said.
‘I can’t promise not to join the WEC.’
‘That’s not what I’m asking, Alice. Your father and I have been very happy and I wouldn’t change him for the world. But I don’t want the same life for you. Promise me that you’ll never marry a policeman.’
Herbert Stone looked so dejected that Marmion took pity on him. Opening a drawer in his desk, the detective took out two glasses and a bottle of brandy. He poured a tot into each glass then offered one to his visitor. With a nod of thanks, Stone took it from him and had a restorative sip. It was late at night. After a visit to the morgue, they were in Marmion’s office. It had been trying enough for Stone to identify the corpse but there was an additional burden for him to carry now. He’d been told that foul play was involved. As well as coping with his own grief, it fell to him to inform the rest of the family that his brother had been stabbed to death.
Taking another sip of brandy, he mastered his sorrow.
‘When can we have the body?’ he asked.
‘That’s a matter for the coroner to decide,’ said Marmion, softly. ‘He’ll want a full post-mortem.’
Stone was dismayed. ‘Does my brother have to be cut to pieces, Inspector? Surely, he’s suffered enough indignity already.’
‘It’s standard procedure in the case of unnatural death, sir.’
‘Our religion enjoins us to bury the deceased as soon as possible. There are strict rituals to observe. Ideally, we’d like to reclaim the body today.’
‘That’s very unlikely, I’m afraid, Mr Stone. The body has far too much to tell us and that takes time. You’ll have to be patient.’
Stone’s anger surfaced again. ‘This wouldn’t have happened if the police had been protecting my brother’s shop, as they should have done. How could you allow such a tragedy to occur?’ he demanded. ‘My brother has led a blameless life. He didn’t deserve to die like this. What kind of police force permits a drunken mob to charge through the streets of London and murder someone with impunity?’
‘The killer will be punished,’ said Marmion with conviction. ‘That’s one thing of which you may rest assured.’
‘How on earth will you find him? It was the random act of someone who hates all Germans. He was one of a crowd. You’ll never pick him out.’
‘I disagree, sir. This was no random murder.’
‘What else could it be, man?’
‘I think it’s the work of someone who took advantage of the situation, using the mob as his cover. He must have known that the shop was a likely target and – more to the point – that your brother might actually be on the premises at the time. There was calculation at work here,’ decided Marmion. ‘That means we’re not looking for an anonymous figure caught up in the attack. We’ll be searching for someone who knew Mr Stein and who had reason to wish him dead.’
‘Are you saying that the murder was planned?’
‘That’s my feeling, sir.’
‘What evidence do you have?’
‘Very little at the moment,’ admitted Marmion, ‘so I’m relying to some extent on intuition. But ask yourself this. If you’re simply intent on breaking into a shop and looting it, why would you carry a knife?’
‘I never thought of that,’ said Stone.
‘We’re looking for a killer who had some kind of grudge againstyour brother – and it may have nothing to do with the fact that he has a German background. Think carefully, sir,’ he urged. ‘You may be able to suggest some names. Did your brother have any enemies?’
Before he spoke, Stone drained the glass of brandy.
‘Of course,’ he said, resignedly. ‘Jacob was a Jew – we always have enemies.’
CHAPTER SIX
When Alice came downstairs for breakfast, she found her mother in the kitchen. Fried bacon was already waiting on a plate in the gas oven and eggs were sizzling in the pan with some tomatoes. Toast was slowly turning brown under the grill.
‘What time did Daddy get back last
Carolyn Keene, Franklin W. Dixon