them. Even if they do know where your old man is, they’ll keep their mouths shut.’

  ‘But why? I don’t understand.’

  ‘To protect him, love. And themselves. They’ll figure if he wanted you to know where he was, he’d tell you himself. They won’t put themselves on the line in case it comes back to haunt them.’

  ‘So what can I do?’

  Elsa gave a shrug.

  Judith gestured towards the Mirror picture, still lying between them on the table. ‘Do you know this man?’ she asked, pointing to Tombs.

  ‘No, I don’t think so.’

  ‘His name’s Alfred Tombs. I think he’s … I don’t know, a criminal of some sort.’

  ‘Oh, he’s that all right.’

  ‘You’ve heard of him?’

  ‘Everyone’s heard of him. I mean, everyone round here. He runs the manor, doesn’t he? And half the West End too.’ Elsa looked more closely at the photograph. ‘I think you’re right. I’ve only seen him a couple of times, but … yes, that could be him.’

  ‘It’s hard to tell whether they’re together or not. Do you know where Tombs lives, or where I could find him?’

  Elsa grimaced. ‘You don’t want to do that.’

  ‘I don’t see what choice I’ve got. In less than a week I’ll have to go home. If I could ask Tombs directly, then—’

  ‘Then he could tip Dan off that you’re looking for him. And then what? He might just disappear again. Anyway, you need to stay away from the likes of Tombs. He’s a gangster, love. He’s dangerous.’

  ‘I don’t care what he is,’ Judith said with more bravado than she felt. ‘Apart from Jimmy, he’s the only lead I’ve got. I could spend the next four days searching high and low, visiting every locksmith in London, and still come up with nothing.’

  Elsa put her elbows on the table. ‘Actually, I’ve just had a thought. There’s a feller who knows a lot of people round here, from the priests to the villains and just about everyone in between. I could try and set up a meet if you like. I can’t promise he’ll be able to help, but he might.’

  ‘Who is he, this man?’

  ‘He’s called Saul.’

  Judith waited, but Elsa didn’t elaborate. ‘Saul?’

  ‘That’s all I know. It’s up to you. Do you want me to ring him?’

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘I won’t be able to do it until later. Tell you what, come back tomorrow evening, about seven. Sit at one of the tables at the back, a corner one if it’s free. It won’t be busy at that time. If he hasn’t turned up by half seven, you’ll know he’s not coming.’

  It all seemed very cloak-and-dagger, but Judith was prepared to try anything. ‘Will you be here?’

  ‘No, I don’t work Tuesdays.’

  ‘What does he look like, this Saul?’

  Elsa inclined her head and frowned. She stared into the middle distance while she thought about it. ‘Ordinary,’ she said. ‘Average height, average build. Brown hair. Don’t worry, he’ll find you.’

  ‘Will he want anything? I mean, will be expect to be paid?’

  ‘No, he won’t ask for any money.’ A couple of customers came into the café. Elsa sighed, glanced at the clock on the wall, pushed back her chair and rose to her feet. ‘I’d better get on. Good luck with everything. I hope you track him down.’

  ‘Thanks. Thanks for all your help.’

  ‘One last thing. Promise me you won’t go near Tombs before you’ve talked to Saul. You don’t want to get mixed up with the likes of him if you don’t have to.’

  ‘I won’t,’ Judith said. ‘I promise.’

  Elsa nodded and walked off.

  Judith put the photographs back in her bag. She gazed out of the window while she finished her tea. It had been a stroke of luck, she thought, coming into Connolly’s. The bill had come with the food, and she put the payment on the plate along with a generous tip for Elsa, then left the café. As she headed down the high street, her mood lightened considerably – it was amazing what some food, a bit of help and a friendly face could do – but her feet were still killing her. Her plan for the evening was to go back to Sycamore House and study her A–Z before having an earl
y night.

  She was almost at the B&B when she saw Jimmy Taylor come out of the locksmith’s and cross the road. As he got closer to her, she hesitated. She’d intended to think it over, how exactly she’d make her next approach, but deciding it was fate, she stepped right in front of him, blocking his path.

  ‘Hello again.’

  It took a moment before recognition dawned, and then his face fell. He tried to sidestep, to manoeuvre round her, but Judith wasn’t having any of it. She moved too. The two of them did a little dance on the pavement, to the right, to the left, before he put his hands on his hips and glared at her.

  ‘What do you want, lady? I don’t know nothing. I’ve already told you.’

  Judith smiled. ‘Look, I know that you know who Dan is – and probably where he is too. So unless you want me to keep on coming to the shop, to keep on asking every single day until you’re sick of the sight of me, why don’t you just pass on a message? Tell him Judith’s here. Tell him I’m staying at Sycamore House.’ She made a brief gesture towards the B&B. ‘Tell him I’m not going home until I’ve talked to him. All right?’

  ‘I can’t pass on a message to someone I don’t know.’

  ‘I’m sure you’ll find a way.’

  ‘I’m telling you, I don’t—’

  ‘Judith,’ she repeated firmly, interrupting him. ‘You can remember that, can’t you?’ And then before he could make any more protestations, she turned on her heel and flounced off. She wasn’t used to confrontations, however mild, and her heart was beating fast. Had she done the right thing? She resisted the urge to glance over her shoulder. Jimmy’s eyes were still on her – she was sure of it – but whether he was going to do as she asked remained to be seen.

  9

  Alf Tombs had assumed his listening pose: elbow on the arm of the chair, chin on his hand, head tilted slightly to the right. Renee was giving him the needle. The subject was a familiar one – he’d heard it a thousand times before – but he was letting her have her say. Maybe if she got it off her chest, he might eventually get some peace and quiet.