Spring Offensive E-Book

Edward Marston

• Herausgeber: Allison & Busby
• Kategorie: Krimi
• Serie: Home Front Detective
• Sprache: Englisch
• Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2024

Seitenzahl: 414

Beschreibung

London, March 1918. British newspapers carry the disastrous news that the German Spring Offensive has begun, with thousands of British lives lost. Detective Sergeant Joe Keedy eagerly awaits his release from hospital and is anxious to resume the fight against crime on the Home Front. Against this sombre backdrop, further mayhem strikes in the capital when a fire provides the diversion needed for an audacious bank robbery. The gang of criminals escape with a sizeable haul and leave one police officer dead and another gravely injured in their wake. For Detective Inspector Harvey Marmion, the investigation has a personal connection, but the task of bringing the culprits to justice will prove to be an uphill battle without Keedy, his detective partner, at his side. And nothing in this case is quite what it seems .

Leseprobe

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Spring Offensive

EDWARD MARSTON

CONTENTS

TITLE PAGECHAPTER ONECHAPTER TWOCHAPTER THREECHAPTER FOURCHAPTER FIVECHAPTER SIXCHAPTER SEVENCHAPTER EIGHTCHAPTER NINECHAPTER TENCHAPTER ELEVENCHAPTER TWELVECHAPTER THIRTEENCHAPTER FOURTEENCHAPTER FIFTEENCHAPTER SIXTEENCHAPTER SEVENTEENCHAPTER EIGHTEENBY EDWARD MARSTON ABOUT THE AUTHORCOPYRIGHT

7

CHAPTER ONE

March, 1918

Summoned to the commissioner’s office, Superintendent Claude Chatfield knew that something serious had happened. After hurrying along the corridor, he knocked on the door and opened it to find that Sir Edward Henry was looking at some notes he had jotted down on a pad. His face was ashen.

‘Bad news, Sir Edward?’ he asked.

‘No,’ replied the other. ‘It’s disastrous news. I’ve just spoken to someone at the War Office. The German offensive has finally happened.’

‘It has been expected.’

‘Yes, but not on this scale.’ He read from his notepad. ‘A million shells have been fired at British lines on the Western Front. The Fifth Army has sustained horrendous losses. Thousands of British soldiers have been killed or wounded and, humiliatingly, twenty thousand have been taken prisoner.’

‘How on earth has that happened?’ asked Chatfield in alarm.

‘German stormtrooper units have moved at speed and made significant advances. General Ludendorff must be rubbing his hands with glee.’

‘This is grim news indeed.’

‘He’s a cunning old devil,’ said the commissioner, putting the 8notepad down on his desk. ‘Instead of one attack, he launched four.’

Sir Edward was a slim, wiry man in his sixties with a small moustache. As usual, he was wearing an impeccably tailored three-piece suit. Chatfield, by contrast, was younger, clean-shaven and hollow-cheeked. His neatly barbered hair sported a centre parting.

‘They’ve changed their tactics,’ Chatfield observed. ‘Until now, trench warfare has been the order of the day. Armies have been largely stationary – not any more. The Germans have obviously deployed their stormtroopers with deadly effect. The units move quickly and strike when least expected.’

‘If only our reinforcements had arrived from America!’

‘They may come too late, Sir Edward.’

‘Don’t let us be pessimistic,’ said the other, pulling himself up to his full height. ‘Remember that we have a brave army with equally brave Allies. I still believe in ultimate victory.’

‘And so do I.’

‘Let’s put the war to one side for a moment, shall we?’ suggested the commissioner. ‘Let’s consider our own situation. We, too, have suffered losses, albeit on a much smaller scale. Thousands of our officers have resigned to join the army, so we have a depleted force left behind. Every man we have is vital.’ He remembered someone. ‘What’s the news about Detective Sergeant Keedy? Has he been released from hospital yet?’

‘He’s due to leave any day – once the problem has been resolved.’

‘Problem?’

‘It’s not clear where he should go, Sir Edward. If it was up to Keedy, he would come straight back to Scotland Yard to resume his duties. But that is impossible. He needs a period of rest. 9During the siege in which we were involved, he was shot in the stomach from short range. The damage was extensive. The wounds will take time to heal. He must be cared for.’

‘That shouldn’t be problematic, should it?’

‘It shouldn’t,’ said Chatfield, wearily, ‘but it is.’

‘Really?’

‘There’s been an unholy row about where he will convalesce.’

 ‘That’s the last thing he needs.’

‘I agree, Sir Edward.’

‘Then why are they wasting time arguing about it?’

‘I’ve no idea,’ said Chatfield. ‘For some reason, the bickering goes on. They are still unable to reach a decision acceptable to all parties.’

There were three of them in the room at the hospital. Joe Keedy, wearing pyjamas, dressing gown and slippers, was sitting in a chair. Alice Marmion, his fiancée, was seated beside him, one hand on his arm. Having come straight from work, she was wearing the uniform of the Women’s Police Force. Standing in front of them was Keedy’s elder brother, Dennis, a tall, well-built, impressive man in a thick black overcoat. He spoke quietly but firmly.

‘We must bring this argument to an end,’ he declared. ‘There is only one option open to you, Joe, and that is to return to the family home to be looked after by Mother and Father.’

‘That’s out of the question,’ said Keedy, dismissively.

‘Our parents would take good care of you.’

‘It’s kind of them to offer, Dennis, but I’m staying here in London.’

‘Did Mother’s entreaties mean nothing to you?’

