A Lesser Evil - Lesley Pearse [115]
‘I don’t believe that slag of a woman,’ he said viciously. ‘Okay, the Pole is a bit of an odd fish and he lied to us the first time round about where he was at the time of the murder. But he doesn’t strike me as a nonce or a killer. Have you checked to see if Frieda Marchant’s got any form?’
Wallis nodded, and got out his notebook. ‘She has, two counts of receiving back in ’61, and more recently shoplifting. PC Coombs spoke to her neighbours who say she’s a troublemaker, she neglects her kids, and she’ll do or say anything for a few bob. I’d say that someone put her up to this.’
‘So would I,’ Roper sighed, loosening his tie and undoing the top button on his shirt. ‘But who, that’s the question? She’s Alfie’s kind of woman, not that much different to his missus, but he could hardly order her to make mischief for Stan from the prison.
‘She certainly has had some sort of relationship with Stan, and he admits some involvement with the kid, and buying her presents. I’m inclined to believe his story, that he just liked the kid and felt sorry for her, and this is Fat Frieda’s revenge for him turning her down.’
‘Thing is, can we believe his story about oversleeping on the day of the murder?’ Wallis asked. ‘Not one of the men at the council yard would admit he clocked Stan in that morning.’
‘Well, they wouldn’t,’ Roper said, stubbing out his cigarette and lighting another one immediately. ‘Anyone admitting that would get the sack. Besides, Stan’s fingerprints don’t match any of those from the bedroom of number 11, so I think we’ll let the poor sod go. But let’s put Fat Frieda under surveillance. If she was put up to this, she might go calling on them, and with luck it will be someone that was at that card game.’
‘Tell me, guv, do you still think it was Alfie or Molly that killed the kid?’
Roper shook his head wearily. ‘I dunno, Mike. I was a hundred per cent sure. But the more information we get, the more I doubt my own judgement. I almost believed Molly about Frank Ubley, for Christ’s sake! She made it sound so bloody plausible. It was a stroke of luck for him that he’d gone into that flower shop by the tube station. It might have been a different outcome if the shopkeeper hadn’t remembered him taking so long to choose flowers for his wife’s grave. I felt bad that I’d even suspected the poor sod after that. Then this comes up about the Pole! So now…’ He paused to grimace. ‘Well, let’s just say I’m even more confused. Alfie’s the kind that would grass up his grandmother to save his own neck. So why won’t he give the names of the men at that card party?’
‘Is it worth bringing John Bolton in again?’ Wallis asked. ‘I know he couldn’t have done it, but I got the idea he was holding something back.’ He flicked back through his notebook to the notes he’d made when they interviewed Bolton before. ‘“I just didn’t like the company,”’ he read out, and looked at the older officer. ‘That was what he said about the one card game he went to. He wasn’t talking about Alfie, was he? I mean, they grew up in the same street, they were even pals as kids, so he already knew what he was like. So it stands to reason there was someone else there he didn’t like. Reckon we could get him to tell us?’
Roper thought for a moment. He’d known Bolton for around twenty years and liked and respected him, even though he was a villain, for he had charm, humour and courage. Roper had been the arresting officer when Bolton was charged and eventually convicted of a robbery in Hatton Garden some eight years or so ago. Securing a conviction had been a feather in his cap as Bolton was a clever devil, always three steps ahead of the law. He remembered asking Bolton why he’d turned to crime when he could have succeeded in the business world.
‘All the doors were locked,’ he’d replied with a wide grin. ‘By the time I’d learned to pick those locks, I didn’t want to go in there.’
‘It’s worth a try,’ Roper said with