Danger of Defeat: The compelling WWI murder mystery series

PRAISE FOR EDWARD MARSTON

‘A master storyteller’

Daily Mail

‘Packed with characters Dickens would have been proud of. Wonderful [and] well-written’

Time Out

‘Once again Marston has created a credible atmosphere within an intriguing story’

Sunday Telegraph

‘Filled with period detail, the pace is steady and the plot is thick with suspects, solutions and clues. Marston has a real knack for blending detail, character and story with great skill’

Historical Novels Review

‘The past is brought to life with brilliant colours, combined with a perfect whodunnit. Who needs more?’

The Guardian

Danger of Defeat

Edward Marston

In fond memory of my grandfathers,

both of whom fought in the Great War as young men

and who were profoundly changed by the experience

CONTENTS

TITLE PAGE

DEDICATION

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER TWO

CHAPTER THREE

CHAPTER FOUR

CHAPTER FIVE

CHAPTER SIX

CHAPTER SEVEN

CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER NINE

CHAPTER TEN

CHAPTER ELEVEN

CHAPTER TWELVE

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

CHAPTER NINETEEN

CHAPTER TWENTY

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

BY EDWARD MARSTON

COPYRIGHT

CHAPTER ONE

February, 1918

When the telephone rang in the middle of the night, Harvey Marmion was immediately awake. He jumped out of bed, shivered in the cold, grabbed a dressing gown, then pulled it on as he hurried downstairs to pick up the receiver in the hall. Superintendent Claude Chatfield barked orders into his ear. Marmion barely got a word in. When the line went dead, he ran upstairs, dressed quickly and quietly, then left his wife still sleeping soundly in bed. Ellen would understand. An absent husband meant that there was an emergency. Living with a detective inspector had made her accustomed to his sudden disappearances. Marmion was effectively on duty around the clock.

While he waited for the police car to arrive, he tried to process the information that Chatfield had given him. There had been an incident somewhere in Limehouse. A policeman had been shot. Marmion knew the area well. When he had first joined the Metropolitan Police Force, he had pounded the streets of Poplar and Limehouse. Memories of that period in his life flooded back into his mind – bad memories for the most part. It had been hard, unremitting, often dangerous work but he had come to see that it was a good apprenticeship for him. Going back there, however, was bound to generate mixed feelings.

When the police car picked him up, it was driven to the house where Joe Keedy now lived. Marmion used the knocker to rap out a summons. The sergeant responded at once, leaping out of bed, dressing at speed, then tumbling out of the front door before diving into the back seat of the car beside Marmion. The vehicle drove off. Keedy was angry.

‘I hope there’s a bloody good reason to get us up this early,’ he said.

‘There’s the best reason possible, Joe. A police constable has been shot dead.’

‘Oh, I see. That’s different.’

‘He and his partner disturbed burglars in Limehouse.’

‘Did they get away?’

‘No,’ said Marmion. ‘They were tracked to their house. You ought to be grateful to Chat for calling on us. It sounds serious. In any case,’ he joked, ‘what could be nicer than hearing the superintendent’s voice at four in the morning? It was music to my ears.’

Keedy stifled a response. He could think of something far more satisfying to do at that hour of the night, but it involved Marmion’s daughter, Alice, to whom he was engaged. What would be typical police banter with any other colleague was impossible with his future father-in-law.

‘Why did the superintendent pick on us?’

‘We’ve got form, Joe. Don’t you remember that you once persuaded a man not to commit suicide by jumping into the Thames?’

‘That was ages ago.’

‘And I once stopped a drunken husband from slitting his wife’s neck when she dared to argue with him. I simply talked to him quietly until he eventually dropped the knife and burst into tears. Unfortunately,’ said Marmion, ruefully, ‘it doesn’t always end so happily.’

‘More’s the pity!’

‘Something tells me that we’re facing a much bigger crisis this time.’

Keedy closed his eyes. ‘Wake me up when we get there.’

Superintendent Chatfield had reacted to the situation with speed and efficiency. He arrived at the scene to find dozens of uniformed policemen watching a small, terraced house from a safe distance. Inside, he was told, were the three suspects. One of them, at least, possessed a gun and had already shown his readiness to use it. Chatfield had no wish to see another policeman killed so he proceeded with caution. Men had already been deployed to the rear of the house in case the burglars tried to escape that way. He checked on them to see if they had spotted any movement inside or outside the house. Chatfield then returned to the front of the house with his megaphone. Before he could use it to begin negotiations, however, he saw a police car turn into the street and come to a halt. Marmion and Keedy jumped out and ran across to him. Chatfield was glad to see the detectives.

