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

be worthwhile making a slight detour via the park, so jump in.’

Ignoring Cradock’s sigh of disappointment, he drove east down Stratford Broadway and on into Romford Road, then took a turning on the right towards West Ham Park. He pulled up a little short of the park itself.

‘Here we are,’ he said. ‘Out you get.’

With Cradock in his wake he strode up to a green door and knocked on it. After a short wait the door creaked open, and a man greeted them with a smile.

‘Hello, Inspector. How nice to see you.’

‘Good afternoon, Mr Ballantyne. I’d like a quick word, if that’s all right.’

‘Of course. Come in.’

They followed him into the living room.

‘Have you come about your father?’ said Ballantyne. ‘I’ve been thinking about him a lot since you called yesterday, and about the good times we had.’

‘No, I haven’t.’

‘I’m afraid my wife’s just slipped out to the shops somewhere, and I’m not sure where she’s gone or when she’ll be back, but I can make you a cup of tea if you’d like one.’

‘No, thank you. We shan’t be here for long.’

‘Very well, but take a seat at least. How can I help you?’

‘It’s about Joan Lewis,’ said Jago, easing himself onto the comfortable sofa. ‘When we were here yesterday in connection with her murder your wife told us she’d met Joan, but you didn’t mention whether you knew her yourself.’

‘Yes, that’s right. But if I recall correctly, I don’t believe you asked me, Inspector. You seemed to be more interested in my wife’s seances.’

‘Your wife mentioned that you coach young girls who want to be singers.’

‘That’s correct.’

‘It’s come to my attention since then that Joan Lewis was having singing lessons. I’d just like to know whether she was getting those lessons from you.’

‘Ah,’ said Ballantyne. ‘Yes, well, I was rather afraid you might ask that question at the time, but you didn’t, so I, er … well, I suppose I thought I would let that particular sleeping dog lie.’

‘Why?’

‘It was the judgement of an instant, Inspector, the spur of the moment. Had I reflected for a second longer, I might have ventured the information, but I didn’t, and alas, there it is.’

‘So you were giving Joan singing lessons?’

‘Yes, I was.’

‘But why did you prefer to conceal it?’

‘I was afraid there might be a misunderstanding. I suppose I was just nervous about what questions you might ask.’

‘You mean you had something to hide?’

‘Not from you, Inspector, not from you. But you will recall that my wife was present.’

‘So?’

‘Vera means the world to me. I’ve come to depend on her for everything – the truth is, I’d be lost without her. I’ve always loved her, since first I saw her, but in the theatre there are many temptations, and when I was a younger man I, er—’

‘You succumbed?’

‘Let’s just say that I didn’t always make the wisest of choices. But I assure you, all that was a very long time ago, and she forgave me, and I’ve been faithful to her ever since.’

‘So what did you have to worry about?’

‘When you were with us she made some comment to the effect that it’s strange how a young woman can fall for a man old enough to be her father, and I remember wondering why she’d said that. I thought perhaps she suspected me of improper behaviour, that she didn’t trust me, and I was afraid there might be other things you knew about Joan that would make my innocent lessons seem compromising in some way.’

‘You mean you were aware of something potentially compromising about Joan?’

‘No, of course not. I didn’t know anything about Joan’s private life. I was just worried what you might come out with, and I thought the simplest thing would be to keep out of it.’

‘Were you emotionally involved with her?’

‘Absolutely not. Look, Inspector, this is what happened. Joan heard that I gave singing lessons and she asked me to coach her. I said I would, and we started – I would visit her flat once a week. There’s no denying it, she was a pretty girl, and neither can I deny that I could have fallen for her – in my mind I was still the young man I was forty years ago, full of strength and energy. But then I caught myself in the mirror and realised that in fact I’m just a silly old fool. The very idea of it was ridiculous. Besides, she’d shown no interest in me and had neither said nor done anything to lead me on. So I concentrated on helping her to improve her singing, and that was all there was to it. The poor child had a dream of becoming a singer, and I was just doing what I could to help her.’

‘When was the last lesson you gave her?’

‘It was last Wednesday – the Wednesday before she died.’

‘Did you see her after that?’

‘No.’

Jago heard a key turn in the front door, then the sound of it shutting. A woman’s voice cried ‘I’m back’, and the door to the living room opened to reveal Vera Ballantyne.

‘Oh, sorry to disturb you,’ she said.

‘Not at all,’ said Jago. ‘Do come in.’

She smiled and entered the room, depositing a shopping bag on the floor and then sinking into an armchair with a sigh of relief.

‘Don’t let me interrupt you,’ she said. ‘I’ll get you a cup of tea when I’ve recovered.’

‘No thank you, Mrs Ballantyne. That’s very kind, but your husband’s already offered, and I’ve declined.’ He turned back to Ballantyne. ‘Just one last question, if you don’t mind, Mr Ballantyne. Can you tell me where you were on Sunday evening?’

Ballantyne shifted his gaze to the ceiling and looked thoughtful. ‘Sunday? Ah, yes, I was in Birmingham, visiting an old actor friend from my performing days. I went up on the train Sunday morning and got back Monday afternoon.’

‘And your friend will be able to confirm that for us?’

‘Oh, yes. He’s a wonderful man – the sort of chap who’d do