‘After that,’ Inspector Reed continued, ‘you can go home. Take the rest of the day off and tomorrow you can go back to Mr Gibbons. We’ll take it from here.’
‘Oh, no, sir! Can’t I carry on helping you with the enquiry? I’ve hardly started with the men at the dairy. I think there’s a tale to tell there. Someone must know something. Please can I pursue some ideas?’
Inspector Reed looked at her calmly. ‘I really think that now this is a murder enquiry you should hand over to us. After all, you’re not really trained for this work.’
Eve tried to keep the disappointment she felt from showing on her face. She really wanted to continue with this investigation, especially now that they had found the missing man dead. She was beginning to find this case intriguing. Also, she didn’t want to go back to Mount Pleasant yet; detective work was much more exciting.
‘I learned a lot last year, sir. I would really like to continue with this if I may.’
The inspector considered her plea for a moment and then, probably remembering how short staffed the Force was and how many crimes were being committed in the area, keeping his few men busy, he gave in.
‘Well, all right then. But keep out of danger, please. I would never hear the end of it if you got hurt. If there’s any sign of trouble, any at all, I want you to report back to me. I’ll get Sergeant Heller to give you a police whistle you can blow if you need help.’
Much good that would do if she had a murderer after her, thought Eve. Still, I suppose it’s better than nothing. ‘Thank you so much, sir. I’ll keep you updated every step of the way. I just hope I can find some clues that will lead us to the murderer.’
‘Oh, and you could take that friend of yours, Charles Spalding isn’t it? He’ll look after you,’ the inspector said. ‘Just don’t let him get you into more trouble than necessary.’
Eve thought that Charlie wouldn’t appreciate that remark, but she certainly felt that having Charlie with her whilst she was asking questions might make her feel safer.
‘Thank you, sir, I appreciate that. We’ll do what we can. I thought I might visit one or two of the other milkmen first. There seemed to be a lot of resentment against Malcolm at the dairy. Some of the men seemed to really dislike him. If I get each of them on their own maybe they’ll open up.’
‘Well, if anyone can do that I’m sure it is you, Miss Duncan. Just be careful is all I ask.’
They had been strolling towards the Green during this exchange and had reached the police station. The inspector went inside, back to all his other work. As it was now lunchtime, Eve decided to go and find Charlie in the market and tell him about the discovery of the body.
*
Charlie was working on a vegetable stall, juggling potatoes and onions, trying to persuade his audience of housewives to buy them. His usual droll patter accompanied his antics and many of his customers bought from him simply because he was amusing and took their minds off the grim reality of wartime life.
‘Six for a tanner, lady. I can’t say fairer than that. Come on, madam, a pound of onions for a bob and I’ll throw in a cabbage.’ Charlie’s voice carried over the bustle and clamour of the crowded market as people pushed and shoved around his stall.
Fresh vegetables were in short supply, especially after a harsh winter and with little imported produce coming from abroad, there wasn’t much on offer. Swede, potatoes, onions, leeks, turnips and a few greens, sprouts and cabbages were all Charlie had to sell. Apples and pears were the only fruit and they looked sad and wizened, having been stored over the winter to be sold in the spring. Oranges, bananas, lemons, any fruits that were imported, had disappeared. Tinned fruit was still available, but that was also in short supply and it was said that it would soon be rationed. Everyone was encouraged to grow their own vegetables if possible. ‘Dig for Britain’ said the posters. Many people, like Eve’s father, had dug up their gardens and grew what they could. Even the moat around the Tower of London was cultivated, as well as wide stretches of the parks where sheep grazed on the green turf. Parts of Shepherd’s Bush Green had been dug up into allotments and potatoes, carrots, onions and cabbages had started to sprout.
