Dance of Death (8 page)

‘Oh yes, of course,’ he said, cheerily, getting up and walking to the door. ‘I can’t see most things, Alice, but I can see when you’re about to walk into disaster.’

He went quickly out of the room and slammed the door behind him.

‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ said Ellen, arms around her daughter.

‘I feel pity for
you
, Mummy,’ she said hugging her. ‘There was real
malice in his eyes as he goaded me. If that’s how Paul behaves, it must be murder living under the same roof with him.’

‘It is, Alice. Every day is an ordeal.’ Above their heads, the mouth organ tackled ‘Goodbye, Dolly Gray’. ‘It’s a sinful thought for any mother,’ she added with unaccustomed bitterness, ‘but I’m starting to wish that I could say goodbye, Paul Marmion.’

Late evening found Claude Chatfield still at his desk, working his way through a mound of paperwork that seemed to be self-generating because it never reduced in size. He was still checking a document when Marmion and Keedy finally appeared.

‘Ah, you’re back, are you?’ said Chatfield, sarcastically. ‘It’s so kind of you to remember that you do actually work at Scotland Yard!’

‘We’ve been busy, sir,’ said Marmion.

‘All I’ve been doing is twiddling my thumbs for the last ten or twelve hours.’

‘There was a lot to do in Chingford.’

‘Yes,’ said Keedy in support, ‘it’s not so long ago that you were an inspector yourself. You’ll recall only too well how difficult the first day of an investigation can be. You have to get the lie of the land, search for witnesses, speak to interested parties and try to identify suspects.’

‘You don’t need to tell me that, Sergeant.’

‘I’m just asking for some understanding, sir.’

‘A little sympathy would not go amiss,’ said Marmion, producing a glare of disapproval from the superintendent, ‘but I can see that it’s in short supply at the moment. Very well, sir,’ he continued, ‘this is how we’ve been occupying our time.’

After handing him the appointments book, Marmion launched into his report. Though it was concise and briskly delivered, it
contained all the relevant facts and left Chatfield with no room for criticism. They had followed procedure dutifully. The superintendent flicked through the pages of the appointments book then passed it back to Marmion.

‘When we introduced ourselves at the police station in Chingford,’ said Keedy, ‘they were only too willing to give us the use of a room and a telephone. All we need is your permission to accept their offer.’

‘I’m not convinced it’s necessary.’

‘What about the commissioner? Should we refer the decision to him?’

‘No, Sergeant,’ said Chatfield, making no mention of his conversation with Sir Edward Henry. ‘
I
will make it.’

‘Does that mean we operate from here?’

‘You may remain in Chingford on the condition that you keep in regular contact with me.’

‘That goes without saying, sir.’

‘Unfortunately, it doesn’t. I haven’t forgotten when the pair of you led the investigation into the deaths of those five munitions workers in Hayes. I was being hounded by the press for information and you failed to provide it.’

‘We did actually
solve
the crime,’ said Marmion.

‘Let me in on the secret of how you’re doing it this time,’ warned Chatfield. ‘I’m not just here as a conduit between you and the press. Believe it or not, I may be able to
help
you.’

By way of proof, he listed a number of things they could do on the following day. Many of them had already been decided by Marmion and Keedy but the superintendent did suggest a couple of useful initiatives that had not occurred to them. They were reminded that, beneath his bluster and his idiosyncrasies, Chatfield was an experienced detective
who had more than justified his promotion. He already had a firm grasp of details of the case.

‘That appointments book is a wellspring of information,’ he said. ‘It should be your bedside reading tonight, Inspector. Like you, I believe it will contain names that are highly relevant to this investigation but we must not rely solely on it. Pay a second visit to the widow,’ he advised. ‘Wilder must have had a study or something of that kind. Ask for permission to search it. That remark made by Miss Thompson could be significant,’ he argued. ‘If Wilder thought that he was being followed, he might have received a threatening letter.’

‘Wouldn’t he have told his wife about it, sir?’ asked Keedy.

‘She might be the last person in whom he’d confide.’

‘I agree,’ said Marmion. ‘Mrs Wilder was not told where he was going on the night of the murder and that seems to have been a normal practice between them. She was used to him climbing into bed beside her after midnight.’

‘You’re assuming that they did still sleep together.’

‘Mrs Wilder is a very handsome woman,’ said Keedy. ‘I can’t imagine any husband unwilling to share a bed with her.’

‘If I may say so,’ said Chatfield, ‘that’s the observation of a bachelor.’

‘Is it?’

‘There are lots of reasons why married couples don’t sleep together. You may find that out in due course. Illness or disability might be a factor. Didn’t I hear that Mrs Wilder has a bad back? It might be uncomfortable for her to have her husband beside her at night.’

