Текст книги "Five Dead Canaries"

Автор книги: Edward Marston

Соавторы: Edward Marston
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Текущая страница: 10 (всего у книги 23 страниц)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Exhaustion finally got the better of June Ingles. Though she tossed and turned for hours, she finally fell into a deep sleep. She came out of it when the birds were heralding a new dawn. The first thing she noticed was that her husband was wide awake, sitting upright beside her and frowning with concentration. June made an effort to shake off her drowsiness.

‘Did you get any sleep?’ she asked.

‘No, I didn’t.’

‘You need it, Brian. We both do. Let the doctor prescribe sleeping pills.’

‘I don’t need any pills,’ he said, bitterly. ‘The only thing that would make me sleep again is to have Florrie back with us, and that’s not going to happen.’

‘We have to get used to the fact.’

‘It will take time, June.’ He suppressed a yawn. ‘I’ve spent half the night thinking about the letter I’m going to write.’

‘What letter?’

‘It’s that headline in the newspaper,’ he said. ‘“Five Dead Canaries” – it was tasteless, indecent and incorrect. Florrie wasn’t a canary. She was a wonderful daughter with a lovely disposition. She was an individual, June, and deserves to be treated as such, not tossed into a common pot labelled “canaries”. It’s demeaning.’

‘You shouldn’t have read that paper if it was going to upset you.’

‘How could I help it? Someone put it through our letter box.’

‘Yes,’ said June, ‘but they didn’t mean to offend you. They thought we might be interested in what was being said about the explosion.’ She sat up and put the pillow at her back. ‘What else have you been thinking about?’

‘It’s that idea of Mr Kennett’s.’

‘Oh, I’m not at all sure about that,’ she said, worriedly.

‘Neither was I when he rang yesterday evening but I’ve been mulling it over. It’s very kind of the factory to make the offer. After all, Florrie’s birthday party was a private matter,’ he emphasised. ‘It wasn’t the management’s responsibility. Yet Mr Kennett says that they’ll bear the cost of the funerals for the victims.’

‘But is it what we want?’

‘It will relieve us of the burden of organising it.’

‘Yes, but Florrie will just be one of five people lowered into a grave. There’ll be nothing personalabout her funeral. It will be shared.’

‘They died together and should be buried together.’

‘A moment ago,’ she noted, ‘you were complaining about that newspaper headline robbing our daughter of her individuality. The funeral will do the same.’

‘No, it won’t. It’s a different matter altogether.’

‘I’d still like Florrie to have a service of her own.’

He was insistent. ‘Do you want us to be the odd one out, June? What if the other four families opt for a joint funeral and we refuse? We’d get a lot of criticism.’

‘Who’s to say that everyone else will accept Mr Kennett’s offer? I’m not sure that they will. Apart from anything else,’ she pointed out, ‘the victims didn’t all go to the same church. Jean Harte, I know for a fact, didn’t go to anychurch.’

‘Mr Kennett made allowances for that,’ he said with a touch of impatience. ‘He realised that the services themselves might take place in different churches but the burials would all take place together at the cemetery. It’s only a question of timing, June. Florrie might have a separate service but a shared burial.’

‘I still don’t like the idea.’

‘But it will simplify everything.’

‘That’s what I’ve got against it, Brian.’

‘It will also save us money.’

‘That’s an awful thing to say,’ she complained. ‘I’m surprised at you for even mentioning it. This is Florrie we’re talking about. No expense should be spared at her funeral. We can afford it and we should pay it willingly.’

‘We’ll foot the bill for the flowers, naturally.’

‘What about after the funeral?’

‘We join the others at the hotel.’

‘Exactly,’ she said. ‘We mourn our daughter in the midst of strangers.’

‘Don’t get so worked up about it, June. They’re not all strangers. We know Jean’s father and Shirley’s husband and we’ve bumped into Agnes Collier and her mother a few times while out shopping. We’re in this together,’ he reasoned. ‘It’s a tragedy common to all five families and we mustn’t imagine we’re not part of it.’