‘Of course, they did,’ replied Keedy. ‘I was touched that they 10made the effort to come and see me. But I could never go back home. Apart from anything else, they’d try to persuade me to leave a job that I love.’

‘Joe is very proud to be part of the Metropolitan Police Force,’ said Alice.

‘He should be equally proud of working with me in the family business,’ argued Dennis. ‘Being a funeral director is a responsible job. I still don’t understand why you turned your back on a career alongside me, Joe.’

‘I wanted excitement, Dennis,’ said Keedy.

‘Getting yourself shot is not my idea of excitement.’

‘That’s unfair,’ said Alice, hotly. ‘It was brave of Joe to go into that house during the siege.’

‘Brave but foolish.’

‘I’m not complaining about what happened,’ said Keedy, stoutly.

‘Well, I am,’ said Dennis, raising his voice. ‘I’d prefer a live brother to a dead hero.’

Before he could speak, Keedy felt a warning squeeze on his arm. Alice was trying to calm him down because she believed that nothing could be achieved by a pointless argument with his brother. Eager to be involved in Keedy’s convalescence, she could not do that if he went back to the family home in Nottingham. His injury had reminded them of the dangers he faced, and it had persuaded them to bring the date of their wedding forward. It was now a matter of weeks away rather than months before they were married. Alice was keen to nurse him in readiness for the event.

‘There is simply no alternative,’ said Dennis, reasonably.

‘Yes, there is,’ she claimed. ‘Joe could move in with my parents. My mother would be there to look after him during 11the day and I would pop in regularly when I was not on duty.’

‘Think of how it would look, Alice.’

‘I don’t give a damn how it looks,’ said Keedy. ‘People should mind their own business.’

‘What about the vicar?’

‘It’s nothing to do with him, Dennis.’

‘Have you told him that you’d be under the same roof as Alice?’

‘Well, no …’

‘I live on the other side of London,’ she pointed out, ‘and I’ll be spending most nights at my flat. I’d only sleep at home now and then.’

‘I still think it would be unwise,’ said Dennis. ‘And I know that our vicar in Nottingham would disapprove strongly.’

‘Thank God he’s not going to marry us then!’ retorted Keedy.

‘It’s your duty to come back home, Joe.’

‘I’m staying here in London.’

‘Try it for a week. That’s all I ask.’

‘I’ve made my decision, Dennis, and I’m sticking to it.’

‘Can’t we at least find a compromise?’ asked his brother. ‘I came all this way to plead with you, Joe. Don’t send me back home with upsetting news for our parents. It will hurt them terribly.’

‘I’m sorry but it can’t be helped. I need to stay here.’

‘I agree,’ said Alice.

After glaring at each of them in turn, Dennis grabbed his hat off the table and stalked out of the room, leaving the door wide open. Alice got up to close the door.

Keedy grinned. ‘I think we deserve a kiss.’

12

CHAPTER TWO

The fire started in the dead of night. It ate hungrily through the interior of the empty shop then spread to the houses either side of it. Terrified occupants leapt from their beds and ran out into the street. They hammered on the doors of neighbouring houses to wake people up. Panic spread quickly. The noise brought even more people dashing out through their front doors, horrified to see the flames. There was pandemonium. It was not long before the deafening clang of fire engines filled the air. Nobody heard the burglar alarm that was ringing away in a road nearby.

Two uniformed policemen were walking side by side on their beat when they became aware of the commotion. Breaking into a run, they turned a corner and saw two men in the gloom, leaving a bank at speed. The policemen tackled the robbers and tried to arrest them, but they came off worst. One of them was stabbed and the other was clubbed viciously to the ground. The bank robbers jumped into a waiting car and were whisked off at speed. The policemen lay on the pavement in pools of their own blood. 13

Harvey Marmion was summoned by the insistent ring of the telephone. Sensing an emergency, he scrambled out of bed and tried to wipe the sleep out of his eyes as he padded downstairs. When he picked up the receiver, he heard the voice of Claude Chatfield barking at him.

‘There’s a police car on the way to pick you up,’ he said.

‘Where am I going?’ asked Marmion.

‘It’s somewhere near Paddington Station. I’ll meet you there.’

‘What’s happened, sir?’

‘There’s been a bank robbery. Two policemen were on duty nearby and sought to arrest the burglars. One of our officers was stabbed to death and the other is still in a coma.’

‘What were their names?’

‘Does it matter?’

‘It matters a great deal to me,’ said Marmion with concern. ‘Sam Collard has a beat near Paddington Station, and I know for a fact that he’s working nights. He’s a close friend of mine.’

‘Then I’ve got bad news for you, Inspector. I’m afraid that Collard was the murder victim.’

The phone went dead. Marmion was too stunned to replace the receiver.

Prompt action by the fire brigade meant that the blaze at the houses either side of the empty shop was quickly brought under control. No other premises were affected. The families who had been forced to flee their homes were allowed back inside them, only to discover that the arrival of the fire engines had been a mixed blessing. In dousing the fire, the water had caused a lot of damage to their properties, smashing windows, soaking their walls, and drenching their furniture. Neighbours were quick to offer them help. When the flames were finally under control, the 14fire brigade started to clear up the mess in the empty shop, trying to work out how the fire had started in the first place.

Preoccupied with their own crises, nobody in the street realised that a murder had taken place less than a hundred yards away.

When the police car took him to the scene of the crime, Marmion found that Claude Chatfield was already there. The superintendent was trying to calm down the bank manager, Douglas Boucher, a short, red-faced, pompous individual with piggy eyes. Marmion was introduced to Boucher, but he was more interested in the fate of his friend.