‘Three men are holed up in that house,’ he told them, pointing a finger. ‘I’m hoping to persuade them to come out, but they may have other ideas.’

‘Blimey!’ exclaimed Keedy, looking around. ‘You’ve got plenty of manpower here, sir. It’s like the Siege of Sidney Street.’

Chatfield shook his head. ‘It’s not a bit like it, Sergeant,’ he argued. ‘In that instance, there was a huge police presence, bolstered by officers from the City of London Police and sharpshooters from the Scots Guards. Also, it was three years before the war broke out, so it was easy to rustle up reinforcements. We can’t do that now.’

‘There’s another difference, sir,’ observed Marmion, looking up and down the dark street. ‘Most people are still asleep in their beds. The sound of gunfire in Sidney Street brought everyone out of their houses. The police had a job to control the crowds.’

‘I’m hoping for a peaceful solution,’ said Chatfield. ‘I’ll try to lure them out.’

‘Do we have any idea who they are?’

‘We have a name for one of them. According to a next-door neighbour, he’s Dan Haskins. He rented the house a month or so ago and, apparently, gets on well with everyone. He told the neighbour that he works as a nightwatchman in a factory in Ben Jonson Road.’ Chatfield rolled his eyes. ‘In fact, as we’ve now discovered, he’s a burglar and so are his associates. That’s the other difference between this situation and the one in Sidney Street,’ he went on. ‘In the latter case, we were up against a murderous gang of Latvians. At least the burglars inside this house will understand English.’ He raised the megaphone. ‘It’s time to have a conversation with them.’

When Alice Marmion came downstairs, wiping the sleep from her eyes, her mother had been up for some time. Ellen had lit a fire in the living room and was now making tea in the kitchen. She was pleased that her daughter had spent the night at home for a change. Ordinarily, Alice lived in a rented room several miles away.

‘I’m sorry if the noise woke you up,’ said Ellen.

‘What noise?’

‘The telephone rang.’

‘I didn’t hear it.’

‘You must have heard the police car screeching to a halt outside. That’s what brought me awake. I expect there’s been an emergency of some sort. Your father had to charge off somewhere.’

‘I was fast asleep, Mummy. Never heard a thing. I know that being in the Women’s Police Force can’t compare with what Daddy and Joe do, but spending all day on your feet is very tiring. I was really exhausted last night.’

‘You’ll have to get used to this, Alice.’

‘Used to what?’

‘Waking up and finding there’s nobody in the bed beside you.’

‘I see what you mean.’

‘When you and Joe are married, he’s going to be hauled out in the middle of the night from time to time.’

Alice sighed. ‘I suppose that it’s the price I pay for having a husband who is a Scotland Yard detective. Ah well,’ she added with a smile. ‘There are compensations.’

Crouching in the doorway of a nearby house, megaphone in hand, Chatfield tried to persuade the burglars that there was no escape. Armed policemen stood ready to storm the building, but the superintendent hoped that it would not be necessary. He had persuaded criminals once before that they had no option but surrender. This time, however, his words were having no visible effect. Not a single sound came from the house where Dan Haskins lived.

‘Perhaps they’ve hopped it, sir,’ suggested Marmion.

‘Impossible,’ said Chatfield, tetchily. ‘We’ve got the place surrounded.’

‘Are you quite sure that someone is inside it?’

‘Of course, I am.’

‘Have you seen anyone at the window, sir?’ asked Keedy.

‘No,’ admitted Chatfield, ‘but they were spotted entering the building. A light was switched on in the front bedroom. It went off soon after I arrived. They can hear me perfectly well. Why don’t they answer me?’

‘They must have sneaked off somehow, sir,’ said Keedy.

‘They’re still there, Sergeant. I’d stake my pension on it.’

‘Then what do we do?’

‘We bide our time and make them sweat,’ replied Chatfield. ‘When they least expect it, we’ll batter the door down and catch them napping.’

‘Can I go with them?’ volunteered Keedy, excited by the prospect.

