Part 30 (1/2)

Chapter Thirty-three.

The smell of charred timbers hung over the little backstreet on Sunday morning. Inside the Galloway yard office, Inspector John Stanley leaned back in his chair as he addressed the group.

'We've established that it was a body and at the moment we're waiting on the pathologist's report. If it points to foul play, Scotland Yard will have to be called in. That's the usual procedure,' he said matter-of-factly.

George Galloway was busy pouring drinks from a bottle of Scotch. He looked up quickly. 'What about identification?'

The inspector gave his subordinate a quick glance before answering. 'I took a good look at the remains and I would say that the body was charred beyond recognition. The pathologists might be able to come up with something but I'm not too hopeful.'

Detective Sergeant Crawford nodded his agreement. 'It's always a problem with fire victims,' he added. 'Unless there's something noncombustible on the body that would give us a clue to the ident.i.ty.'

'Have you established how the fire was started?' Frank asked the inspector.

The policeman nodded. 'According to the fire people, there was a paraffin lamp in the centre of the stable. They seem to think that's what started the fire. It's quite possible the victim lit it and then knocked it over accidentally.'

'How did he get in?' Frank asked.

'We found a loose board at the rear of the yard,' the detective cut in.

'I thought you fixed all them boards,' George said, glaring at William.

'I did,' the foreman replied sharply.

'Well, I must say, we wouldn't have discovered it if we hadn't tried from the outside,' the detective said in support of William.

Frank looked intently at the police officer. 'You don't really think that the victim was murdered, do you?'

'As I say, we've got to wait for the report.'

George handed out the drinks. The inspector took his gla.s.s and stared thoughtfully at it before swallowing the whisky at a gulp. 'Have you chaps any reason to suspect who the victim might be?' he asked.

George looked at his son Frank and then over at William who was sitting in one corner. 'What about Jack Oxford?' he suggested. 'Could 'e 'ave been kippin' down in the yard, Will?'

William nodded. 'P'raps, George. 'E might 'ave discovered the loose board and got in that way,' he said, trying to hide his sudden sickening misgiving.

'This Jack Oxford, was he an employee of yours?' the inspector enquired.

''E still is,' George answered. 'Oxford's employed as a yard man. 'E does all the odd jobs an' keeps the yard clean.'

'Well, we can soon eliminate Mr Oxford from our enquiries,' the detective said brightly. 'Can we have his address?'

George stroked his chin. 'The man sleeps in a lodgin”ouse, as far as I know. D'yer know which one, Will?'

The foreman shook his head. ''E moves about a lot. Last time I 'eard 'e was kippin' in Tooley Street.'

The detective sergeant was pinching his lower lip. Suddenly he looked up at the inspector. 'Oxford . . . that name rings a bell,' he said. 'I remember interviewing a Mr Oxford when we called at the lodging-houses over that railway death a few years back.'

'You'd better follow that up, Sergeant,' the inspector said quickly, then turned to George Galloway. 'Incidentally, is Mr Oxford a tall man, and is he in the habit of wearing a watch-and-chain at work?'

''E's over six foot I should say, although 'e's got a stoop,' George replied. 'But 'e don't wear a watch-an'-chain, at least I've never seen 'im wearin' one. I don't fink the silly ole sod can tell the time.'

William gave his employer a hard look and turned to the inspector. 'Was there a watch-an'-chain on the body?' he asked.

'If there was it would have melted with the heat,' the inspector answered, fis.h.i.+ng into his pocket. 'We found this in the yard though,' he added, taking out an envelope and turning it out on the desk beside George.

The firm owner suddenly sat up straight in the chair, his eyes bulging. 'That's my watch-an'-chain! I'd know it anywhere. It was stolen from this office a few years ago. That ole b.a.s.t.a.r.d did take it after all,' he growled, turning to William.

'Yer don't know fer sure,' the foreman said quickly.

'It all points to it,' George said emphatically. 'That was Jack Oxford's body yer found an' 'e was wearin' my b.l.o.o.d.y watch.'

The inspector sighed. 'As I said, Mr Galloway, the victim couldn't have been wearing it. It would have melted. That watch was found beneath a charred timber. As you can see the gla.s.s is broken and the hands are damaged but it hasn't actually been in the flames. As a matter of fact it was still attached to a nail in the timber by the chain. In other words, we suspect that the victim took it off and hung it on the nail before getting his head down for the night, and from what you've told us, Mr Tanner, the horse must have kicked out that piece of timber in its fright. You said the side of the stable crashed out into the yard, didn't you?'

William nodded and turned to George. 'I still don't fink that body is Jack Oxford's, an' I don't fink 'e took yer watch in the first place,' he said firmly.

'Tell me, did you report the theft of that watch, Mr Galloway?'

George shook his head. 'I didn't bovver. I thought it might turn up again.'

'Well, it certainly did,' the inspector said with a smile.