‘What happened to Sam Collard?’ he asked.

‘An ambulance took the body off to the nearest hospital,’ said Chatfield. ‘Constable Lee was also taken. Collard was pronounced dead at the scene. Lee is in a coma but is expected to recover.’

‘I’d like to take on the job of speaking to Collard’s wife,’ volunteered Marmion. ‘It’s dreadful news to pass on, but I feel that it’s my duty.’

‘I understand,’ said Chatfield. ‘You are obviously the best person for the task.’

‘What about my bank?’ wailed Boucher. ‘That’s the major crime here.’

‘I disagree, sir.’

‘So do I,’ added Marmion. ‘One police officer was killed, and another was wounded. And they met their fates when they were trying to arrest some men who robbed your bank. You should be grateful that they acted so bravely.’

‘Well, yes,’ said Boucher, ‘I admire their courage, of course, but the fact remains that a substantial amount of money was stolen. I was fast asleep when the news was brought to me. Imagine how I felt when I got here and realised what had happened.’15

Chatfield was blunt. ‘Inspector Marmion and I were also dragged out of our beds in the middle of the night, sir,’ he said. ‘So don’t expect sympathy from us on that account. You should be trying to work out exactly what did occur here.’

‘Isn’t it obvious? The bank has been robbed.’

‘Yet, when you arrived, there was no burglar alarm ringing.’

‘No,’ said Boucher. ‘It had been switched off.’

‘How did the robbers manage to do that?’ asked Marmion. ‘Burglar alarms, for obvious reasons, are usually very difficult to tamper with. When they entered the premises, it would have gone off immediately. How on earth did they silence it?’

‘It’s a question that only the people who installed the system could answer,’ said Boucher. ‘I’ll contact them as soon as their office opens.’

Marmion shook his head. ‘I doubt if the alarm was at fault, sir,’ he said. ‘May I ask if any of your employees have left the bank recently?’

Boucher was indignant. ‘You’re surely not suggesting that one of my clerks was involved.’

‘I’d like an answer to my question, please.’

‘Everyone who worked for me was thoroughly vetted beforehand.’

‘We’ve dealt with bank robberies before,’ said Chatfield.

‘Yes,’ added Marmion, ‘and an employee has been involved in every instance.’

‘Well, that’s certainly not the case here,’ insisted Boucher. ‘I can vouch for every single person that I employ.’

‘What about those who no longer work at your bank?’ asked Chatfield. ‘Can you vouch for them as well?’

Boucher fell silent. 16

After her visit to the hospital the previous evening, Alice Marmion had spent the night at the family home. She and her mother were now having an early breakfast so that Alice could get off to work in time. Ellen Marmion reached for the teapot.

‘Not for me, thank you,’ said Alice, raising a hand.

‘It’s cold outside. You need something to keep you warm.’

‘I’ve already got it. All I need to do is to remember Joe’s brother and my whole body is on fire. I’m surprised that steam doesn’t come out of my ears.’

‘Was Dennis that bad?’

‘Well, you’ve met him. He’s very bossy. Dennis thinks that he’s always right.’

‘It was very rude of him to stalk off like that.’

‘We were grateful that he left,’ said Alice. ‘It meant that Joe and I had some time together.’

‘That’s the best medicine Joe could have.’ They shared a laugh. ‘I hope that the sound of the police car didn’t wake you up in the middle of the night.’

‘I slept through it, Mummy.’

‘I wish that I could. I always know when your father is no longer in bed.’

‘I daresay that it will be the same when Joe and I are married. When Daddy is contacted during the night in the future, he’ll wait for the police car then drive to our house to pick Joe up. Isn’t that a lovely thing to say?’ she added with a giggle. ‘Our house, I mean. It’s only a matter of weeks to go and we’ll be moving into a place of our own.’

‘It will be a lovely moment, Alice.’

‘The whole occasion will be wonderful.’

‘I’m not so sure about that,’ said Ellen. ‘Your father and I will be as delighted as you and Joe, but Dennis will be there as 17well. He’ll be glowering away, I daresay.’

‘We had to ask him and his wife. He’s family.’

‘I know and he has a right to be at his brother’s wedding – though Joe was determined not to have Dennis as his Best Man.’

‘That would have been a disaster – in every sense.’

Ellen stifled a laugh. ‘I hate to say this,’ she admitted, ‘but Dennis does have a point. If Joe does move in here, the word will soon spread. You and he will be under the same roof most evenings. People have suspicious minds.’

‘Ignore them, Mummy.’

‘I’ve been trying to think of a way out of this situation.’

‘There isn’t one. Coming here is the only option for Joe.’

Ellen was pensive. ‘I wonder …’

Nora Collard was in the scullery of their little house, humming to herself as she prepared her husband’s breakfast. She knew the routine by heart. Whenever he was on a night shift, he would arrive home tired and hungry. All that he wanted was a hearty breakfast before he went off to bed. Nora had already taken up a cup of tea to her elderly mother. With that chore out of the way, she waited for the return of her husband, wondering why he was so late that morning. There was a gentle knock on the door. Had Sam forgotten his key yet again? She resolved to tease him about it. Walking down the passageway, she rehearsed what she was going to say by way of reprimand. Nora then unlocked the door and opened it wide.

The words died on her lips. Instead of her husband, she was looking at the familiar sight of Harvey Marmion. Fear hit her like a punch in the stomach. Her jaw dropped and she turned white. Marmion stepped forward to catch her as she fell. He then carried her gently into the house.

