Free Instrument of Slaughter by Edward Marston

that.’
    ‘Did Cyril get that kind of response at the library?’
    ‘All the time,’ replied Leach, ‘but he could always talk himself out of the situation. He even turned the tables on Horrie Waldron.’
    ‘And who might he be?’ enquired Marmion.
    ‘He’s an old codger me and Cyril knew in the George and Vulture when we used to meet for a drink there. It’s in Pitfield Street. Cyril had to pass it on his way home from the library. Anyway,’ Leach went on, ‘we sometimes saw Horrie in there, sitting drunk in a corner. You could share a joke with him until the war broke out. He turned nasty then. Every time we went in there, he’d have a dig at us for not joining up. It got so bad that we stopped going there altogether.’
    ‘What’s this about turning the tables on him?’
    ‘Horrie turned up at the library just before Christmas. He’d obviously been drinking. He tried to cause a scene by telling Cyril he was a coward but he got more than he bargained for. Cyril took him on in argument and made him look stupid. Everyone was laughing at Horrie. According to Cyril,’ said Leach, revelling in his friend’s triumph, ‘he slunk out of there with his tail between his legs.’
    ‘He must have felt humiliated.’
    ‘He was, Inspector – good and proper.’
    ‘And would you say that this Horrie Waldron was a vindictive man?’
    ‘Oh, yes, and he has a foul mouth on him.’
    ‘I wonder why Mr Ablatt didn’t mention the incident,’ said Marmion. ‘When I asked him if his son had any enemies, he denied it.’
    ‘Cyril didn’t tell his father everything that happened. In fact, I’m probably the only person who knows about Horrie being turned into a laughing stock at the library. Fred and Mansel have no idea who Horrie Waldron is.’ Leach scowled. ‘They’re lucky. He can be a menace.’
    ‘You described him as an old codger.’
    ‘That’s what he looks like, Inspector, but he’s probably not
that
old. He just never takes care of himself. Also, he smells. I bumped into him once when I was out with Ruby and she thought he was a tramp.’
    ‘Is Ruby your girlfriend?’
    Leach’s back straightened. ‘She’s my fiancée.’
    ‘Congratulations! Have you set a date?’
    ‘It’s in July,’ said Leach. ‘Going back to Horrie, I heard that the landlord at the George and Vulture got fed up with him and threw him out. Last time I saw Horrie, he was going into the Weavers Arms.’
    It was not far from where the body of Cyril Ablatt had been found. Marmion made a mental note of the fact. In his opinion, Leach was an interesting character, weak in many respects yet strong enough tohold to his principles in the face of daily hostility. Marmion had seen the way that people could bait conscientious objectors, making their lives a misery by taunting, abusing or sending them poison pen letters. More than one pacifist had been driven to suicide to escape the constant antagonism. Leach seemed unlikely to follow. For all his nervousness, there was a hard inner core that allowed him to withstand the jeers and the innuendo. And since a date for his wedding had been set, he didn’t wish to be somewhere in France or Belgium in the summer. Marmion’s own son, Paul, was very close in age to Leach and had volunteered readily with his father’s approval. Though he didn’t condone the stance that the young baker was taking, Marmion nevertheless admired him for his courage in doing so.
    He thought about the reported viciousness of the attack on Cyril Ablatt and the problem of getting the body to the location where it was later found.
    ‘Tell me about Waldron,’ he said. ‘Is he a strong man?’
    ‘He’s very strong, Inspector.’
    ‘Does he have a job or has he retired?’
    ‘Horrie will never retire. He’ll go on until he drops.’
    ‘What does he do for a living?’
    ‘He’s a gravedigger.’

CHAPTER FIVE
    Some high-ranking officers at Scotland Yard gave those below them a degree of freedom during the