Under a Lightning Sky, page 20
‘Yes, and he was seen at his post around two in the morning – that was confirmed by neighbours on Dover Street coming in from a night out. We know your sister died between midnight and half past three that morning,’ he said.
‘He could still have got home and … and returned to his post afterwards.’
The inspector frowned. ‘That would have been tight, time-wise, and high risk. The streets were busy that night because of the intensity of the bombing – from ARP men to fire crews – and no one saw a cyclist dashing in either direction. All our enquiries have come to nothing.’
‘So, who do you think did it? This alleged lover?’
‘That is possible. Did your sister give you any reason to suspect she might have been seeing someone? Did she ever mention—’
‘No!’ Penny snapped. But then she remembered Sally recounting seeing Madeline in Soho with a stranger. Penny struggled to believe what Barton was suggesting, but Madeline being pregnant, and that incident, were odd.
Penny was aware of Barton’s forceful gaze as she tried to decide whether to tell him.
‘What is it, Miss Miller?’ he asked.
‘Sorry. Erm, there was something.’ Penny gazed up at him in despair. ‘You need to speak to Sally, my friend,’ she said. ‘She saw Madeline with someone … it was odd because Madeline pretended not to see Sally, acted like she didn’t know her.’
‘Where was this, and when?’ Barton asked, his eyes alight.
‘Soho … it must have been about two weeks ago.’
Barton’s eyes widened. ‘Could your friend have been mistaken?’ he asked.
‘Oh no! Sally is my oldest school friend. She knows … knew Madeline well.’ For a moment, Penny was overwhelmed. All this news about Madeline and confirmation of an affair was difficult to comprehend. Madeline had been a complicated character, but for her to indulge in such sordid behaviour was a shock. Penny could only conclude that Arthur had driven her to it; it was the only explanation that made any sense.
‘Miss Miller? Are you alright?’ Barton asked.
‘Sorry.’ Penny gulped, meeting his concerned gaze. ‘I’m finding it all very hard to process. It’s still so raw.’
‘Murder is a shocking business.’ Barton reached over and gently touched her arm. It was the briefest of gestures, but it was comforting. ‘Do you have someone you can talk to? It might help.’
A lump formed in her throat once more. His kindness threatened to make her cry. He was so kind, showing empathy for her horrible situation. She couldn’t imagine him jilting a poor girl by letter.
After a moment, she said: ‘Yes, Sally. I can’t… My parents are going through hell. I don’t want to burden them. They are still reeling from the news that it wasn’t an accident. I can’t tell my mother about the affair or the baby, not yet, anyway. My father admitted to me he had suspected something was wrong. He’d noticed a change in Madeline. It’s an awful thing to confess, Inspector, but I was so caught up in my own life that I didn’t see the change in her. Now I feel guilty. If I had reached out to her … encouraged her to talk.’ She shrugged. ‘Maybe I could have convinced her to end the affair and none of this would have happened.’
‘I understand, but you can’t think like that. Unfortunately, your sister made some bad choices.’
Penny sighed; it wasn’t easy to hear. ‘You are so right! She was the most headstrong person I’ve ever known.’ After a deep breath, she asked: ‘So, where does that leave your investigation?’
‘I have a hunch that we won’t figure this out until we learn more about your sister’s everyday activities. What she was doing, and where she was going.’
‘And who she was meeting?’ Penny said with a sigh.
Barton quirked his mouth. ‘Well, she must have had a lot of free time with the children out of London.’
‘Yes, she did, but what she did with it, she never told me or my parents,’ Penny said in a flat voice. If only she could help the police in some way. Give them some insight. ‘I’m sorry; I don’t think I’ve helped you much.’
‘On the contrary, you have confirmed what a complicated character your sister was. In some ways, she appears to have led a double life.’
Penny’s heart dropped at the truth in his words. ‘I wish she hadn’t. Her poor boys are the ones who will suffer the most now.’
Barton’s compassionate gaze almost undid her. ‘You’d best get home and get some sleep, Miss Miller,’ he said as they turned back towards where Sergeant Lyle was waiting.
