The Stratford Murder by Mike Hollow (best thriller novels of all time .TXT) 📗

be at night than out among the bombs and the fires. The risk of dying is the only thing that makes me feel alive and worthwhile.’

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

On their return to the police station Jago pulled out from under his desk the suitcase that Beryl had entrusted to him the previous day. Cradock gave him a quizzical look.

‘You still think that stuff’s got something to do with this murder, sir?’

‘I’ve no idea, Peter, but it’s the only thing we’ve got that might tell us something about Joan. I’d especially like to find out why she didn’t want Audrey to get her hands on it.’

‘Sounds like we should drop in on Audrey, then, sir.’

‘Indeed we should. Get your coat.’

Jago reckoned it would be quicker to walk than to try taking the car. At this time of the morning the streets would still be blocked by wreckage from the night’s air raids, and it would probably be easier to scramble past any obstructions on foot. His decision was vindicated soon after they set off, when they found their route blocked by a yellow sign saying ‘Danger: unexploded bomb’. They took a side road instead, and from here to their destination the streets were clear. Ten minutes later they were in the living room of 166 Carnarvon Road.

‘I’m sorry to disturb you again, Mrs Lewis,’ said Jago, ‘but I thought you’d want to know the body we found has now been formally identified as your daughter-in-law. Her sister, Beryl, identified her for us. There was no reason for us to doubt it was Joan, but we still have to go through these formalities, just to be certain.’

‘I understand, Inspector. You have your job to do, thankless drudgery though it must be at times.’

This wasn’t the term Jago would have chosen to describe his work, but he hadn’t come here to discuss his professional life with her.

‘There’s something I’d like to ask you, too,’ he continued.

‘Be my guest. But if you’re thinking I can provide you with revealing insights into the deeper workings of young Joan’s mind, I’m afraid you’re in for a disappointment. I can’t say I ever detected much depth to the woman. As I understand it, her job was to walk up and down the aisle and shine a torch onto vacant seats. That says it all, doesn’t it?’

‘You think she was capable of more?’

Audrey shrugged. ‘I think she lacked ambition. Or perhaps she simply lacked ability – I don’t know.’

‘But she was your daughter-in-law.’

‘You don’t need to tell me that. Clearly my son thought a lot more of her than I did, but that was his prerogative as her husband. Unfortunately in this day and age one does not select one’s children’s marriage partners, more’s the pity. They make their bed and regrettably they must lie in it.’

‘It seems she was well regarded by her employer and colleagues.’

‘Was she really? Well, that’s as may be, but I’m afraid it’s a subject I can’t comment on. Now, what else did you want to know?’

Jago picked up the suitcase and showed it to her.

‘Do you recognise this?’ he asked.

‘If you mean do I know what it is, then yes, of course I do. It’s a suitcase, and a rather cheap one too. If you mean do I know whose suitcase it is, then I do not. It’s certainly not mine.’

Jago put the case down again and opened it. He took out the green tunic and handed it to Audrey.

‘Do you recognise this garment?’

Audrey looked at it warily. ‘Where did you get it?’ she said.

‘We were given it by someone Joan had asked to look after it, and we wondered whether you might be able to shed any light on it. I’d like to know whether it might’ve belonged to her husband.’

‘My son, you mean?’

‘Yes – Richard.’

Audrey fell silent. She draped the tunic across her lap and stroked it slowly, then raised it to her face and nuzzled her cheek against it. She seemed to become aware that Jago was watching her and abruptly stopped.

‘Yes,’ she said, putting it down beside her, ‘it was my son’s. She must have stolen it when she moved out of my house.’

‘Stolen it?’

‘Yes, she took it without my permission. It belonged to my son long before he met her. It’s part of who he was when he was younger, not who he is now, and she should have left it with me when she went.’

Jago reached out to take it back, but she snatched it away and held it close to her.

‘I have to take it, Mrs Lewis.’

‘No, you’re not having it. It’s mine. I’m not having anyone—’

‘Anyone what?’

‘I’m not having anyone else get their hands on this. It belongs to me. It’s private.’

‘I’m sorry, Mrs Lewis, but it may be required as evidence in our enquiry.’

‘Evidence? How can this possibly be evidence?’

‘Just let me have it, Mrs Lewis.’

The tone of his voice indicated that this was not a matter for discussion. She slowly handed the tunic to him.

‘Look after it, please, Inspector. I’d like it back when you’ve finished with it.’

‘Thank you, Mrs Lewis. Now, can you tell me about it?’

‘No. I don’t want to talk about it. Just go away and leave me alone.’

‘Very well,’ said Jago, carefully folding the tunic. ‘If you change your mind, let me know – I’d like to have a little more information about this. But I can see it’s important to you and I don’t want to distress you. Goodbye, Mrs Lewis. We’ll see ourselves out.’

‘Well,’ said Jago as he and Cradock walked away from the house. ‘That was interesting.’

‘Certainly was. One minute butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth, next thing I thought she was going to fight you for that stuff. It obviously meant something to her, but I couldn’t tell whether that was a good something or a bad something.’

‘If she’s right and the tunic was Richard’s, maybe it just reminded her of his younger days when the world was a different place and he would’ve been safe,