Read Perseverance Street Online
Authors: Ken McCoy
She
could see the white Parkinson Tower of Leeds University, built just before the war, where her Michael would have gone when he was eighteen, after he’d completed his secondary education at Leeds Grammar School – that’s if Larry’s salary would run to it. But Larry was gone now, so he’d have to pass his scholarship and go to one of the state-run high schools. She favoured Roundhay High, with it being in such a good area. Her eyes misted over again and she headed for home, keeping her head down to avoid curious glances from passers-by who might wonder why she was crying.
DS Bannister
was standing near the front desk of Millgarth police station when he heard the name, Mrs Lily Robinson, repeated over the phone by the desk sergeant.
‘What was that about, Alf?’
‘Disturbance on Perseverance Street. Some woman’s just flattened a neighbour. Lily Robinson? Isn’t she the one whose boy’s gone missing?’
‘Yeah – she’s just had a baby. Is she all right?’
‘As far as I know. She’s the one who did the flattening. The victim’s a Mrs Hilda Muscroft. She made a complaint from the LGI where she’s having her head stitched up. Sounds like we need to bring the Robinson woman in.’
‘I’m on her case, Alf. I’ll need a WPC to come along with me. Someone with maternal instincts.’
‘I’ll see if Eileen Morley’s available. The others are more likely to eat a baby than look after it.’
‘Thanks. Tell the LGI to hang on to Mrs Muscroft. I want to speak to her first.’
John Bannister and WPC Eileen Morley made their way up Union Street, past the council swimming baths, to where the detective’s car was parked. From there they headed for the Leeds General Infirmary to interview Mrs Muscroft, whose version of events would prove most damning.
‘So, what
do you think, Eileen?’ asked Bannister as they drove towards Lily’s house.
‘I think Mrs Muscroft’s a woman I wouldn’t like to get on the wrong side of,’ commented the WPC. ‘I dread to think what Mrs Robinson’s like if she won the fight.’
‘According to Mrs Muscroft it wasn’t a fight, it was an unprovoked attack,’ said Bannister. ‘The action of an unbalanced woman.’
‘Is that what Mrs Robinson is?’
‘Mrs Robinson is an enigma,’ said Bannister, thinking back to when Lily cut her own hand with a St Christopher medal. ‘She’s very plausible but we mustn’t be taken in by her. If she can harm both herself and a woman like Mrs Muscroft we can’t discount the possibility of her harming her own son.’
‘So, you don’t believe the story she tells of her son being taken by this man Oldroyd?’
DS Bannister had filled her in on the case on the way to the hospital. ‘I’ve no idea what to believe. She gave me an accurate description of the interior of Lark House which she would only be able to do if she’d been inside the place.’
‘Which supports her story.’
‘Only if there was no other way she could have taken a look round.’
‘And is there?’
‘In my experience, Constable
Morley, which is considerable, there’s usually another way. For example there was a house contents sale at the house in April. Who’s to say she and her son didn’t take a trip out to Grassington that day and call in to see that? Maybe even buy something.’
‘Such as?’
‘Well, inside her house is an antique wall clock that looks out of place there, and a wall clock was sold at the contents sale.’
‘That sounds a bit a bit tenuous if you don’t mind me saying, Sarge.’
‘Everything about this case is tenuous, but out there is a small boy and we don’t know if he’s alive or dead.’
‘I notice we haven’t given the story to the papers. Wouldn’t they be able to help?’
‘That’s been held in abeyance. If this man Oldroyd has got the boy we don’t want to spook him into doing something drastic. He may well think he’s got away with it and drop his guard at some point. We’re going to give it another couple of days and then release the story.’
‘Sounds a risky strategy.’
‘Ours not to reason why, Constable. This is the brainchild of our chief superintendent.’
She looked at him questioningly. He explained: ‘A few months ago a two-year-old girl went missing in Wakefield.’
‘I remember that, but that was all over the papers from the beginning. She was found within a week, wasn’t she?’
‘Ten days,’ said Bannister. ‘And during that ten days the woman who took her didn’t read a paper, nor did she listen to the radio, with her not having one. She thought she’d got away with it and took the girl out for a walk. She was spotted within half an hour.’
