‘If Croft was retained by you as a British agent, would you admit that?’
Fielden’s moustache twitched. ‘I’ll look into the matter, Sir Edward,’ he said, non-committally. ‘That’s all I can promise.’
Alice Marmion found it hard to keep her mind on her job. As she and Iris Goodliffe walked their beat, they talked about Paul incessantly. Iris was full of sympathy and kept suggesting places where he might have gone. Alice ruled them out immediately. She had her own theory.
‘Paul isn’t going anywhere in particular, Iris.’
‘He must be.’
‘I don’t think he has a destination. He’s not going to someone or somewhere. He’s simply going away from us. We’ve driven him to it.’
‘You mustn’t blame yourself, Alice.’
‘It’s the truth. We made it impossible for him to stay.’
‘I don’t believe that,’ said Iris with sudden passion. ‘You all loved him and cared for him. Yes, you had rows with him. That happens in families. But you did nothing at all to make him feel unwanted.’
Alice was touched by her colleague’s uncritical backing. It meant a lot to her. Before she could thank Iris, her attention was diverted. A car pulled up at the kerb beside them and Keedy jumped out. Alice flung herself instantly into his arms. Iris walked quietly away to leave them alone.
‘I can’t stop,’ said Keedy. ‘I just had to see you.’
‘Where are you going?’
‘I’ve got to interview a potential witness. Knowing your beat, I asked the driver to make a detour in the hope of finding you.’
‘It’s so wonderful to see you, Joe.’
‘Your father told me that he’d sent you a letter. You know the worst.’
‘I still have trouble believing it.’
‘Paul will be all right,’ he said, soothingly. ‘He knows how to look after himself. Three or four months ago, it would have been different. His eyesight was still very poor then.’
‘What did we do wrong?’ she cried.
‘Nothing at all.’
‘Then why did he run away from us?’
‘It looks as if he just wanted some freedom.’
‘He already had that, Joe. He could have gone anywhere he wanted.’
‘Paul saw things differently.’
‘Why did he leave no word of explanation?’
‘It could be that he went on the spur of the moment.’
‘Or it could be that he wanted to hurt us.’
‘Don’t think that, Alice. Have more faith in your brother.’
‘You’re right,’ she said. ‘I should give Paul the benefit of the doubt.’
He squeezed her by the shoulders. ‘I must go,’ he said, apologetically. ‘I’ll find a moment to see you again very soon. Go on – catch Iris up and tell her what a gorgeous man I am.’ He kissed her on the cheek. ‘Goodbye.’
Keedy got back into the car and waved through the window as it shot off. Alice felt somehow better. It was the briefest of meetings but it had lifted her spirits. As she hurried to catch Iris up, she was smiling through her tears.
Marmion was grateful. During his time as a humble member of His Majesty’s Civil Service, he thought he’d led a fairly contented existence. It was only when he resigned in order to join the police force that he realised what he’d been missing. He’d never for a moment regretted his decision. As he entered the building where he had once worked as a clerk, he felt a surge of gratitude that he was no longer employed there. He now found the whole atmosphere oppressive. Marmion had to wait until the head of the civil service, Brian Pitter, was ready to see him. Eventually, he was shown into an office that was three times the size of the one he had at Scotland Yard and far tidier. Pitter gave him a cordial welcome. He was a thin, almost ascetic man in his sixties with white hair like a sprinkling of snow and false teeth that were slightly too large for his mouth.
When they settled down on their chairs, Pitter eyed him shrewdly.
‘You’re not at all how you look in the newspapers, Inspector.’
‘Is that good or bad?’
‘Oh, it’s very good. Press photos make you look slightly sinister.’
Marmion laughed. ‘You’re the first person who’s ever said that, sir.’
‘I must say this is quite exciting,’ said Pitter. ‘I’ve never been involved – even marginally – in a murder investigation.’
‘All we need from you is some background information.’
‘Might it help to unmask the killer?’