‘In that case, he might well look elsewhere for pleasure.’

Chatfield bristled. ‘Marriage is not entirely about pleasure, Sergeant. That’s something else you’re destined to find out.’

‘I think it’s time to go,’ said Marmion, jumping in before Keedy
could reply. ‘We have to make an early start in the morning.’

There was a flurry of farewells, then the detectives withdrew from the office.

Keedy was peevish. ‘Why did you interrupt like that?’

‘I was only trying to rescue you, Joe.’

‘He was taunting me. You should have let me challenge him.’

‘I’ve just saved you from a sermon on the purpose of holy matrimony. Chat is a devout Roman Catholic. He sees things differently from you. Cheer up,’ he went on, patting Keedy’s shoulder. ‘We’ve got what we wanted. From now on, we’ll be based in Chingford. That’s ten miles away from the superintendent. Savour that thought.’

‘I was only saying what’s obvious to anyone,’ complained Keedy. ‘There’s definitely another woman in this case.’

‘I agree, Joe. I suspect that we may find more than one.’

Catherine Wilder was about to retire to bed when she heard the doorbell. Pulling her dressing gown around her, she went to the door and unlocked it cautiously. She was surprised to see Audrey Pattinson standing there.

‘I know it’s late,’ said Audrey, nervously, ‘but I simply had to come.’

Ellen Marmion didn’t even think about going to bed. No matter how late he was, she was determined to stay up to speak to her husband. The day had left her thoroughly jangled. After a row with Paul, she’d had the embarrassment of hearing that her brother-in-law had been rudely treated by him, then had watched helplessly as her son had hounded his sister unmercifully before going up to his room. With Paul in such a mood, she felt as if she was walking through a minefield. One wrong step was liable to set off a small explosion. What made it worse was the fact that her son offered no apology whatsoever afterwards, reserving the right to feel that
he
was the injured party. Ellen didn’t know how much more of his tantrums she could endure.

When she heard the sound of a car pulling up outside, she was on her feet at once. Marmion didn’t need to insert his key in the lock because she opened the door for him. Seeing the state that his wife was in, he embraced her and held her for a long time. After closing the door, he took her into the living room. As they sat on the sofa, he listened intently as she poured out her woes. When she’d at last finished, he looked ruefully upwards.

‘What time did he go to bed?’ he asked.

‘It was well before ten. He wants to be up early tomorrow.’

‘Has he invited Mavis Tandy here?’

‘No,’ she replied. ‘He’s arranged to meet her somewhere but didn’t tell me where it was. I didn’t feel able to ask him. He’s so touchy.’

‘He should still remember his manners.’

‘I was horrified when he rounded on your brother. Raymond is a saint. He just shrugged it off. Anybody else would have been very offended.’

‘I didn’t see any signs of sainthood when we were growing up,’ recalled Marmion with a grin. ‘Raymond could be a mischievous little so-and-so.’ His face hardened. ‘But he didn’t deserve what Paul did to him – and neither did Alice.’

‘I just hope that he doesn’t say anything like that to Joe.’

‘So do I, Ellen. He’ll get a flea in his ear if he does. I had my doubts about this engagement at the start but I’m coming to accept it now. Joe has put his past behind him. He really loves Alice and he won’t stand for anyone telling her that she’s chosen the wrong man. He’ll strike back on her behalf.’

‘She’s not sure if she should tell him what Paul said.’

‘I hope that she doesn’t.’

‘I told her you’d say that. Alice has to do what I’ve been forced to do – forgive and forget.’ She shook her head in dismay. ‘I find it very hard to forgive some of the things he’s done, Harvey, and I don’t think I’ll ever forget.’

‘I’m sorry that you’re in the firing line.’

‘I love Paul as a son but I hate what he’s turning into.’

‘It’s not a permanent condition, Ellen. The doctor warned us that there’d be problems during this period of adjustment. He may improve in time.’

‘If anything, he’s been getting worse.’

Marmion ran a hand through his hair. ‘By rights, I really ought to have a stern word with Paul but I have to be off at the crack of dawn.’

‘Oh, I’m so sorry,’ she said, a palm on her chest. ‘Here am I, telling you
my
troubles without even asking what you’ve been up to. Is it another murder?’

‘Yes – and a particularly nasty one at that.’

‘Where did it happen?’

He was careful to give her only the outline details of the case. Ellen did not ask for anything more. She was converting what he’d told her into one cold, hard, menacing fact. At a time when she needed him to confront their son, Marmion would be out of the house all the time. She’d be left alone to cope with any further discord.