Maybe it was the night’s terrifying experiences, or fatigue, but Penny was exasperated that she couldn’t help find Madeline’s killer. She could sense the inspector was eager to bring Madeline’s killer to justice, and frustrated by the lack of progress in the case. Surely, she must know something that would help? Something was tugging at her subconscious. Something relevant … but what was it? While they walked along, fragments of memory came tantalisingly close only to disappear…
Suddenly, Penny gasped and halted. ‘The box!’
‘Sorry? What box?’
‘My goodness! I almost forgot. My father and I visited Green Street the day after Madeline died. One of the clean-up crew gave us a box of her things. There might be something in it to help you. I was keeping it to give to Arthur, but—’
‘No, no! Do not give the items to him, whatever you do,’ the inspector exclaimed. ‘I’d very much like to see them first.’
25
30th December 1940, London
Sally Hargreaves’ home was in a typical Victorian terraced row of houses. The dwellings, your standard two-up, two-down, had a small patch of garden to the front bordered by railings. All the houses were identical; some showing evidence of care, others a little dowdy. But so far, the street appeared to have escaped the Luftwaffe’s attention. There was even a hint of better weather to come, for here and there, snowdrops peeped out above the ground beneath neatly trimmed hedges.
There was something comforting about the scene, and as he walked along, Jamie realised it was because the street wasn’t dissimilar to where he and Tracey had set up home in Bristol. For a moment, his mind wandered back to happier times, as he recalled their excitement the day they had moved in. As foolish as it had made him feel, he had acted on impulse and picked Tracey up and carried her over the threshold. Her protesting cries of laughter still echoed in his memory…
Pull yourself together, man! There was a time and a place for reminiscences, and this wasn’t it. What was happening to him of late? He was becoming maudlin, always looking inwards. Was it lack of sleep? The Blitz? However, it wasn’t all bad. That chance meeting with Penny Miller last night had cheered him up, hadn’t it? His admiration for her – no, he had to be honest with himself – his attraction to her was growing. It might even tempt him to ask her out. Funny, he hadn’t realised how much he had missed feminine friendship. Yes, a friendship; that was all he wanted for now. Perhaps it was time to move on, as Lyle had suggested? Would Tracey have minded? Certainly, he would not have wanted her to pine for him forever if their roles had been reversed. Penny Miller appeared to be a nice girl, hardworking and, from what he had seen, brave, too. And there was something so enticing about those green eyes…
Jamie checked his notebook. Sally lived at No. 23. During their enquiries about the Miller robbery, Sergeant Lyle had visited Sally to check on Miss Miller’s alibi. Lyle’s impression of the young woman was that she was a reliable witness. With luck, what she might tell Jamie today would help identify Madeline’s lover.
As he drew near the house, Jamie could see a figure kneeling before the front step. The young woman, her blonde head bobbing up and down, was polishing the step with vigorous strokes of a brush. An open tin of Cardinal red polish was on the ground beside her. Jamie stopped at the gate and coughed. The young woman jerked her head around, gave him a half-embarrassed glance, then jumped to her feet. She stepped forward, rubbing her hands on her apron.
‘Detective Inspector Barton?’ she enquired.
‘Yes; Mrs Hargreaves?’ Jamie replied. She nodded and smiled. Jamie produced his warrant card and showed it to her but she barely glanced at it. They shook hands.
Sally looked back at the front door. ‘Baby Elsie is asleep. I have to do these chores when I get the chance. Please come in.’
Jamie followed her inside. Like himself, she couldn’t have had more than a few hours’ sleep since coming off duty, and she had the dark shadows under her eyes to prove it.
‘Thanks for agreeing to see me on such short notice,’ he said.
‘No problem, Inspector. I only hope I can help. Penny and her parents are very dear to me.’ Mrs Hargreaves led the way down a narrow hallway and into a small sitting-room. In the corner, close to the fire, was a pram. A tiny bundle wrapped in a pink blanket was fast asleep, a wee hand peeping out.
‘Elsie,’ Mrs Hargreaves whispered with a smile. ‘My oldest, Ruth, is at school.’