June was both wounded and puzzled. She strongly disapproved of the notion of a shared event and she couldn’t understand why her husband had agreed to it. As a rule, he always put privacy first. She was surprised when he even gave Kennett’s invitation serious consideration. The revelation that he viewed it as a means of saving money was a profound shock to her. His salary enabled them to live a comfortable life. Her husband was generous and June lacked for nothing. Yet he was now trying to cut back on funeral expenses. There was another shock in store for her.

‘June …’

‘Yes?’

‘Something else has been on my mind as well.’

‘What’s that?’

‘I’m wondering if we should sell the house and move to somewhere smaller.’

Harvey Marmion was in a good mood when he climbed into the car beside Joe Keedy. The news about his son’s forthcoming leave had given him a real fillip. Hoping to surprise his companion with the information, he was taken aback when he learnt that Keedy was already aware of it.

‘You didn’t tell me that you’d be seeing Alice last night,’ he said.

‘You didn’t ask, Harv.’

‘How is she?’

‘As pleased as the rest of us that Paul is coming home,’ said Keedy. ‘He’s had a hard time over there. A break was long overdue.’

‘There’s only one problem, Joe. It increases the pressure on us.’

‘I don’t follow.’

‘We don’t want to be bogged down in this investigation when my son comes home. We need to have the whole thing done and dusted.’

Keedy’s laugh was hollow. ‘You’ve got a hope!’

‘We’ll get a breakthrough soon. I can feel it coming.’

‘I can’t say that I share your enthusiasm. It’s still early days.’

The car was driving swiftly towards Hayes and taking a route to which it was becoming accustomed. Knowing exactly how long they had before they got there, the detectives planned the day ahead.

‘I’d like to learn more about Florrie Duncan,’ said Marmion.

‘Her father won’t even let you through the front door, Harv. The same goes for Reuben Harte, by the way. He’s the one who thought you looked shifty.’

Marmion was piqued. ‘Don’t keep ribbing me about that.’

‘I told Alice. She thought that it was funny.’

‘I hope that’s allyou told her about this investigation,’ said Marmion, sternly. ‘I don’t want you divulging information. One detective is enough in any family.’

‘The subject never even came up,’ said Keedy, looking through the window. ‘We had other things to talk about.’

‘Keep it that way. As for Florrie Duncan, I’d like to know what the neighbours thought of her. I’m not going to do any snooping myself. If her father caught sight of me in the road, he’d probably chase me away with a garden fork.’

‘We can deploy some of our men there. They’ve finished house-to-house calls in the vicinity of the Golden Goose. That turned out to be a futile exercise.’

‘It had to be done, Joe. It’s unfortunate that nobody saw suspicious behaviour near the pub. Customers came and went all the time. The neighbours were so used to seeing traffic in and out of the Golden Goose that they stopped looking at it.’

‘The bomber must have come at night.’

‘How would he have got into the outhouse?’

‘With the key, I expect.’

‘That would have meant breaking into the pub after dark and that would have been dangerous. No,’ decided Marmion, ‘the landlord is pretty lax about security but I still bet that he’d check that the outhouse key was on its hook before he went to bed. Whoever borrowed it, did so during the day and slipped off to plant his bomb when everyone else was boozing in the bar.’

‘Are you going to speak to the landlord again?’

‘That’s my starting point, Joe.’

‘What about me?’

‘I’d like you to talk to Maureen Quinn again. Try to get her on her own. Her mother owes you a favour after the way you found her daughter at the church. Tell her you’d like a private word with Maureen.’

‘There’s something I’d rather do before that, Harv.’

‘Oh – what’s that?’

‘Another visit to that church may pay dividends,’ replied the other. ‘The priest lives in the house next door to it. I reckon he’ll have been made aware of the fact that Maureen spent hours in church yesterday. He may even have called on her. At all events, he’ll know the Quinn family and be able to give us the sort of information we might not get from anyone else.’

