‘No, it doesn’t.’
‘Why not?’
‘I can’t explain it.’
‘Are you still afraid of them?’
‘Yes, Mother.’
‘But they’re safely locked up.’
‘One of them is,’ said Ruth. ‘The other man is out on bail.’
‘He can’t touch you here.’
‘That’s not the point.’
‘Then what is?’
‘You wouldn’t understand.’
Though Miriam continued to press her for details, her daughter had taken refuge in silence. It was impossible for Ruth to untangle the confused mixture of heightened emotions and irrational fears swirling around inside her. She was taxed by the apparent pointlessness of her existence yet racked by guilt because she had tried to bring it to an end. She felt irredeemably responsible for tarnishing the family’s hitherto spotless reputation.
Miriam reached for what she hoped would be a possible solution to her daughter’s distress, assuring her that everything would seem different when her brother, Daniel, returned. Because there was such a strong bond between them, he had always been able to cheer up his sister. His mere presence, Miriam felt, would act as a fillip to Ruth.
‘He’ll get your Uncle Herman’s letter before long,’ she said.
‘You keep saying that.’
‘Daniel is thousands of miles away. We’re not sure where his regiment actually is at the moment but your uncle will find him somehow.’
Ruth was certain of it. Her uncle was very tenacious and usually got what he wanted in the end. But she had misgivings about the potential return of her brother. While she missed Daniel terribly and longed to have him back home, she feared that the trust between them would be shattered when he learnt what she had tried to do. Shocked by her suicide bid, he would condemn it along with everyone else. Instead of being a loving brother offering her succour, he might turn out to be one more person maintaining a vigil over her.
They heard a car sweep onto the drive and come to a halt. Its door was opened and slammed then footsteps approached. The sound of a key being inserted in the lock told them that it was Herbert Stone, who was allowed to let himself in at any time. He came striding into the living room where the two women were seated on the sofa. Hoping for news about her son, Miriam got to her feet.
‘Is there any word of Daniel?’ she asked, then she saw the mingled fury and sorrow in his face. ‘What’s wrong, Herman?’
‘I’ve just heard appalling news,’ he said. ‘Someone tried to burn down the synagogue last night.’
In view of recent developments, Marmion felt that David Cohen had not been as forthcoming as he should have been with regard to details about the way that the business in Jermyn Street was run. As a result, he decided to call on the former manager at home to press him for more information. Cohen was surprised to find the inspector standing on his threshold when he opened the front door but he quickly recovered his poise and invited the visitor in. They adjourned to the living room. Marmion turned down the offer of refreshment and plunged straight in.
‘Why didn’t you tell me that Mr Stein’s brother had a stake in the firm?’ he asked.
‘It didn’t seem pertinent.’
‘Everything relating to the business is pertinent, Mr Cohen.’
‘I wasn’t deliberately withholding information from you,’ said Cohen. ‘You must make allowance for the circumstances, Inspector. When we talked the first time, I was looking at the shop in which I’d worked for many happy years burnt to the ground. I was overcome by emotion.’
‘I took that into consideration, sir. I still think that you were unnecessarily taciturn when asked how the two brothers got on.’
‘I happen to value the concept of loyalty.’
‘You allowed it to cloud your thinking. I’m sure that you’re as anxious as we are to catch the perpetrators of the crimes but we can’t do that if you conceal vital facts from us. Mr Stein is dead,’ Marmion emphasised. ‘You’re not being disloyal if you tell me that his brother exerted undue influence over him.’
‘Perhaps not,’ conceded the other.
‘So what was the relationship between them?’
David Cohen took time to assemble his answer. Even though he was spending leisure time at home, he was neatly attired in a suit. Marmion wondered if the man ever wore casual clothing. It seemed wholly out of character for him. Cohen began with a warning.
‘What I’m about to tell you, I do so in strictest confidence.’
‘I respect that, sir.’
‘Nobody outside the family is aware of the true situation.’
‘And what situation would that be, Mr Cohen?’
Cohen inflated his chest. ‘The business was not always as successful as it became,’ he admitted as he breathed out. ‘There was a time early on when it ran into difficulties.’
‘Did Mr Stein have a loan from his bank?’
‘He felt it easier to borrow from his brother,’ said Cohen. ‘That way, the bank was kept unaware of the fact that there’d been a wobble in his fortunes. Thanks to the injection of new capital, the business quickly righted itself.’
‘But it remained in debt to Mr Stone.’
‘He was Herman Stein in those days, Inspector, and he was very acquisitive by nature. He believed that his loan had bought him a strong position in the firm. Even after it was repaid, he continued to put in an appearance and keep abreast of the accounts.’
‘That must have been disconcerting for his brother.’
‘It was.’
‘How did the other employees view his interference?’
‘They resented it.’
‘Did they complain?’
‘They left it to Mr Burridge to do that,’ said Cohen. ‘He was the unofficial spokesman and not simply because he was the oldest. Cyril Burridge was a born complainer.’
‘Yes,’ said Marmion with a wry smile, ‘I’ve met the gentleman. I can imagine him speaking out.’ He waited for a response that never came. Cohen was not to be drawn. ‘What do you know about the insurance arrangements for the shop?’
‘Nothing at all, Inspector — I left that to Mr Stein.’
‘Was he punctilious about such things?’
‘Very punctilious,’ replied Cohen.
‘Then I’m bound to ask why he put the arrangements in his brother’s hands.’ Cohen was taken aback. ‘It seems that the whole policy was reviewed a couple of months ago. Thanks to Mr Stone, the shop was carrying much heavier insurance than before.’
Once again, Cohen held back any comment. Marmion could see that the man was startled, yet he refused to express it in words. Nor did he ask how the inspector had come by the information. Insulated by consecutive layers of caution, the manager simply bided his time. Marmion tried to pierce his defences.
‘You didn’t like Mr Burridge, did you?’ he challenged.
‘Is that what he told you?’
‘I deduced it from the way you talked about him.’
‘His work was above reproach, Inspector.’
‘What about his manner?’
‘One learns to accept people’s idiosyncrasies.’
‘Are you claiming that there was no conflict between you?’
‘I was there to make sure that everyone did his job,’ said Cohen, smoothly, ‘and that’s what I did. Mr Burridge is an expert tailor.’
‘Then why didn’t you fight to retain his services?’
‘The decision was not left in my hands.’
‘What if it had been?’
Cohen gave a cold smile. ‘That’s idle speculation and, as such, of no earthly use to us. Mr Burridge left because of a dispute over his wages. I did not hold the purse strings, Inspector.’
‘I’m beginning to wonder what you actually did do,’ said Marmion, irritated by his companion’s habit of dodging questions. ‘You seem to have managed the business with your eyes closed.’
‘I find that remark offensive,’ said Cohen, huffily.
‘Then that makes us quits, sir, because I find your evasiveness equally offensive. I’m trying to find out who killed your employer and all that you can do is to fend me off. Since you can’t give me a straight answer with regard to Mr Burridge, let’s turn to Howard Fine. Were you pleased that he was dismissed?’