by Roberta Kray
‘You? No. Why would I?’
He looked relieved. ‘Good, that’s good. No, I just thought you might have told them that I’d been at Elsa’s flat.’
Judith stared at him. ‘Why? Shouldn’t you have been?’
‘It’s complicated. Look, I’ve got a favour to ask.’
She waited, but he didn’t elaborate. ‘A favour?’ she prompted.
Saul glanced around the café, making sure no one was earwigging, before he continued. ‘I don’t know if you realise this – I don’t suppose you do – but Elsa was a police informant. She was my informant.’
‘What?’
‘It wasn’t big stuff, just what she picked up from working at the caff: who was selling what, who was talking to who, who was flashing the cash, that kind of thing. She wasn’t fond of villains. I think she viewed it as doing her bit for law and order.’
Judith, surprised by this revelation, thought about it some more. ‘God, you don’t think that was why she was killed?’
‘It’s possible. Anyway, I have to let the investigators know in case there is a connection.’
‘And that’s a problem?’
‘Not in itself. The problem arises from my relationship with Elsa. She was my informant but she was also … well, more than that, if you get my drift.’
‘Oh,’ Judith said. ‘I didn’t … You mean …?’
‘It wasn’t serious, but it was still something.’
‘You don’t have to tell them, do you?’
‘That’s where the favour comes in. You see, if I reveal that Elsa was my informant and that I used to see her at the flat, they’ll need to take my fingerprints for elimination purposes. And …’ He paused, gave a wry smile. ‘Well, they won’t just find those prints in the living room.’
Judith hadn’t guessed that anything was going on between them, but then she’d only seen them together once. ‘Does it matter? Is it against the rules?’
‘It’s a grey area, but that’s not what I’m worried about. If I come clean about me and Elsa, they won’t let me anywhere near the case. I’ll even be a suspect for a while – a complete waste of time that could be better spent. I won’t have access to any information, any progress, any clues to who might have killed her. I’ll be kept at a distance and I don’t want that. I have to know what’s going on. If this does turn out to be more complicated – and I think it might – I need to be involved. It’s the last thing I can do for her. Do you understand?’
‘So you want me to lie?’
‘To twist the truth a little. What difference does it make? All you have to do is forget you saw me at the flat.’
Judith wasn’t sure how self-serving his request was. Was he just trying to keep out of trouble, or did he genuinely want to find Elsa’s murderer? A bit of both, she suspected. But at least she knew he wasn’t in the frame. He couldn’t be. He’d been with her when Elsa was killed. Well, she didn’t know exactly what time Elsa had died, but she couldn’t see how Saul could have ransacked the flat, committed murder, driven from Kellston to Soho and then calmly gone for cocktails at the Montevideo. She glanced at him. No, she didn’t think he was capable. It would take a psychopath to do something like that.
‘What about last night?’ she enquired. ‘Do I tell them I went for a drink with you?’
He shrugged. ‘Why not? If they ask. You could say we met in Connolly’s last week, that Elsa introduced us.’ He stubbed out his cigarette and slid the metal ashtray to the end of the table. ‘I presume you won’t be telling them about Ivor Doyle.’
Judith frowned. ‘Why would I? He hasn’t got anything to do with this.’
‘They may ask why you came to London.’
‘Do you think?’
‘It’s all routine stuff, background, filling in the detail. They’ll want to know how you came to be staying with Elsa, that kind of thing. It’s nothing to worry about. Just keep it simple and tell them you’re here looking for work.’
Already Judith was starting to dread the forthcoming interview. On top of having to relive the horror of what she’d witnessed, she now had the additional stress of what she wasn’t allowed to say. She had no desire, however, to reveal the details of her sham marriage to the police: that was a can of worms she preferred to keep firmly closed.
‘If it helps,’ Saul continued, ‘I think you’re right to keep Doyle out of it. It’s only going to muddy the waters. I won’t say anything about him. You have my word.’