18

CHAPTER THREE

Because her bus had been held up in traffic, Alice Marmion was ten minutes late for work. When she went into the main room, she discovered that the inspector had decided to make an example of her in front of the other policewomen. Inspector Thelma Gale was sarcastic.

‘Ah, here she is at last,’ she said. ‘She has finally decided to favour us with her presence.’

‘My bus was late, Inspector,’ explained Alice.

‘Then you should have caught an earlier one, shouldn’t you? You should have used what little common sense you possess. Everyone is in the same boat,’ she added, gesturing to the ranks of uniformed policewomen. ‘The difference is that we all got here on time whereas you failed to do so. I expected better of you, I must say.’

‘I’m sorry. It was not my fault.’

‘I believe that it was.’

‘Alice is the most punctual person in this room,’ said Iris Goodliffe, coming to the defence of her best friend. ‘It’s unfair to criticise her.’

‘Did I ask you to speak?’ said the inspector, turning on her with a malevolent glare. 19

‘No, Inspector.’

‘Then please shut up.’

‘But I think you’re being unfair.’

‘Your opinion counts for nothing. We are here to serve the public and we can only do that if we catch the bus that will get us here on time. Now then,’ she continued, reaching for a pad, ‘these are your instructions for today.’

Inspector Gale started to reel off names and assignments. Alice gave her friend a grateful smile. Iris winked at her in return. They had both learnt to stand up to the woman whose vicious tongue had earned her the nickname of Gale Force. The inspector’s strictures no longer hurt them. Both friends knew how to take them in their stride. When they were given their orders for the day, they left the room immediately. Once outside the building, Iris was as excitable as ever.

‘There’s less than twenty-eight days to go, Alice,’ she said, excitedly. ‘Then you’re going to change from Miss Marmion to Mrs Keedy. You and Joe will tie the knot at long last.’

Alice beamed and they walked off happily on their beat.

Marmion spent a long time at the house, offering what comfort he could to Nora Collard. A note of resignation finally came into her voice.

‘I knew this could happen one day.’

‘Sam was a first-rate policeman. Always remember that. He just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Other officers might have been more cautious but not your husband. Despite the danger, Sam simply had to respond. Unfortunately, his courage cost him his life.’

‘Thank you for coming to tell me.’

‘It was the least I could do, Nora. We were friends at school, 20Sam and me. I’ve got some wonderful memories of him.’

‘He could say the same about you.’

‘I’ll have to go, I’m afraid, but I hate leaving you like this. Is there someone who could come in and sit with you?’

‘Rita Dowling. She’s my best friend. She lives at number ten.’

‘I’ll ask her to come here as quickly as she can.’

‘Thank you, Harvey.’

He looked upwards. ‘What about your mother?’ he asked. ‘Would you like me to go upstairs and break the news gently to her?’

‘That’s my job,’ said Nora, firmly.

‘Then I’ll be off.’

She hugged him impulsively and it was minutes before she released him. When she stood back, tears were coursing down her cheeks. She dabbed at them with a handkerchief.

‘Give my love to Ellen,’ she said.

‘You’ll be able to do that in person. When I tell her the sad news, Ellen will certainly want to call on you as soon as possible.’

When the superintendent sent for him, Clifford Burge responded quickly. He was a thickset man in his thirties with a mop of dark hair. In the wake of Keedy’s absence, he had been made an acting detective sergeant and was determined to show that he deserved the temporary promotion. Burge was surprised to see how weary Claude Chatfield looked. The superintendent explained that he had been up most of the night.

‘A bank near Paddington Station was robbed in the early hours,’ he said. ‘They got away with a sizeable haul, I daresay, but not before they killed one of the constables on duty in the area and knocked his partner unconscious. Both were taken to 21the nearest hospital. Inspector Marmion went there to get full details of the survivor’s condition. He was then going on to break the sad tidings to the widow of the murder victim.’

‘What was his name, sir?’

‘Constable Samuel Collard.’

‘I’ve heard Inspector Marmion mention that name.’

‘They were close friends. Anyway,’ said Chatfield, ‘there’s been a development. About the same time as the bank was being robbed, the fire brigade was attending a blaze in a street that was not very far from the bank. I want to know if it was a coincidence.’

‘I’ll ring the Paddington fire brigade and find out, sir.’

‘Get the exact time when they were told of the fire and ask how quickly they were able to reach it. That information could be crucial.’

‘I’ll get it straight away, sir.’

Glad to be involved in a new case, Burge left the room at speed. Chatfield crossed to the mirror on his wall and peered at himself. It was like staring at his death mask. He shuddered.

Marmion had kept his word. He went straight to a house opposite and told Rita Dowling what had happened. The neighbour responded immediately. Grabbing her coat, she put it on then more or less scurried across the road and let herself into the Collard house. Marmion, meanwhile, asked his driver to take him to the nearest police station. He rang home from there and passed on the news to his wife. Ellen was both shocked and upset. She and Nora Collard were good friends. Within minutes, she promised, she would be on a bus that would take her to the grieving widow.

Having been driven back to Scotland Yard, the inspector 22went straight to Chatfield’s office to give his report. The superintendent listened carefully.

‘Constable Lee is still in a coma,’ said Marmion, sadly. ‘Whoever hit him almost cracked his skull open. But he is still alive, thank God.’

‘What about Collard?’

‘They told me that he must have died almost instantly.’

