won’t let you do that.’
‘She’s my mother, Becky.’
‘A woman who looked down on me and said that I was not fit to be your wife. She insulted me.’
‘Only because she didn’t know you properly.’
‘She didn’t want to know me.’
‘I can’t turn my back on her,’ he said, earnestly.
‘You managed to do it before.’
‘That was because of my father.’
There was a long, silent battle between them and Colbeck did not interfere. Michael Guttridge was at last afflicted by a modicum of guilt. His wife remained cold and unforgiving. At length, however, she did consent to take his hand and receive a conciliatory kiss on the cheek. Colbeck chose the moment to speak up again.
‘I came to ask you a favour, Mr Guttridge,’ he said.
‘Eames,’ attested his wife. ‘Everyone knows us under that name.’
‘Listen to what the Inspector has to say,’ said her husband.
‘Someone has to identify the body,’ explained Colbeck, ‘and your mother is not able to do that. It will only take a few moments but it has to be done for legal reasons. Would you consent to come to the morgue to make that identification?’
Guttridge was uncertain. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Let her go,’ said Rebecca. ‘It’s not your place.’
‘In the absence of the wife, an only son is the obvious person,’ remarked Colbeck. ‘It’s crucial that we have the right name on the death certificate. A false one will not suffice. We don’t want to compel a family member to perform this duty,’ he cautioned, ‘but it may come to that.’
The young carpenter walked to the window and looked out into the darkness. His wife stood at his shoulder and whispered something in his ear but he shook his head. Guttridge eventually turned round.
‘I’ll do it, Inspector.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ said Colbeck, glad to have wrested the concession from him. ‘It can wait until morning, if you prefer.’
‘No, I need to get it over with as soon as possible.’
‘Wait until tomorrow,’ advised Rebecca. ‘That will give us time to talk about it. I don’t want you to go at all.’
‘The decision has been made,’ said Colbeck, anxious to separate husband and wife. ‘We’ll take a cab there immediately.’
Guttridge nodded. ‘I’m ready, Inspector.’
‘Michael!’ protested his wife.
‘It has to be done, Becky.’
‘Have you forgotten everything that he did to us?’
‘No, I haven’t,’ said Guttridge, grimly. ‘I’m only doing this to spare Mother the trouble and to give myself some pleasure.’
‘Pleasure?’ reiterated Colbeck in surprise. ‘I can’t promise that you’ll find much pleasure in the police morgue, sir.’
‘Oh, but I will, Inspector.’
‘How?’
‘I’ll enjoy something that I’ve wanted for over twenty years.’ He was triumphant. ‘I’ll be able to see for certain that my father is dead.’
CHAPTER FOUR
Because of its proximity to Scotland Yard, one of the pubs frequented by members of the Detective Department was the Lamb and Flag, a well-run establishment with a friendly atmosphere, a cheery landlord and excellent beer. While he waited for Colbeck to arrive, Victor Leeming nursed a tankard of bitter, taking only occasional sips so that he could make it last. Seated alone at a table on the far side of the bar, the Sergeant consulted his watch. The lateness of the hour worried him. He was still wondering what had kept the Inspector when Colbeck came in through the door, exchanged greetings with other police colleagues and made his way across the bar through the swirling cigarette smoke.
‘I’m sorry to keep you waiting, Victor,’ said Colbeck, joining him. ‘Can I get you something else to drink?’
‘No, thank you, sir. One is all that I dare touch. If I’m late back, as I will be, I can tell my wife that it’s because of my work. Estelle accepts that. Let her think that I’ve been drinking heavily, however, and all hell will break loose. She’ll call me names that I
‘She’s my mother, Becky.’
‘A woman who looked down on me and said that I was not fit to be your wife. She insulted me.’
‘Only because she didn’t know you properly.’
‘She didn’t want to know me.’
‘I can’t turn my back on her,’ he said, earnestly.
‘You managed to do it before.’
‘That was because of my father.’
There was a long, silent battle between them and Colbeck did not interfere. Michael Guttridge was at last afflicted by a modicum of guilt. His wife remained cold and unforgiving. At length, however, she did consent to take his hand and receive a conciliatory kiss on the cheek. Colbeck chose the moment to speak up again.
‘I came to ask you a favour, Mr Guttridge,’ he said.
‘Eames,’ attested his wife. ‘Everyone knows us under that name.’
‘Listen to what the Inspector has to say,’ said her husband.
‘Someone has to identify the body,’ explained Colbeck, ‘and your mother is not able to do that. It will only take a few moments but it has to be done for legal reasons. Would you consent to come to the morgue to make that identification?’
Guttridge was uncertain. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Let her go,’ said Rebecca. ‘It’s not your place.’
‘In the absence of the wife, an only son is the obvious person,’ remarked Colbeck. ‘It’s crucial that we have the right name on the death certificate. A false one will not suffice. We don’t want to compel a family member to perform this duty,’ he cautioned, ‘but it may come to that.’
The young carpenter walked to the window and looked out into the darkness. His wife stood at his shoulder and whispered something in his ear but he shook his head. Guttridge eventually turned round.
‘I’ll do it, Inspector.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ said Colbeck, glad to have wrested the concession from him. ‘It can wait until morning, if you prefer.’
‘No, I need to get it over with as soon as possible.’
‘Wait until tomorrow,’ advised Rebecca. ‘That will give us time to talk about it. I don’t want you to go at all.’
‘The decision has been made,’ said Colbeck, anxious to separate husband and wife. ‘We’ll take a cab there immediately.’
Guttridge nodded. ‘I’m ready, Inspector.’
‘Michael!’ protested his wife.
‘It has to be done, Becky.’
‘Have you forgotten everything that he did to us?’
‘No, I haven’t,’ said Guttridge, grimly. ‘I’m only doing this to spare Mother the trouble and to give myself some pleasure.’
‘Pleasure?’ reiterated Colbeck in surprise. ‘I can’t promise that you’ll find much pleasure in the police morgue, sir.’
‘Oh, but I will, Inspector.’
‘How?’
‘I’ll enjoy something that I’ve wanted for over twenty years.’ He was triumphant. ‘I’ll be able to see for certain that my father is dead.’
CHAPTER FOUR
Because of its proximity to Scotland Yard, one of the pubs frequented by members of the Detective Department was the Lamb and Flag, a well-run establishment with a friendly atmosphere, a cheery landlord and excellent beer. While he waited for Colbeck to arrive, Victor Leeming nursed a tankard of bitter, taking only occasional sips so that he could make it last. Seated alone at a table on the far side of the bar, the Sergeant consulted his watch. The lateness of the hour worried him. He was still wondering what had kept the Inspector when Colbeck came in through the door, exchanged greetings with other police colleagues and made his way across the bar through the swirling cigarette smoke.
‘I’m sorry to keep you waiting, Victor,’ said Colbeck, joining him. ‘Can I get you something else to drink?’
‘No, thank you, sir. One is all that I dare touch. If I’m late back, as I will be, I can tell my wife that it’s because of my work. Estelle accepts that. Let her think that I’ve been drinking heavily, however, and all hell will break loose. She’ll call me names that I
Similar Books
