‘I felt that it was best for the firm.’
‘Why was that, sir?’
‘He was not our sort of tailor.’
‘He was personable, had excellent credentials and came from a good Jewish family. I would have thought he was ideally qualified to work for Jacob Stein.’
‘That was how it seemed at first.’
‘What went wrong, Mr Cohen?’
‘Mr Stone is best placed to answer that, Inspector. He made the decision to terminate his contract.’
‘Did his brother endorse the decision?’
There was a long pause. ‘He came to do so after a while.’
‘So there was some dissension at first — is that correct?’
‘It did cause a ripple or two,’ confessed Cohen. ‘The fact is that both Mr Fine and Mr Burridge were soon replaced with people who did their respective jobs just as well. Until the tragic events of last week, the business was thriving.’
Marmion detected the slightest hint of a smirk around the man’s lips as if Cohen was congratulating himself on the way that he was refraining from committing himself in any way. It prompted the detective to ask a question off the top of his head.
‘Did you see anything of Mr Stone socially, sir?’
‘No, I didn’t.’
‘What about his brother?’
‘Mr Stein and I did have an occasional drink together, Inspector, and my wife and I were privileged to dine with him and Mrs Stein now and again. Also, of course, I worshipped at the same synagogue.’
‘Indeed? Then I have some sad news for you.’
‘Really?’
‘An attempt was made last night to burn it down,’ said Marmion. ‘Luckily, the alarm was quickly raised and the fire brigade got there in time to put out the blaze before it did any significant damage.’
Cohen was distraught. ‘That’s an appalling thing to do!’
‘We’ve mounted a police presence outside the building and warned other synagogues to take precautions against attack.’
‘Do you think attacks are likely elsewhere?’
‘No, Mr Cohen,’ said Marmion, calmly, ‘I don’t believe that they are. I think it’s more than possible that your synagogue was picked out because it was the one that Jacob Stein attended. He’s being persecuted even though he’s now in his grave.’
When she woke up that morning, the problem that she had taken to bed with her was still there to vex her. Who had been following them the previous day? It was a question that tormented Irene. Though she had seen nobody with her own eyes, she put her trust in the instincts of Miss James. Someone had tailed them to the shops. Irene kept asking herself who it was and what his motive could have been. The obvious candidate was Ernie Gill but he lived on the other side of London and had promised not to get into contact with her until she felt ready. The onus was on Irene to arrange their next meeting.
Over her mid-morning cup of coffee at the house, she came round to another explanation and it was not reassuring. The person following them must have been a thief. Seeing someone as vulnerable as Miss James, he had been waiting for an opportunity to snatch her handbag and run off. Irene’s presence stopped him doing that. She agonised over whether or not to confide her fears in the old lady herself, then decided against it. Miss James rarely ventured out alone. She almost invariably had company that would act as protection. The best thing was to forget the whole episode.
As she was deciding how to spend the rest of the day, Irene heard the click of the letter box and the thud of mail hitting the carpet. She went out and picked up three letters, checking the names on them as she walked back to the kitchen. Two were addressed to her sister but one was for her and she recognised the handwriting of her landlady in Liverpool. Using a knife to slit open the envelope, she took out a cutting from the local newspaper. Beneath a photograph of a small house whose windows had been smashed in was an article that made her gasp. When she noted the date given in the article, her blood ran cold. It was too great a coincidence. Her mind was racing. She had something much more sinister to worry about now than being followed by a mysterious stranger.
Thanks to the quick response, the damage to the synagogue had been swiftly curtailed. The fire had gained a purchase on the double doors but had been unable to spread before the fire brigade arrived. That did not minimise the shock felt by those who routinely attended the synagogue. Several of them had come to view the smoke-blackened doors and to weigh up the implications of the attack. Joe Keedy was shown the full extent of the damage by Rabbi Hirsch. When he broke away, the sergeant was confronted by Herbert Stone.
‘What are you going to do about this?’ demanded Stone.
‘As you can see, sir, we’ve assigned two uniformed policemen to stand guard here. That will continue around the clock.’
‘It’s too little, too late. We needed protection beforehand.’
‘We had no indication that the place was in danger.’
‘When the situation is highly volatile, as it is at present, then it’s always in danger. You should have foreseen that, Sergeant.’
‘We’re not fortune-tellers, Mr Stone,’ said Keedy, determined not to be browbeaten. ‘We can’t predict the future. The question you should be asking is not why this synagogue was attacked, but why none of the others in London was singled out.’
Stone blenched. ‘Is that true? Ours is the only one?’
‘Yes, sir.’
Keedy was not pleased to see him. He had simply come to take stock of the damage and to see if there were any clues that pointed to the culprits. Unhappily, there were none so far. A man walking his dog reported seeing a lorry driving away at high speed but it could not definitely be connected with the blaze. Detectives were still going from house to house in the vicinity in search of potential witnesses.
Stone clearly took an almost proprietorial interest in the synagogue and, judging by the way the two men talked together earlier, he seemed to be an intimate friend of Rabbi Hirsch. Since he could not avoid speaking to Stone, Keedy took advantage of the opportunity to question him.
‘I understand that you had more than a passing interest in your brother’s business affairs,’ he said. ‘Is that true, sir?’
Stone’s jaw tightened. ‘What if it is?’
‘You even had some say in who was employed there.’
‘Jacob always turned to me for advice.’
‘It was rather more than advice, Mr Stone. When I interviewed Howard Fine, he told me that you’d dismissed him in person.’
‘He should have gone much sooner,’ said Stone with disdain.
‘Why was that?’
‘He did not belong, Sergeant.’
‘Your brother apparently thought he did.’
‘He was the only one who did. Fine was a disruptive influence.’
‘In what way?’ asked Keedy, surprised. ‘He struck me as a rather harmless and inoffensive fellow.’
‘You didn’t have to work alongside him.’
‘Neither did you, sir.’
‘I picked up the vibrations from the other members of staff,’ said Stone, bristling. ‘Burridge loathed him and — though he was far too well bred to voice his concerns — so did Mr Cohen, the manager. Howard Fine was a mistake. That’s why I sent him on his way.’
‘Do you think that he could be vindictive?’
Stone glared. ‘His type often can be.’
‘What exactly do you mean by “his type”?’ asked Keedy.
‘I leave you to guess. But if you’re asking if he should be treated as a possible suspect, the answer is no. Howard Fine wouldn’t have the guts to seek revenge,’ said Stone, contemptuously. ‘As far as I was concerned, his departure was a case of good riddance to bad rubbish.’
‘Yet he was able to find employment almost immediately.’
‘Then he’s someone else’s problem now.’
Keedy was puzzled. When he’d spoken to Fine, there’d been no hint of vengefulness in the man. He’d accepted his dismissal and found more amenable work elsewhere. Evidently, there had been a deeper rift in the Jermyn Street shop than the tailor had indicated. What had actually happened during his time there, and why was Stone showing such animosity towards a man with whom he hardly ever came into contact? What had Howard Fine done to upset him?