Her Missing Husband (3 page)

‘Sorry if she woke you,’ said the young woman. ‘She’s hungry. I got a bottle for her here.’ She was delving into a large handbag and finally pulled out a feeding bottle, offering it to the wailing baby, who latched onto it greedily. Jimmy looked across at her, assessing her, as he did every woman, as if she were for sale. Not bad looking, he thought, in a faded sort of way. She had thin blonde hair in drooping curls round a rather wan face, enlivened by a pair of bright blue eyes.

‘There, that’s better, innit, darling?’ cooed the young woman as she settled the baby more comfortably in her arms. She glanced across at Jimmy. ‘It’s hard travelling with a baby,’ she remarked, ‘’specially on yer own. I just been up to visit hubby at RAF Belcaster. Takes for ever getting round the country these days, don’t it? This train’s half an hour late, an’ all!’

With a jolt of horror, Jimmy realised that he must be on the Belcaster to London train,

maybe the very train he’d have taken if he’d decided to go to the station, instead of hitching as far as Birmingham.

‘Suppose it is,’ he said. ‘There’s always hold-ups.’

‘Yeah, well, sommat was up at Belcaster station. There was loads of coppers about.’

‘Really?’ Jimmy tried to sound disinterested. ‘Wonder what they was up to.’

‘Dunno. Looking for someone maybe. Someone or something. All I know is that it made the train late and I’d got on the afternoon one special, ’cos the early one’s always so crowded and I wanted to be sure I got a seat.’ She smiled at Jimmy. ‘Like I said, it’s difficult for a woman on her own, ’specially with the baby.’

‘Yeah, ’spect it is.’ Behind the casual exterior, Jimmy’s mind was racing. He’d picked up a Belcaster to London train. From what this woman said they’d probably found Mavis already. Jimmy looked at his watch. Half past two. They hadn’t caught him at the station, but it didn’t mean that they wouldn’t be looking for him at Euston. They could well be waiting for him when it arrived. As the woman fed her baby, chatting on about living with her mother, a plan began to form in Jimmy’s mind.

‘Your husband stationed at Belcaster, then?’

‘Yeah. Course we couldn’t stay there, Betsy and me, not at the base. We had to stay at a guest house. But Ted had a couple of days’ leave, so we had time together, and little Betsy got to see her daddy properly, didn’t you, poppet?’ The woman glanced down at the baby, still taking her bottle. ‘We’re living with my mum till he gets his demob,’ she went on. ‘He signed on for another five at the end of the war. Seemed to make sense at the time, but I wish he hadn’t now. It ain’t easy coping alone.’ She glanced across at him and said, ‘You married, then?’

‘No,’ said Jimmy, and then almost laughed at the irony of it. No, he wasn’t married... he was a widower! A widower of his own making. ‘No,’ he repeated, ‘I ain’t married.’

‘Never mind.’ The woman gave him a dimpled smile. ‘Won’t be long before some lovely girl snaps up a handsome bloke like you.’

As the train chugged its way to London the woman, whose name he learned was Elsie Tarrant, chatted away about her husband, her mother and much else. Jimmy, while apparently listening, paid scant attention to what she was saying as he planned how this chance meeting might work to his advantage. Her moaning on about how difficult it was to travel on her own with the baby had given him an idea,

‘You being met at the station?’ he asked.

‘No,’ sighed Elsie, ‘We got to take the bus, well, two actually. It ain’t easy with the pushchair and the case, I can tell yer.’ She gave him a brave smile, a smile that lit her face and made her eyes sparkle. ‘But I’m getting used to it now. At least Mum’ll have dinner on the table when we get there.’

This sounded good to Jimmy. If the police were looking for him at the station, they wouldn’t be looking for a soldier with his wife and family.

‘Don’t worry about that,’ he said cheerfully. ‘I’ll give you a hand with your luggage and that, as far as the bus stop.’

‘Will yer?’ Elsie beamed at him. ‘That’s ever so kind!’

The train drew into the station and Jimmy lifted the pushchair and the suitcase down onto the platform. Once Elsie had settled Betsy into the chair, they all set off along the platform, Elsie pushing Betsy and Jimmy walking beside them, carrying her suitcase, his kitbag on his shoulder. At the barrier there were two uniformed policemen, watching as the passengers gave their tickets to the ticket inspector. As they waited to take their turn, Jimmy bent down to the child in the pushchair and said, ‘I’ll bet your grandma’ll be pleased to have you home again.’

Elsie smiled at him. ‘Yeah, she will. She adores little Betsy.’

