Edward Marston: Instrument of Slaughter

‘I was just telling Vera what a wonderful time I had yesterday,’ she said. ‘Thank you once again.’

‘It was a pleasure to have you there,’ returned Hannah. ‘We spend so much of our time in these uniforms that it’s good to remind ourselves now and again that we’re still very feminine. Don’t you agree, Vera?’

‘Yes, yes, I do,’ replied Vera, nervously.

‘We mustn’t let this war turn us into honorary men. That will never do.’

She gave them a farewell nod and walked away. Alice was able to relax. It was all over. Whatever had happened between them at the house was forgotten. She wouldn’t be invited again and she was happy about that.

Alice banged the side of the lorry. ‘Come on, Vera,’ she said, making her friend jump in alarm. ‘We’ve got work to do. Let’s go.’

Caroline Skene was sorely tempted. When she saw her husband putting on his coat to go off to the social club, she had an urge to beg him to stay in for once so that she wouldn’t be left alone. It was an impulse she quickly mastered. To keep him there, she would have had to explain why and she couldn’t do that. Accordingly, she let him put on his cap, adjust it slightly in the mirror, then give her his usual peck on the cheek before he left the house. The moment the door closed behind him, the whole place felt cold, undefended and vulnerable. Marmion had promised to come but she sensed that he was not there yet. Caroline ran straight upstairs to the front bedroom and looked out through a chink in the curtains. She was able to watch her husband stroll along the pavement until he was swallowed by the darkness. The street looked completely empty but she was convinced that her stalker was there. Her heart pounded and a film of perspiration appeared on her brow. The man was out there and she was utterly alone.

For several minutes, she was paralysed. She stood there like a statue, unable to move or to think clearly. When she did regain some control over her limbs, she went to the cupboard where she kept a bottle of whisky hidden behind a pile of clothing. There was a small glass in there as well. Pouring herself a tot, she replaced the bottle and sat on the edge of the bed to sip the whisky. Sharp and reviving, it gave her a temporary courage. She told herself that she was not in danger. The front and back doors of the house were locked. If necessary, she could lock herself into the bedroom as well. Nobody could get in. The stalker would surely tire of standing out there in the cold before too long. She simply had to hold her nerve. A second sip of whisky gave her added strength. Caroline felt that she could, after all, cope with the situation.

A loud noise from downstairs shattered her confidence. What had she heard and was it any kind of threat to her? Could it be that her husband had returned? She went out onto the landing and called his name. There was no answer and the house still felt empty. Draining the glass, she left it on the dressing table and was emboldened enough to go downstairs. It was her home. She ought to feel safe. The living room was empty and there was nobody in the front room. Caroline then went into the kitchen and was startled to see that the door had been forced open. As she moved forward, someone who’d been flattened against the wall came up behind her and put an arm around her throat and a hand over her mouth.

‘Do as you’re told,’ warned a voice. ‘I don’t want to hurt you.’

Caroline almost fainted. He’d come for her at last.

Harvey Marmion asked the driver to pull up around the corner. He and Joe Keedy then got out and split up so that they could enter from either end of the street where the Skene house was located. Someone was loitering immediately opposite it. When Marmion got closer, he saw that a man had simply been waiting while his dog relieved itself against the wheel of a car. The two of them moved off. Having come into the street at the opposite end, Keedy beckoned the inspector over to look at a horse and cart that stood in the shadows. Marmion let his torch play on the painted board at the rear of the vehicle. He read out the bold lettering.

‘Jack Dalley. Blacksmith. Bethnal Green.’

They were in the main bedroom now. Caroline was too terrified either to speak or move. She sat perched on the edge of the bed and his eyes ran hungrily over her.

‘I first saw you at Nora’s wedding,’ he explained. ‘You hardly noticed me but I never let you out of my sight. I found out everything I could about you and I started to watch. I know you better than your husband does, Caroline,’ he said with a snigger. ‘I saw what you did when his back was turned. You let Cyril Ablatt in one night and I watched the light come on in this bedroom. Why him ?’ he cried. ‘Why bother with a mere boy when you could have had me? Well, no matter. You’re mine at last now. I’ve lived with a corpse for too long. I need a real woman.’

As he touched her shoulder, she recoiled. ‘Leave me alone — please .’

‘I’ve earned you,’ he said with a grin, ‘and you can’t refuse me, can you? If you do, I’ll tell your husband what you got up to with Ablatt. Then his father will know and so will everyone else in the family. Everyone will know what Caroline Skene does when she’s on heat like a bitch.’ Grabbing her by the hair, he stole a long, guzzled kiss. She turned away in disgust. ‘You’ll have to get used to that, my love. You’ll be seeing a lot of me on your husband’s club nights. I followed him there so I know where he goes and how long he’s away. That gives us plenty of time.’

He loomed over her and began to take off his coat. She was horrified.

‘It was you, wasn’t it?’ she asked, quailing. ‘You killed Cyril.’

‘Yes, I did,’ he boasted. ‘I wasn’t having him touching you anymore. It was my turn. I saw you walk to the corner with him that night. You didn’t even know I was there, sitting on the cart, did you? I had my chance and I took it. I drove round to the bus stop where he was standing and pretended that I had to take the cart to Jack’s house in Shoreditch. Ablatt recognised me from the forge,’ he went on. ‘When I offered him a lift, he couldn’t get on the cart quick enough. All that I had to do was to drive into a dark corner and murder the little bastard.’ She let out a scream. ‘I hid the body under some sacking and took it to Shoreditch at night.’ As she shrank back in disgust, he tried to justify it. ‘I did it for you , Caroline,’ he insisted. ‘Don’t you understand? I did it for you and me.’

Before she could stop him, he pushed her back on the bed and climbed on top of her. She was pinned down helplessly and his hands were all over her. Because he was thrusting his tongue into her mouth, she couldn’t even cry for help. When he lifted her skirt up to her waist, she felt as if she was about to die.

Then came the knock on the door.

Marmion knew that she was in the house and wondered why she didn’t answer his knock. When he looked upwards, he saw the curtains in the front bedroom twitch. He knocked for the second time but he could still hear nobody coming. As he looked through the letter box, he was able to see into the kitchen. The sight of the open door galvanised him into action. After signalling to Keedy, he ran down the side entry of the house and reached the kitchen door, pausing only long enough to note that it had been forced open. Rushing into the house, he looked up the stairs.

‘Are you up there, Mrs Skene?’ he asked.

Though there was no reply, he knew that she was there. Keeping the torch in his hand to use as a weapon, he thundered up the stairs and went into the main bedroom. Caroline was spreadeagled on the bed with her clothes dishevelled. Before he could ask her what had happened, Marmion was hit from behind by a jemmy. He collapsed on to the carpet.