He and Keedy talked to the curate’s parents but learnt nothing from them that they hadn’t already gleaned from the vicar. Their son kept in regular contact with them by letter but his private life was largely a mystery to them. They, too, were bolstered by the news from the doctor and were eager to be allowed to see the patient again. The detectives left them in the waiting room and drove back to Scotland Yard where Chatfield — true to his word — had a search warrant for them. In the event, it proved unnecessary. When they got to Waldron’s address, the landlord admitted them without even asking to see the warrant.
A big, shambling, flat-faced man, he was clearly used to his tenant’s uneasy relationship with the police and was prepared to tolerate it. Indeed, he had the look of someone who’d had his own brushes with the law and who therefore took any visits from detectives in his stride. After warning them about the smell they’d encounter, he unlocked the basement door and left them to it. They were met by the stink of leftover food, unwashed dishes and rising damp. Keedy opened a window to let in fresh air, noting that the glass hadn’t been cleaned in ages.
‘This is more of a lair than anything else,’ he complained.
‘It’s probably all that he can afford, Joe.’
‘How can anyone live in conditions like these?’
‘Thousands of people do,’ said Marmion, ‘all over London.’
Their search did not take long because Waldron owned little in the way of clothing and nothing in the way of luxuries. His room contained a low bed, a chest of drawers, an upright chair and a wardrobe with scratches on the doors. Tucked away in a drawer they found a couple of shirts, some detached collars, two pairs of socks in need of darning, threadbare underwear, a pack of cards and some tobacco. The only real surprise was in the wardrobe where a new suit hung beside an old coat and a pair of corduroy trousers, shiny through overuse. Also in there was a pair of black shoes and a lone tie. To their amazement, the shoes had been polished to a high sheen.
‘I’ll bet he doesn’t wear those at the cemetery,’ opined Keedy.
‘No,’ agreed Marmion, ‘he saves them for a special occasion and I think we both know what it might be.’
Keedy laughed in astonishment. ‘He wears that suit when he goes calling on Maud Crowther. That’s why it’s here.’ He felt the material. ‘It’s good quality.’
‘Then the probability is that she bought it for him. Waldron could never pay for a bespoke tailor. The rest of his clothing looks like hand-me-downs.’
They turned their attention to the scullery. The larder was almost bare and the drawer beside the sink had only a few items of cutlery. Unwashed plates lay on the table. Potato peelings and other kitchen waste stood in an enamel bowl. It was the trousers that made their visit worthwhile. Taken down from the line, they were now draped over the back of a chair. When he picked them up, Marmion could feel that they were still damp. He held them up to the window and saw the marks on the knees and the shins.
‘What do you think these are, Joe?’ he asked.
‘Bloodstains.’
‘Ask him how they got there.’
The first customer was waiting outside the forge for them. While Jack Dalley unlocked the door and dealt with the man, Percy Fry unharnessed the horse and led him into the stable. He then started work beside his boss. Having driven his wife across to Dalley’s house, Fry had brought him back to Bethnal Green on the cart, a journey that took longer than usual because of heavy traffic. They were both kept busy for hours. Since Elaine Fry was not there, they missed the mid-morning cup of tea that she always brought them. Instead, it was Fry himself who had to make it. When he came back downstairs with the tea, the two men took a break.
‘It was considerate of Elaine to come again,’ said Dalley, ‘and I know that Nancy will appreciate it, but I’m not sure that it was wise. Your wife looked as if she ought to have stayed in bed, Perce.’
‘Elaine will perk up as the day wears on.’
‘We don’t want to impose on her.’
‘She was keen to go, Jack. She felt that she was able to help yesterday.’
‘Oh, she did — no question about that.’
‘Don’t worry about her,’ said Fry. ‘Elaine had plenty of rest last night. In fact, she went to bed almost as soon as we got back yesterday. She sleeps like a baby for ten or eleven hours at a stretch.’
Dalley sipped his tea. ‘I wish that Nancy could do that,’ he said, soulfully. ‘She’s exhausted. She hasn’t had a proper sleep since we heard the news. And that means I have to stay awake most of the night with her. It’s wearing me out.’
‘You could always take another day off.’
‘No thanks, Perce. I’m like my brother-in-law. I’m only happy when I’m doing something. If I stay at home, I have to listen to Nancy saying the same thing over and over again. That’s why I’m so grateful to your wife.’
‘What about that other lady?’ asked Fry, before draining his cup with a loud slurping noise. ‘Is Mrs Skene going to be there today?’
‘I’ve no idea,’ replied Dalley. ‘I never expected her to turn up yesterday. Caroline is a good-hearted woman but we haven’t seen all that much of her in the past. That’s not to say she isn’t welcome,’ he added, quickly. ‘Nancy told me how kind she’d been.’
‘Elaine said the same thing about her.’
‘Women are so much better at comforting someone in distress. Like most men, I suppose, I just don’t know what to do. I always feel as if I’m in the way. My nephew was battered to death yet somehow I couldn’t find the right words to say to his father.’ He hunched his broad shoulders. ‘I felt sort of embarrassed. That’s why I prefer to leave the comforting to people like your wife and Nancy’s cousin. It seems to come naturally to them.’
Caroline Skene was in need of comfort herself at that moment in time. Pacing up and down the front room, she kept pausing to peer out of the window. Her teeth were clenched, her brow corrugated and her mind ablaze. She couldn’t understand why her summons had not been answered. Putting her trust in Marmion, she expected him to respond instantly. Yet it was almost two hours since she made the phone call and he still hadn’t appeared. Was he deliberately keeping her waiting? Or could it be that he’d ignored her request altogether? The thought went through her like an electric shock. Marmion was the one person who could help her. If he abandoned her, she would have nobody to whom she could turn.
It was only when she was alone that she was able to mourn properly. In front of her husband, all that she could show was her natural grief over the death of a relative. Marmion was the one person who’d had some insight into the intense pain she felt over the loss of a young lover. He’d been sympathetic and refrained from even the slightest criticism of her adultery. His sole interest was in solving the crime. He was not there to question her behaviour. That had enabled her to confide in him things that she would never divulge to anyone else.
As she was hit by another wave of grief, she sank down onto the settee. A second later, she jumped to her feet as she heard the sound of a car pulling up outside the house. Caroline ran to the window, saw Marmion getting out of the vehicle and went straight to the front door. When she opened it, she didn’t even hear his apology for being delayed. She simply burst into tears and went into his arms. Easing her gently back, he closed the door then guided her to the front room. He lowered her onto the settee and sat beside her.