Police Constable Archer watched as the soldier stroked the child’s cheek. Lovely to see a dad so fond of his kiddy, he thought as they showed their tickets and passed through the barrier. Then he turned his attention back to scanning the crowd for the face of a man travelling alone, a man who’d almost certainly murdered his wife in Belcaster.

Jimmy walked with Elsie out into the street. ‘Where do you have to get your bus?’ he asked.

‘Just round the corner.’

That was good, Jimmy thought. They’d walk away as a family until they were out of sight.

When they reached the stop Elsie said, ‘Which way do you go?’

Jimmy shrugged. ‘Dunno, haven’t decided yet.’

‘Ain’t you got nowhere to stay?’

‘Not yet,’ admitted Jimmy. ‘But don’t worry about me, I’ve got mates here in London, I’ll find somewhere to doss down.’

Thinking of the journey on two buses with pushchair, suitcase and baby, Elsie said, ‘Why don’t you come home with me to Mum’s? You’ve been ever so kind to help me, least we can do is give you some dinner.’

Jimmy looked at her in genuine surprise. He hadn’t expected this, but it suited him very well. Still, he played it cagey.

‘What’ll your mum say, you turning up with some bloke you met on the train?’

‘I’ll tell her I couldn’t’ve managed without you,’ answered Elsie airily. ‘Won’t be a problem.’

‘Well, if you’re sure,’ said Jimmy, instilling uncertainty into his voice.

‘Course I’m sure. Come on, here’s the bus.’

They got on and as Elsie prattled away, Jimmy considered this new turn of events. Once he’d got his feet under the table, Jimmy was pretty sure Elsie and her mother wouldn’t turn him out into the street, for tonight anyway. It would give him breathing space to decide what his next move would be. If he was going disappear he’d need new papers, identity card and ration book. He didn’t know where he was going to get them, but he knew they would be available on the black market somewhere in London.

Elsie’s mother, Edna Carter, was indeed surprised to see her daughter arriving back from visiting her husband with another man in tow. She was a small woman, thin and bony, wearing a wrap-around apron over a sagging brown skirt and yellow jumper. A pair of shrewd brown eyes stared out from her creased face and these she turned on Jimmy Randall.

‘Who’re you?’ she demanded as he folded the pushchair and carried it in through the front door.

‘Mum!’ cries Elsie. ‘This is...’ She paused awkwardly as she realised that she didn’t actually know the name of the soldier who had been so helpful. ‘This is...’

‘John O’Connor,’ supplied Jimmy, using the name he’d given to Sister Agnes the night before.

‘An’ he’s been ever so kind, helping me with the pushchair an’ case an’ that on the train an’ on the bus.’ Elsie, looking at her mother’s stern expression, added a touch defiantly, ‘I brought him home to have his dinner with us. It was the least I could do.’

Her mother shrugged. ‘Well, you’d better come in, then.’

Jimmy, already in the house, simply turned round and shut the front door. Less than twenty-four hours since he’d walked out of the chill of Ship Street he had his feet under the table in a snug little house in London.

*

The morning after the discovery of Mavis Randall’s body, Detective Inspector Marshall called Detective Sergeant Stanton into his office in Belcaster central police station.

‘Well, Stanton, bring me up to speed on our murder. What have we got so far?’

‘The dead woman, Mavis Randall, was married to James, known as Jimmy. She was a widow with two daughters by a previous marriage. Those children were put into the EVER-Care children’s home in Russell Green. She and Randall have a baby son, Richard, who’s now in his grandmother’s care, a Mrs Lily Sharples.’

‘Have you talked to her?’

‘I spoke to her briefly yesterday. It was she who found her daughter’s body.’

‘Ah, yes, I remember. She was at the house when we got there. And what did she have to say?’

‘She’s adamant that Mavis was killed by her husband. She hasn’t a good word to say for him. Says he’s a violent man who often knocked Mavis about.’

‘I’m afraid lots of men do that,’ said Marshall wearily. ‘Doesn’t mean they’re killers.’

‘Well, for what it’s worth, her neighbour said the same.’

‘I see. Anything else?’

‘Not much really. She gave us a couple of names we should follow up – Randall’s father and a bloke who he works with, someone called Charlie. Drinks at the Red Lion.’

‘Have you found them?’

‘Not yet, sir. I’m going back to take a formal statement from Mrs Sharples this morning and then I’ll pay Mr Randall senior a visit. We’ve found his address; he lives in Leyton Street. Could give us a lead.’

‘Doubt if you’ll get any joy there,’ observed Marshall. ‘Even if Randall did go there, he’ll be long gone by now.’