Jamie made appropriate noises, looking down at the baby. ‘We won’t disturb her if we talk?’ he whispered.
‘No, don’t worry; she’s a good sleeper.’ She waved him to a seat, then took the armchair closest to the pram. ‘You said on the phone earlier that you wanted to talk to me about Madeline. I still can’t believe it, frankly. It’s a dreadful business. The family is struggling to come to terms with it all.’
‘Yes, it is a tragic situation, especially for the Fairfax children.’
Sally nodded, glancing at the pram. ‘Poor little mites.’
Jamie sat forward, lacing his fingers. ‘We are following a line of enquiry that is a trifle delicate. We have reason to believe that Mrs Fairfax was involved with another man. Miss Miller has no knowledge of this affair, but she recalled you had seen Madeline with a stranger. I’d like to know more about that incident.’
‘And you think the man I saw was her lover?’
‘It’s possible. Does the news that Madeline Fairfax was having an affair surprise you?’
‘Yes … and no.’ Mrs Hargreaves mulled something over for a few seconds before she continued: ‘Madeline was a strange creature; not really a woman’s woman. She was stunning, of course. I assume you’ve seen photographs of her?’
‘Indeed,’ he replied, but the image in his mind was of the dead woman on the trolley at Southwark Mortuary. Not that that was something he wished to share with the young woman sitting across from him, who was already grey with fatigue.
‘Madeline was vivacious and always very popular with the fellas. The life and soul, you know. But you never felt like you knew the real Madeline. So, to learn she led a secret life doesn’t surprise me. Penny is far more straightforward.’
Jamie nodded his encouragement and had to push down the temptation to ask questions about Penny.
‘Anyway, Madeline was never short of boyfriends, so it was a shock when out of the blue, she announced she was marrying Arthur. He isn’t what I’d call handsome, and he’s a good deal older. He’s from a very well-to-do family, of course, but rather a conservative choice, we all thought.’ Sally shrugged. ‘Perhaps Madeline wanted security or to escape working in the shop?’
‘So, you don’t believe it was a love match?’ Jamie asked.
‘I hate to speak ill of the dead, but no, I never believed that. But I had the luxury of seeing their lives from the outside, if you know what I mean.’
‘I think I do, yes.’
Mrs Hargreaves wrinkled her nose. ‘To be honest, I never feel comfortable around Arthur. There is something a bit off with him. Penny laughs when I say it, but, well, a girl must trust her instincts.’
Jamie nodded sympathetically, thinking the woman’s instincts could be correct. After all, there had been that complaint about Fairfax. Still, that wasn’t why he was here. Fairfax might be a cold, hard man, who spied on young women when the opportunity arose and had abandoned his children on a whim, but none of those things were hanging offences.
‘Would you mind telling me about the incident – when you saw Mrs Fairfax a couple of weeks ago?’ he prompted.
‘Yes, of course. It was very odd, actually, which is why I mentioned it to Penny. I’ve known Madeline for years so I spotted her straightaway that day. She was always so well turned out. Glamorous. I wasn’t mistaken; it was definitely her. So, I called out and waved and I am sure she saw me, but she turned her back and kept talking to this bloke.’ Sally frowned as the baby wiggled in its pram. ‘I was annoyed and hurt, frankly, and went on my way. It was so rude.’ She frowned. ‘It was out of character, too.’
‘Where was this?’ Jamie asked.
‘Corner of Beak Street.’
Beak Street was close to the Wigwam Club, Davy’s place. Jamie’s heart rate shot up.
‘Could you describe the man?’
‘Oh, well, it was a few weeks ago now,’ she replied, chewing on her lower lip.
‘Take your time; tell me what you can remember,’ he said.
‘Dark coloured coat … a hat…’ she trailed off.
‘Did you see his face?’
Sally gave a little gasp. ‘Yes indeed, but only briefly, as Madeline stepped in front of him. The poor man. He had scars all down his right cheek.’
Davy Watson; it had to be! Jamie held his excitement in check. ‘Do you think you could pick the man out in a line-up if we arranged one?’
