Under Attack

by Edward Marston

  As befitted a man whose life consisted of dashing from one appointment to another, Thomas Day arrived punctually at Scotland Yard. Marmion and Keedy were there to greet him. After introductions had been made, they all sat down and the detectives were able to make their initial assessment of their visitor. Day was a well-built man of arresting appearance, well dressed, well featured and with a full head of naturally wavy brown hair. He wore self-confidence like a halo.

  ‘Right, gentlemen,’ he began as if chairing a meeting, ‘bring me up to date with the progress of your investigation.’

  ‘If you don’t mind, sir,’ said Marmion, forcefully, ‘we’ll ask the questions.’

  ‘I’ve no argument with that, Inspector.’

  ‘Let’s start with the Devonian Hotel.’

  ‘Please do.’

  ‘Knowing, as you did, that it was Mr Donohoe’s favourite hotel, why did you agree to stay there? Weren’t you afraid there might be a chance meeting?’

  ‘I think you’re misinterpreting our rivalry,’ said Day. ‘Just because Gilbert and I came to the parting of the ways, it didn’t mean that we loathed each other. We simply had conflicting agendas. Neither of us feared bumping into each other because the times we’d had together were exceptionally good times.’

  ‘Adrian Donohoe said that you and his father were sworn enemies.’

  ‘How would he know? He was never party to our discussions.’

  ‘You don’t sound as if you have a high opinion of him,’ said Keedy.

  ‘I don’t have any opinion of Adrian. He’s an irrelevance.’

  ‘Not any more, Mr Day. He’s taking over his father’s mantle. That must make him one of the most important figures in the Midlands.’

  Day was unimpressed. ‘So?’

  ‘I’m sorry to take you back to the hotel,’ said Marmion, ‘but you didn’t really answer my question. London is full of hotels. We think it’s an amazing coincidence that you agreed to stay in the same one as your former partner.’

  ‘I explained to you last night,’ said Day, patiently, ‘that the booking was made by someone else. I was picked up by car at Euston and driven to the Devonian to meet the client of mine who’d made all the arrangements. Of course, I was surprised at the coincidence – surprised and amused. Out of all the hotels in London, he had to pick that one.’

  ‘You didn’t have to stay there.’

  ‘I can see that you’re not in business, Inspector. You never upset a client.’

  ‘We’ll need his name.’

  ‘I have it all ready for you,’ said Day, taking a card from his wallet and handing it over. ‘You can reach him at that address. He’s expecting a call.’

  Marmion was silenced for a moment. Day’s explanation was starting to have an unwelcome ring of truth to it. Keedy took over the questioning.

  ‘Have you ever met Mr Jean-Louis Peebles?’

  ‘I don’t believe that I have, Sergeant.’

  ‘He works for Mr Sprake,’ said Keedy, ‘and you’ve certainly heard of him.’

  ‘Oh, yes, I’ve met Norris Sprake. He’s an interesting man.’

  ‘Among other things, Mr Peebles is his chauffeur.’

  ‘Then it’s conceivable I have met him – though I can’t recall ever hearing his name. And what an odd name it is, by the way. Jean-Louis Peebles. Does he come from a Franco-Scottish family?’

  ‘Yes, he does. So you’re quite sure you’ve never spoken to him?’

  ‘You heard my answer, Sergeant. Why do you keep asking me about him?’

  ‘Peebles knows you.’

  Day was at last brought to a halt. After a few moments’ consideration, he said that he met hundreds of different people in the course of his business activities and couldn’t be expected to remember the names of secretaries, chauffeurs and other minor figures. What he could say categorically was that Peebles was no friend.

  ‘I’ve never talked to him,’ he claimed, ‘in English or French.’

  Marmion found his voice. ‘You shouldn’t dismiss secretaries and chauffeurs so easily,’ he said. ‘They are often key individuals. Take your own secretary, for example. Because she knows everything about your commercial activities, she was extremely helpful to me.’

  ‘Mary Paige organises my entire life.’

  ‘Then you’re in excellent hands, sir.’