Judith had the uncomfortable feeling that she was being manipulated, that a quid pro quo was being deftly put in place – his silence for hers. She didn’t like it, but she couldn’t see what choice she had. If the police got wind of Doyle’s duplicity, she’d lose all control of the situation. Not that she had much anyway, but she wanted to be free to deal with the betrayal in her own way.
Her delay in responding must have unnerved him, because eventually Saul added, ‘Yes, there’s no need to mention Doyle. I reckon it’s for the best. And I doubt Mr Tombs would be too happy about you dragging his favourite locksmith into a murder inquiry, especially at the moment.’
Judith stared at him. There was, she thought, an implied threat in the comment, as though he was now trying to scare her into keeping his secret. Had she been feeling less fragile, she might have challenged him, but she wasn’t in the mood for confrontation. ‘What do you mean, especially at the moment?’
Saul shrugged again, glancing across the room as though he might have said too much. ‘Oh, he’s always up to something. You can count on it. This moment, any moment. And if there’s one thing he doesn’t want, it’s the law sniffing round.’
The food arrived, and Judith dropped the subject. She didn’t forget it, though. Saul knew more than he was saying. If Tombs was planning something big, Ivor Doyle would be involved too. She stored the knowledge away, a nugget of information that could be useful in the future.
Saul tucked into his Spam and eggs while Judith sipped her tea. Just the sight of his plate was enough to make her stomach queasy. How could anyone eat at a time like this? She wondered if he’d had any feelings at all for Elsa. It was hard to tell. He was a closed-in sort of man, not the type to wear his heart on his sleeve.
He looked up and said, ‘You should try and eat some of that toast. You could be down the station for a while.’
‘How long?’
‘They’ll be busy. They might keep you waiting.’
Judith drank some more tea. ‘Why was the flat ransacked like that? Was it just money they were looking for?’
‘That’s the big question. I mean, why would anyone think that Elsa had any? She was only a waitress. She didn’t earn much.’
‘So maybe they were after something else.’
‘Like what?’
Judith saw a sly gleam in his eye, and knew that he was probing. ‘I haven’t got a clue. I really haven’t.’
Saul speared a piece of fritter with his fork, raised it partway to his mouth and paused. ‘Didn’t she say something to you about going away?’
‘To Morocco.’
‘Are you sure she was serious? She often talked about getting out of London, but she never did anything about it.’
‘She’d started packing, so … yes, I’m pretty sure she was serious.’
‘I wonder where she was getting the cash for a move like that.’
Judith shook her head. ‘She didn’t say.’ It seemed odd that Elsa hadn’t mentioned her plans to Saul. Would she ever have told him, or would she just have disappeared into the blue one day? ‘I’m surprised she didn’t talk to you about it.’
He gave a low, mirthless laugh. ‘Don’t be. She only ever told me what she wanted me to know.’
‘How long had she lived in Kellston?’
‘I’m not sure; a few years at least.’
Judith wished she’d been more curious, asked more questions, but she’d been too wrapped up in her own unfolding drama. ‘If it wasn’t money, what else could they have been looking
for?’
‘I’ve no idea, but whatever it was, Elsa wasn’t going to give it up without a fight.’
‘And we don’t even know if they found it or not.’
‘No.’ Saul buttered some toast, added jam and slid the plate across the table. ‘Here, have a few mouthfuls at least. You’ll feel better for it.’
Judith felt like a five year old being coaxed to eat. She nibbled on a corner and her stomach heaved. She put down the toast and pushed the plate away. ‘I can’t stop thinking about it, what they did to her. Every time I close my eyes … Does it ever go away, that picture in your head?’
‘It fades, in time.’
Judith wondered how many horrors he’d experienced, both in his job and during the war. She found him a difficult man to like, an even harder one to trust, but it wasn’t as if she was swimming in friends and allies in London. He was all she’d got and he was better than nothing. ‘I’ll keep quiet about seeing you at the flat.’