Ellen made a conscious effort to shake off the sense of dread.

‘I shouldn’t be so selfish,’ she said, apologetically. ‘What you’ve just told me has put everything in a different light. All that I’m upset about are some harsh words and a display of bad temper. A man was stabbed to death in Chingford. I should bear that in mind. His widow will now be mourning his death.’

‘That’s not a fair comparison, love.’

‘It makes me feel so selfish.’

‘It shouldn’t, Ellen. You’re in mourning as well, remember. There’s no murder involved maybe but the suffering is still acute. You’re grieving over the death of our son. The Paul who went off so blithely to war is not the one who came back.’

‘I realise that every time I speak to him.’

Marmion brightened. ‘Perhaps this new friend will lift his spirits.’

‘I doubt that, Harvey. Her letter was depressing. My fear is that she’ll
drag Paul down into an even deeper despair. Frankly,’ she went on, gripping his arm, ‘I wish he’d never even heard of Mavis Tandy.’

Mavis Tandy got to the bus stop long before it was necessary. It was a blustery day but she didn’t even feel the wind tugging at her clothing and trying to dislodge her hat. All she could think about was the letter inside her pocket. It was a lifeline to her. Having feared that he wouldn’t wish to meet her, she had instead got a warm response, even if it was couched in spidery capital letters. That endeared her to him even more. Paul Marmion was a wounded hero. She’d heard so much about him from Colin Fryatt that she felt she already knew him. He was the strongest link between her and her dead boyfriend. That made him very special.

She was a tall, gawky, freckled-faced young woman with frizzy red hair poking out from beneath her hat. She was wearing her best dress and a smile that combined hope, sadness and excitement. Through Paul Marmion, she would learn the truth about the death in action of the man she’d loved. It was a huge consolation to her. When the bus came, she hopped onto it and found a seat beside the window.

Then she took out his letter and read it through yet again.

Marmion had anticipated awkwardness but it never materialised. Since they’d had such difficulty prising the appointments book out of Catherine Wilder, he thought that she was unlikely to give him ready access to any private papers. In the event, he was pleasantly surprised. She was happy to let him search through her husband’s desk. Catherine was much more in control of her emotions that morning. Marmion had noticed it at once. The main reason was that she had now someone on whom she could lean for advice. Grace Chambers, the next-door
neighbour, had been supplanted in every sense by Catherine’s elder brother, Nathan Clissold, a flabby man in a well-cut dark suit and gleaming black shoes. Marmion could see no resemblance between the siblings. When told that Clissold was a solicitor, Marmion’s initial assessment of the man was confirmed. As they were introduced, he noticed Clissold’s rather clammy handshake.

‘I’ll need to be there, of course,’ Clissold stipulated.

‘Don’t you trust me, sir?’ asked Marmion.

‘It’s not a question of trust, Inspector. I’m curious, that’s all. I happen to be pathologically tidy whereas my brother-in-law had a Bohemian streak. To put it another way, his study – I’d prefer to call it a lair – is in a complete mess.’

‘Simon always was a bit disorganised,’ said Catherine with a forlorn smile. ‘That’s why
I
took charge of his appointments.’

Marmion nodded. ‘We thought we recognised your handwriting, Mrs Wilder. By the way, I noticed that the last person with whom he danced was a Miss Odele Thompson.’

‘He and Odele had regular rehearsals, Inspector. That was vital.’

‘We spoke to the lady. She told us of an incident in Shaftesbury Avenue.’

‘That was Simon’s spiritual home. He loved to hang around dressings rooms with friends. Whether it was a play or a stage musical, he always knew someone in almost any cast.’

‘Tell us about this incident,’ said Clissold.

‘Oh, it was something and nothing, sir,’ replied Marmion. ‘It’s just that he turned around suddenly as if aware that someone was following him.’

‘And were they?’

‘Miss Thompson saw nobody.’

‘Then there was nobody there,’ said Catherine, dismissively. ‘That’s why he never mentioned the incident to me. Besides,’ she added, waspishly, ‘I wouldn’t trust everything that Odele says. She is inclined to dramatise.’

Clissold took charge. ‘Shall we start work, Inspector?’

They followed the same route as on the previous day. Iris Goodliffe was glad to be back at work, having spent a long, dull, lonely evening in her flat, trying to mend a dress in poor light and managing to draw blood from a finger. Much as she enjoyed her new job, she foresaw a number of similarly arid evenings ahead of her and she said as much in blunt terms. The hint was too large to be ignored but Alice was still not ready to spend leisure time with her after work.

‘You could always pop back to see your parents,’ she suggested.

‘I became a policewoman to escape them.’

‘What about your sister?’