‘From a knife wound?’ said Chatfield. ‘Where exactly was he stabbed?’

‘It was through the heart, sir.’

‘Did they have any idea what sort of knife it might be?’

‘It wasn’t a knife at all, Superintendent. I spoke to the surgeon who examined him.’

‘And?’

‘He is an expert on wounds involving a blade.’ Marmion took a deep breath. ‘In the surgeon’s opinion, Sam Collard was killed by a bayonet.’

Ellen Marmion was luckier than her daughter. While Alice’s bus had been delayed, the one that her mother caught had a clear run. Less than twenty minutes after leaving the house, she was getting off the vehicle at the bus stop in the street where the Collard family lived. Ellen walked quickly to their home and knocked on the door. It was opened by a tearful Nora Collard. Seeing her friend there, she flung herself into Ellen’s arms. After a lengthy embrace, she pulled away and invited her visitor into the house. Having met her many times before, Ellen needed no introduction to the motherly Rita Dowling. She and Ellen hugged each other.

‘I’ll put the kettle on,’ said Rita, heading for the scullery.

‘Thank you,’ replied Nora. She took Ellen into the living 23room. ‘It’s so good of you to come. The news about Sam came as a bombshell,’ she admitted. ‘I was so grateful that your husband delivered it. Harvey was kind and considerate. If a stranger had come instead, the blow would have been unbearable. Your husband was so gentle.’

‘He had his own grief to cope with,’ said Ellen. ‘When he rang me, Harvey was close to tears. He told me how painful it was to lose one of his best friends. As young men, he and Sam had been inseparable. They joined the police force together.’

‘I know. They were like brothers.’

‘One thing I can promise you, Nora. This case will have top priority. Harvey will not rest until he’s found and arrested the man who did this. It will be like a mission for him.’

‘That’s very comforting,’ said the other woman, ‘but it won’t bring Sam back to life.’

‘I know that.’

Nora glanced upstairs. ‘But I’m so grateful to see you,’ she said. ‘I don’t know what to do about mother. I’m not sure if I should tell her the truth or … wait a bit.’

‘She’s bound to notice that Sam is not here.’

‘Rita thinks that I should leave it for a few days and pretend that nothing has happened.’

‘I don’t agree, Nora. You can’t deceive your mother. I know that she’s disabled but her mind is still clear. If you tell her a lie, she might never forgive you. Apart from anything else, she’ll see that you are so upset. You can’t hide the truth from her.’

‘You’re right,’ agreed the other. ‘When the tea is made, I’ll take a cup up to her.’ She bit her lip. ‘Oh, I’m sorry to be in such a state, Ellen. I just can’t think straight. But you’re right. Mother deserves the truth. She knows that Sam’s life was always at risk 24when he was on duty. I’ll tell her what happened.’

Holding back tears, Nora gave her a grateful hug then went off into the scullery.

When he went back to the superintendent’s office, Clifford Burge found that Marmion was still there. He asked him for more details about the events in Paddington. Claude Chatfield stepped in.

‘First things first,’ he said to Burge. ‘What did you discover?’

‘I rang the fire brigade, and they told me that the blaze in Whitmore Street had probably been a case of arson. An empty shop was set alight. They found evidence of petrol cans that were used.’

‘What time did someone raise the alarm?’

‘It was at 3 a.m. precisely.’

‘Bang on the hour?’ asked Marmion.

‘That’s what it says in their log-book, sir.’

‘What time did the robbers gain entry to the bank?’

‘I’ll bet that it was shortly afterwards,’ decided Chatfield.

‘I agree,’ said Marmion. ‘They waited until they heard the fire engines racing to Whitmore Street, then they broke into the bank. When the burglar alarm went off, its noise was largely muffled by the clang of the fire engines. The burglars must have disabled the alarm before the clamour in the nearby street died down.’

‘Then the fire was started deliberately as a diversion,’ said Burge. ‘All the interest was focused on Whitmore Street.’

‘Meanwhile, the burglars were inside the bank, helping themselves to a sizeable amount of money. I’m certain that they had help from a former employee,’ insisted Marmion. ‘How else would they know where the burglar alarm was and 25how they could switch it off so quickly?’

‘Mr Boucher refused to accept that someone he employed was involved in the raid,’ said Chatfield. ‘Let’s hope that he soon comes to his senses.’

‘I’ll get back there immediately, sir.’

‘Take Burge with you, Inspector, and acquaint him with the full details.’

‘He’s already aware of the most important detail,’ said Marmion. ‘We’re dealing with some very clever people. In starting that fire, they committed one crime to disguise another. Clearly, they are armed and dangerous.’ He turned to Burge. ‘Who actually got in touch with the fire brigade?’

‘A man arrived there, almost breathless from running,’ said Burge.

‘Did he give his name?’

‘Yes, sir, it was Arthur Davies. He said that he lived opposite the blaze and had been woken up by the sound of uproar in the street.’

‘We must speak to him first,’ said Chatfield.

‘Well, we won’t find him living in Whitmore Street,’ suggested Marmion. ‘Possibly he’s in league with the bank robbers. He might even be the man who stabbed Sam Collard to death. That’s one more reason why we must hunt him down.’

‘How many of them were there?’ wondered Chatfield.

‘Three, at least. Two of them broke into the bank and the third was probably waiting nearby in a car. Sam Collard and Harry Lee were experienced constables. They were brave enough to tackle two suspects, but they’d think twice about tackling three or four. What they didn’t expect was that the two men were armed – one with a cosh and the other with a bayonet.’ 26

‘Two weapons that can be used silently,’ noted Burge. ‘Gunfire would have given them away.’