Eileen
followed his reasoning. ‘But we’re assuming that Oldroyd will be reading the papers and listening to the radio so we’re giving him nothing to read about or hear about.’
‘Precisely. We’re calling it the No News is Good News theory. In a couple of days we’ll have the lad’s photo in every paper in the country. If he’s out there and Oldroyd’s dropped his guard, we’ll have him.’
‘Right,’ said Eileen, unconvinced.
‘That’s if Oldroyd exists,’ added Bannister.
Home now, and
with Christopher safely tucked up in his cot, Lily had set to work doing a makeshift job on the broken window. She had flattened a large cardboard box she’d found in the bin yard on her way home and had cut it into the shape of the frame, then she put on a pair of Larry’s gloves and eased out all the remaining glass. She was tacking the cardboard into place when Bannister’s car arrived. Because the window was completely blocked by the cardboard she didn’t see the two officers getting out of the car, although she’d heard a car arrive.
She still had the hammer in her hand when she went to the door in response to Bannister’s knock.
‘Have you found Michael?’
‘I’m afraid not.’
Her grip on the hammer tightened instinctively. She half raised it.
Bannister looked at it. ‘I don’t think you’ll be needing that, Mrs Robinson.’
Her mood was such that she went immediately on the attack. ‘Really? So what do you suggest I use to fix my broken window? A brick came through it not two minutes after I got home with my baby. It missed him by inches. Would such a crime interest you, Sergeant Bannister, or have you come to ask what I’ve done with my missing son?’
‘May
we come in?’
She didn’t reply but simply stood back and allowed them through before following them and laying the hammer down on the table, to the WPC’s relief.
‘We’re here about the altercation between you and Mrs Hilda Muscroft?’
‘Did you ask her about my broken window?’
‘Are you saying she did this?’
‘I’m saying she was out in the street, laughing about it when I went to the door.’
‘Mrs Muscroft told us about that. Apparently it was a local boy who did it.’
‘I saw a boy running away – and I know who it was. Mrs Muscroft will have known. Did she tell you who it was?’
‘She said she didn’t know.’
‘Of course she knows. He only lives at number twenty-four. His name’s Harry Bridges. If that brick had been a few inches to one side you’d have been arresting him for murder. That’d have given Hilda Muscroft something to laugh at.’
Tears were streaming down Lily’s face as she spoke. Upstairs Christopher began to cry. Without bothering to excuse herself Lily left the room and went upstairs to attend to him. Bannister and the WPC looked at one another.
‘Bit awkward, all this, Sarge.’
‘Hmm, I
could have done without this Mrs Muscroft complication. If she doesn’t withdraw I’ll have to think about charging Mrs Robinson with assault. I wonder if there was a witness?’
Bannister looked at the door through which Lily had recently left them to attend to her baby. ‘I think you should go up. Check she’s OK.’
‘She’s probably feeding him.’
‘Probably – that’s one of the reasons I brought you along. Have a chat, woman to woman. See what you make of her. I’m blessed if I know.’
As the WPC went upstairs Bannister took a close look at the wall clock. It was a highly decorative piece set in a walnut case, with a large brass pendulum. His wife wouldn’t object to having such a clock on their wall at home. It was completely out of place in this room but it wouldn’t have been out of place in the Lark House drawing room. Lily Robinson would need to tell him where it had come from. Her answer might even have a bearing on her future.
It was ten minutes before the WPC came down, followed by a red-eyed Lily holding her baby. Bannister asked her to sit down, which she did. He sat down opposite, not wishing to appear overbearing.
‘Lily, the reason we’re here is because Mrs Muscroft has made a very serious allegation that you assaulted her, causing her to receive hospital treatment.’
‘So Eileen told me,’ said Lily, looking at the WPC. ‘It’s about par for the course for me. I get a broken window, my baby nearly gets a smashed skull and who gets the blame?’
‘We’re
not blaming anyone,’ said Bannister. ‘Mrs Muscroft said you assaulted her, we’d like to hear your side of the story.’
Lily took a while to gather herself together. ‘For some reason,’ she said eventually, ‘the people round here seem to think I killed my son Michael. I’ve got no idea why.’ She looked, accusingly at Bannister and added, ‘Except that I know you don’t believe my story of how he went missing. I also know someone’s been in this house while I’ve been away and I can only assume it was the police. Was it?’