‘I know,’ Stanton agreed with a sigh, ‘but we might get something to go on.’

‘Headed for London, d’you think?’

Stanton shrugged. ‘It’s what I’d do. We had men watching the station yesterday, but there was no sign of him there. The problem is, though we have a description of him we haven’t a photo so they didn’t really know who they were looking for.’

‘And the London end?’

‘They had men watching the barrier,’ Stanton replied, ‘but, as far as we know, no one fitting his description arrived on either of the Belcaster trains.’

‘Hmm, well, keep at it,’ said his boss. ‘And don’t forget to ask Mrs Sharples for a photo. Her or Randall senior. One of them must have one.’

‘I won’t.’

Stanton got to his feet and was already at the door when Marshall said, ‘Have you talked to those on patrol that night? To see if anyone saw him? There’d have been no reason to stop him, but someone might have seen him somewhere. Who was on duty?’

‘Don’t know, sir, it’s being checked.’

Stanton left the office and taking Constable Chapman with him, set out to visit Lily Sharples. He learned little more than he had the previous day, but this time it was put in a signed statement. Mrs Sharples produced a photo, showing the bride and groom, happy together on their wedding day.

‘May I take this? Stanton asked. ‘I’ll return it to you as soon as we’ve made copies.’

‘I don’t want it back,’ Lily said. ‘I never want to see him again.’

Stanton sent Chapman back to the station with the statement, the photo and orders to check if any of the night shift had caught sight of Jimmy, or anyone who might possibly be Jimmy.

‘Check the incident book. See if anything looks likely. If so, get on to whoever filed it and find out more.’

His own next stop was Leyton Road to speak to Mr Sidney Randall. He knocked on the door and waited. He was about to knock again when it was opened by an elderly man, still dressed in his pyjamas.

‘Mr Randall?’

‘Who wants to know?’ demanded the old man.

Stanton showed him his warrant card. ‘Just wanted to have a word with you,’ he said. ‘Can I come in?’

‘I’m not up yet,’ came the reply. ‘Come back later.’

‘I’m sorry, Mr Randall, but I’m afraid what I have to discuss with you can’t wait. It relates to your son, Jimmy.’

The old man raised rheumy eyes and said, ‘Jimmy? Jimmy ain’t here. He don’t live here. He’ll be at work.’

‘Where does he work?’

‘I dunno, on the sites somewhere. Different on different days. Probably catch him in the Red Lion this evening.’

‘Thank you, that’s most helpful, but I’m sorry, Mr Randall, I still need to talk to you and it’d be much better if we didn’t have our conversation on your doorstep.’

With a sigh, Sidney Randall stood aside and let the sergeant into the house. There Stanton’s nose was assailed by a rank smell that permeated the house, a combination of damp, stale air, garbage and unwashed old man. Sidney led him into the kitchen, where the smell was even stronger, and sat down at the table. Stanton pulled out a chair and sat down opposite.

‘Well? What d’you want, then?’ Sidney stared at him belligerently.

‘It’s about your son, Jimmy. When did you see him last?’

The old man shrugged. ‘Dunno, sometime last week.’

‘Last week?’

‘Yeah, he come round Tuesday it was... or Wednesday. Why?’

‘What did he come for?’

‘What d’you think? To borrow money, of course. It’s what he always comes for.’

‘And did you lend him any?’

‘Few bob. Not much, I ain’t got much, ’ave I?’ He gestured to his dismal surroundings. ‘What’s it to you?’

‘And that was the last time you saw him?’

‘Yeah, an’ he won’t come back till he’s broke again. What d’yer think, he comes out of love for his old man, do yer?’

Stanton ignored the question and said, ‘Do you see much of your daughter-in-law?’

Sidney looked surprised. ‘What, that Mavis? Nah, she don’t come round here.’

‘Not even with the baby?’ Looking round him at the dreadful state of the kitchen, Stanton wasn’t surprised, but he tried to sound so.

‘Not keen on babies,’ sniffed the old man. ‘Be all right when he’s a bit bigger, I s’pose. Perhaps she’ll bring him then.’

There was nothing in Sidney Randall’s words or demeanour to show that he knew anything about Mavis’s fate, but even so Stanton was sure he did. It was his eyes. Watery though they were, they had an animal cunning and something lurked at the back of them, a wariness, a spark of triumph at putting one over on a cop, maybe? Sidney Randall was certainly not the sort of man to assist the police in any enquiry.

‘What d’yer want to know about her for?’ Randall asked, as if the thought had just struck him. ‘And Jimmy, you ain’t told me yet why yer asking about him.’