  ‘She keeps a record of all my business contacts. If you search through it, the one name you won’t find is Jean-Louis Peebles. Well,’ he said, slapping his knees and standing up, ‘if that’s all you brought me here for, I’ll be on my way.’

  ‘Not so fast, Mr Day.’

  ‘We’ve only just started,’ said Keedy.

  ‘Why don’t you sit down again, sir?’

  Day frowned and lowered himself slowly back down on to the chair.

  They managed to get seats on the train but their compartment was full and left them no opportunity for a private conversation. Ellen and Alice were glad to reach their destination. Their first impression of Coventry was that it was a quaint medieval town with a lot of church spires visible. Horse-drawn vehicles mingled with the motorised traffic. They waited in the taxi queue until it was their turn. Getting out of his cab, the driver, a wizened old man with a lighted cigarette in his mouth, realised they were strangers to the area.

  ‘Where d’you ladies want to go?’ he asked, cigarette trembling on his lips.

  ‘Corley,’ replied Alice. ‘How far away is it?’

  ‘Must be around five miles, miss.’

  ‘Then please take us there.’

  ‘D’you have an address?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Ellen, ‘it’s Corley Hall Farm.’

  The old man chortled. ‘Then you’re both in luck.’

  ‘Are we – why is that?’

  ‘Corley Hall is the big house.’

  His manner had annoyed Marmion from the very start. Thomas Day had talked to both of them as if they were old acquaintances sharing a drink in a bar. There was no vestige of interest in the murder itself or of any concern for the Donohoe family. Marmion’s second trip to Birmingham now paid dividends. He pressed the suspect about his record as an estate agent, using ammunition that had been supplied by Adrian Donohoe and that made Day look at the inspector with more respect. He had to accept that neither Marmion nor Keedy were going to be easily shaken off.

  ‘So, in fact,’ said Marmion, ‘it was only when Mr Donohoe turned his attention to property development that you got interested in branching out.’

  ‘Not really – it had been at the back of my mind for some time.’

  ‘You were described to me as more of a follower than a pioneer.’

  Day was nettled. ‘Is that what Adrian said about me?’

  ‘He’s not one of your admirers, sir.’

  ‘Well, he used to be. There was a time when it looked as if I might end up as his brother-in-law. I don’t remember him sneering at me then. He was only too happy to agree with his father’s assessment of me. As a future member of the family, I was viewed as a sound investment.’

  ‘Did they always see things in commercial terms?’ asked Keedy.

  ‘They did – but I didn’t. I saw it in terms of flesh and blood. Doreen was an attractive, desirable young woman. Unfortunately, it soon became clear that we were incompatible. That was the point at which Adrian decided that I’d tried to molest his sister.’

  ‘He was only quoting her,’ said Marmion.

  ‘No, Inspector, he was deliberately misquoting her. I was working closely with her father. If I’d so much as put a hand on her thigh, he’d have been at me like a terrier. The Donohoes are a Roman Catholic family. They stick to the rules.’

  ‘Do you have any religious affiliation, Mr Day?’

  ‘Yes, I do, though I’m very far from being devout.’

  ‘What did you think of the Devonian Hotel?’ asked Keedy.

  ‘Oh, we’re back to that, are we?’

  ‘The manager remembers you well.’

&
nbsp; ‘I like to leave my mark on a place. Mr Armitage had a chat with me and hoped that I’d stay there again. Given what later happened, there’s no possibility of that happening. Besides, I prefer to stay in Knightsbridge.’

  ‘Is that where you’ll be going on to now?’

  ‘No, Sergeant,’ replied the other, ‘when you finally run out of unnecessary questions, I’ll be heading for home. If you need me again, ring my secretary. Mary will know where to find me.’

  ‘What’s your opinion of the Club Apollo?’

  Day shrugged. ‘I’ve never heard of the place.’

  ‘Your former business partner was one of the founders.’

  ‘That’s news to me.’

  ‘Didn’t he ever talk about it?’