‘You’ve no means of defending yourself.’

‘I’ll have the advantage of surprise.’

‘Leave it to those with firearms,’ advised Marmion.

‘I don’t want to miss all the fun,’ complained Keedy. ‘I’ll take a gun, if you insist. I’ve been trained to use one. The superintendent tried to persuade them to come out and they ignored him. Brute force is the only answer.’

‘It’s too dangerous, Joe.’

‘You know me. I never run away from danger.’

‘Then that’s settled,’ decided Chatfield. ‘After ten minutes, the door will be smashed open, then in you go.’

He summoned two burly policemen, each holding a shotgun. While the superintendent gave them their orders, Marmion was trying to persuade Keedy to reconsider. The last thing he wanted was for his future son-in-law to take such a risk. His words went unheard. Keedy was poised for action. Nothing would stop him. When he was offered a bulldog revolver, he checked to see that it was loaded. Keedy felt invincible. Ten minutes ticked past, then he and the two policemen braced themselves. On a command from the superintendent, the three of them crept forward. One of the policemen used the butt of his shotgun to batter the door open, then Keedy led the way inside.

A gunshot was heard and Keedy howled in pain. Marmion gasped in horror.

After breakfast with her mother, Alice Marmion was about to leave the house and go to work when the telephone rang. Ellen lifted the receiver and spoke into it. Pleased to hear her husband’s voice, she was soon aghast. Alice could see that she was hearing dreadful news. As soon as the call was over, Ellen put down the receiver with a trembling hand.

‘What’s happened, Mummy?’ cried Alice.

‘It’s Joe …’

‘What about him?

‘He’s been shot and rushed to hospital.’

Alice shuddered. She felt as if her whole future was suddenly in doubt.

CHAPTER TWO

Everything happened so quickly. As soon as the three of them rushed into the house, Keedy had been stopped in his tracks by a bullet. It had been fired by a man at the top of the stairs. Before the two policemen could return fire, the burglar had fled the scene. They were torn between pursuing him and helping Keedy to safety. In the event, it was Marmion who came to his friend’s aid. Rushing into the house, he saw Keedy at the bottom of the stairs, lying on his back and groaning in agony. Marmion then became aware of flames crackling in the living room and threatening to spread into the hallway. To confuse the police and cover their escape, the burglars had set the house alight. Getting Keedy out of the building was now of paramount importance. Marmion tried to move him as gently as he could, but he was inflicting more pain on the sergeant. Chatfield stepped in to lend a hand and the two of them eased Keedy out into the street.

A fire had also been lit upstairs so there was no possibility of chasing the occupants of the house. It seemed impossible for them to escape. Did they prefer to be burnt alive than hanged for murder? He looked down at Marmion who was trying to comfort Keedy and stem the bleeding from his wound.

The sound of gunfire had awakened the whole street. It was suddenly filled with anxious people, desperate to know what was going on. Those who lived close to the burning house feared that their homes would soon be engulfed in flames. Panic set in and they demanded action from the police. Chatfield’s attempts at reassuring them fell on deaf ears. Inhabitants of nearby streets came out to swell the numbers. Controlling the baying mob was impossible. It was not long before the clang of fire engines and the noise of an ambulance added to the cacophony. The whole street was in uproar.

Finding a taxi at that time of night was virtually impossible so Ellen Marmion had to try another way to reach the hospital. She and Alice ran to the grocer’s shop and banged on the door. The bald head of Geoffrey Biddle soon appeared through an upstairs window that suddenly opened.

‘We don’t open until eight o’clock,’ he snarled.

‘It’s an emergency,’ cried Ellen. ‘We have to get to Mile End Hospital.’

Biddle’s tone changed at once. ‘Is that you, Mrs Marmion?’

‘Yes – we need a lift. We’re so sorry to call on you like this, but I can’t think of any other way. My daughter’s fiancé has been shot. They’ve rushed him to hospital.’

‘Say no more. I’ll come at once.’

Ellen and Alice stood beside the van parked outside the shop. Geoffrey Biddle’s name was painted on the side of it with the claim that he was a Purveyor of Fine Groceries. To the two women, he was something else at that moment. Biddle was a blessing. They were overwhelmed with gratitude. When he came out of the side door of the house, the grocer, a tall, skinny, red-faced man in his fifties, was wearing pyjamas, dressing gown and slippers. As he unlocked the doors of his van, he apologised that one of them would have to travel in the rear with a collection of empty cardboard boxes. Alice was a willing volunteer.