Not so long ago the population of these islands had been convinced that they would die of starvation due to a virtual state of siege, with the Germans destroying merchant shipping in the English Channel and the Atlantic. These brave craft, even when attended by a convoy of warships to protect them, often foundered under attack from German submarines, or U-boats as they were known, or were destroyed by mines. Without help from the Americans it seemed inevitable that food would not get through to the British. But, since U-boats had also sunk American civilian shipping, and even though the American Senate still refused to sanction any military aid, they had finally agreed, on March 11th, to help with food, oil and materiel - planes, tanks, weapons and so on. This scheme was known as Lend-Lease and was already proving a godsend. But even with this help there were no luxuries to be had, just basic foodstuffs and ever more commodities were rationed.
‘Charlie, Charlie!’ Eve jumped up and down so that he could see her over the crowd of housewives admiring his skills as he dropped onions into brown paper bags and swung them round to seal them with one hand whilst he took cash with the other. ‘Charlie, it’s me!’
Eventually he spotted her small figure and grinned as he continued to work.
‘Hello, titch, whatcha. Can I help you with something?’
‘Can you get away, Charlie? We’ve got another murder.’
Heads turned in the crowd of housewives and gasps of horror hissed amongst the murmurs of dismay.
‘Blimey, Evie, not another one! People’ll begin to wonder.’
‘The inspector says you can help me – if you want to.’
‘Of course. Give us a minute and I’ll get someone to take over and you can tell me all about it. Who is it this time?’
‘I’ll tell you in a mo’. I’ll wait for you in Gladys’s.’ Eve was referring to the cafe in the corner of the market that many of the market stallholders frequented.
‘Righto,’ said Charlie to her retreating back. ‘You can buy me a buttered bun while you’re at it.’
Chapter Six
Charlie, always up for an adventure, was thrilled about the murder, once Eve had told him all about it.
‘Wow, Eve, what a turn up! Another case for us to solve.’
Eve didn’t bother to remind him that he had little to do with the discovery of the killer last year, but she admired his enthusiasm. Eve knew that Charlie would do anything to avoid hard graft, and a new adventure would certainly get him away from the drudgery of getting up to go to Covent Garden market in the early morning to buy vegetables fresh up from the countryside. His on/off boss, Greg, was accustomed to him disappearing occasionally on some enterprise or another and wouldn’t give him a hard time. There was such a shortage of strong young men that Charlie would always be in demand. And there was also his undoubted talent as a market trader. As someone had said, he could sell ice to the Eskimos.
‘Where are we going to start?’ Charlie asked as he slurped his tea and tucked into his bun, oblivious to the butter dripping down his chin, making the incipient whiskers gleam. Nothing much Charlie did could detract from his dark good looks, Eve thought with wry affection as she handed him a table napkin, but he could be a bit of a slob.
‘I’ve got to go back to talk to the milkmen again. Inspector Reed doesn’t want me to do it alone, in case it’s one of them that did it,’ she said.
‘Cor. So I’m a sort of bodyguard for you then?’
Eve laughed. ‘I’m more likely to be looking after you. But first I’ve got to go and see Mrs Miller in the nursing home, to tell her about Malcolm.’
‘I don’t envy you that job. Poor woman, with her ill and all.’
‘Yes, I know. I’m not looking forward to it. Look, you stay here for now, I’ll go and talk to her and come back for you at lunch time.’
Charlie’
s face dropped with comical disappointment. ‘Oh, can’t I come now? Don’t you need me to take care of you?’
‘Not just now, Charlie. I won’t be in much danger from a few nuns and a bunch of sick and old people. I’ll see you later.’ She rose from her chair, slipped into her jacket and picked up her bag and gas mask case and, ruffling Charlie’s poetic locks as she passed, left the cafe.
This time she caught a trolley bus to Fulham and was soon walking through the wrought iron gates of St Barnabas. A different, older nun greeted her and Eve explained why she was there. The nun crossed herself repeatedly and rattled the rosary beads hanging from her waist.
‘Oh, dear Lord!’ she cried. ‘The poor young lad. What a terrible end. I will pray for him, so I will. And poor Mrs Miller, how will she take it I wonder.’ Her soft Irish lilt accompanied Eve along the halls to the Day Room.
