Instrument of Slaughter

‘I think you’re placing too much emphasis on Waldron and not enough on Fussell,’ he decided. ‘You’re slipping up for once. The librarian is the man you should be putting under the microscope. Why aren’t you doing that, Inspector?’

‘As a matter of fact,’ said Marmion, deflecting the criticism, ‘I already am. As of yesterday, Mr Fussell has been placed under observation. A detective will be watching him throughout the day.’

‘Why didn’t you tell me this?’ asked Chatfield, peevishly.

‘I acted on my initiative, sir. I knew that it was exactly the kind of thing that you would have done in my position.’ His smile was as broad as it was mischievous. ‘All that I did was to follow your example.’

Eric Fussell worked until late morning, then left his deputy in charge of the library. As he walked past her towards the exit, his wife looked up in surprise but he didn’t explain where he was going. He left the building, crossed the road and walked to the bus stop. Within minutes, he was climbing onto a bus. Absorbed in thought, he didn’t look out of the window or take note of any of the other passengers. He certainly was not aware of the detective who’d followed him onto the bus and taken a seat at the rear of the vehicle so that he could watch the librarian. After several stops, the bus eventually came to the one that Fussell wanted. Realising where he was, he got up and alighted with a handful of other passengers. All of them set off in the same direction. Making sure that he stayed well back, the detective strolled along in Fussell’s wake.

He followed him all the way to the main entrance of the hospital.

Joe Keedy returned to Scotland Yard in time to see Marmion walking along the corridor towards his office. After an exchange of greetings, the inspector explained that he’d just been summoned by the commissioner who wanted to be brought up to date with the two investigations.

‘And was Chat in there with you?’ asked Keedy.

‘Yes, Joe — he did most of the talking.’

‘And I daresay he took whatever credit was going.’

‘Well,’ said Marmion with amusement, ‘he did give the impression that it was his idea to have Eric Fussell shadowed and I didn’t contradict him.’

They went into Marmion’s office. Keedy heard what had happened during his absence and took particular note of the exchange in his cell with Horrie Waldron. It was the cue for him to relate his story. Marmion was diverted to hear of Maud Crowther’s explosive reaction to the news that her erstwhile beau had been arrested.

‘Did you bring the flowers back with you?’

‘No,’ said Keedy, ‘I threw them in the nearest bin. When I looked closely at them, I could see that one or two had started to wilt. They didn’t come from any shop,’ he reasoned. ‘How could they? Maud found them on her doorstep early this morning. What florist is open at that time? Horrie got them from somewhere else.’

Marmion nodded. ‘He pinched them from someone’s grave.’

‘That was my guess and I think Maud realised it as well. Until I got there, she was enjoying the flowers. I felt sorry I had to bring her down to earth with a bang. Anyway,’ Keedy went on, ‘when I left her, I had a word with her son.’

‘What did Mr Crowther have to say for himself?’

‘He’s like me, Harv. He thinks that watering the beer should be a criminal offence. I bet they’re drinking a stronger brew in Berlin.’

‘Did you tell him that Waldron had been arrested?’

‘Yes, and he was flabbergasted.’

‘What about those trousers?’

‘I asked him if he noticed any bloodstains on them when Waldron got back to the pub but he said he didn’t pay any attention to what he was wearing.’

‘He paid enough attention to observe that Waldron looked much cleaner.’

‘That’s true,’ said Keedy. ‘There’s not much that Stan Crowther misses — apart from the fact that his mother has a weird taste in men, that is. Then something very odd happened.’

‘And what was that, Joe?’

‘Well, I never thought that anything could throw him off balance. A landlord in that part of London must see some pretty strange behaviour. All sorts of rough-and-ready customers come in and out and Crowther doesn’t turn a hair. When I asked him a simple question, however,’ Keedy recalled, ‘it upset him for some reason. All I wanted to know was whether or not he could think of another way that the blood could have ended up on Waldron’s trousers.’

It was late afternoon when they finally got away. Ha

Ha

Alice looked at the plates of food on the table. It was more like a banquet than an afternoon snack. Triangular sandwiches of different varieties were laid out on the three levels of a silver stand. On each of the three plates was an array of different cakes. A selection of biscuits had been artfully arranged on the largest plate of all. Other items of food were held in reserve at the far end of the table. Alice’s immediate thought was that the meal was in open defiance of rationing. She couldn’t imagine how the cook had got hold of the ingredients at a time when there were government restrictions on what could be bought in the shops.

Ha

‘I can see it in your face,’ said Ha

‘That’s very kind of you, Ha

‘It’s practical and, in times like these, practicality is our watchword.’

She indicated a chair and Alice sat down. Ha