‘I don’t mind doing that,’ she said. When it had been unlocked, she clambered in through the rear door of the van.

‘We’re so grateful to you,’ said Ellen.

‘Tell me what happened when we’re on the way, Mrs Marmion,’ said Biddle. ‘In a situation like this, I’m glad to help you.’

‘Thank you.’

‘Yes,’ added Alice. ‘Thank you, Mr Biddle.’

‘Get in and don’t apologise. You did the right thing.’

The van was soon shooting away from the kerb.

Mile End Hospital had been built in 1859 as the infirmary for the local workhouse. It was rebuilt some thirty years later and a training school for nurses was added in 1892. Constructed with Victorian solidity, it had an essentially functional air. After the outbreak of war, it had been converted into a military hospital to cope with the constant supply of wounded soldiers brought home from the battlefields. Ambulances arrived there day and night.

Harvey Marmion was pacing up and down in the waiting room, blaming himself for allowing Keedy to go into a place of danger. While he admired the sergeant’s courage, he wished that it had been tempered by discretion, but that would be asking for the impossible. There was a daredevil streak in Keedy that had made him such a fearless detective. His luck had finally run out.

Marmion was still praying that Keedy was out of danger when his wife and daughter were shown into the waiting room. As they ran to him, he put a consoling arm around each of them. Questions poured out of the women.

‘What exactly happened to Joe?’ asked Alice.

‘How badly is he wounded?’ said Ellen.

‘Is he in danger?’

‘What have the doctors said?’

‘Tell us, Daddy,’ pleaded Alice.

After calming them, he took them across to a row of chairs and made them sit down.

‘They think that Joe will pull through,’ he told them.

‘Thank God!’ exclaimed Alice, eyes filling with tears.

‘But he’s going to be out of action for a while – a long while, possibly.’

‘Why bring him here?’ asked Ellen.

‘This was the nearest hospital. He may not be a soldier, but he was wounded while fighting in another war, the one against crime. They were happy to accept him. By the time we got here, Joe had lost a lot of blood. He’s in the operating theatre right now. I daresay they’ll need to remove the bullet first.’ Marmion forced a smile. ‘Don’t fear the worst. Joe is a fighter. He’ll come through this.’

Alice exchanged a look with her mother. They were both quietly terrified.

Keedy lay on the operating table, subdued by an anaesthetic that had removed the pain instantly. The bullet had hit him in the stomach, but the surgeons had yet to establish the full extent of his injuries. One thing was in his favour. He was an unusually fit, strong young man. Also, his limbs were still attached to his body. To surgeons who routinely operated on men with missing arms or legs, it was a welcome change. They knew that Keedy had been injured while trying to arrest one of the burglars involved in the murder of a policeman. Their patient was a hero.

‘Mr Biddle?’ said Marmion in surprise. ‘You came here in the grocer’s van?’

‘It was Mummy’s idea,’ explained Alice. ‘I’d never have thought of asking him.’

‘We’ve been customers there for donkey’s years,’ said Ellen. ‘I felt that he was bound to help us in an emergency – and he did. Even if it meant that Alice had to spend the journey rolling around in the back of the van.’

‘I didn’t mind that, Mummy. It was transport. That’s all that matters.’

‘Where is Mr Biddle now?’ asked Marmion. ‘Is he waiting outside?’

‘No,’ said Ellen. ‘I sent him back home. He has a shop to open. I hoped that we might have a lift back from a police car. You can arrange that, can’t you?’

‘I’ll do my best. We only have a limited supply of vehicles at our disposal, or I’d have sent one to pick you both up.’

‘I’m not going anywhere until I’ve seen Joe,’ said Alice, firmly. ‘I don’t care how long I need to wait. My place is here. Joe would expect it.’

Ellen nodded. ‘And quite rightly.’

Before he could make a comment, Marmion noticed that Claude Chatfield was hovering outside the door. He excused himself and left the room.

‘I blame the superintendent,’ said Ellen. ‘He should never have allowed Joe to go into a house when there was an armed man inside.’

‘Knowing Joe, I fancy that he insisted on going in.’