‘It might point us in his direction, sir,’ said Marmion.
‘Then let’s get down to business, shall we?’
The older man reached for a thick file on his desk and flicked it open. He then took the pince-nez that dangled from a ribbon around his neck and fitted them on his nose with extreme care. The dentures came into sight.
‘Superintendent Chatfield explained what you are after,’ he said. ‘When we talked on the telephone, I got the impression that he is a highly competent man.’
‘That’s what he is, sir,’ conceded Marmion.
‘Razor-sharp mind, clear diction, sense of authority – I like all that.’
‘What have you found for us?’
‘Well, you’ll be able to examine the file for yourself as long as it doesn’t leave the building. It’s a record of the career of Edwin John Croft. In essence,’ Pitter went on, ‘it’s the story of an archetypal civil servant, of an intelligent and deeply loyal man who worked hard and secured a series of well-deserved promotions. I wish that everyone we employ had the same dedication to our values.’
‘Is there any mention of his wife, sir?’
‘Yes, he was married to an Eva Lindenmeir and they had one child.’
‘Ben Croft.’
‘Benjamin Dieter Croft, to be exact.’
‘He later changed his middle name, sir.’
‘Really? We’ve no record of that.’
‘What sort of work did his father do?’
‘It was the usual routine of a senior civil servant,’ said Pitter. ‘That’s to say it was largely administrative and well within his capacities. As you’ll see, there were times when he was seconded abroad because of his linguistic skills.’
Marmion was curious. ‘Where did he go?’
‘Well, the first place was South Africa during the Boer War. We were fighting the Afrikaners but everyone knew that they were getting support from Germany. Who better to send than a man who spoke both German and Dutch like a native?’
‘And was Mr Croft of any real use when he was there?’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Pitter. ‘He won a medal for his work.’
Ellen was thrilled to see her again. The moment that Lily stepped into the house in her Salvationist’s uniform, Ellen stopped weeping. After dabbing at her eyes, she put the handkerchief away in the pocket of her apron and fell on her visitor.
‘It’s so silly, isn’t it?’ she said. ‘We don’t see each other for months then we meet two days in a row.’
‘Yes,’ agreed Lily. ‘Emergencies have a habit of bringing families together.’
‘I’ve been sick with worry.’
‘I can imagine.’
‘Paul didn’t even leave us a note.’
‘Is that so surprising? You told me how uncommunicative he was. You said that he seemed to live in a world of his own.’
‘That’s true, Lily.’
‘Raymond and I just wonder what it was that prompted him.’
‘Prompted him?’
‘Well, if he was going to walk out of here, why didn’t he do it during the daytime? He wouldn’t have needed to climb through his bedroom window then. Why go when he did?’
‘That was my fault,’ said Ellen, guiltily. ‘I had another argument with him about Sally Redwood.’
‘Yes, you told me yesterday how rude he’d been to her.’
‘He did something far worse than that, Lily.’
She explained what had happened
at the jeweller’s shop and how Patricia Redwood had come to the house to complain. Lily listened with growing unease. When Ellen told her about the way she’d confronted Paul, she said she believed that it was the trigger for his disappearance.
‘In other words,’ she wailed, ‘it was my fault.’
‘That’s not true at all, Ellen.’
‘I yelled at him, so he ran away.’
‘You were right to yell at him. What he did was … beyond belief. From now on, Sally Redwood will be afraid to look out of the window of that shop in case she sees Paul pulling faces at her. It’s the kind of thing a child would do,’ said Lily. ‘You don’t expect it of someone in his twenties.’
Ellen shook her head. ‘We’ve learnt to expect anything of Paul.’
Taking charge, Lily brewed a pot of tea and, while she was doing it, talked about the problems they were having at the hostel. In talking about the murder and its aftermath, she made Ellen see her family crisis in a different perspective. It was only when they moved to the living room that they talked about Paul again.
‘Did you hear what Raymond thinks?’ asked Lily.
