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

by Roberta Kray

  Judith picked up the pace as she turned the corner into Station Road. It wouldn’t take her long to pack, and then she could catch a bus to Euston. With luck, she’d be home by early evening. She would have to miss her appointment with Saul, but there was no point to it now. He wouldn’t be able to tell her anything she didn’t already know.

  She walked up the path to Sycamore House, opened the unlocked door and stepped into the hall. It was then that she saw it – her suitcase sitting at the bottom of the stairs. She stared at it, bemused, unable to fathom how it had made its way down here from her room. She was still trying to figure it out when Mrs Jolly appeared from the back with a look on her face that would have scared the devil himself.

  ‘You’re back, then,’ the woman said, stating the obvious.

  ‘Yes, but why is my case—’

  Mrs Jolly folded her arms across her chest and glared at Judith. ‘We don’t want your sort here, dearie. This is a respectable household. So if you’d just take your things and go …’

  ‘What?’

  ‘You ’eard me. Let’s not make it difficult, eh? You and me both know what you’re up to. It’s Albert Road you should be staying, not here.’

  Judith didn’t have a clue what she was going on about. ‘I don’t understand. Why are you—’

  ‘Oh, you understand well enough. I’ve heard all about you and what you’re up to. I wasn’t born yesterday. You might pull the wool over some folk’s eyes, but not Mrs Jolly’s.’

  ‘Is this about Dan?’ she asked.

  ‘I don’t know no names, and I don’t want to. That’s your business, not mine. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like you to leave.’

  Judith did mind. Although she’d been planning on going anyway, she hadn’t anticipated being thrown out on her ear. Her head, already in turmoil by her meeting with Dan, was starting to spin. With no idea of what rule she’d broken, she had no way of defending herself. It was hardly a crime to go looking for your husband, so why, if that was the reason, was she being punished for it? She could feel her face burning as indignation rose inside her. ‘I’ve paid until Saturday. I’m not going until I get my money back.’

  Mrs Jolly pursed her lips as if all her bad opinions of Judith had just been confirmed. She unfolded her arms, put a hand into her apron pocket and reluctantly took out a few shillings. ‘Here,’ she said. ‘And don’t show your face round here again. You’re not welcome in this street.’

  Judith slipped the money into her bag, picked up her case and walked out. The return of the money didn’t provide much consolation, but small victories were better than none. She felt humiliated, angry and tearful, at a loss as to what she was supposed to have done. Loathing swept over her, not just for Mrs Jolly but for all Londoners. With only a few exceptions, she’d been made to feel as welcome as a fox in a henhouse.

  Although she’d intended to get the bus from outside the station, Judith changed her mind as she left Sycamore House. She had visions of Mrs Jolly and all the neighbours lurking behind net curtains watching her every move. Instead she headed for the high street, where there was another bus stop halfway along. She walked quickly, eager to get around the corner and escape any prying eyes. Someone had been whispering in the landlady’s ear and it didn’t take a genius to work out who. Dan was clearly determined to get rid of her one way or another.

  What had he said? She had no idea, but whatever it was had been enough to throw her into disgrace. It made her mad and sad and desperate to get away from this horrible place and everyone in it. As she passed the café, she thought about the meeting with Saul scheduled for this evening. Well, there was nothing she could do about that now. Except, of course, there was. She could see Elsa through the window, carrying a tray towards a table at the back. She could let her know, get her to call him. It would only take a minute to nip inside. She dithered, glancing along the street to see if the bus was coming. It wasn’t. In truth, she didn’t want to talk to anyone, but common courtesy nagged at her conscience. It was hardly fair to leave Saul in the lurch when she could avoid it.

  She pushed open the door and went inside. She hovered near the entrance, trying to catch Elsa’s attention. Eventually the waitress noticed her and came over. She took one look at Judith’s face, glanced down at the suitcase and asked, ‘What’s happened?’

  ‘I’m going home. Today. Now. Could you let Saul know? I won’t be here this evening.’

