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

or singing in male voice choirs, but I never had to go down the pit. Very glad of that I was, too. If I had, it would’ve been at Gresford, and you know what happened there.’

‘The underground explosion.’

‘Yes. Two hundred and sixty-six men killed, including two of my school pals. Six years ago, and I still have dreams that I was in it too.’ For a moment Evans seemed lost in his own thoughts. He sipped his tea, cradling the mug in his hands.

‘And the rest of them aren’t much better off, are they?’ he went on. ‘How is it we’re more than a year into another war, with everyone telling us the country’s got to live off what we can produce, yet half a million of them are out of work? And instead of putting them back into work to dig the coal we need to make the steel for ships and tanks, some bright sparks, English no doubt, are saying they should be dragged out of their villages in the valleys and put to work clearing up the bomb sites in London. It doesn’t make sense.’

Jago felt sorry for Evans, but had to do his job.

‘There’s something I need to ask you, Mr Evans,’ he said, drinking the last of his tea. ‘Could you please show me your pawn ticket?’

Evans looked puzzled. ‘Pawn ticket?’ he asked, as though he’d never heard of such a thing.

‘It’s no good, Mr Evans, we’ve seen the entry in the pawnbroker’s ledger. I’m talking about the pawn ticket he gave you yesterday for two rings.’

‘Ah, that pawn ticket,’ said Evans.

He moved to the mantelpiece over the range, where he reached behind the clock and pulled out a mix of papers. He singled out one small ticket and passed it to Jago.

‘Here it is.’

Jago read out what was written on the ticket: ‘Pawned with W. J. Horncastle, pawnbroker, of 37 Manor Road, West Ham, for the sum of one pound and fifteen shillings, one lady’s wedding ring and one engagement ring.’

He looked Evans in the eye. ‘Now, Mr Evans, tell me how you came by these rings.’

‘They were my grandmother’s,’ Evans replied. ‘I’ve had them since she died, but things have been tight recently – you know how it is. I’d kept them for sentimental reasons, but my wife and I don’t have any children, let alone daughters, so we’ll never have a use for them. I just decided it was time to turn them into some useful cash to help pay for my wife’s train fares out to Epping.’

‘You’re sure they didn’t belong to Joan Lewis, the woman you found dead in her flat in the early hours of Monday morning – the day before this ticket was issued?’

A sudden anger flashed in Evans’s eyes.

‘What are you accusing me of? Stealing them? Why is it people like you can’t leave honest, hard-working men alone? You should be out there catching the real criminals. Why aren’t you doing something about those bloodsuckers on the black market who make money out of other people’s misfortune? Or those blighters in the docks stealing food from under our noses? Why aren’t you cleaning up the streets, getting rid of those immoral women who prowl about luring men into shameful behaviour and wrecking marriages for the sake of money? I’ve tried to live honestly, but all I’ve seen is crooks who flourish, including at my expense. It’s not right.’

Jago listened carefully to what Evans was saying, waited for him to calm down, then continued.

‘When we spoke to you on Monday you were careful to let us know she wasn’t wearing any rings when you found her, weren’t you? You didn’t have time to notice anything else, but you made sure we went away thinking she didn’t have any rings on.’

‘But it’s true, she didn’t. Loads of women have rings like that, but those ones I pawned were my grandmother’s. Ask my wife – she’ll tell you.’

‘But your wife’s not here, is she? Perhaps we’d better continue this conversation down at the station.’

‘I’m happy to carry on whenever and wherever you like, Inspector,’ Evans responded. ‘But look, can’t we talk about this tomorrow? I’m meant to be on duty in half an hour, and if I’m stuck at the police station people might die. It’s my night off tomorrow, so come and see me tomorrow morning when my wife’s back from her sister’s.’

‘How do I know you’ll be here?’

‘Don’t you worry about that. I’m always here when Amy gets back from Epping. She’s more precious to me than anything in the world, and I don’t feel easy until I know she’s safely home.’

Jago studied Evans’s face. He couldn’t help liking the man, but there was something about his easy charm that made it difficult to tell whether he was lying.

‘All right,’ he said at last. ‘I’ll give you the benefit of the doubt. What time does your wife get back from Epping?’

‘She’s always back by half past ten, sometimes sooner if she can get an earlier train. I’m usually home before her, and she doesn’t like to think of me being here cold and tired on my own waiting for her.’

‘Right then, Mr Evans, we’ll be back to see both of you at half past ten tomorrow morning.’

‘Don’t you worry, we’ll be here.’

Evans sounded confident and reassuring, but Jago wondered whether he detected a hint of relief behind the bravado.

CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE

‘This shouldn’t take long,’ said Jago as they pulled up outside Audrey Lewis’s house. ‘That’s assuming Elsie’s in.’

His assumption was proved correct. Elsie Marwell greeted them at the door with a neutral expression that revealed nothing about her feelings on seeing the police return. She invited them in and closed the door behind them.

‘It’s just a quick question I need to ask you, Mrs Marwell,’ said Jago. ‘It won’t take a moment.’

‘Of course. What do you want to know?’

‘You remember we showed you that green tunic yesterday?’

‘Yes,’ she said cautiously.

‘You said you’d never seen it before. But since then