Bannister struggled not to look guilty. ‘It was a routine investigation,’ he said. ‘No reflection on you.’
‘Rubbish! Why didn’t you tell me about it, then? How did you get in?’
‘We used a locksmith. Your lock wasn’t damaged.’
‘Really? I had my keys with me in hospital. Why didn’t you ask to borrow them?’
Bannister gave up his pretence. ‘OK,’ he said. ‘Your story just doesn’t add up. We had to check you out. No one in Leeds or Grassington has ever seen or heard of this Mr Oldroyd.’
‘I described the interior of the house to you. Have you been to check?’
‘Yes, I have, and you described it accurately.’ He paused, then added, ‘But that doesn’t prove that you stayed there with your family. It simply proves that you’ve been in the house at some time.’
‘When? Are you saying I got the bus out to Grassington and broke into the house just to give myself a good story to tell?’
‘No, I’m not
saying that. I’m saying … for example there was a house contents sale in April. It was pretty much an open house as far as I can tell.’
‘April? It was April when we went there.’
‘Really. When in April?’
‘April the fifth. It was the day after my birthday. It was a Thursday. We met the Oldroyds in a teashop on the lunchtime, went back to their house and ended up missing the coach back and staying over. Mr Oldroyd ran me into Skipton the following day with there being no through buses from Grassington to Leeds.’
‘I see.’ Bannister was staring at the wall clock. ‘Do you mind telling me where you got that clock?’
His eyes turned sharply on hers as he asked the question. So did Eileen’s. Lily frowned and looked up at the clock.
‘Why do you want to know that?’
It slightly troubled her because the clock had been a present from Auntie Dee and, knowing Auntie Dee, it was quite possible the clock wasn’t kosher. But no way could Bannister know that. Surely. He spotted the flash of guilt on her face.
‘Just answer the question.’
‘It was a wedding present.’
‘Oh. So you’ve had it how long?’
‘Well, we were married nearly four years, so I’ll let you work it out, Sergeant. Do you have any other daft questions?’
He glanced at Eileen who gave a slight shake of her head, advising him not to pursue it. He could check it out later so he changed the subject.
‘Tell me
what happened between you and Mrs Muscroft.’
Lily gave a sigh that said she’d had enough of this for one day. ‘The stupid woman accused me of killing Michael. I reacted normally.’
‘How did you react?’
‘I lost my temper and pushed her. She tripped over the kerb or something and banged her head on the lamp-post.’
Bannister nodded. He really wanted this charge to go away. It was getting in the way of the real investigation. Mrs Muscroft had told them that Lily had attacked her with her fists. If this statement proved untrue he’d make sure the charge would be dropped. He took out his notebook and wrote something down, then asked:
‘Did anyone see this?’
‘Yes. Albert Pilkington. He lives down at number twenty-five – or is it twenty-seven? It’s got a green door.’
Bannister got to his feet and looked at the patched-up window. ‘That’s not safe. Would you like me to send a glazier round? I know a man who’s quite reasonable with his prices. I’ll see if I can get him to come this afternoon. I’ll also have a word with young Harry Bridges. Tell his parents to cough up the cost.’
‘I wouldn’t bother. There’s only his mother at home and she hasn’t two ha’pennies to rub together. She’ll give you a right mouthful and tell you what an angel her little boy is.’
‘I’ll still have a word. Mark the lad’s card. It’ll stop him bothering you again.’
‘Thank you. Is
that it, then?’
‘Possibly – if Mr Pilkington verifies your story. If not, we’ll have to take you down to the station to make a formal statement.’
Two days
later Albert was walking down the street, heading for the lavatory block. Lily had been sitting by the window all afternoon, waiting for him. Albert was a creature of regular habits. She was consumed with what was, perhaps, a disproportionate sense of betrayal. He was the only one whom she thought had been on her side and therefore the only one in a position to betray her. She laid Christopher in his pram and eased it down the two steps to the pavement. Then she called out to him.
‘Albert!’
He turned and a look of guilt spread over his face like thick margarine. He looked undecided as to whether to retreat to the sanctuary of the lavvies or face up to her. The lavvies seemed the best bet to him.
‘Don’t you walk away from me, Albert Pilkington. I’ll wait for you if I have to.’