George stared down at the damaged timepiece and the little fob medallion. He could see it clearly: the old toff lying on the ground in that alley off the Old Kent Road and the two of them rifling through his pockets. William was gazing down at the watch too. The medallion had brought its original owner bad luck, and it had certainly not been lucky for the man who was wearing it in the yard last night.

'Crawford, will you pop back to Dockhead and check up on Mr Oxford?' the inspector asked. 'I'll wait here for you. I need to go over a few things with these gentlemen.'

The detective scooped up the watch-and-chain and placed it back in the envelope. 'I'd like to check this out,' he said, slipping the envelope into his coat pocket.

William left the office to check on the horses. The upper stable still smelt of smoke although it had been cleaned and fresh straw had been laid in the stalls. The animals seemed a little jumpy to William and he talked quietly to them and patted their manes rea.s.suringly as he walked in and out of the stalls. The horse which had been trapped by its foreleg looked none the worse. William had bandaged its cuts and bruises, and all the horses had been brushed and curry-combed. The gelding was stabled along with the rest. It munched away at its hay unconcernedly as the foreman gently stroked its singed mane. He had been so lucky, he told himself again. Carrie's quick thinking had most probably saved his life. Joe Maitland too had been a hero. He was obviously used to handling horses.

William frowned as he thought of Jack Oxford, wondering whether it really was his body in the stable. He had to admit to himself that it was quite likely. Jack was still in the habit of sneaking into the yard, although he rarely slept there in winter. Of course he had not been about to tell the police that, not in front of Galloway. He had known about the loose plank for a while now. This time it had been less obvious. He had discovered it quite by chance one day when he was replacing another plank that had been damaged by the wheel of a cart and the one next to it sprang out. William had seen that all the nails had been removed and only one shorter nail secured it. It would be easy for someone to give it a sharp kick from the outside and spring the plank from its fastening. Jack had never caused any problems by sleeping in the yard since the trouble over the theft, and was always careful not to be found out. The watch-and-chain was the real mystery. How could it have shown up after all this time? William wondered. It was inconceivable that Jack would wear it in the yard, even if he did take it originally. There must be another answer. Perhaps the police might be able to sort it out, he thought.

One hour later William was summoned back into the office. He noticed that the detective sergeant looked pleased with himself.

'Well, I've some news,' the subordinate said, looking at the inspector for permission to proceed. 'Jack Oxford was staying at the lodging-house in Tooley Street. I spoke to the owner over the phone and he told me that Oxford has been lodging there regularly for the past year or so. Last night he didn't book in. It seems he had a row the previous night with a man known as Fatty Arbuckle. The lodging-house owner told me he threw this Arbuckle character out on his ear as a troublemaker. Mr Oxford might have lodged somewhere else last night or he might have decided to sleep in the stable. I've also got a preliminary report from the pathologist. There's no indication of foul play. They've ascertained however that the victim was around six feet tall, possibly six two. So at the moment it seems quite likely that the body is that of Jack Oxford, although we can't be certain. We can be certain of one thing, though. That watch-and-chain was found on a body we sc.r.a.ped off the railway lines at South Bermondsey. Records show that the man was a tramp and his body was never formally identified, thus the watch-and-chain were not claimed. I don't know if you're aware, but all items not claimed after a certain length of time are sold and the proceeds go to the police widows' and orphans' fund. This watch was sold to a p.a.w.nbroker in Tower Bridge Road. Our station sergeant remembered it by the unusual fob-piece. He went through the records and came up with the information. One of us will be seeing the p.a.w.nbroker first thing tomorrow and he may have some record of who bought it, although it's unlikely.'

George slumped back in his chair, contemplating his whisky-filled gla.s.s. 'Jack Oxford could 'ave nicked the watch an' sold it ter the tramp,' he remarked.

William was beginning to feel irritated by Galloway's insistence that Jack was the thief. 'That watch was nicked by the tramp 'imself,' he a.s.serted. 'If Oxford 'ad taken it in the first place 'e wouldn't 'ave bought it back from the p.a.w.nbroker, surely? Anyway, 'e might be simple-minded but 'e's not a thief.'

George looked hard at the yard foreman. 'Yer've got to admit it's possible Oxford jus' decided ter do 'imself a favour. 'E must o' known it was werf a few bob.'

William stood up quickly, his face flus.h.i.+ng with anger. 'Yer make me sick,' he said in a loud voice. 'The poor ole sod might be dead an' already yer blackin' 'is name. 'Ow long as 'e worked fer yer? An' 'ow many times 'ave yer 'ad anyfing nicked from the office? Yer always on about loyalty. I reckon yer should start finkin' about yer loyalty ter yer workers.'

George was about to respond as William stormed from the office but he checked himself. 'Never mind,' he said to the a.s.sembled company. 'Will's still a bit shook up from last night. 'E'll calm down.'

The inspector nodded. 'From what the fire people told us your foreman did a marvellous job saving those horses. There was another man too, Mr Maitland who lodges in the street. Apparently he helped too.'