‘All that our officers had were truncheons,’ complained Marmion.

‘They’d been trained to use them,’ Chatfield reminded him. ‘They’re perfectly effective for most arrests. In this case, unfortunately, they were not.’

‘We should heed the warning, sir. If we get close to these men, we need to carry guns.’

‘I’ll think about it, Inspector.’

‘It’s an obvious precaution.’

‘We’ll have superior numbers.’

‘I’d be safer with the feel of a firearm in my hand.’

Chatfield sighed. ‘That’s what Sergeant Keedy thought and look what happened to him.’

Joe Keedy had been throbbing with anticipation all morning. He was finally being released from hospital. After he had been shot at close quarters during a siege, he had been taken to a military hospital and given excellent care. He had been transferred from there to Edmonton Military Hospital, a place where he was given a cordial welcome because he and Marmion had once solved the murder of one of their surgeons. When he started to recover, he was moved to an ordinary hospital because he was very conscious of taking up a bed that should be occupied by a wounded soldier. There was another reason why he was moved. One of the criminals involved in the siege had stalked him at the first military hospital. Thankfully, that man and his accomplices were now in custody.

It was a relief to be back in his own clothes again. As soon as he was dressed, Keedy had gone from bed to bed, thanking 27each one of the patients and wishing them the best of luck. By treating him as a hero, they had helped to lift his spirits. Although he would miss them, he was glad to leave, going back into a normal life with the prospect of marriage to Alice Marmion only weeks away. Now that he was back on his feet, he was able to visit other wards to thank the members of staff who had looked after him so well. When that duty was done, he went slowly downstairs with a porter carrying his suitcase. As he settled into a chair, he was smiling broadly. He was about to return to normal life at last. All that he had to do was to wait until his future mother-in-law arrived in a taxi that would whisk them all the way back to the Marmion residence.

Yet she never came. It worried him. After thirty nervous minutes, he was manufacturing excuses. The taxi was running late. Ellen had some shopping to do first. They were having trouble parking in the hospital car park. When almost an hour had elapsed, the excuses were replaced by deep anxieties. Keedy began to wonder if something was amiss. At the last moment, had problems arisen? Might he not be escaping hospital, after all?

When somebody came hurrying into the waiting room, Keedy paid no attention to him. It was only when the man walked straight up to him that he recognised Raymond Marmion, brother of his future father-in-law. As usual, Raymond, a tall, sturdy man with a reassuring smile, was wearing the uniform of the Salvation Army.

‘Hello, Joe,’ he said, extending a hand. ‘Good to see you again.’

‘It’s nice to see you again, Raymond.’ They shook hands. ‘Are you visiting a patient?’ 28

‘Yes, but he’s an ex-patient now and his name is Joseph Keedy.’

‘Ah, I see,’ said Keedy, relaxing at last. ‘You’ve come to take me back to your brother’s house, haven’t you?’

‘Not exactly. Hasn’t Ellen been in touch?’

‘I’m afraid not.’

‘She and Alice had a long talk about where you should go when discharged. Although Alice was keen for you to go to her parents’ house, Ellen had doubts. In the end, she rang me.’

Keedy was baffled. ‘Why?’

‘My wife and I are going to provide you with accommodation for a while,’ said Raymond. ‘It will silence the gossipmongers who disapprove of the fact that you and Alice would be so … well, close to each other before you were actually married.’

‘I don’t pay any attention to prudes!’

‘Your future mother-in-law does and, I suspect, so does my brother. I was happy to provide a solution. You’re coming to us, Joe. Nobody can complain when they hear that you’re being cared for by the Salvation Army.’ Raymond grinned. ‘I don’t suppose you’re fit enough to play a big bass drum, are you? The band go marching on a Sunday.’

Keedy’s heart sank.

29

CHAPTER FOUR

When they got to the bank, there was a subdued air about the place. Tellers were largely silent, heads bowed as if at a funeral. Customers were dutifully quiet, all too conscious of the fact that the bank had been robbed during the night and that a policeman had been murdered on the pavement outside. Marmion and Burge had to wait until the manager was free. Only when the deputy manager emerged from the office could the detectives take his place. After giving them a token welcome, Douglas Boucher waved them to a seat apiece then settled into his own chair behind a large desk. Marmion introduced his companion, but Burge was only given the merest nod of the manager’s head. Boucher was in a combative mood.

‘I told you that I was right,’ he announced. ‘Fryer agreed with me.’

‘Fryer?’ echoed Marmion.

‘Stuart Fryer, the deputy manager. You must have seen him leave my office when you arrived. Excellent man, been with me for years. Fryer is a blessing in a crisis like this.’

‘I’m sure that he is, sir.’

‘We went through the list of people employed at this bank. 30Every one of them is above suspicion. Loyalty is my watchword. I only take on people who will be unswervingly loyal to me and to this bank. We maintain the highest standards.’

‘That’s to your credit.’

‘As for employees who have moved on,’ said Boucher, glancing at a piece of paper in front of him, ‘they are three in number.’

‘Could we have their names, please?’ asked Burge, taking out his notebook.

‘Of course. The first one is Walter Greenlow. Ill health forced him to retire two years ago.’

Marmion nodded. ‘Then we can exclude him, I fancy.’

‘The second man is Martin Beale,’ said the manager. ‘I’m ashamed to say that he deserted us and went to a rival bank.’