‘Thank you.’
‘But I need something in return.’ She was hardly in a position to try and make deals, but she suspected that his secret was more damaging than hers. ‘I want to know what’s happening with Elsa’s case. They’ll tell you, won’t they? You’re one of them. And you knew her better than anyone.’
‘You don’t want to get involved in this.’
‘I’m already involved. I found her.’
A sigh slid from Saul’s lips. ‘You know what I’d do in your position?’
‘Go home?’ she suggested.
‘Yes. Once the police have taken a statement, I’d run for the hills, get as far away from this godforsaken place as possible.’
‘I’m not going to do that. Not yet. I have to know who killed Elsa.’
Saul put his elbows on the table and gave her a long look. ‘You may live to regret it.’
‘That’s my choice. So, do we have a deal?’
33
While Judith was being interviewed, Saul talked to his colleagues and tried to learn as much as he could about the events of the previous evening. Opinion was divided as to whether it was a burglary gone wrong or deliberate murder made to look like a burglary. Saul was still on the fence. Although Elsa’s history of informing could easily have provided a motive for a vengeful criminal, he knew she’d always been careful. And he’d been careful too, never mentioning her name to anyone until today.
Her handbag, containing her purse, was missing, but that didn’t mean much. It could have been taken to put the police off the scent. And the fact that she’d been planning on going away pointed towards her being up to something. But what? They were all still in the dark.
He flicked through the scene-of-crime photographs, pausing when he came to the ones of Elsa lying on the floor. The postmortem was being carried out this morning, but it didn’t take an expert to work out how she’d died. A blow to the head had caved in the side of her skull. Her attacker had used a blunt instrument, a hammer perhaps, but the weapon hadn’t been found yet.
When it came to next of kin, the police had drawn a blank. To date, no relatives had been traced. Saul wasn’t able to help them out. It occurred to him how little he had actually known about Elsa, but he couldn’t say for sure whether that was down to her being secretive or his general lack of interest. He had never asked about her past, just as she had never asked about his. They’d demanded nothing from each other, given nothing, taken nothing. He supposed she would leave a void in his life, but he would fill it in the usual way, with whisky and cigarettes, with other women and self-loathing.
Whilst various theories about Elsa’s murder were being passed to and fro, Saul had half his mind on Judith. Was she sticking to her side of the deal? She struck him as the type who wouldn’t easily bow to pressure, but the strain of the last twelve hours must have been immense. All it would take was one careless slip of the tongue. Hopefully, they wouldn’t be too hard her. She wasn’t, so far as he could tell, a suspect, but they would still push for any information she could provide them with.
Judith, he knew, had a false impression of Elsa, but it wasn’t one he was about to correct. She had mistaken Elsa’s hospitality for kindness, whereas he was sure Elsa had just been looking for an angle, a way to take advantage. It might be wrong to speak ill of the dead, but the only person Elsa had ever looked out for was number one. Had she found her angle with Ivor Doyle, approached him, asked for money to keep quiet about his marriage to Judith? And would that be reason enough for Doyle to kill her? He didn’t think so. Murdering Elsa wouldn’t stop the truth coming out. He’d need to kill Judith too – and anyone else she might have told about her lost husband’s miraculous resurrection.
Saul asked if he could use the phone, and put in a call to Scotland Yard to see if he had any messages. There was a dedicated phone line for the Ghost Squad, manned by two trustworthy officers on shifts. Apart from tracking him down at his regular haunts, this was the only way his narks could make contact. He was told he had one message, from Margaret, requesting a meet at the usual place this morning at nine. He glanced up at the clock – it was ten past already – uttered some hasty thanks, put down the phone, made his excuses to his colleagues, grabbed his jacket and headed for the street.
He drove quickly, hoping she’d still be waiting. ‘Margaret’ was the pseudonym Maud Bishop used; she was, understandably, paranoid about anyone on the other end of a phone line knowing her true identity. Could this be about Elsa? He knew the two women had worked together at Connolly’s, and she must have heard about the murder by now.