‘Yes, Harvey told me. He thinks that Paul might try to enlist.’
‘Do you agree?’
‘No, I don’t. Technically, he’s still unfit for service.’
‘That hasn’t held other young men back. As soon as they’re on their feet again, they want to return to the front. If they’re turned down, some of them change their names, go to another recruiting station and tell a pack of lies to get accepted.’
‘Paul wouldn’t do that, Lily. When he first came home, he talked about wanting to go back to France but his eyesight was bad and all those shrapnel wounds hadn’t healed. Over the last couple of months,’ said Ellen, ‘he’s turned against the army and the way it’s treated him.’
‘So where do you think he might be?’
Ellen was dejected. ‘I think he’s a long way away from his family. That’s what all this is about, Lily. Paul hates us.’
Claude Chatfield was fizzing with fury. Expecting the commissioner to return with vital information, he’d been told that Sir Edward had been stonewalled at the Secret Service Bureau. Marmion and Keedy watched the superintendent pace up and down his office with his hands behind his back, occasionally bringing them into play to gesticulate. Chatfield said that they must find a way to demand cooperation. It was only when his superior finally ran out of steam that Marmion was able to speak.
‘I had a more rewarding visit,’ he declared.
‘What did you find out?’ asked Chatfield, perching on his desk.
‘Before I tell you that, sir, let me make a comment on what you’ve just told us. The Secret Service Bureau operates by its own rules. We can never penetrate it completely. If, as it seems, Mr Fielden was deliberately unhelpful, it may be that he doesn’t wish the murder to be solved.’
‘Why not?’ asked Keedy.
‘What if the victim was a British agent? He’d want to cover that up.’
‘That would be perverting the course of justice,’ said Chatfield, rapping his knuckles on the desk. ‘Nobody is above the law.’
‘During a war, I’m afraid that they are. They control information, sir. That gives them immense power.’
‘Well, they’ll have a fight on their hands. Sir Edward is going to tackle the Home Secretary in person.’
‘I could be wrong, of course,’ admitted Marmion, ‘but I remain suspicious. However, let me speak on a happier note …’
He described his interview with the head of the civil service and the man’s readiness to let him see confidential files. Like him, they were interested to hear that Edwin Croft had been sent to South Africa and subsequently deployed elsewhere abroad for short periods.
‘What are you telling us, Inspector?’ asked Chatfield. ‘Croft was a spy?’
‘Mr Pitter went out of his way to explain that he was not gathering intelligence in any of his deployments. His role as a translator was strictly functional.’
‘Our job is strictly functional,’ said Keedy, ‘but we don’t expect to get a medal for it. There must have been danger involved.’
‘I saw no mention of it in the file.’
‘What did you see?’
‘It was a record of an exemplary civil servant,’ said Marmion. ‘It’s a shame that his son didn’t follow in his footsteps. Had he done so, a lot of young women would have been spared the pain of a broken heart.’
‘This case gets more frustrating by the hour,’ said Chatfield, irritably. ‘What about you, Sergeant? Do you have anything of interest to report about our escaped prisoner?’
‘I believe so, sir. There’s been another sighting of him.’
‘Where and when?’
‘It was close to the Dun Cow, sir. It’s where Maisie Rogers works.’
‘And who was your witness?’
‘Jack Ryde,’ said Keedy. ‘He’s an old man who plays the accordion at the pub on certain nights. When he went there yesterday evening, he caught a glimpse of Maisie Rogers talking to someone in the gloom. Ryde admits that the light was poor but he swears that the man was Hubbard because of the way he walked.’
‘It’s true,’ said Marmion. ‘Wally does have a distinctive gait.’ He turned to Keedy. ‘How does Ryde come to know him?’
‘He worked in one of Hubbard’s pubs for years until he was sacked – unfairly, he says.’
‘So he has an axe to grind.’
‘Did he challenge Maisie Rogers about talking to Hubbard?’ asked Chatfield.
