Peter's head shot up when he heard the voice.
"I was wondering Mrs Noakes if I may speak to my Constable, something important has come to our attention?"
The look on the Inspector's face, holding a brown folder in his hand, was enough for Chummy to show him into the sitting room and stride to the kitchen to fetch her husband.
The first thing that Peter saw was his Inspector's hand outstretched to him. "I for one am very pleased to be having this conversation" he said, genuinely and utterly glad he was facing his officer rather than attending his funeral.
"Thank you Sir" Peter replied. "Please, sit down".
"I wont keep you too long" the Inspector started, watching Chummy who was hovering by Peter's side. "Young Bill Forrest has been with us for a day or two and he's been quite the help, so I was just wondering if I could have a few moments with you to see if we can move matters along?"
"Of course Sir", Peter smiled, settled next to Chummy on the settee. He could almost feel her heart racing. Peter however was pleased for something to do or at least be of use to someone for a while; for his brain to be active.
"I'd just like you to take a look at these photographs. See if you can identify anyone from them?" the Inspector asked opening up the folder he had clutched to his chest. Six photographs were laid out side by side on the coffee table, Peter feeling his wife's arm linking in his, needing him to know he had her support.
He considered the first one, far to his left. "No" Peter replied, shaking his head. "That's Albie Price's younger brother. Thomas? No, not him. He couldn't work a knife if he tried". Peter's voice was deadpan, but the Inspector smiled, turning the photograph face down so it was no longer seen.
Peter considered the second one. There was something familiar about it, but nothing he could particularly put his finger on. Three he did not recognise at all, or number four. The inspector noticed, however, that Peter was looking intently at photographs five and six.
"That one" Peter said, putting his hand towards the last photograph, considering it carefully. "That's familiar. That one. Do we know how he is?"
"I do" the Inspector responded, trying to give nothing whatsoever away. "Would you put him at the scene of the incident?"
Peter breathed out hard. "I can't say definitely" he whispered, squeezing Chummy's hand. "Camilla, can you get me my book?"
Chummy retrieved the book from the kitchen table where he had left it, passing it to the Inspector who read with interest at the scrawled notes. He read with particular interest on certain points and the book told its own story.
"Can you look at the photographs again?" He could see the Inspector was pushing him and Peter studied the photographs again. There was something about the sixth one, he couldn't deny it.
"Number six". Peter pushed the photograph over to his senior. "What's his name?"
The Inspector decided that that there was no harm in the officer knowing, especially as what was written within the notebook more than assisted him already. "Arnold Albrecht. Immigrant. Came to our attention about three days ago. Landlady reported blood stained clothes when she cleared out his old lodgings. Too much to be a simple cut".
"When is he from?" Chummy asked.
"Munich" the Inspector replied. "As far as we know. Travelling in crime with one other. Possibly one of the others at the scene".
"Did the landlady say where he went?" Peter asked, keen to know, wondering if he had fled the country or was around the corner.
The Inspector shook his head. "She said he left in a hurry. That was why she went through all of the things that were left behind. He still owed rent and she was after something to sell to make up for it".
Peter nodded, now absolutely certain he was his attacker.
"We think we have the knife as well" the Inspector offered.
Chummy's hand tightened on his arm as Peter swallowed, seeing the Inspector produce another envelope.
"You do?" he asked, voice high. He'd had to handle photographs of weapons before, pushing them towards victims. "Does this mean anything to you?" "Have you seen this before?" Peter had never dreamt he would be in that position, but here he was watching the enveloped being opened.
Another photograph was laid on the table, directed towards him, turned over to reveal a black handle, serrated edge still glinting at him even from a black and white picture. "We spoke to Professor Edwards and he believes that your injuries could have been caused by that knife in particular. He believes that the structure of the knife and your injury…." He paused, looking up and seeing Chummy's concerned face, accosted with what could have killed her husband.
"Its fine Sir. My wife is a nurse. She understands" Peter noted, checking and seeing Chummy nod in the affirmative, eyes still fixed on the photograph.