  ‘What’s happened?’ Elsa repeated. ‘You’re white as a sheet. You look like you saw a ghost.’

  ‘Something like that. Anyway, would you let him—’

  ‘You need to sit down,’ Elsa said, steering her towards an empty table. She pulled out a chair and gently pushed Judith into it. ‘Here, before you fall down. When was the last time you had something to eat?’

  ‘Breakfast, but I’m not hungry.’

  ‘You need food inside you,’ Elsa insisted. ‘Wait here and I’ll bring you a bowl of stew.’

  ‘I can’t. I’ve got a train to catch.’

  ‘There are plenty more trains. You can catch a later one. I can’t let you leave like this. Look, I’m off shift in twenty minutes. Have some food and then we can talk.’

  Before any further objections could be made, Elsa took off towards the counter. Judith could have got up again, walked out, but she didn’t have the energy or the will. The day’s events had drained her dry. She moved her case out of the way, sat back and let the sounds of the café float over her, the clatter of plates and the general chatter. There was something soothing about doing nothing, about letting someone else take control.

  A few minutes later, Elsa brought the stew, patted her on the shoulder and left again. Judith ate slowly, barely tasting anything. From the café she could see the green, but not the bench where she and Dan had been talking. Ivor, she reminded herself yet again. It was hard to believe that less than half an hour ago she’d been sitting right beside him. Where was he now? She hadn’t even got an address. He had disappeared as suddenly as he’d arrived, melting into the street, going back to where he belonged. For him, it was over, but for her, too many questions remained unanswered. What he had given her wasn’t enough. She felt cheated and bereft, abandoned in some strange kind of limbo.

  Judith was hardly aware of time passing. She finished her stew and watched the world go by outside the window. Then Elsa was standing beside her with a light summer coat over her arm.

  ‘Come on,’ she said. ‘Let’s get out of here.’

  Judith pulled out her purse to pay for the food, but Elsa waved away the offer. ‘It’s sorted. Don’t worry about it.’

  ‘But—’

  Elsa picked up the case. ‘Honestly, it’s fine. We’ll go to my flat and have a brew. It’s not far from here.’

  Judith rose to her feet and followed the girl. Why not? There was no particular urgency about her journey home, other than a desire to get out of London. And she could do with someone to talk to. Everything had been so awful, so shocking, she could barely think straight.

  ‘I take it you’ve found him,’ Elsa said as they crossed the road.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Not good news, then?’

  ‘You could say that.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  Elsa cut across the corner of the green. As they joined the main path and passed the bench, Judith noticed the cigarette butt lying on the ground. It seemed suitably symbolic of her marriage: something that had been temporarily enjoyed, sucked dry and then thrown away. She gave Elsa a brief summary of her dreadful meeting with Ivor Doyle. Ordinarily she would not have confided so freely, but as the girl already knew half the story, she didn’t see the harm in telling her the rest.

  ‘What a bastard,’ Elsa said. ‘You can’t let him get away with it. It’s not right, what he’s done to you.’

  ‘And how am I supposed to do that? I don’t want to get the police involved.’

  ‘Why not? They should put him in jail where he belongs.’

 
‘But that’s not going to change anything.’

  ‘It’s not to do with changing things. It’s making him pay for what he did.’

  ‘Revenge,’ Judith said softly.

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with revenge. An eye for an eye. That’s fair enough, isn’t it? It’s what he deserves. It’s the least he deserves.’

  ‘You’re right,’ Judith said, ‘but I still don’t want to send him to prison.’ Despite everything he’d put her through, she didn’t want to be responsible for having him locked up. ‘I don’t want him to get away with it either, though.’

  Elsa gave her a quick sideways glance. ‘You don’t have to, love, not if you don’t want to. There’s more than one way to skin a cat.’

  19

  While Elsa was making the tea, Judith told her about being thrown out of the B&B.

  ‘I don’t even know what I’m supposed to have done. I went back and my case was packed, and Mrs Jolly was looking at me like I was something she’d found on the bottom of her shoe.’

