The Stratford Murder by Mike Hollow (love books to read txt) 📕

Jago that he and Cradock were from the West Ham CID and wished to see the manager, the boy led them across the entrance hall and past the pay box to a plain, unmarked door. He knocked on it and waited until bidden to open it by an authoritative voice sounding faintly from inside, whereupon he announced them, showed them in and scuttled away.

The room was spacious and well furnished in the modern style, but with no windows. To Jago it looked more like a wealthy person’s living room than an office, with a sofa and matching armchairs upholstered in leather, a coffee table and framed paintings offsetting the more conventional filing cabinets and desk.

The desk, like the room, was imposing and of contemporary design, uncluttered by anything except a blotting pad, inkstand and telephone, and it was from behind this desk that a man rose to greet them. To Jago’s eye he was too young to be the manager of a showpiece cinema, but the only other person in the room was a woman of similar age seated behind a typewriter on a smaller and cheaper desk in the corner, which he took as a signal that she was a subordinate.

‘Good morning,’ said the man, approaching them with an outstretched right hand with which he gripped Jago’s firmly. ‘My name’s Sidney Conway, and I’m the manager here. And this,’ he added, waving his other hand in the direction of the woman, ‘is my secretary, Miss Carlton, although I’m sure she won’t mind if you call her Cynthia, will you, Cynthia?’

Miss Carlton rose and nodded briefly to the visitors, giving a half-smile which suggested an unspoken appeal for patience with her boss’s patronising style.

Conway looked about twenty-five at the most and was dressed in a well-cut double-breasted suit in navy serge with a chalk stripe. His hair was oiled and his black shoes spotless. Flash Harry, thought Jago. It had not escaped his attention that among the paintings on the wall there was also a mirror, and he wondered which of the two colleagues using this office made more use of it. Cynthia Carlton seemed to take care of her appearance too: heavily made up, she wore a tightly tailored suit of jacket and skirt in a lighter shade of blue than the manager’s, and matching two-tone high-heeled shoes. Her hair was immaculately styled, but nevertheless she kept touching it at the back and sides as if to check that it was still in place.

‘Welcome to the Regal,’ said Conway, the roughness of his voice in striking contrast with the quality of his tailoring. ‘Regal by name, regal by nature, that’s what we say here. Isn’t it, Cynthia?’ The secretary gave another weak smile. ‘We may not be the biggest cinema in West Ham, but I think I can confidently say we’re the finest, and we’re going places. Did you know there are thirty-five cinemas in this borough, Inspector?’ He raised his eyebrows to accompany the question but continued without waiting for a reply. ‘Or at least there were, until the air raids started. There’ll be fewer than that now, but that means less competition, so it’s not all bad news – especially since the Broadway Super down the road copped it. I don’t mind telling you I’ve got big plans for this place. Fortune favours the brave, eh? That’s what they say. There’s a whole world out there, and if you want it, it’s all there for the taking. We’re living in difficult days, but when our patrons step through our doors we offer them a dream, something better than their real life – glamour for people whose life is a misery.’

All that and a choc-ice too, thought Jago, but his face remained attentive.

‘If I had my way, of course, I’d be making the movies, not showing them. I’m a very good photographer, so film’s the logical next step. Hollywood, that’s the place to be. It’s just a pity it’s a bit tricky getting over there these days, what with the U-boats and all.’

He paused for a moment, as if checking back over what he’d just said.

‘But don’t get me wrong,’ he added swiftly. ‘I’d much sooner be out there somewhere doing my bit in the forces. Truth is, I failed the medical. Spot of heart trouble, you know.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘Yes, grade four, they said, totally unfit for military service. But luckily it’s not enough to stop me running the best cinema in town and bringing a real benefit to our community. We’re here to serve, just like you and your colleagues in the police. Which reminds me … thank you for coming so promptly. I really didn’t expect to see you that quickly.’

‘You were expecting us?’

‘Well yes, of course.’

‘So you’ve heard about Mrs Lewis already?’

Conway looked puzzled. For the first time in their conversation, it seemed to Jago, the man was listening to a voice other than his own.

‘Mrs Lewis? You mean Joan? No, I haven’t heard anything. What do you mean?’

‘I understand Mrs Lewis is an employee here. Is that correct?’

‘Yes, she’s one of our usherettes. She used to work at the Broadway Super, and I gave her a job here when it was bombed. I couldn’t take on many of them, but Joan was outstanding.’

‘I’m very sorry, Mr Conway, but I have some bad news for you. I’m afraid Joan Lewis has been killed.’

Conway stared at him, as though straining to understand what Jago had said. His mouth began to form a word, but no sound came out. He walked slowly back to his chair behind the desk and slumped into it. It seemed to Jago that the man’s air of aggressive confidence had slipped off him like an unfastened cape.

‘I can’t believe it,’ he said, his voice little more than a whisper. ‘That’s shocking. She was here on duty only last night. And I thought you were here because … but no, this is much more important. What happened?’

‘I’m sorry to say she’s been murdered.’

His face