‘Thank you, Sister. Will you wait while I tell her? She may be very upset.’
‘Sure I will indeed,’ said the nun as they walked into the room.
Mrs Miller’s chair had been moved close to the window and she was enjoying the sun that poured in through the tall sashes. Another patient sat nearby. Both had books lying open on their laps, ignored whilst they dozed in the warmth.
The nun touched Mrs Miller’s shoulder gently. ‘Dorothy, dear, there’s a Miss Duncan to see you. She has some news for you.’
Eve pulled forward a footstool and sat on it close to Mrs Miller’s armchair. Dot Miller’s eyes flew open and she looked directly at Eve. She seemed to detect immediately that the news Eve brought was not good. A fleeting expression of anguish crossed her features and was extinguished as she managed a slow gentle smile.
‘They’ve found Malcolm haven’t they, dear?’
‘Yes. I’m afraid so, Mrs Miller,’ Eve replied. ‘I’m so sorry, but it’s bad news.’
Mrs Miller closed her eyes for a moment and then opened them to look Eve steadily in the face.
In a whisper she said, ‘Tell me what happened please.’
Eve felt that she had to give this brave woman the news straight out. There was no point in shilly-shallying with the truth. ‘His body was found on a bombsite near Shepherd’s Bush Green, in Coningham Road this morning. He had been stabbed.’
The nun standing behind the armchair gasped and crossed herself again. Mrs Miller gazed at Eve and breathed a deep, resigned sigh.
‘I have always thought that something like this would happen in the end. Thank you, my dear, for bringing me the news. Don’t feel too badly, it isn’t your fault.’
Eve felt her eyes fill with tears. Not for Malcolm, but for his long-suffering mother.
‘I’m so sorry to bring you such bad news, Mrs Miller.’
‘That’s all right, dear. Now, if you don’t mind, I’d like to be alone for a while.’
‘Shall I come and visit you again?’ asked Eve.
‘There’s no need, love. We’re moving to the country later today.’
Eve took her leave. The sister went to get Mrs Miller a strong, sweet cup of tea and Eve let herself out of the nursing home, a weight of sorrow on her shoulders. As she passed through the gates she was forced to step aside as a pair of removal lorries drove in. At least the patients would be safe in the country she thought, as she caught the bus back to Shepherd’s Bush.
There was a heavy Luftwaffe raid that evening and Eve heard the next day that the empty Fulham nursing home of St. Barnabas had taken a direct hit by a huge bomb and been levelled to the ground. How random was fate.
*
Eve picked up Charlie from the market and they began to visit the addresses of the milkmen on the dairy manager’s list. Luckily, as they all served the same area of Hammersmith, Fulham and Shepherd’s Bush and parts of Kensington, none of them lived too far afield and all within the less prosperous streets of the area. Some even lived in the same road as each other. But Eve and Charlie still had to travel on several different trolley buses to find all the men. Generally they found them at home in the afternoon as their working hours were in the early hours of the morning. Some were asleep and annoyed at being disturbed, but some were gardening, toiling over vegetable patches or cleaning out chicken coops, trying to be backyard farmers to provide food for their families. There was still fear that, with the continued German bombardment and the constant attacks on merchant shipping, the population of England would starve.
Eve had some probing questions to ask the milkmen about their whereabouts on Monday morning and what they knew about Malcolm. Many of them were not in the least interested in the lad or his activities; they just got on with their work. These men were well into middle age and not concerned with the doings of the younger generation. They were not happy about the fact that Malcolm was not involved in the fighting war, but apart from that they had no particular antipathy towards him.
‘It seems unpatriotic,’ several of them said, ‘not being in the army, a strapping lad like that. He should be doing something to support his country.’
It was only amongst a minority of his workmates that Eve found real anger and animosity towards Malcolm. The black market sugar racket annoyed them in particular. This was possibly out of jealousy that they were not involved and making extra money for themselves.