  ‘Not to me, he didn’t. Gilbert was a deep man with a variety of interests. He divided his life up into little compartments. I only got access to the main ones. He chose to keep this club a secret from me.’

  ‘Do you belong to any London club, sir?’

  ‘No, I don’t – on principle.’

  After a few more questions, Marmion accepted that they’d get no further. He’d rattled Day a few times but hadn’t come close to piercing his guard. He decided that it was better to send him off believing that his involvement with the police was over.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Day,’ he said. ‘The interview is finished.’

  ‘Then I bid you good day.’ He rose to his feet. ‘And thank you.’

  ‘For what?’

  ‘Your lenience towards me – I was expecting to be stretched on the rack before you got busy with the hot poker. Isn’t that how you question suspects?’

  ‘We’ve been discussing the murder of a man who used to be your friend. I find your comments in the worst possible taste.’

  ‘So do I,’ said Keedy.

  ‘I didn’t mean to cause offence,’ claimed Day with contrition in his voice and all over his face. ‘I do apologise. It was both stupid and insensitive of me. Believe me, gentlemen, I’m as anxious to see the killer caught as you are.’

  ‘Then try being more honest the next time we speak, sir. That will help.’

  Keedy was pleased to see him wince.

  The journey from the station took them through the suburbs of Radford and Keresley. Neither passenger paid much attention to the little communities because their minds were fixed on what lay ahead. Alice was getting increasingly impatient to reach the farm and discover what had happened to her brother. Ellen, by contrast, was starting to regret the decision to come, certain that they were going to hear something detrimental to Paul and, by extension, to his family. She was not even sure that the farmer would deign to speak to them and braced herself against the possibility that he might send them on their way with a few harsh words. Hope was balanced by despair. While Alice felt that a great weight might be lifted from them, her mother feared that it would be replaced by a far heavier one.

  When they reached a sign for Corley, they discovered that it was not really a village but a series of scattered dwellings. There was no real centre to it and no village green. They caught a glimpse of an ancient church off to their left before the vehicle swung sharply to the right and plunged down Rock Lane. The long steep hill took them past some looming red sandstone. It was not long before Corley Hall reared up on the left. To people who lived in a small house, it looked massive. It was partly obscured by the high front wall. Through the iron gates, they saw it fleetingly in its entirety. Alice noticed the carved stone gryphons on the gateposts. Centuries old, the house had a weathered look. The facade had been rendered at some stage then painted liberally with whitewash. Though time had blotched and peeled it somewhat, it still shone in the morning sunshine.

  All around were rolling fields and they could see a herd of Friesian cattle chewing the cud contentedly. To the right of the house was the farm itself, a higgledy-piggledy collection of buildings and barns. A line of churns stood outside the milking parlour. Other animals were quickly in evidence. The noise of their taxi made the chickens flee but the geese held their ground. From a large shed at the rear, they could hear the grunting of pigs. But it was the dog who took charge. Racing towards them, it barked fiercely and circled the vehicle. The two women were frightened. They were very relieved when someone shouted and the dog stopped barking. Wearing old trousers, a tatty shirt with the sleeves rolled up and a pair of Wellington boots, a huge man emerged from one of the barns and strode towards them. His hands were filthy and his face grimed. When he got to the taxi, he put his hands on his hips.

  ‘Lost your way?’ he asked.

  ‘This is where they asked to come,’ said the driver.

  He gazed in at them. ‘Never set eyes on ’em before.’

  While Ellen shrunk back in her seat, Alice was brave enough to get out of the taxi and take a step towards the man. She waved the envelope at him.

  ‘We’ve come about the money you sent,’ she explained.

  ‘Who are you?’

  ‘I’m Paul’s sister. We’re hoping you can help us.’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said the farmer, scowling, ‘I’ll help you all right. Get back in that thing and go straight home. We don’t want you anywhere near us.’

  Iris Goodliffe was aching with frustration. Instead of being with her best friend, she was landed with a complete stranger. She felt like a child who rushes off to school to show the other pupils her wonderful new toy only to find the place utterly deserted. As she plodded along beside Jennifer Jerrold, she was pining. After walking in silence for some time, her nervous companion finally spoke.

