“Ah, gentlemen, good afternoon,” he said, as he looked at them both. His neck sank low into his shoulders and he turned his whole body toward each as he spoke.
“Thanks for taking the time to come out to us, Mr Barnes,” Ray replied.
“Not at all, not at all,” the landlord said, turning to the door and taking a large ring of keys from his pocket. There had to have been at least thirty keys dangling from the brass ring. Quite probably the extent of his whole empire. “Always happy to help the law be upheld. Come on up, please.”
He led them up a narrow wooden staircase that creaked with every step taken, into a small and dusty-looking office space that smelled of stale pipe smoke. A desk sat near a window which overlooked the rear of the property, whilst wooden filing cabinets lined all the other walls. The whole space had the feel of an old forgotten library, or an apothecary of days of old.
“Never let anyone tell you that you shouldn’t keep receipts for everything,” Mr Barnes said, as he caught Joseph looking at the cabinets. “You never know when you’ll need it. Like now.”
“Indeed,” Joseph agreed, a little bit in awe. “How far do your records go back?”
“To day one.” The tone of the reply made it sound as if that should have been obvious.
“Wonderful,” Joseph breathed.
“Do you know the address of the property you were interested in?”
They gave him the address and he quickly worked through his filing system, bringing out a brown file.
“Here we are,” he said, opening the file and looking through the receipts contained inside. “Yes, seems all in order. A good and prompt payer. Just what you want in a tenant.”
“May we have a quick look?” Ray asked.
“Of course.”
Joseph took the file from Mr Barnes and began to scan through it. All the receipts, for all the due rent, signed by both parties and always on time. He looked at Ray and nodded.
“Thank you, Mr Barnes,” Ray said. “We won’t waste any more of your time.”
“Not at all, always a pleasure to help.”
They said their goodbyes and Ray and Joseph went to the door. Ray passed through, but Joseph paused and turned to Mr Barnes.
“The tenants that are left in the house, Mr Barnes. I think they might struggle to be as organised as Gerald Trainer. In his absence they might be a little less prompt than you would like, at least to begin with. He did everything for them; they’re going to have to pick up all his slack.”
“Well,” Mr. Barnes smiled as he spoke, “as long as they pick it up quickly, they won’t be having any problems, will they?”
“No, of course not,” Joseph replied. “It’s just, they don’t even know your name. It took us a while to find you.”
“I shall make sure I introduce myself in due course,” Mr Barnes said courteously.
*
“What was that?” Ray asked when they returned to the car. “Are you their new father or something?” His voice sounded decidedly neutral, which kept Joseph guessing as to whether he was annoyed or being playful.
“Just trying to help them out.”
“They’re grown men, you know. Just because they’re foreign or what have you, doesn’t give them a pass out for not doing what they’re supposed to.”
“I didn’t mean it that way.”
“People sometimes have to make their own mistakes, Joseph. They must learn the hard way. And sometimes, believe it or not, they figure it out anyway before it all goes wrong. You don’t have to try to do everything for everyone and be everything to everyone.”
Joseph hadn’t meant to be any of those things. And even if it hadn’t been his job to speak up for Gerald Trainer’s flatmates, it didn’t seem a bad thing that he had.
Conflicted, he leaned back in the passenger seat of the car and sighed. They said nothing more on the journey back to Woolwich.
15.
“Inspector Cribbs, Sergeant Walsh!” Joseph and Ray hadn’t even made it to the staircase that led to their floor when they heard the shout from down the corridor. Sergeant Gordon Michaels, a uniformed officer whom they both knew very well, stood by the door that led to the small rooms that they used for interviews. He nodded, beckoning them to come over. “You two investigating the death of that darkie lad?”
“Gerald Trainer,” Ray corrected him.
“Yeah, him. Listen, we got a lady back here who reckons she’s got some information for you.”
The hairs on the back of Joseph’s neck stood up. Maybe this would be the new lead that they needed to help them break the case?
“Who is she?” he asked.
“Sara Queen. Local working girl, you’ve probably come across her at some point,” Gordon said. Sara worked around the docks. Business was never in short supply. Lonely sailors halfway around the world, whose patter and charm hadn’t worked that night in the pubs, made for a never-ending supply of punters. It made her something of a regular customer. “She’s waiting back here.”
“What did she tell you so far?” Ray asked.
“Said she heard some big commotion down in the docks. Shouting and stuff.”
“Lead on then,” Ray motioned for Gordon to show them the way.
*