"He is of the view that the way the knife caused your injury, it could only be a knife with an edge and length like that. The knife was manufactured in Germany".
"Where was it found?" Chummy asked.
"Thrown in one of the bins from the fish market" the Inspector said. "It was only found when one of the fishmongers realised it wasn't one of theirs. Too big to gut fish. Sorry" he added quickly, thinking he had perhaps offended, but Chummy waved it away.
Peter looked at the other photographs again. "Don't think about it too much, Peter" Chummy whispered to him as he picked up the second photograph, familiar but not so.
"That's whats his face Morris" Peter said, scouring his memory to think of the dark haired man's name. "Kenny Morris. That's him. He's in Pentonville".
The Inspector smiled. He'd put that in to test his officer. He knew full well that there was no way on earth that Kenneth Morris was involved; a petty criminal who when faced with it, would happily shop his own mother if it meant he got a lighter sentence. That photograph was turned over too.
Peter's attention kept being drawn to the last photograph. "How tall is this chap?"
"According to what we know. Five feet ten". Same height as me, Peter thought. "And he is definitely German?" he asked.
"Yes. Wanted in Germany for assaulting his wife and sister in law". The Inspector had learnt that with interest just a few hours ago.
Peter nodded carefully now sure, the face flitting into his mind; looking up as the blade flashed towards him. "That is one of them. Definitely".
"Good".
The visit had tired him out and as soon as they both said goodbye to the Inspector, Peter's eyes were drooping, standing in middle of the sitting room, the Inspector insistent that he could make his way to the door without assistance.
"Why don't you and have a nap?" Chummy suggested seeing him sitting as comfortably as he could on the settee, hand still guarding the wound, sinking into the fabric.
"I can have a nap here and you can join me". Peter stretched out his hand. "Please".
Chummy acquiesced immediately. There was something on his face, in his eyes, that she had no excuse for. She sat, gently leaning against him, just breathing in his warmth as his arm went around her shoulder. She had put the fire on as well as the last thing she wanted was him getting a chill and a few minutes passed before she had to ask the question that was burning on her lips.
"So that was the one that did it then?" she asked, not entirely sure how she felt towards his person, knowing their name and face, wondering how they could even contemplate it.
"Yes" Peter replied. "I'm completely sure it was him".
"Hopefully they find him…." Chummy responded, seeing him yawn, resting her head on his shoulder. By rights, if she was less than the lady than she was, she would have shot out of the house and scoured the East End to find this person and tear him limb from limb. She hadn't been angry about it all until she saw this person staring back at her but now she could feel the ire rising from the pit of her stomach. This person, this individual, had threatened her and whilst she wouldn't show it to Peter, just five minutes with him and however it was would know they had met Mrs Noakes. She sighed. Not much made her angry, more upset, but perhaps for the first time someone had.
They had no idea how long they had been asleep; his parents arriving back with their rather miserable looking Labrador beside them. He'd rather ingratiated himself next door for the past few days and was not best pleased to be back with his owners it seemed.
"Reen…Come an' look 'ere" Bill said. Irene had shot straight through to the kitchen with a basket of shopping but her husband had hovered by the sitting room door; the dog plopped down beside him, leaning awkwardly on his bad leg. Irene walked back towards her husband, seeing Peter and Chummy asleep on the settee, her head on his shoulder, still holding hands.
His mother smiled and shook her head. "Nevver once did I believe 'e'd get a girl like vat".
"I'm jus' lookin' forward to ve day we get our grandbabbas out of vem", Bill said, the dog deciding to get up and shoving its way between their legs to head for the fire.
"Shush, Billy", Irene teased, tapping him on the arm affectionately. "Leave vem be an' come an' 'elp me wiv ve dinner. Ver's spuds to peel an' am not in ve mood".
For the first time in a long time, four people sat around the kitchen table, with a dog underneath hankering after scraps, all pleased that one member of the family was with them in particular as they ate.
Tomorrow was another day and having felt of use of his Inspector, Peter felt as though he had turned a corner.