Free 04 - Carnival of Criminals by Evelyn James Page B

at Scotland Yard, just in case he caused his usual
brand of trouble in the Capital and left it at that. Gangs are part and parcel
of Brighton and there are plenty more thugs where Mervin Grimes came from.”
    “Never mind inspector, you do your best.”
    “Thank you.” The inspector answered the double-edged
compliment through gritted teeth.
    “I shall be on my way again, but I don’t suppose I could
impose on your coroner to remove Mervin Grimes’ corpse from my dining room to
his morgue? At least until I find out what the family want to do.”
    The inspector gave a funny snort.
    “I’ll give him a call. Perhaps he can pop around this
afternoon?” There was a snide hint to his tone.
    “Very good inspector, I’ll expect him after 3 o’clock, if
you don’t mind.” Clara was at the door, one hand on the handle.
    “I don’t mind at all. Now Clara,” Park-Coombs paused her
as she was about to leave, “Take care, all right.”
    Clara was touched by his concern and gave him a smile.
    “I always do inspector.” And then she was gone, back on
her mission to solve the death of a gangster.
     

Chapter Eight
    Clara caught an omnibus headed in the direction of West
street, aiming to speak to Mervin Grimes’ mother before she went home. If his
mother still lived at that address, of course. West Street was a long line of
small terraces, one end being slightly smarter and more upmarket than the
other. There was even a policeman or two living in the better part of West
street, but the other part, the part where houses jostled each other’s
shoulders and doors opened straight onto the road, was only a few steps up from
a slum. Yes the doorsteps were clean and the windows mostly sparkled, but it
would not take much for many of the families living in these houses to find
themselves unable to pay the rent and headed for the darker, grimmer parts of
town where children played without shoes and rubbish collected in heaps in the
gutters.
    Clara alighted at this end of the road and located number
68, the home of Sarah Grimes, mother of the infamous Mervin. Clara took a
moment to survey the front of the house before knocking on the door. Fronts of
houses could tell you a lot about the owner. This one was clean, but without
the ornamentation some of the neighbours had tried to brighten their living
spaces. There was no box of flowers on the windowsill like at 66, or a
hand-carved wooden boot scraper as outside number 70. The front window
displayed an empty glass vase, but no flourish of bric-a-brac as in the window
of number 64. The whole appearance gave Clara the impression of sadness, a
house where the basics were tended to, to keep it smart, but where anything
beyond that was just too much. Clara wondered if the person within would
confirm her assessment.
    She rapped on the door. There was no knocker. It was a
long while before anyone answered.
    “Yes?”
    “Are you Mrs Sarah Grimes?”
    “Yes?”
    Mrs Grimes was younger than Clara had expected. Imagining
that Mervin would now be about 35, she had expected Mrs Grimes to be well into
her fifties, instead she was probably only in her forties. Her hair was still
auburn and barely streaked with grey. With it tied back in a plait she almost
looked school-girlish. Her eyes were a deep brown and only showing the first
signs of crow’s-feet, her face was narrow, ending in a sharp chin that jutted
out a little and gave the impression of petulance. She could not have been more
than five foot tall and Clara had to look down at her.
    “Might I come in Mrs Grimes? I have some news about your
son.”
    Clara had not expected much of a response from the woman
and she wasn’t disappointed. Mrs Grimes merely gave a nod.
    “This way then.” She led Clara into a narrow hall and
into the second room down where a broad-shouldered gentleman was sitting squashed
into a floral armchair that barely contained his girth.
    “All right Mrs Grimes?” He asked suspiciously as Clara
entered, putting