  ‘What did she say, exactly?’

  ‘I don’t know, something about it being a respectable household and that my sort wasn’t welcome. Oh, and she mentioned a place called Albert Road, said that’s where I should be staying, not at hers.’

  Elsa barked out a laugh. ‘That was below the belt.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘It’s the local red-light district, love. She’s suggesting you’re a whore.’

  Judith’s mouth fell open in shock. ‘What? How could she think—’

  ‘That so-called husband of yours must have had a word with her. God, he really is a piece of work.’ Elsa passed over a cup of tea. ‘Sorry, I’ve got no sugar.’

  But sugar was the last thing on Judith’s mind. ‘I can’t believe he’d do something like that.’

  Elsa’s eyebrows flew up. ‘You’re talking about a man who pretended he was dead. What are a few more lies on top of that? He clearly wants you out of Kellston – and fast.’

  Judith stared down at the carpet. Not content with ruining her life, Ivor Doyle was now trashing her reputation too. Her face burned with anger and dismay. ‘So now everyone thinks I’m a … a prostitute.’

  ‘Not anyone that matters. Who cares what that old cow thinks?’

  Judith couldn’t be quite as blasé about it. ‘I care.’

  ‘So don’t let him get away with it. He thinks he can walk all over you, do what he likes, say what he likes. You have to start fighting back. Don’t let him push you around like this. You don’t have to leave London. You can do exactly what you want.’

  Except that leaving London was exactly what Judith wanted. She had to get away from the nightmare, to put some distance between her and the man she had once loved so much. She wanted to be somewhere she felt safe. ‘I know. I just need … some time, I suppose. I’m not saying I won’t come back, just that I have to figure things out first.’

  ‘What’s there to figure? Don’t be a victim. You’re better than that.’

  Judith, who was still coming to terms with the fact that she was a victim, albeit of Ivor Doyle’s duplicity rather than the war, gave a thin smile. ‘What did you mean earlier about there being more than one way to skin a cat?’

  ‘He wants you to go. Well, why should you dance to his tune? You should stay here and make things awkward for him. I doubt he’s told you the whole truth, far from it. You deserve that, at the very least.’

  Judith couldn’t argue with her, but it wasn’t that easy. ‘I’ve got a job. I have to be back on Monday.’

  ‘Take some time off. What do you do, anyway?’

  ‘I’m a legal secretary.’

  ‘London isn’t short of solicitors. You could easily get work here if you wanted it.’

  Judith didn’t want it, but as she opened her mouth to say as much, she was distracted by the sound of footsteps descending to the basement, followed by a couple of sharp raps on the door. Elsa stood up.

  ‘I’ll get rid of them, whoever they are.’

  Judith heard a quick murmured conversation before Elsa returned with the policeman, Saul, in tow. She jumped to her feet, startled. ‘What are you doing here?’

  ‘Sorry,’ Elsa said. ‘I rang him from the caff to let him know you wouldn’t be able to make it this evening, but I didn’t ask him to come to the flat.’

  ‘She didn’t,’ Saul said. ‘I swear. But she mentioned you were coming here for a brew and so I thought you might like to know what I’ve found out before you leave.’

  Judith picked up her case, preparing to go. ‘I think I already know as much as I want to, thank you.’ This wasn’t strictly true, but she was worried about Saul being involved. Although she’d been prepared to accept his help when the search for Dan had seemed hopeless, the situation was different now.

  ‘You may as well hear him out,’ Elsa said. ‘Where’s the harm?’

  The harm, Judith thought, was that he was a policeman and it was his job to uphold the law. She wondered how many laws Ivor Doyle had broken. Probably too many to count. But she didn’t want to be a part of any convictions that might be coming his way. The idea of having to stand up in a courtroom and give evidence, of being a public spectacle, was enough to make her stomach turn over.

  ‘Five minutes,’ Saul said. ‘And what I said yesterday still stands. This isn’t in any official capacity.’

  Judith hesitated, but curiosity finally got the better of her. ‘All right then.’