‘For what reason, sir? More money? Promotion?’

‘Well, it was not because of dissatisfaction with us. He told me that he felt in need of a change. Much as he enjoyed his time here, he said, he felt the appeal of pastures new.’

‘Do you have his address?’ asked Burge.

‘Yes, of course.’ After giving the details, he glanced at his list. ‘The third person who left was the one who surprised me most. Neil Paterson came from a banking family. He loved the work and was always the first to volunteer for overtime.’

‘What happened to him?’ asked Marmion.

‘He left us abruptly.’

‘Was no reason given?’

‘His wife missed Scotland, I gather. I assume he needed to go north of the border with her.’

‘Might we have his address, please – and that of Walter Greenlow?’

After providing the information requested, Boucher sat back in his chair. 31

‘Let me warn you that all three men were trusted employees. Indeed, Paterson was considered for the position of deputy manager when it became vacant. I chose Stuart Fryer because of his greater experience.’

‘What happened to the previous deputy manager?’

‘He contracted a serious illness and died only months after he’d resigned.’

‘That leaves us with three possible suspects, then.’

‘You’ll be wasting your time if you imagine that any one of them could possibly betray me and the bank in which each of them was employed for so long.’

‘Your warning has been duly noted, sir.’

‘Then let me have a turn at asking the questions. What have you learnt so far?’

‘I’ve been reminded how dangerous it is for policemen to be on the night shift when desperate criminals are at large. By confronting two bank robbers, one of our men was killed and the other was knocked senseless. When I saw him at the hospital, his face was a mass of bruises.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that,’ said Boucher, quietly.

‘As for the bank robbers, we have made some headway. Robbing your bank was only one of the crimes they committed during the night. We now know that they set fire to an empty shop not far away then broke into your bank at a time when the deafening noise of the fire engines blocked out any other sound. Once inside the building,’ Marmion continued, ‘they quickly switched off the burglar alarm. Who taught them how to do that?’

‘Heaven knows!’

‘Did any of the men whose names you have given us have responsibility for security here?’

‘Yes,’ admitted Boucher. 32

‘Which one?’

‘Neil Paterson … but he’s above suspicion.’

‘We’d still like to question him, sir,’ said Marmion, firmly. ‘You’ll be surprised how many people who are “above suspicion” end up in a police cell.’

Joe Keedy was used to sudden changes of circumstances. Work in the Metropolitan Police Force had taught him how to adapt quickly to them, but he was not able to do so in this case. Much as he liked Raymond Marmion, he was not sure that he would enjoy being looked after in a Salvation Army hostel. To begin with, he would be among strangers, homeless men picked up off the streets, most of them with physical or mental problems. As they drove there in a van, Raymond assured him that he and his wife were looking forward to being his temporary guardians. Keedy was unable to discern the slightest pleasure in the new arrangements, and he was still unnerved by the fact that he was given no advance warning of them.

‘How are you feeling now?’ asked Raymond.

‘Glad to be out of hospital at last.’

‘I heard that they treated you well.’

‘Very well,’ said Keedy, ‘but I was still happy to leave. I’m dying to get back to work.’

‘You may have to wait for a while, Joe, until you’re good and ready.’

‘I feel fine, honestly.’

‘Then why were you walking so gingerly when we left the hospital? It’s obvious that you’re not fully fit. I noticed that you winced at one point.’

‘I get these occasional twinges, that’s all.’

‘They’re reminders that you have a little way to go.’ 33

Keedy nodded. ‘I suppose so.’

When the van turned a corner, the hostel came into sight. Having been there before, Keedy knew very well what the inside of the building looked like. To his surprise, however, they drove past the hostel and stopped outside a house two blocks away. Raymond brought the vehicle to a halt.

‘This is where you’ll be staying, Joe,’ he said. ‘In our house.’

Keedy was relieved. He was also pleased to see the front door opening so that Lily Marmion could come hurrying out. She was a sprightly middle-aged woman who had kept her figure and whose face seemed to glow with kindness. When she reached the van, she flung open the door.

‘Hello, Joe,’ she said. ‘Welcome to your new home!’

It had been a busy day for Alice Marmion. She and Iris Goodliffe had been involved in a series of incidents as they walked on their beat. They had intervened in a heated argument between two stallholders in a market, helped an old lady to her feet when she tripped up and hit the pavement, gave directions to various drivers with orders to deliver, stopped a man from urinating in an alleyway, and subdued a large, angry dog who was barking at anyone who passed. Their real success had been in catching a shoplifter. As they walked side by side along a street, the figure of a small boy emerged at speed from a shop, closely followed by an angry woman. Since there was no chance of her catching him, all that the shopkeeper could do was to hurl abuse at the young thief.

Alice and Iris leapt into action. Taking to their heels, they went after the boy. It was a long chase. Iris tried hard to keep up with Alice, but it was a forlorn hope. The latter was lighter, faster and more determined than her. She was helped by the 34fact that the boy cannoned into a man and bounced a yard backwards. Setting off again, he tried to outrun her, but it was impossible. Alice was quickly gaining on him. As a last resort, he suddenly turned down a lane, but she would not be shaken off. After putting in a final spurt, she grabbed him by the shoulders and held him tight as he struggled to get free.

‘Stop right there!’ she ordered.

‘You can’t touch me,’ he retorted. ‘You’re not a real policeman.’

‘Oh, yes I am.’

‘I done nothing wrong.’

‘Yes, you did. You stole that packet of biscuits.’

