Murder at the National Gallery by Jim Eldridge

Author:Jim Eldridge [Eldridge, Jim]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Allison and Busby
Published: 2021-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY

Lily Wallace stood in the doorway of the narrow terraced house in Nelson Place, a sleeping baby in her arms and a little girl of about two hanging onto her skirt. The little girl looked up at Inspector Feather and the uniformed police constable with undisguised curiosity, her mouth open in wonder. Perhaps she’d never seen a police constable up close before. The police in Whitechapel tended to keep away from narrow streets and lanes unless there was a call for help or an alarm raised.

Lily Wallace shook her head. ‘No, Joe ain’t here.’

‘Do you know where he is?’

‘At work, I expect.’

‘He’s not at Ramsden’s or at Higgins’,’ Feather told her.

She shrugged. ‘I expect he’s gone somewhere else, then. Joe works casual. Different places, different people. There’s loads of butchers in this part of London. Everyone wants meat.’

Feather nodded.

‘Thank you, Mrs Wallace. Will you tell Joe I called looking for him?’

‘What’s it about?’ she asked.

‘Just a few questions,’ said Feather blandly. ‘We’re interested in someone Joe might know.’

‘Who?’

‘I’m afraid we can’t say at the moment, but hopefully Joe will be able to help us. I’ve left my card at Higgins in Cable Street for him.’

He doffed his hat, then he and the constable walked off.

Lily Wallace shut the door then walked through the house and out into the backyard and the outside toilet. She banged on the wooden door.

‘It’s all right, Joe,’ she said. ‘They’ve gone.’

She heard the bolt inside being drawn back, then the door opened and Joe Wallace peered out nervously.

‘What did they want?’

‘They didn’t say. Just said they wanted to talk to you about some bloke you might know.’

Wallace gave a sarcastic laugh and stepped out of the outhouse. ‘Yeh, right!’

‘He was from Scotland Yard. Called himself Inspector Feather. Said he’d left his card for you at Higgins.’ She looked at him suspiciously. ‘What’s going on, Joe?’

‘Nothing, Lil. It’s all a mistake. Someone’s been spreading lies about me.’

‘About what?’

‘About nothing.’

‘It ain’t nothing if the police are calling!’

‘Don’t worry, I’m going to get this sorted out.’

‘How?’

‘There’s a bloke I know. He’ll sort it out for me. I’ll go and see him.’

‘Where?’

‘Up west.’

‘Is this that rich bloke who keeps coming round?’

‘What rich bloke?’ asked Wallace uncomfortably.

‘Oh, come on, Joe! I’m not an idiot. Twice now you’ve said you had some private work to do, and both times this carriage pulls up at the end of the street. Don’t think I haven’t seen it.’

‘Have you been spying on me?’

‘I’ve got a right to know what you’re up to when you go off like that. After the first time I wondered if it might be some fancy woman.’

‘Don’t be daft. And I bought money back with me, didn’t I?’

‘Yeh, but I wondered what for.’

‘Lil, how can you think that about me? It was a butchery job. A private one. This bloke wanted some meat cut up in a special way at his place.’ He looked at her suspiciously. ‘How did you know it was a rich bloke?’

‘With that carriage?’

‘Yeh, but

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