From her point of view, Keedy saw, there was an element of relief in the decisive break from Waldron. Their secret meetings would no longer be in danger of discovery. While Maud would regret ever getting involved with him, she would have the satisfaction of knowing that they’d never be caught together now. It prompted Keedy to think of his friendship with Alice Marmion. That, too, was fraught with danger. If it ever came to light, her father would be deeply hurt. It might severely damage Keedy’s professional relationship with him. Yet that situation could not continue indefinitely. He and Alice would reach a point where they either decided to go their separate ways or were ready to make a proper commitment to each other. If the latter were the case, they would have to be honest with her parents.
Keedy reflected on his personal problems all the way to the Weavers Arms. It was not yet open for business but Stan Crowther was outside on the pavement, supervising the men who were unloading a delivery of beer from their dray. The landlord gave Keedy a cheerful welcome and took him inside the pub.
‘Before you arrest me for selling watered beer,’ he said with a grin, ‘I’m in the same boat as every other publican. It’s a wartime necessity.’
‘Yes,’ said Keedy, ‘it’s one more reason to hate the Germans.’
‘Have you found out who the killer is yet?’
‘No, but we’ve made an arrest. Horrie Waldron is in custody.’
Crowther gasped. ‘You’re not charging him with the murder, are you?’
‘He’s being held on lesser charges at the moment. Waldron was arrested because we found bloodstains on his trousers that we believe he was wearing on the night of the murder. In fact,’ said Keedy, ‘that’s what I wanted to ask you about. You told me that Waldron was away for a couple of hours that night and that he came back looking much cleaner than usual.’
‘Ha! That wouldn’t be difficult.’
‘Did you, by any chance, notice any blood on him?’
‘The pub was full, Sergeant. I didn’t look at Horrie’s trousers.’
‘But he was wearing the same clothes he had on when he left?’
‘Oh, yes,’ replied Crowther. ‘It’s more or less all he has. I don’t think he’s got a tailor in Savile Row somehow.’ His chortle was replaced by a frown. ‘But I don’t reckon that he’s your killer, I really don’t.’
‘Can you suggest any other way he got that blood on his trousers?’
An innocent question brought a look of guilt into Crowther’s eyes. He took a step backwards and licked his lips before mumbling an answer.
‘No,’ he said, ‘I can’t.’
Claude Chatfield was interested to hear of the latest interview with Waldron but disappointed that it had yielded no definite result. He was desperate to have some positive news to release to the press. Marmion cautioned against an announcement that they had a murder suspect in custody. They needed much more proof that Waldron was involved in some way. Keedy had been sent off in search of it.
‘We need a breakthrough,’ said Chatfield, impatiently.
‘It’s bound to come in due course, Superintendent.’
‘I still think there’s a connection between the two crimes. I know that you don’t believe that, but there’s a similarity that can’t be ignored.’
‘I beg to differ,’ said Marmion. ‘And even if they are linked, Waldron is certainly not a common factor. He may be implicated in the murder but he has no reason to attack Father Howells. I doubt if Waldron’s ever been inside St Leonard’s church. Besides,’ he continued, ‘witnesses who saw the attacker run away from that lane say that he was moving at some speed. That rules out our gravedigger. He’s not fast enough. When he tried to outrun Sergeant Keedy at the cemetery, he was soon overhauled.’
‘What about your other suspect?’
‘Eric Fussell can be linked to both victims, sir.’
‘How did his name get into the curate’s address book?’
‘He declined to answer that.’
‘Do you think that he could run fast?’
‘He’d certainly outpace Waldron,’ said Marmion, ‘though I didn’t take him for a natural athlete. Also, of course, he’s a very careful man. He’d never take the risk of attacking someone at a time when he might be interrupted. And why would he be out late at night? According to Fussell, he and his wife prefer quiet evenings at home.’
‘Did you believe him when he told you that?’
‘Frankly, I treat everything he tells me with suspicion.’
Chatfield nodded and looked down at some notes about the librarian. The two men were in his office and the morning’s newspapers stood in a pile on his desk, each one open at the page on which the superintendent was mentioned by name. After he’d read through the information that Marmion had provided him, he looked up.
‘I think you’re placing too much emphasis on Waldron and not enough on Fussell,’ he decided. ‘You’re slipping up for once. The librarian is the man you should be putting under the microscope. Why aren’t you doing that, Inspector?’
‘As a matter of fact,’ said Marmion, deflecting the criticism, ‘I already am. As of yesterday, Mr Fussell has been placed under observation. A detective will be watching him throughout the day.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me this?’ asked Chatfield, peevishly.
‘I acted on my initiative, sir. I knew that it was exactly the kind of thing that you would have done in my position.’ His smile was as broad as it was mischievous. ‘All that I did was to follow your example.’
Eric Fussell worked until late morning, then left his deputy in charge of the library. As he walked past her towards the exit, his wife looked up in surprise but he didn’t explain where he was going. He left the building, crossed the road and walked to the bus stop. Within minutes, he was climbing onto a bus. Absorbed in thought, he didn’t look out of the window or take note of any of the other passengers. He certainly was not aware of the detective who’d followed him onto the bus and taken a seat at the rear of the vehicle so that he could watch the librarian. After several stops, the bus eventually came to the one that Fussell wanted. Realising where he was, he got up and alighted with a handful of other passengers. All of them set off in the same direction. Making sure that he stayed well back, the detective strolled along in Fussell’s wake.
He followed him all the way to the main entrance of the hospital.
Joe Keedy returned to Scotland Yard in time to see Marmion walking along the corridor towards his office. After an exchange of greetings, the inspector explained that he’d just been summoned by the commissioner who wanted to be brought up to date with the two investigations.
‘And was Chat in there with you?’ asked Keedy.
‘Yes, Joe — he did most of the talking.’
‘And I daresay he took whatever credit was going.’
‘Well,’ said Marmion with amusement, ‘he did give the impression that it was his idea to have Eric Fussell shadowed and I didn’t contradict him.’
They went into Marmion’s office. Keedy heard what had happened during his absence and took particular note of the exchange in his cell with Horrie Waldron. It was the cue for him to relate his story. Marmion was diverted to hear of Maud Crowther’s explosive reaction to the news that her erstwhile beau had been arrested.
‘Did you bring the flowers back with you?’
‘No,’ said Keedy, ‘I threw them in the nearest bin. When I looked closely at them, I could see that one or two had started to wilt. They didn’t come from any shop,’ he reasoned. ‘How could they? Maud found them on her doorstep early this morning. What florist is open at that time? Horrie got them from somewhere else.’