The Stratford Murder Mike Hollow (e manga reader TXT) 📖

he distributed to his wife and the two detectives. He disappeared again, to return moments later with a plate of sandwiches for each of his guests, one of which Cradock seized appreciatively.

‘Thank you,’ said Jago, setting his plate down on the delicate Edwardian occasional table beside his chair. ‘It’s a very nice house you have here, Mr Ballantyne. So close to the park.’

‘Yes. We’ve only been here since last year. After a lifetime of touring and living in theatrical digs it was strange to have a home of our own, but since we bought this place it’s been wonderful.’

‘You have a theatrical background? I thought perhaps you had when I saw the posters on the wall over there.’

‘Oh, yes, I was a professional vocalist. Mainly in the music halls, you know. In fact, I was going to ask you something – about your name. It’s rather unusual.’

‘It’s Cornish.’

‘I see. Pardon me for asking a personal question, but are you by any chance related to Harry Jago?’

‘That was my father’s name.’

‘And was he a singer?’

‘Yes, he was, actually.’

‘Then I knew him.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, we both worked the music halls back in the old days, and our paths crossed more than once. In fact I remember him saying one night – it was at the Leeds Empire, I think, although I may be mistaken there – that he’d become a father. He was so excited. He’d had a son, and I suppose that was you, unless you have a brother.’

‘No, I was his only son. Did you know him well?’

‘Well enough to share a drink with him to celebrate your birth. I seem to remember our celebrations were quite extensive. I envied him his good fortune – sadly my dear wife and I have never been blessed with children. He was very proud of you then, and I’m sure he’d be just as proud of you now. He was a fine fellow, your father, and I was sorry when I heard he’d passed away. But that was years ago, wasn’t it? You must have been just a child.’

‘That’s right. He died when I was fourteen.’

‘Well, he was a splendid chap, always lots of fun. Like me, though, he never made it to the top. I think he struggled at times.’

‘In what way?’

‘Financially, of course, but then we all did. You didn’t make a lot of money if you were in the bottom half of the bill. But he had trouble with his health, too, although I don’t know what it was.’

‘I never knew that, although I do know he and my mother went through some hard times. You must’ve had a more successful career than him, judging by this lovely home.’

‘I wouldn’t say that. We’ve only got this place because we came into a little money – a legacy, you know.’

‘I see. I noticed a very nice car outside too. Is that yours?’

‘Yes, there was enough left to buy that.’

‘A Singer, isn’t it?’

‘Yes,’ Ballantyne laughed. ‘My little joke, I suppose. If I’m going to own a car, it really ought to be a singer, like me. It’s not new, of course, but the man I bought it from said it’d only had one careful lady owner, a clergyman’s widow. He said it’s got independent front-wheel springing, which is apparently the latest thing and very good, and you can top up the battery without taking out the floorboards, although I must confess I’m not entirely sure what topping up the battery means. There’s a little garage round the corner where a man does that sort of thing for us.’

‘It sounds excellent. I know my father never made enough money to own a car.’

‘Well, perhaps if he’d lived longer … He had a wonderful voice, and I’m not just saying that.’

‘I’m sure he’s right, Inspector,’ said Vera. ‘My husband was a very fine singer himself in his day, so he should know. He’s a professional coach now – teaching young girls who want to be singers, who fancy themselves as the next Deanna Durbin. They won’t be, of course, but it helps to pay the bills.’

‘And who am I to dull their fantasies, deny their dreams?’ said Ballantyne. ‘I see it as my duty – in days like these, people need a little romance in their lives.’

‘You must excuse my husband,’ said Vera. ‘He used to sing romantic songs, and he still thinks girls swoon at the sound of his voice. Mind you, they did when we first met. I was on the stage too, in those days. I was an acrobatic dancer, thrown about all over the stage twice nightly by a couple of handsome young men. It’s a miracle they never dropped me – I probably wouldn’t be here today if they had. I was young then, of course.’

‘And very beautiful,’ said Ballantyne.

‘Then, yes, perhaps,’ replied Vera. ‘It’s funny, isn’t it? When you’re twenty you never think you might be fifty one day. You see a woman of that age and you laugh at her, because you’ve still got everything she’s lost. You don’t think you’ll ever be her yourself. Men pay you attention when you’re twenty, but when you’re fifty they don’t even see you. It doesn’t seem to work like that with men. My husband’s sixty-two, but he dyes his hair and cuts a grand manner, and the youngsters think he’s a suave and intriguing man of the world. Strange how a young woman can fall for a man old enough to be her father, yet no young man gives a second glance to a woman of my age. I don’t need to consult the stars to tell you that, Inspector.’

Ballantyne looked a little disconsolate at her description of him, but he said nothing. Jago wondered whether she’d noticed this, because she changed the subject.

‘I’m sorry to hear you lost your father at such a young age, Inspector,’ she began. ‘Have you ever contacted him since he passed over to the other side?’

‘No, and I’ve no plans to do that.’

‘But you should.