‘Nothing unusual there.’
‘Howard Fine was appointed by Mr Stein then dismissed by his brother. Why?’
‘Ask Mr Stone.’
‘My colleague, Sergeant Keedy, did just that, sir. Mr Stone said that he simply didn’t belong and was causing unease among the rest of the staff.’
‘There’s your answer.’
‘He didn’t explain why Mr Fine didn’t fit in.’
Burridge gave him a shrewd look. Marmion had the feeling that he would not get a reply but he was mistaken. After thinking it over, the tailor eventually spoke, lowering his voice as he did so.
‘Have you met Howard Fine, Inspector?’
‘No,’ said Marmion, ‘he was interviewed by Sergeant Keedy.’
‘And is the sergeant a man of the world?’
‘I’d say that was a fair description of him, sir.’
‘Then I’m surprised he didn’t notice something about Howard. On the other hand,’ Burridge continued, ‘it got past Mr Stein as well. Howard were very good at concealing it.’
‘What are you talking about, Mr Burridge?’
‘Howard Fine talked endlessly about his wife.’
‘Is there any law against that, sir?’
‘No, Inspector. It just seems an odd thing to do when you’re not actually married.’
‘Do you mean that he was just living with a woman?’
‘Howard were not interested in women,’ said Burridge, sourly. ‘Only in men like him.’
Careful not to advertise his destination, Howard Fine asked the taxi driver to drop him off outside a bank. He paid his fare and waited until the taxi had driven away before walking around the corner. Impeccably dressed and carrying a cane, he strolled gently along the pavement until he came to a large house with steps leading up to the front door. He paused to make sure that nobody was watching him then he went up the steps. The door opened before he even reached it. The steward was a dapper individual in his forties.
‘Good evening, Mr Fine,’ he said, standing aside to let his visitor step into the hall. ‘We haven’t seen you for a while, sir.’
‘I had to spend a week or so in London,’ said Fine.
After closing the door, the steward took his hat and cane.
‘We’re glad to have you back in Brighton, sir.’
‘I’m very glad to be back.’
Keedy was startled. ‘Are you telling me what I think you’re telling me?’
‘I’m only reporting what Mr Burridge said to me.’
‘How reliable are his instincts?’
‘I don’t think he’d make a mistake about a thing like that.’
‘Then I shouldn’t have done so either.’
‘You weren’t looking for it, Joe,’ said Marmion.
‘There were signs, Harv. I should have spotted them.’
The detectives had met in a pub at the end of an eventful day to share a drink and compare notes. Glad to be back in his own clothing again, Keedy was in a good mood until he was jolted out of it by the news that Marmion had just passed on. He ran a hand through his hair and pursed his lips.
‘That explains why Mr Stone dismissed him,’ he said.
‘Yes, I don’t think he’d have any sympathy for gentlemen of that persuasion,’ said Marmion. ‘I fancy that the actual dismissal would have been nasty, brutish and short.’
‘Then why did Fine have no recriminations about it?’
‘That’s a good question, Joe.’
‘He gave me the impression that he was glad he left and that he’d found a better situation. I got the feeling that he might have enjoyed working in Jermyn Street much more if Cyril Burridge hadn’t constantly bullied him.’
‘Now we know why Burridge acted like that.’
‘Yes, Harv, he doesn’t sound as if he believes in tolerance.’
‘Burridge wouldn’t know the meaning of the word.’
Keedy took a long swig of his beer and smacked his lips.
‘After the day we’ve had,’ he said with feeling, ‘that tastes better than ever. I don’t know how you can drink whisky when there’s beer of this quality to be had.’
Marmion raised his glass. ‘I prefer it, Joe.’
They sipped their drinks and fell into a companionable silence. The pub was frequented by detectives from Scotland Yard and they could see several of their colleagues. Keedy was already close to finishing his first pint but Marmion was nursing his whisky and soda and taking only an occasional taste. It was Keedy who resumed the conversation.
‘So where do we go from here?’ he asked.
‘I would have thought that was obvious.’
‘You want me to interview Mr Fine again?’
‘He needs looking at more closely, Joe. He certainly has cause to bear a grudge against Mr Stone.’
‘Perhaps it was him who removed the wheels on that car.’
‘I doubt that,’ said Marmion. ‘Everything I’ve heard about Howard Fine suggests that he’s not a man to get his hands dirty.’
‘He could have paid someone else to do it.’
‘It seems like a paltry form of revenge.’
‘Not if you’re the owner of the car,’ said Keedy. ‘Mr Stone was livid, apparently. His car is a symbol of his success, Harv. It must have hurt his pride when he saw the damage.’
Marmion seemed to go off into a trance for a while. When he eventually came out of it, he saw that Keedy had finished his drink.
‘My round, I think,’ he said.
‘Tell me what you were thinking first. You were miles away.’
‘Oh, it was nothing.’
‘It was something to do with the case, if I know you.’
‘It was, Joe,’ admitted Marmion. ‘I was just thinking how much easier it would be if it was the other brother who was murdered.’
‘Herbert Stone?’
‘Yes — at least we’d have plenty of suspects. Everyone seems to have a motive for killing him. Jacob Stein, however, had no real enemies — or, at least, none that we’ve so far found.’
‘Howard Fine might be a candidate. Then there’s Burridge.’
‘Both will bear closer investigation.’
‘You know what I think, Harv,’ said Keedy. ‘If I was a betting man, I’d put money on one of those anti-Semitic groups.’
‘Have you been sifting through them?’
‘Yes — thanks to your brother. He was very helpful.’
‘Ray gets to see the seamy side of life in his job. And people trust him in a way that they wouldn’t do with the police. If Ray gives you information,’ said Marmion, ‘it’s reliable.’
‘With your permission, I’d like to send some men off to do some sniffing around. It may be possible to infiltrate some of these groups.’
‘Choose them with care, Joe. We don’t have the manpower to cover them all.’ After a long sip of his drink, he rose to his feet and picked up Keedy’s empty tankard. ‘Let me get you another.’
‘Thanks, Harv. Oh, by the way, who won the argument?’
‘What argument?’
‘You remember — the one that you and Ellen had earlier today when we called in at the house. When Alice announced her decision, you took it in your stride. Ellen wasn’t happy about that.’
Marmion chuckled. ‘She certainly wasn’t.’
‘So who won the argument?’
‘I suppose that I did, Joe.’
‘You mean that your wife has accepted the decision now?’
‘No,’ said Marmion, ‘I mean that Ellen came to see that my strategy is best. Now that Alice has made her decision, it’s the worst possible time to tackle her. She’s full of enthusiasm for the idea. Any opposition would only encourage her. Give her a few weeks, however,’ he went on, ‘and she may be more vulnerable to persuasion. There’s a long time to go before the end of term. We must bide our time.’
‘You’re a cunning old fox.’
‘My strategy may not work, of course.’
‘I’m sure it won’t.’
‘What makes you think that?’
‘I had a long talk with Alice earlier on,’ said Keedy. ‘She takes after you, Harv. When she’s set on a course of action, she’ll stick to it, come hell or high water.’
Alice was a voracious reader. She liked nothing better of an evening than to bury her head in a book. Ellen did not interrupt her. Though she was sorely tempted to raise the subject of the Women’s Emergency Corps, she held back on her husband’s advice. While Alice was reading, her mother sat beside her sewing basket and repaired items of clothing. She’d just finished putting a button on Marmion’s trousers when her daughter looked up.