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Unlike most of the people Keedy interviewed, Howard Fine was eager to cooperate. He was a tall, slim, dark-haired man in his twenties, wearing an immaculate suit that the sergeant coveted the moment he set eyes on it. They were in a small featureless room that had no natural light coming in. Seated directly under the lampshade, Fine was bathed in an unreal glow. His handsome clean-shaven face was split by a nervous grin and his hands gesticulated whenever he spoke.

‘How long were you with Mr Stein?’ asked Keedy.

‘Five or six weeks in all, Sergeant.’

‘Did you like it there?’

‘Of course,’ said Fine. ‘It was the sort of job that every tailor dreams of. Jacob Stein has a big reputation in the trade. I couldn’t believe my luck when I was taken on by him.’

‘How did that come about, sir?’

‘There was a vacancy and I applied for it. That’s to say, I was tipped off about the vacancy by my uncle who was kind enough to put in a good word for me with Mr Stein. Not that it was as simple as that,’ Fine went on, anxious to dispel any notion of nepotism. ‘I had to show examples of my work and compete with two others on the shortlist. Eventually, I landed the job.’

‘Did you enjoy it?’

‘Yes and no. I enjoyed the work itself but I never felt that I was fully accepted. I don’t know why, Sergeant. I’m affable by nature and do my best to get along with everyone. Somehow it never worked.’

‘Could you be a little more specific, Mr Fine?’

‘Well,’ said the other, ‘it came down to two people, I suppose. I hardly saw Mr Stein himself but I had to deal with Mr Cohen and Mr Burridge every day. Mr Cohen — he’s the manager — resented me for some reason. He was always criticising my work.’

‘What about Mr Burridge?’

‘He was much more of a problem. I hate arguments, you see, and run a mile if someone confronts me. Mr Burridge was always doing that. He didn’t just resent me — he hated me and I still don’t know why. I mean, I tried my best. What more could they ask?’

‘So,’ said Keedy, wishing that the man would twitch less, ‘there was obviously tension at work.’

‘It wasn’t my fault.’

‘I’m sure it wasn’t, sir.’

‘I was bullied by Mr Burridge and sniped at by Mr Cohen. To tell you the truth, it began to get on my nerves. At least I don’t have that problem in my new post.’

‘And where might that be, Mr Fine?’

‘I work for a bespoke tailor in Brighton,’ said Fine, beaming. ‘It’s not as grand as being in the West End but I’m much happier and I’m able to live at home with my parents. All in all, it’s worked out for the best. Let’s face it,’ he added, lowering his voice, ‘if I’d stayed with Mr Stein, my job would no longer exist. What a tragedy that would have been. Not that it compares with what happened to Mr Stein, of course,’ he said, hastily. ‘I wouldn’t want you to think I’m that self-centred. I was shaken rigid when I heard about the murder. It preyed on my mind for days. I do hope you catch the man who killed him.’

Fine launched himself into a paean of praise about Jacob Stein, saying what an honour it had been to work for him, albeit for only a short time. Keedy let him ramble on for minutes then halted him with a forthright question.

‘Why did he give you the sack?’

Stopped dead in his tracks, Fine looked almost insulted.

‘If Mr Stein liked your work enough to take you on,’ said Keedy, ‘why did he dismiss you?’

‘He didn’t dismiss me,’ said the other, petulantly. ‘If truth be told, he wanted me to stay.’

‘Then who got rid of you — was it Mr Cohen?’

‘No — he didn’t have the authority.’

‘Somebody must have sacked you. Who was it?’

Howard Fine winced, his nervous smile replaced by a grimace.

‘It was Mr Stein’s brother,’ he said. ‘Herbert Stone.’

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Herbert Stone would never win any awards for patience. Once his brother’s funeral was over, and once he felt that he’d convinced Ruth of the seriousness of her sin in attempting suicide, he turned his attention to the investigation once more. Instead of hounding Harvey Marmion directly, he went over the inspector’s head and spoke to the commissioner. They met in the latter’s office at Scotland Yard. Sir Edward Henry gave details of the progress made so far but was unable to announce the arrest either of the killer, or of the man believed to have used petrol to accelerate the blaze. Stone was peeved.

‘Why is it taking so long, Sir Edward?’

‘Evidence has to be pieced together bit by bit.’

‘Put more detectives on the case,’ suggested Stone.

‘That’s not possible,’ explained the commissioner. ‘The events in Jermyn Street are not the only crimes with which we have to deal. There are scores of other cases demanding urgent attention. I’m doing my best to deploy my men to the best advantage but — with a depleted force — I can’t spare any more of them at the moment.’

‘Perhaps I should hire some private detectives.’

‘That’s your right, of course, but I wouldn’t advise it. No private detective has the resources that Scotland Yard can offer, nor the experience of someone like Inspector Marmion. You seem to have forgotten that he’s already solved one serious crime,’ said Sir Edward. ‘Incidentally, how is your niece?’

Stone’s face darkened. ‘Ruth is still suffering badly.’

‘Was she heartened by the news of the two arrests made?’

‘She will be in due course — when she’s pulled herself together.’

‘I’ve dealt with victims of crime for many years,’ said the commissioner, ‘and what I’ve noticed is that their greatest need is for reassurance. They want to feel safe and that the outrage will not occur again. It’s only after those two imperatives have been met that they begin to think about punishment for the offenders.’

‘I’ve thought about nothing else,’ said Stone, icily.

‘In arresting the two men, we’ve given your niece some peace of mind. They no longer represent a threat to her. The healing process can finally begin.’

‘It may not be as easy as that, Sir Edward.’

‘Why not?’

‘Ruth is an unusually sensitive girl.’

Stone did not tell him about the despair into which his niece had sunk, nor did he mention the abortive attempt at killing herself. They were private matters that had to be kept strictly within the family. What he did explain was that, hopefully, Ruth’s brother was on his way home. Stationed with his regiment in Mesopotamia, Daniel Stein had missed his father’s funeral and there was no certainty that word of it had actually reached him because the expedition was on the move. Writing to his nephew’s commanding officer, Stone had asked for compassionate leave so that Daniel could return home to mourn with the rest of the family. He and his sister had always been close. Stone believed that seeing him again might help to bring Ruth out of her depression. Before that could happen, however, Daniel would have to make the long and perilous journey home.

‘This war has played havoc with families,’ observed Sir Edward. ‘And as far as I can see, there’s no end in sight.’

‘Daniel is needed here. I expressed that need in the strongest terms, yet I still haven’t had a response.’

‘Correspondence does go astray, I fear.’

‘Then I’ll keep on sending word until it gets through.’

‘You do that, Mr Stone. Perseverance is everything.’

They chatted for a few more minutes then Stone rose to leave. After a farewell handshake, he moved to the door, pausing when he remembered something.

‘You might tell Inspector Marmion that I’m considering the hire of private detectives,’ he said.

‘Why should I do that?’

‘It might act as a spur to him if he knows he has competition.’

‘Nobody can compete with the inspector,’ said Sir Edward.

‘It won’t be the first time I’ve had to take matters into my own hand,’ explained Stone, pointedly. ‘When one of my warehouses was razed to the ground, I realised that I couldn’t rely on police protection. That’s why I’ve brought in a private firm to guard my property.’ He arched an eyebrow. ‘You might mention that to the inspector as well.’