It was fortunate it was a Sunday and the roads were quiet. He was at the meeting place in under three minutes, his eyes scanning the wasteland as he parked up. No sign of her, but she could be sitting on the other side of one of the walls, keeping her head down in case anyone she knew passed by. On the other hand, she could have given up on him and gone home.
He strode towards the remains of the houses, his shoes crunching on the debris. The closer he got, the more convinced he became that she wasn’t here. Damn it! If only he’d made that phone call ten minutes earlier. But no sooner had the curse escaped his lips than Maud appeared, rising from the ruins like a victim of the Blitz – wide-eyed, ashen-faced, shaking with shock. She stumbled towards him, her skinny arms wrapped around her chest.
‘I thought you wasn’t coming.’
‘Sorry, I only just got your call. I’ve been—’
‘Have you got him yet? Have you got the bastard that killed Elsa?’
Saul shook his head. ‘Have you heard something?’
Maud gave him a quick, scared glance before her gaze slid away from him. ‘I don’t know if it’s important. It’s just …’ She hesitated, clearly wanting to talk but afraid of doing so. While she grappled with these contradictions, she raised a hand to her mouth and chewed on her nails.
Saul remained patient, or at least gave a passable impression of being so. He resisted the urge to push, suspecting it would be counterproductive at this point.
Eventually Maud blurted it out. ‘She said she had money coming in. A “legacy”, that’s how she put it, from an aunt who’d died.’
‘Did she say what this aunt was called?’
‘No, but she lived on the Isle of Man … or was it the Isle of Wight? I can’t rightly remember. I think it was Man. Do you reckon that’s what they were after? Do you think they killed her for the money?’
Saul knew that the Cowan Street officers had been through all the paperwork at Elsa’s flat and found nothing relating to a legacy. There would have been solicitor’s letters, information about the inheritance. Of course, she could have been carrying it around in the missing handbag, but he didn’t think this was likely. ‘She ever mention this aunt to you before?’
Maud shook her head.
‘Did she say how much?’
‘No.’
‘Was she talking about it to everyone, or just you?’
‘No, we was in the kitchen, just the two of us. And she
was speaking quiet like. I don’t reckon anyone could have overheard.’
‘And she definitely said the money was coming in rather than that she’d already got it?’
‘In a week or two, that’s what she said.’
Which rather scuppered the theory of someone trying to rob her, Saul thought. Unless the killer had got the wrong end of the stick and thought she’d already received the money. ‘Did you believe her, about the inheritance?’
Maud, startled by the question, said defensively, ‘Why wouldn’t I?’
Saul sensed she had more to tell, that she was holding out on him. He had a nose for half a story and suspected this wasn’t even half. Although Maud was always nervous when they met, today she was like a cat on hot bricks, unable to stay still, shifting from one foot to the other, the fear rising off her like vapour. ‘If there’s anything else you can remember … It’s important. If we’re going to catch whoever did this, I need to know everything.’
Maud launched another assault on her fingernails, while her eyes darted around.
‘Maud?’
Finally she spat it out. ‘I think she knew something about Lennie Hull’s murder. I don’t know, I’m not sure, but she said something odd, said that if anyone came in asking questions, I was to tell her about it.’
Saul felt that familiar tingle that came when he was onto something big. ‘Lennie Hull? Are you sure?’
‘I ain’t deaf. I know what I heard.’
‘You think the money she was getting was connected to that?’
‘How would I know? I don’t know nothin’ about what happened to Lennie. I don’t, I swear I don’t.’
But there was something about the way she said it, the frightened insistence, that made Saul think otherwise. Maybe Elsa had told Maud more than she was letting on. ‘Why would she wait so long if she did have information?’
But Maud just lifted and dropped her bony shoulders. ‘It was on her mind, that’s what she said. She’d been thinking about it.’