‘No, sir, he had more sense than to do that. She’d have been bound to deny it then run off to warn Hubbard afterwards.’
‘Is Ryde a credible witness?’
‘He is when he’s sober, sir. Last night, he was tottering. It was only when he woke up this morning that he remembered he had something useful to tell us.’
‘That settles it,’ said Chatfield, moving away from the desk. ‘Arrest the woman and I’ll get the truth out of her.’
‘That would be a mistake, sir,’ contended Marmion. ‘This man has only told us what we already knew. Maisie Rogers has been helping Hubbard. If we arrest her, however, we simply alert him. We tried having Felix Browne tailed and that misfired. I think it’s time to switch surveillance to her. What’s your opinion, Sergeant?’
Keedy nodded. ‘I agree. She’ll be easier to follow than Felix Browne.’
‘Yes, Maisie will be on foot.’
‘What if she doesn’t make contact with Hubbard?’ asked Chatfield.
‘There’s no chance of that happening, sir,’ Marmion said, confidently.
‘Why not?’
‘He was in Pentonville for a fair amount of time.’
‘That’s right,’ said Keedy, cheerfully. ‘Hubbard has had enough of celibacy. He’s ready to enjoy life to the full again now. That’s why Maisie will go to him.’
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Staying well behind her, Hubbard bided his time. When she came off work, Veronica Croft was part of a crowd that hurried past him. She was involved in an animated conversation with a group of workmates. One by one, they broke away. Eventually, it was Veronica’s turn to bid farewell and strike out on her own. When she walked off down a side street, Hubbard quickened his step to catch her up. Making sure that nobody could see them, he suddenly pounced on her with a hand over her mouth.
‘I’m not going to hurt you,’ he said, gently. ‘I just need your promise that you won’t be stupid enough to call for help if I let you go. Is it a deal, Veronica?’ She nodded eagerly and he released her. ‘Good girl.’
‘There’s nothing more I can tell you.’
‘I believe there is.’
‘The police have been after me,’ she said, nervously. ‘Because I didn’t report that I’d seen you, they said I’d committed a crime.’
‘Yes, you did but you were forced into it. That makes a difference.’
She looked around. ‘What if someone sees us
together now?’
‘What if they do? All they’ll see is a handsome man talking to an attractive woman. There’s nothing suspicious in that.’
‘Inspector Marmion warned me that I had to tell them if you approached me again. He said I could be arrested.’
‘Then you must tell them the truth. I stopped you for a chat.’
When he put his face close to hers, she took an involuntary step backwards.
‘You frighten me, Mr Hubbard.’
‘But we’re friends.’
‘No, we’re not,’ she said. ‘You want to kill my husband.’
‘So did you at one time,’ he recalled. ‘When we first met, you admitted that there were several moments when you’d like to have murdered him. I daresay you’d have cut his balls off afterwards but you were too much of a lady to confess that. He treated you deplorably, Veronica, then he tossed you aside like a rag doll.’
‘It’s true,’ she said, sourly, ‘but that doesn’t mean I want him dead.’
‘Is he any use to you alive?’
‘Well, no … I suppose not.’
‘Let’s walk on, shall we?’
‘Where are we going?’
‘We’re just having a friendly natter,’ he said. ‘I’d rather do it on the move.’
Veronica set off and he fell in beside her. Seeing the chevron of concern between her eyebrows, he slipped an arm around her to give a comforting hug.
‘I’m worried about the police,’ she said.
‘They haven’t put a tail on you, if that’s what you mean. I made sure of that before I spoke to you the first time.’
‘I don’t want to go to prison, Mr Hubbard.’
‘Why don’t you call me Wally?’
‘It’s cruel of you to put me in this position.’
‘All I’m after is information.’
‘You’ve already had it.’
‘There are lots of things you didn’t tell me, Veronica.’
‘Such as?’
‘I’ve got a list up here,’ he said, tapping his forehead. ‘We’ll work through it as we stroll along.’
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