‘You may be right, Alice.’

‘He’d never turn his back on a challenge. It worries me sometimes.’

‘Yes,’ said Ellen, face puckering with anxiety. ‘Joe Keedy is far too brave for his own good.’

Unaware of what was happening, Keedy was in a world of his own. He didn’t feel the tweezers that were carefully inserted into the wound to extract the bullet or hear the sharp clink as it was dropped into a metal dish.

The two of them had withdrawn to a quiet corner of the entrance hall. When Marmion had given Chatfield the latest news about Keedy, the superintendent told him what had happened back in Limehouse. He spoke through gritted teeth.

‘They got away,’ he admitted.

‘How?’ asked Marmion in amazement. ‘The house was on fire. When the flames were finally doused, I thought that you’d find three charred bodies.’

‘You underestimate them. Dan Haskins – or whatever his real name was – had not been idle. During the time he and his accomplices were staying there, they went up into the attic and carefully removed some of the slates. The gap was covered by a tarpaulin. That was their emergency exit. When they realised that they had to get out of there quickly, they went through the hole, climbed along the roof to the end house and attached a rope to its chimney. While the rest of us were watching the fire blaze away, Haskins and his two friends were shinning down that rope in turns before making a run for it.’

‘The cunning blighters!’

‘Worst of all,’ said Chatfield, ‘they escaped with a substantial haul.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘We’ve had a spate of burgled jewellery shops in the East End. The modus operandi is always the same. Someone saws through the grille on the front window and removes it. They cut out a pane of glass big enough to allow them to climb in. While one of them empties the cheaper items in the window display, the others open the safe and snaffle the expensive stuff. Last night,’ Chatfield went on, ‘they were disturbed. As a result, we have a dead policeman, a wounded detective and a house burnt to a cinder. We’ll also have the press tearing us to pieces for failing to catch any of them. All in all, it was a disaster.’

‘These men were professionals, sir.’

‘Yes, and they made us look like rank amateurs.’

‘Haskins did say that he worked at night. Now we know what he was really doing.’

‘I want them,’ growled Chatfield. ‘This case takes priority from now on. I want all three of those devils caught and trussed up like Christmas turkeys. You can have as many officers as you need. Catch them – and do it soon!’

‘I’ll do my best, sir.’

‘The search starts right now.’

‘It started the moment one of them shot Sergeant Keedy. God willing, he may survive, but I owe it to him to spend every waking hour on the trail of those men. They’re more than criminals to me,’ said Marmion, grimly. ‘I’ll find them. It’s a promise.’

CHAPTER THREE

Left alone in the waiting room, Ellen and Alice began to realise the full implications of what had happened. As a result of being shot, Joe Keedy – even if he survived – might be a permanent invalid, unable to continue as a detective or to take on any other job. Only weeks earlier, he and Alice had finally chosen a house where they could begin married life together. It was small, dowdy, and needed a lot doing to it, but they could see its possibilities. They were thrilled when given the key and undaunted when they made a list of the more immediate repairs necessary. In the time that Keedy had been living there alone, he had already made improvements, working feverishly whenever he could snatch a free hour or two.

‘How much will Joe be able to do now?’ asked Ellen, worriedly.

‘There’s another problem, Mummy,’ said her daughter. ‘How can we afford the rent if he is forced to give up his job? I’ll have to go back to teaching. I’d hate that.’

‘But you used to love the work, Alice.’

‘That was before the war. Things are different now. It would take me away from home all day. Who would look after Joe while I was at school?’

‘I could help.’

‘I’d feel so guilty if that happened. I’ll be Joe’s wife. It’s my duty.’

‘You’re not getting married until June,’ Ellen reminded her. ‘Until then, it would be wrong for you to share the house with him. What would people say?’

‘We’ll have to change the date of the wedding, Mummy. I’m determined to do that. I want to marry Joe as soon as I can,’ she insisted. ‘I’ve waited long enough to become his wife and I’m not waiting any longer. I’ll speak to the vicar as soon as I can and arrange another date.’

‘Won’t you have to discuss it with Joe first?’

‘He’ll agree with me.’

‘You sound very certain of that.’

‘I am, Mummy. What worries me is who will look after him meanwhile.’

‘They’re bound to keep him in hospital for a time. Every bed here is needed