‘Knowing Malcolm, and his tricky ways,’ one of the men said, ‘he’s been topped by one of his suppliers. You can bet he’s tried to turn them over in some way; not giving them their money or short-changing them.’
The man, Jim Brent he told them his name was, gave them a pointer to someone else who might have a real motive for killing the younger man.
‘I shouldn’t be telling you this,’ he said. ‘But Sid’s got a real beef with Malcolm. He’s been seeing his wife, Eileen. She’s a lot younger than Sid and a bit of a good time girl, to be honest. Malcolm and her, they’ve been seen dancing together and who knows what else.’
The man winked and Eve guessed he was being less than subtle in trying to tell them that Malcolm was having an affair with Eileen. Nowadays this sort of thing was not unusual with so many husbands away at the war. You would have thought, Eve considered, that the boy might have had the sense to pick a girl with an absent husband, instead of one whose man was still around, and one that he worked with as well.
‘Thank you, Jim. That’s very useful,’ said Eve. ‘Is there anyone else you can think of who’s had trouble with Malcolm?’
‘Well,’ the man paused, embarrassed, ‘there’s Jack. He hates the bloke. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’d do him in for what he done to his daughter.’
‘Oh, what’s that?’
Jim looked around, as if Jack might suddenly appear in his living room. ‘It’s a bit, um, awkward.’
‘You can tell me. It won’t go any further.’
‘It seems that Malcolm... Well, Malcolm got the girl in the family way.’
‘Oh, he got her pregnant?’
‘Yeah,’ Jim gazed at his feet, encased in boots muddy from gardening, ‘Jack would’ve killed him then and there if his missus hadn’t stopped him. He wanted Malcolm to marry the girl, but she wasn’t having any of it.’
That was very brave of her, thought Eve. Any number of so-called ‘shotgun weddings’ had been performed in recent times. Life could be very hard for unmarried mothers and girls usually accepted this unsatisfactory kind of marriage rather than managing alone. It took real courage to refuse to accept such an arrangement. Perhaps her parents were sufficiently supportive to allow her to stay at home and keep the baby. Chances were, however, that the child would be put up for adoption. The shame of an illegitimate child was too much to bear for most families.
‘Do you really think Jack might have killed Malcolm?’
‘It’s possible. He was very angry indeed; bloody furious. But it may just have been words. Jack’s a bit of a blusterer. I’m not sure he’d have the bottle to actually kill someone.’
‘Thank you for the information, Jim. That’s very helpful. We must get on now.’<
br />
‘You won’t tell anyone what I said, will you?’ Jim peered anxiously at Eve, obviously beginning to regret that he had been so informative.
‘Don’t worry, this is all confidential. Before I go: Do you have any idea of where I could find out where Malcolm got his black market sugar?’
Jim appeared taken aback. ‘I don’t know about that stuff. I expect he met them in the pub, or at the dog track. Isn’t that where all these shady deals are done?’
‘I expect you’re right,’ said Eve. ‘Well, thank you for now, you’ve been most helpful.’
Charlie and Eve walked away from the little house with a lot to think about. They seemed to be gathering quite a list of suspects for Malcolm’s murder.
Chapter Seven
Charlie and Eve were agreed that they must next call on Jack Graves, the father of the girl that Malcolm had made pregnant. The family lived in a substantial four storey house, converted into flats, in a street off the Uxbridge Road. Their apartment was on the second floor and surprisingly spacious and airy. Mrs Graves’ domestic skills were evident in the sparkling windows, the polished wood and complete absence of dust.
She let them in with a jovial smile and, after persuading them to sit down in the living room; she bustled off to make a pot of tea.
‘Jack won’t be a minute,’ she said, ‘he has a rest after lunch. He’s up so early in the morning he finds it helps him to get through.’
Eve murmured her understanding and she and Charlie waited on the chenille covered sofa for Jack to appear.
Murders in the Blitz Page 12