‘Then I want to be a character witness. I know him. He must have been led astray. Can’t he be released on bail or something? He’s not dangerous.’
He laughed. ‘Sorry, miss, but can’t be done. Rules is rules, as they say. They’ll both be up before the magistrate – most likely next week. But I have to say they don’t have a leg to stand on. They’ll both go down.’ He could almost see the thoughts whirring round in her brain. Plucky little thing.
‘Then I’ll make a statement. He’s . . . he’s always been weak. I’ll admit that. He might be stupid but he’s not bad . . . and the money he had came from his gambling. He liked a flutter on the horses and he was very shrewd. He . . . he understood racing. Studied it all his life.’
He shrugged. ‘Not up to me, miss.’
‘But if I could prove that he didn’t get any money from it? That would count in his favour, wouldn’t it? I mean, if he didn’t profit from the burglaries that would make a difference. If I can find the bookie’s runner, I know where he waits for the bets, and—’
He interrupted her, leaning forward, glancing over his shoulder as though afraid of being heard. ‘He said something, your father, about the rent. About he wanted to leave you a message but we don’t encourage that sort of thing.’
‘The rent?’ She tried to look innocent of any prior knowledge. ‘What about it?’
‘Owing, I reckon, don’t you? I mean, what else?’
Rose wanted to scream. It would be all round the neighbourhood at this rate. As if she didn’t have enough to worry about.
The constable now glanced past her as the door swung open behind her. A man came in and said ‘Rose?’ and she turned, dismayed.
‘Marcus! Oh no!’ Why did he have to turn up and witness her downfall, she thought hysterically.
Without any warning, Alan Paton’s daughter burst into tears and the two men exchanged discomfited glances.
‘Women!’ mouthed Arnold.
‘It’s all a mistake,’ Rose insisted as she and Marcus hurried along the High Street in search of the man who took the illegal bets and rushed them to the bookie. ‘The man’s name is Wilf Todmore. Pa has often mentioned him. Look! There he is!’ She pointed. ‘On that corner by the pawnbroker’s.’
Marcus said, ‘Do you expect him to admit it?’
‘If I explain the circumstances.’ She speeded up and arrived at the corner almost out of breath.
The man saw them coming and glanced round nervously.
Marcus took hold of her arm but she shook him off.
‘Mr Todmore, would you be willing to sign something at the—’
‘I never sign nothing!’ he told her.
‘Please. It’s nothing bad. It’s just that my father was one of your clients – his name is—’
‘I don’t have no clients, miss. And my name’s Sydney Cooper.’ He looked at Marcus and tapped his forehead. ‘Bit, you know, is she?’
‘No I’m not!’ cried Rose, her voice rising. ‘Leave him out of this.’
Todmore put a finger to his lips and muttered, ‘Keep your voice down, you silly cow!’
‘Sorry.’ She lowered her voice. ‘My father’s name is Alan Paton and he’s a regular with you. He often gets lucky with the horses and—’
‘Horses? Dunno what you’re talking about, miss.’
Marcus looked embarrassed. ‘He’s not the man, Rose,’ he hissed urgently. ‘Do please come away. You’re making a scene.’
She rounded on him angrily. ‘Stop interfering, Marcus. I’ll make a scene if I want to. My pa is in a lot of trouble and I’m doing my best to sort it out. People like you wouldn’t understand so mind your own business and I’ll mind mine!’ Her voice shook and a few more tears trickled unheeded down her face. She turned back to the bookie’s runner but at that moment a large, elderly woman arrived. She was dressed in black from head to foot except for a sacking apron and a battered straw hat with faded red ribbons. She held out a few coins to the man Rose thought of as
He laughed. ‘Sorry, miss, but can’t be done. Rules is rules, as they say. They’ll both be up before the magistrate – most likely next week. But I have to say they don’t have a leg to stand on. They’ll both go down.’ He could almost see the thoughts whirring round in her brain. Plucky little thing.
‘Then I’ll make a statement. He’s . . . he’s always been weak. I’ll admit that. He might be stupid but he’s not bad . . . and the money he had came from his gambling. He liked a flutter on the horses and he was very shrewd. He . . . he understood racing. Studied it all his life.’
He shrugged. ‘Not up to me, miss.’
‘But if I could prove that he didn’t get any money from it? That would count in his favour, wouldn’t it? I mean, if he didn’t profit from the burglaries that would make a difference. If I can find the bookie’s runner, I know where he waits for the bets, and—’
He interrupted her, leaning forward, glancing over his shoulder as though afraid of being heard. ‘He said something, your father, about the rent. About he wanted to leave you a message but we don’t encourage that sort of thing.’
‘The rent?’ She tried to look innocent of any prior knowledge. ‘What about it?’
‘Owing, I reckon, don’t you? I mean, what else?’
Rose wanted to scream. It would be all round the neighbourhood at this rate. As if she didn’t have enough to worry about.
The constable now glanced past her as the door swung open behind her. A man came in and said ‘Rose?’ and she turned, dismayed.
‘Marcus! Oh no!’ Why did he have to turn up and witness her downfall, she thought hysterically.
Without any warning, Alan Paton’s daughter burst into tears and the two men exchanged discomfited glances.
‘Women!’ mouthed Arnold.
‘It’s all a mistake,’ Rose insisted as she and Marcus hurried along the High Street in search of the man who took the illegal bets and rushed them to the bookie. ‘The man’s name is Wilf Todmore. Pa has often mentioned him. Look! There he is!’ She pointed. ‘On that corner by the pawnbroker’s.’
Marcus said, ‘Do you expect him to admit it?’
‘If I explain the circumstances.’ She speeded up and arrived at the corner almost out of breath.
The man saw them coming and glanced round nervously.
Marcus took hold of her arm but she shook him off.
‘Mr Todmore, would you be willing to sign something at the—’
‘I never sign nothing!’ he told her.
‘Please. It’s nothing bad. It’s just that my father was one of your clients – his name is—’
‘I don’t have no clients, miss. And my name’s Sydney Cooper.’ He looked at Marcus and tapped his forehead. ‘Bit, you know, is she?’
‘No I’m not!’ cried Rose, her voice rising. ‘Leave him out of this.’
Todmore put a finger to his lips and muttered, ‘Keep your voice down, you silly cow!’
‘Sorry.’ She lowered her voice. ‘My father’s name is Alan Paton and he’s a regular with you. He often gets lucky with the horses and—’
‘Horses? Dunno what you’re talking about, miss.’
Marcus looked embarrassed. ‘He’s not the man, Rose,’ he hissed urgently. ‘Do please come away. You’re making a scene.’
She rounded on him angrily. ‘Stop interfering, Marcus. I’ll make a scene if I want to. My pa is in a lot of trouble and I’m doing my best to sort it out. People like you wouldn’t understand so mind your own business and I’ll mind mine!’ Her voice shook and a few more tears trickled unheeded down her face. She turned back to the bookie’s runner but at that moment a large, elderly woman arrived. She was dressed in black from head to foot except for a sacking apron and a battered straw hat with faded red ribbons. She held out a few coins to the man Rose thought of as
Similar Books