  ‘You’re always on duty with Alice Marmion, aren’t you?’

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘I’d love to be like her. She’s so clever.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Where is she?’

  ‘I’ve no idea.’

  ‘Her father is that famous inspector who solves murders. Alice must have learnt so much from him. I wish I had a father like that.’

  ‘We all do, Jennifer.’

  ‘Jenny,’ corrected the other. ‘You can call me Jenny, if you like.’

  But the hand of friendship was extended in vain. All that Iris wanted to do was ignore her partner and keep going. Without Alice there, she was lost.

  During the interview, Keedy had kept notes and he now referred to them as they discussed the claims made by Thomas Day.

  ‘I still think there’s a connection with Peebles,’ he argued.

  ‘Then you’ll have to find out what it is from Peebles himself because I don’t think Day is going to oblige you. Listening to him, I realised why I could never go into business. All that false geniality would drive me mad.’

  ‘It obviously works, Harv. It’s made him very rich.’

  ‘I don’t care. What was your general feeling?’

  ‘He was lying through his teeth.’

  ‘No, I think there were one or two fairly straight answers stuck in there. And,’ he went on, picking up the card Day had given him, ‘there’s this chap, Reginald Brimscombe. He’s got letters after his name so he could be legitimate.’

  ‘Are you going to contact him?’

  ‘I’m not sure there’s much point. Day will have him well primed.’

  ‘If you don’t want to check on him,’ said Keedy, ‘then I will. It will give me another excuse to call on Patrick Armitage again. Day claimed that he and his friend stayed at the hotel together. I’d like to confirm that.’

  ‘Then he’s all yours, Joe.’

  When he took the card from him, Keedy glanced at it before slipping it into his pocket. He looked at his notebook again.

  ‘I find it hard to believe he’d never heard of the Club Apollo,’ he said.

  ‘I disagree. He gave one of his few straight answers about that.’

  ‘You can’t keep something like that hidden from a business associate.’

  ‘It was hidden from Mr Sprake, remember.’

  ‘That’s true.’

  ‘Ne
ither he nor Thomas Day were considered as potential members.’

  ‘Why not, I wonder?’

  The conversation was cut dead by the sudden arrival of Claude Chatfield, who opened the door and came into the room. Keedy stood up and turned round.

  ‘Ah,’ said Marmion, ‘you’re just in time, sir. We’re discussing the interview with Thomas Day. It was quite revealing.’

  ‘Forget him,’ said Chatfield.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Something more important has come up.’

  ‘But we still feel that Day may be implicated in the murder.’

  ‘You’re talking about this murder. I’m interested in the other one.’

  ‘What other one?’ asked Keedy.

  ‘A second body was fished out of the river this morning. I’m certain it’s a related crime because the modus operandi is identical. The victim was garrotted and the tongue was cut out.’

  ‘Do you have any idea who the man is?’ asked Marmion.

  ‘It’s not a man,’ replied Chatfield. ‘It’s a woman this time.’

  They were saved at the last moment. As Alice was getting back into the taxi again, a tall, round-shouldered woman in her fifties came scurrying towards them. It was the farmer’s wife. Having been roused by the barking of the dog, she’d come to see what was going on. Her husband still glared aggressively at the visitors but his wife was more compassionate. When she heard who the women were and why they’d come, she ignored her husband’s protest and invited them into the house. The farmer stalked off with his dog yapping at his heels. Alice paid the taxi driver, who was in the act of lighting another cigarette.

  ‘Do you want me to wait?’ he asked.

  ‘No,’ said the woman. ‘You can go.’

  ‘How will we get back to the station?’ asked Ellen.

  ‘We’ll find a way.’

  The woman introduced herself as Binnie Vout. Big-boned, red-faced and with unkempt hair, she was wearing a smock over her faded floral dress and had on a pair of boots. There were no handshakes. She could read the question in their eyes.