‘Thank God you came!’ she said, grasping his wrist.
‘I wish I could have been here earlier, Mrs Skene,’ he said, looking into the frightened eyes. ‘Why did you want to see me?’
‘It’s a long story, Inspector.’
‘I’ve got plenty of time to listen.’
‘Something terrible happened yesterday,’ she told him. ‘I spent some of it with my cousin, Nancy, trying to calm her down. Then I called on Gerald — that’s Cyril’s father — and stayed a couple of hours with him. I must have left around eight o’clock to make my way back here.’
‘Go on, Mrs Skene,’ he said.
‘I was followed. I didn’t notice anything until I got back to Lambeth, but then I had this prickly feeling that someone was watching me. When I got to the corner of the street, I turned round sharply and saw him move behind a lamp post. I lost my nerve completely then,’ she admitted, ‘and ran all the way here. It was the most awful feeling, Inspector.’
‘Was your husband at home?’
‘Yes — Wilf was here. He’s on early morning shifts this week.’
‘Did you tell him what had happened?’
‘Of course not,’ she said. ‘He didn’t even notice that I was upset. If I’d told my husband, I’d have had to explain why I was followed.’
‘A woman on her own is always at risk of arousing someone’s unwanted interest,’ said Marmion, disappointed that she had nothing more serious to report to him. ‘I’m sorry that you were bothered in that way.’
‘You don’t understand, Inspector. It’s not the first time.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘It’s happened before but … I never really noticed it then. When you’re with someone you love,’ she went on, eyes filming over again, ‘you block out everything else. All I could see — and all I wanted to see — was Cyril.’
‘How do you know that it’s happened before?’
‘I began to remember odd incidents. For example, there was a time when Cyril and I met in a church. I know you’ll think badly of me for doing something like that,’ she said, hastily, ‘but it was the only place we could be together for a little while. We just sat in a pew at the back and held hands — there was nothing more than that.’
‘You don’t have to justify it, Mrs Skene. Tell me about being followed.’
‘It was as we came out,’ she recalled. ‘I saw someone on the opposite side of the road who looked vaguely familiar and it crossed my mind briefly that I might have seen him earlier when we first met that evening. But,’ she continued, ‘I was enjoying the pleasure of being with Cyril so much that I thought no more about it.’
‘And you say that there were other instances?’
‘I think so, Inspector, but I can’t be sure.’
‘What about yesterday? Was the person who stalked you the same man you saw when you came out of that church?’
‘I couldn’t say. On both occasions, I only got a glimpse of him. But there was no doubt about what happened yesterday. I was followed back home. It can only mean one thing,’ she concluded. ‘Someone knows about me and Cyril.’
‘Yet you took great care to be discreet.’
‘Maybe we weren’t discreet enough. Maybe someone saw him coming into this house or leaving it. We were certainly seen together outside that church.’
Marmion pondered. He’d been tempted at first to dismiss her tale as coming from an overheated imagination. The note of hysteria in her voice suggested a woman on the verge of nervous collapse. The more she talked, however, the calmer she sounded and he came to accept that there could well have been recurring instances of surveillance that might have culminated in the murder of Cyril Ablatt. She’d released his wrist now and sat there awaiting his advice.
‘I’d like you to do something for me, Mrs Skene,’ he said. ‘Get paper and pencil then rack your brains. I want you to write down a list of other times when you thought — or had a fleeting suspicion — that the two of you were being watched. If there are enough occasions, we may be able to see a pattern.’
Her face crumpled. ‘I’m terrified, Inspector.’
‘That’s understandable.’
‘As soon as my husband left for work this morning, I went to the police station to ring you. When I lost Cyril, I didn’t think that anything could be worse. But it looks as if it can. Someone has already killed Cyril,’ she said with a shiver, ‘and now he’s after me.’
Keedy had been dropped off at the cemetery. He thought it would be an easy task to locate and arrest Horrie Waldron but he was mistaken. The problem was that the gravedigger saw him first and played hide-and-seek with him. His detailed knowledge of the cemetery allowed him to stay one step ahead of the sergeant. When he realised what was happening, Keedy pretended to give up and walked towards the main entrance. As soon as he reached cover, however, he doubled back in a wide circle. Concealing himself behind a statue, he bided his time until Waldron eventually came back in sight. Keedy gave him a few minutes before sprinting across the turf and grabbing him from behind.
‘Don’t run off this time, Horrie,’ he warned.
‘Let go of me.’
‘If you try to get away again, I’ll handcuff you.’ Keedy released him. ‘I’ve come to place you under arrest.’
Waldron was outraged. ‘What the hell for?’
‘It’s no good playing the innocent. We searched that hole you live in.’
‘You got no right to do that.’
‘It was legal and above board. We had a warrant.’
‘You’ve got a bloody cheek, if you ask me.’
‘I’m glad that you mentioned blood,’ said Keedy. ‘We found the stains you tried to wash off from your trousers.’
‘They weren’t bloodstains,’ said Waldron, wildly. ‘I spilt some tomato sauce on them, that’s all.’
‘You were trying to remove the evidence of your attack on Cyril Ablatt.’
‘That’s ridiculous!’
‘Let’s discuss it when we’ve got you in custody, shall we?’
‘You got to believe me, Sergeant. I never laid a finger on Ablatt.’
Keedy was impervious to his protestations. After reading him his rights, he arrested him and invited Waldron to go with him. The gravedigger held his ground as he weighed up the possibilities. In the end, he seemed to give up and let his head fall to his chest. Without warning, he then gave Keedy a firm push and ran off in the opposite direction, darting between the headstones as if the devil was at his heels. Annoyed at the deception, Keedy gave chase, his greater energy and his longer strides eating up the distance between them. Waldron could hear the footsteps getting closer and closer. He put all his strength into an extra burst but it was in vain. Keedy matched it effortlessly and got close enough to dive forward and tackle the fugitive around the thighs.
Waldron came crashing down to the ground and landed head first, dazing himself momentarily in the process. By the time his head cleared, he found that his wrists had been handcuffed behind his back and that Keedy was holding him down. When he tried to wriggle free, Waldron could hardly move. Keedy stood up and took hold of his collar to haul him upright.
‘That’s another charge, Horrie,’ he said. ‘You resisted arrest.’
‘Piss off!’
‘You’re determined to make it difficult for yourself, aren’t you?’
Waldron was fuming. ‘I swear, on the grave of my mother, that I didn’t touch Ablatt that night.’
Keedy held him by his lapel. ‘So where did those bloodstains come from?’
The question took all of the resistance out of Waldron. His face reddened and his whole body sagged. Shifting his feet uneasily, he turned his face away. After a few moments, he found some vestigial defiance.
‘I’m saying nothing,’ he said.
Caroline Skene took time to go through her memories of times spent with Ablatt. She wrote down a list of incidents, crossing some decisively out then reinstating the odd one after reflection. In the end, she’d remembered six definite occasions when it occurred to her — if only for the briefest of moments — that there might have been someone watching them. She added a seventh, explaining that it referred to a time when Ablatt had arrived at the house and said that he’d had the feeling that he might have been trailed by someone. Since they could see nobody in the street through the window, they dismissed the notion. Caroline now believed they’d been too hasty in doing so. She handed the list to Marmion who read through it.