‘Evelyn and her husband are still too wrapped up in each other to want me there. You may not believe this, Alice, but their idea of fun is to play chess together.’

‘And your sister actually
enjoys
it?’

‘She loves it – but only because she usually wins. I can just about play draughts. Chess is well beyond me.’

‘It’s only a case of application, Iris.’

‘Can
you
play it?’

‘Strangely enough, I can. Daddy taught me when I was much younger. We had a holiday in Torquay and it rained every day so we played cards most of the time. We also had this little chess set.’

‘Do you think you could teach
me
to play?’

‘Oh, no – I’m nowhere near good enough to do that.’

‘We could learn together, Alice.’

‘I just don’t have the time.’

‘What a pity!’

‘That’s the way it is, I fear.’

It was a paradox. Alice was desperate to speak to someone about the argument she’d had with her brother and she had a friend beside her who would be a highly sympathetic confidante. Yet she simply could not let Iris into her family somehow. The woman’s urge for a closer relationship was bordering on desperation. Her fervent desire to be included was the very thing that excluded her. Alice had to suppress sad thoughts about her visit home and concentrate on her duties. Inspector Gale would expect a report when they returned. There were some incidents early on to divert them. They had to stop some children from throwing stones at each other, help an old man to his feet when he tripped up and speak to a woman who accosted them. Smart, shapely, well spoken and in her thirties, she turned to Alice.

‘You don’t remember me, do you?’ she said.

‘I can’t say that I do.’

‘It was a couple of weeks ago, dear. You and that policeman moved me on.’

‘Oh, yes,’ said Alice, looking at her more closely. ‘I recognise you now.’

The woman smiled. ‘As soon as you’d gone, I went straight back.’

After a cheerful wave, she strode off down the street. Iris looked after her.

‘Who was that, Alice?’

‘I never knew her name.’

‘She seemed to know you.’

Alice grinned. ‘Let’s just say that you’ve had a new experience, Iris.
You won’t be able to claim that you’ve never met a prostitute now.’

Iris was flabbergasted. ‘So you mean …?’

‘We moved her on from her pitch.’

‘But she looked so respectable and … so healthy.’

‘She looks very different at night when she’s searching for customers.’

‘Goodness me!’ exclaimed Iris. ‘And there she was, right in front of me.’

Alice was amused by her naivety. Iris continued to talk about the woman for the next five minutes. It was only when they paused to cross the road that she changed the subject.

‘What sort of evening did
you
have last night?’

It was a question that Alice had feared because it revived some unpleasant memories. She found it impossible to give an honest answer.

‘We had a lovely time,’ she heard herself saying.

‘How was your brother?’

‘Oh, Paul was starting to behave like his old self. It was a joy to see him.’

Paul had suggested the park because the bus stopped right outside the gate. All that he had to do was to walk down a gravel pathway for a couple of minutes to one of the benches. He was relying on the fact that his letter had actually been delivered that morning and that Mavis would comply with his wishes. It never crossed his mind that she wouldn’t turn up. He was also counting on good weather but, in the event of rain, he hoped that the wrought iron bandstand would give them some protection. As it was, bright sunshine had dispelled the gusting wind and was now lighting up the park, bringing out the birds in profusion. He could hear them twittering merrily away. Paul felt better than he’d been for weeks. Inhaling deeply, he thrust out his
chest. Because of his poor eyesight, he made slow, deliberate progress until he saw the vague outline of the bandstand looming up before him. In younger days, he and Colin Fryatt had played on it many times, daring each other to climb to the very top of its ornate ironwork. It was another reason why he’d selected that particular spot for the meeting. It kindled rich boyhood memories. He and his best friend had enjoyed so many wonderful adventures in the park. A different one now beckoned. Choosing an empty bench, he sat down to wait. Within minutes, he felt a soft hand on his shoulder.

Mavis Tandy had a gentle voice with a trace of a Kentish accent.

‘You must be Paul,’ she said.

Simon Wilder had taken over one of the bedrooms as his study. Marmion was glad that it was so large and had such a high ceiling. He would not have enjoyed spending time with Clissold in a confined space. Although the solicitor claimed that he was there out of curiosity, he was watching Marmion carefully and asking to examine anything that the inspector found. It was inhibiting. Wilder’s threefold passions – dance, theatre and photography – were on display in abundance. The walls were plastered with overlapping posters of dances and plays in which he’d been involved. Marmion noticed the framed poster of Bernard Shaw’s comedy,
You Never Can Tell
. Listed among the cast were the names of Simon Wilder and Catherine Clissold. It was during the run of that play, Marmion remembered, that the couple had first met. Clissold looked over his shoulder.