‘I was hungry.’

‘Then you should have paid for them.’

‘Got no money.’

‘Stealing is wrong. Don’t you know that? And why aren’t you at school? Are you playing truant?’ The boy’s face fell. ‘Right,’ she said, tightening her grip on him.

‘Where are you taking me?’

‘Back to that shop. You can hand over the biscuits, then apologise to the shopkeeper.’

He was fearful. ‘Are you arresting me?’

‘We’ll see.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Iris, gulping for air as she reached them. ‘I couldn’t keep up with you.’

‘It doesn’t matter, Iris. I caught him.’

‘Well done!’

‘He’s coming back to that shop with us.’

The boy looked up hopefully. ‘Can I have a biscuit before I give the rest of them back?’ 35

After learning that many thousands of pounds had been stolen from the bank, Marmion and Burge went in search of the first name on their list of suspects. The police car took them to an address less than half a mile away. Walter Greenlow lived in a quiet street with two rows of terraced houses facing each other. The properties were small but well-maintained, and there was an air of pride about the street. Unlike so many others in the capital, it had been spared bomb damage during the raids by the German air force. The detectives got out of the car and knocked on the door of a house. There was a noise from within, but it was the best part of a minute before an old man finally reached the door and opened it. Resting on his walking stick, he blinked at them.

‘Mr Greenlow?’ asked Marmion.

‘That’s me,’ he replied. ‘Who are you?’

‘We are detectives from Scotland Yard. I am Inspector Marmion, and this is Sergeant Burge.’

‘Then why are you bothering me?’

‘The bank where you used to work has been robbed.’

‘I never worked in a bank,’ said the old man, offended at the notion. ‘I had a proper job in the docks.’ He put his walking stick aside so that he could display both palms. They were pitted with tiny scars. ‘You don’t get hands like these working behind a counter.’

‘You are Walter Greenlow, aren’t you?’ asked Marmion.

‘No,’ grunted the other. ‘I’m Alf Greenlow. Wally is my son.’

‘Is there any chance of speaking to him, sir?’

‘Not unless you’ve got a very loud voice.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘He’s in the churchyard three blocks away,’ said the old man, reclaiming his walking stick then using it to indicate a direction. ‘St Margaret’s is that way. You’ll find Wally there.’ 36

Burge was disappointed. ‘Is he dead?’

The old man chortled. ‘I bloody well hope not,’ he said.

‘What do you mean, Mr Greenlow?’

‘Wally does the cooking here – most of it, anyway. This is a Lena day, see? My son always goes to the churchyard on a Lena day to be with her.’

‘Is that his mother?’

‘No, it’s his wife.’

‘Thank you, sir. We’ll go and find him.’

‘Wally doesn’t like to be disturbed in the churchyard,’ warned the old man.

‘We need his help.’

They turned away and got back into the police car. Within a minute it was pulling up outside the parish church of St Margaret, a small, almost picturesque building that had been on the site for over three hundred years. The detectives found the churchyard at the rear. It was cluttered with gravestones standing at differing heights and angles due to random settlement of the earth. A man in a raincoat was seated on a bench, staring at the grave in front of him. Having removed his hat, he was holding it in both hands.

When they got closer, they noticed that his eyes were closed, and his lips were moving.

‘Who is he talking to?’ whispered Burge.

‘How should I know?’ replied Marmion. ‘Himself? His dead wife? God?’

‘He’s a lot better dressed than his father.’

‘That’s the difference between a banker and a docker, Cliff.’

‘What do we do, sir?’

‘Wait patiently and hope that he soon finishes.’

They walked down the path and stopped a few yards away, 37staring at a man in his mid-forties who looked perfectly fit and healthy. It was difficult to believe that he was the son of Alf Greenlow. Ears pricked, Burge stepped in closer to see if he could hear what the man was saying. Without looking at him, Greenlow issued a warning.

‘Don’t come close,’ he warned. ‘I’ve almost finished.’

Feeling embarrassed, Burge took a few steps backwards. Within a minute, Greenlow opened his eyes and put on his hat. He looked from one man to the other.

‘You’re from the police, aren’t you?’ he said.

‘How do you know?’ asked Marmion.

‘There was a robbery at the bank. I knew someone would come looking for me.’

‘Who told you about the robbery?’

‘Nothing much happens around here that I don’t get to hear about.’

Marmion introduced Burge and himself then he sat down on the bench.

‘We called at your house and spoke to your father.’

‘Did he show you his hands?’ asked Greenlow.

‘He did, as a matter of fact.’

‘He’s proud of what he did in the docks, but I wanted something different. Something that didn’t leave me looking like Dad. That’s why I studied so hard. Lena Daly would never have given me a second look if I came home dirty every day. But she did notice me when I got a job as a bank clerk. I was respectable, see? Lena liked that. We began to go out together.’

‘When did your wife die, sir?’ asked Marmion, gently.

‘She’s still alive to me,’ murmured Greenlow. ‘Forget Lena. Ask me about the bank, if you must. That’s why you’re here, isn’t it?’ 38

‘Yes, it is.’

‘You must have met Mr Boucher.’ They nodded. ‘What did you make of him?’

‘Well …’

‘Be honest, Inspector. I won’t tell him.’

‘Let’s just say that I’d hate to work for him,’ said Marmion.

‘And so would I,’ added Burge.

‘He isn’t too bad when you get to know him,’ said Greenlow. ‘There are worse bank managers.’

‘How did you get a job in a bank in the first place?’ asked Marmion.