  Saul took the chair where Elsa had been sitting, and Judith sat back down too. Elsa moved across the room and leaned against the small kitchen counter with her arms folded across her chest.

  ‘I take it you’ve seen him,’ the policeman said.

  Judith nodded.

  ‘That can’t have been easy.’

  Unwilling to share her emotional upheavals with this man, she gave a light shrug. ‘I know that his real name is Ivor Doyle, if that’s what you’ve come to tell me.’

  ‘It was one of the things. And that he’s a known associate of Alf Tombs. But I’m sure you’ve gathered that already. No convictions in the past five years, although he’s been pulled in for questioning a few times. A bit of a mystery man, our Mr Doyle – keeps himself to himself. Still, I suppose that’s not surprising bearing in mind his history with you.’

  ‘Is that all you’ve got?’ Elsa said scornfully. ‘It was hardly worth the journey.’

  Saul threw her a dirty look.

  Judith sensed the tension between them, a definite hostility that seemed odd bearing in mind that they were supposed to be friends. ‘Is there anything else?’

  Saul left a long, deliberate pause before he answered. ‘Only the girl,’ he said eventually.

  Judith stiffened. ‘What girl?’

  ‘Her name’s Nell McAllister. He lives with her. Apparently, they go way back.’ He paused again, his gaze briefly darting away before returning to meet hers. ‘Well before …’

  ‘Before me, you mean.’

  ‘Yes. From what I’ve heard.’

  The news didn’t come as any great surprise to Judith, but it was still a blow. Her hands gripped the arms of the chair. ‘Are they married?’

  ‘Not as far as I know.’

  ‘What do you know about her?’

  ‘I believe she used to be a singer; no one famous, just in the nightclubs. She’s about the same age as you, a little older perhaps, slim, blonde.’

  ‘You see?’ Elsa said. ‘While you were grieving, the bastard was rolling in the hay with his old girlfriend. That’s the kind of man he is.’

  Judith didn’t need Elsa to spell it out for her. It was unlikely, she thought, that Nell even knew of her existence. And Ivor Doyle would want to keep it that way. No wonder he was so eager to get rid of his ‘wife’; her appearance on the scene wouldn’t do much for domestic harmony. She rose with as much dignity as she could muster. ‘Do you have an address for him?’

  Saul opened his wallet, took out a scrap of paper and
handed it to her. ‘Ironmonger Row. It’s near Old Street.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Are you going there?’ Elsa asked.

  Judith slipped the address into her pocket, picked up her suitcase and started walking towards the door. ‘I’m going home.’

  ‘But you’re coming back?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ Judith said. ‘I’m definitely coming back.’

  20

  Alf Tombs liked Mayfair better than anywhere else in London. This was where the money was, where the pavements were lined with gold – and with jewels, furs, arts and antiques too. It was a veritable Aladdin’s cave just waiting to be plundered. Being here on the streets was usually enough to lift his spirits, but today his mood was less than joyous. He was still seething from losing out on the New Bond Street job. All those hours spent staking out the place, only to have Pat Hull step in the day before and steal the tom from under his nose.

  ‘Someone must have been talking,’ Ivor Doyle said.

  Alf nodded. Coincidences happened, but he didn’t believe this was one of them. Hull had been prodding and poking at him for the past twelve months, trying to provoke a reaction. ‘Maybe Monaghan got wind of it. I wouldn’t trust that bastard as far as I could throw him.’

  ‘Well, he’s sorted now. What are you going to do about Hull?’

  ‘Give him a taste of his own medicine.’

  ‘What are you thinking?’

  They were crossing the landscaped gardens of Hanover Square, heading for Conduit Street. Alf sighed into the warm evening air. He had always thought it a waste of time and energy when villains went to war with each other, but sometimes it couldn’t be avoided. Hull was making him look like a fool and it had to be stopped. ‘I’ve heard a whisper about an airport job he’s got planned. Swiss watches, top of the range. Should be worth a bundle.’