‘I’d imagine so,’ Sally replied, though her voice resonated with doubt.
Jamie understood how intimidating it might be for her and did his best to give reassurance. They had just made tentative arrangements for the line-up when the child in the pram woke up with a cry, and Jamie knew the interview was over. However, he couldn’t have been happier; he now had a solid reason to bring Watson in.
26
30th December 1940, New Scotland Yard, London
As Jamie approached the front entrance of New Scotland Yard on his return from the Hargreaves’, he spotted Greg Newton, a crime reporter with The Daily Voice. Jamie groaned; he’d had dealings with the man before. He was a nuisance. This was the last thing he needed, Jamie thought. If he were a betting man, odds were that Greg had got wind of the Fairfax murder. Why hadn’t he gone in the back way as usual? Too late now. Newton had seen him.
‘Afternoon, Inspector,’ Greg greeted him.
‘Newton,’ Jamie replied, his tone as discouraging as he could make it. He made to sidestep him.
Newton gave him a sly smile and raised a hand to detain him. ‘Would you have any comment for my readers, Inspector, regarding the brutal murder of Madeline Fairfax?’
Mindful of the DCI and the rollicking he’d receive, Jamie said curtly: ‘I have no comment to make at this time.’
‘Oh, come on, Inspector.’ Again the sly smile. ‘Or do I take it you have no leads, and the investigation is faltering?’
Damn the man! Jamie glared at the journalist. ‘I have no comment to make for operational reasons. Our enquiries are ongoing and we are following several leads.’
‘Can you reassure my readers that there isn’t some mad man going about killing poor unfortunates caught in the bombings?’
‘That’s rubbish and you know it,’ Jamie ground out.
Newton rolled his eyes and put away his notebook. ‘How about off the record? What about the husband … the family?’
‘Newton,’ Jamie barked. ‘Leave them alone. They are grieving. If I hear you have been harassing them, there will be trouble.’
Newton took a step back in mock horror. ‘Hey! No need to be so shirty. Just doing my job.’
Disappointed to have let his temper get the better of him, Jamie replied: ‘And I’m trying to do mine. Good day to you!’
Jamie was only just back behind his desk when a call came through from reception; Miss Miller had arrived to see him. With mild surprise, he realised his heart rate had jumped. Not that it had anything to do with seeing her again. Had it? No, it was the thought of potential clues to Mrs Fairfax’s life that accounted for it. Had to be.
‘Miss Miller is here, Lyle,’ Jamie announced as he stood.
Lyle looked up from his desk; brows raised. ‘So soon! That’s decent of her. I’d have thought the lass would still be in bed after the night she had. Do you want me to look after her?’
If Jamie didn’t know better, he’d say that there was a mischievous look in his sergeant’s eye. He cleared his throat. ‘No need. I’ll just pop down and, uh, talk to her. Won’t be long.’
‘Very good, sir,’ Lyle replied, his lips twitching in amusement. ‘But before you go, something interesting has come in.’
‘Oh?’ Jamie asked, trying not to sound impatient.
‘Do you recall Mr Duckworth?’
‘Yes, the ARP man who told us about the complaint against Fairfax,’ replied Jamie.
‘Yes. However, it turns out the complaint wasn’t about Fairfax at all. It was Higgins, his clerk. It appears they swapped nights quite often, but didn’t always tell the ARP man. Anyway, when the local constabulary investigated the complaint, they discovered it was Higgins on the roof on the night in question and gave him a warning.’
Jamie sighed. ‘Higgins was a strange character right enough. Duckworth was confused then.’
‘Looks like it, sir. It was back in September that the women reported seeing a figure with binoculars, but he was too far away for them to see his face clearly. And I suppose it was an easy mistake for Duckworth to make if the rota said it was meant to be Fairfax on duty that night.’
‘Still, it’s good that we can clear that up. I’d best not keep Miss Miller waiting. Won’t be a jiff.’
‘Take your time, sir,’ Lyle replied with a smirk.
Jamie threw him a dirty look and headed for the door. Out in the corridor, he straightened his tie and ran a hand over his hair, before taking the stairs two steps at a time.