Marmion was impressed. ‘That’s a good idea, Joe. I wish I’d thought of it.’

‘So do I,’ said Keedy under his breath.

Since he had no telephone, the message was delivered to Jonah Jenks by hand. When he heard the envelope drop through the letter box, he thought at first that it would be another card from one of the neighbours, expressing their sympathy at his loss. Instead, it was a letter from the munitions factory on headed paper. Bernard Kennett, the works manager, offered his condolences and raised the possibility of a joint funeral for the five victims. Since they’d been employed at the factory, he’d been authorised to say that all expenses would be met from management coffers. The letter stressed that no compulsion would be involved. The families of the deceased were free to make their own decision about the funerals of their respective daughters.

Jenks was touched by the unexpected sign of compassion. He viewed the munitions factory as an enemy, a huge, relentless machine that enslaved thousands of women and sent them home with ruined complexions. It had cut short his daughter’s burgeoning career as a musician, eating into her practice time and coarsening her hands so much that she could no longer conjure the same mellifluous notes out of piano and violin. Enid had denied that filling shells had had a deleterious effect on her playing but her father knew what he heard. Her talent had been compromised. After reading the letter again, he decided that the factory owed his daughter something and that the invitation should be accepted.

Putting on a coat and hat, he went off to discuss the matter.

Things had changed at the Golden Goose. Now that detectives had finished searching through the rubble for bomb fragments, the lumps of stone and charred timbers were being loaded onto the back of a lorry. The pub might be losing its outhouse but it had gained some scaffolding. It now surrounded the building, holding it in like a metal corset. Men were already on the roof, mending the chimney and replacing the dislodged slates. Houses nearby had also improved in appearance. Windows had been installed and the shards of glass on the pavement swept up. There had even been some repairs to damaged brickwork and to front doors from which large splinters of wood had been gouged out. The area was getting back to normal.

What could not be removed so easily were the ugly memories of the blast. People were still complaining angrily about it and comparing the damage it had done to their properties. There was sympathy for the victims but it was relegated to a secondary position. Leighton Hubbard could not leave his pub alone. Drawn back to the Golden Goose that morning, he stared up dolefully at it, trying to work out if it was doomed to distinction or a phoenix about to rise from the ashes. One thing was certain. He and his wife would never feel safe inside it again.

The police car drew up and Harvey Marmion stepped out. After an exchange of greetings with Hubbard, he looked at the work going on.

‘The mess will soon be cleared away, sir,’ he said.

‘But what am I left with?’ asked Hubbard. ‘I’ll have a pub with a jinx on it. Customers are already starting to say they won’t come back. Others have deserted me for my rivals. I’ve been put out of business for good.’

‘I doubt that, Mr Hubbard. I’ve talked to a lot of people around here and they speak well of you and your pub. Rely on their loyalty. They’ll be back.’

‘The big question is this, Inspector – will Ibe back?’

‘Is there any reason why you shouldn’t be?’

‘Yes,’ said the landlord. ‘That bomb has given my missus the shakes. She won’t even hear about moving back in yet. She’s lost her nerve completely.’

‘I’m sure it will return in time,’ said Marmion, facing him. ‘Did you do what I asked you to do?’

‘Yes,’ said Hubbard, thrusting a hand into his pocket, ‘but I can’t see that it will be of any use.’ He handed over two crumpled pieces of paper. ‘Those are all the names that I could remember. Frankly, I was amazed how many there were. Some just pop in now and then, of course, so they may not count. Regulars like Ezra Greenwell were in the Goose almost every night.’

Marmion ran his eye down the list on the first page, then studied the second one. He noticed that Royston Liddle had a mention and so did Alan Suggs. It was as well that the landlord didn’t know what the two of them had got up to at the pub.

‘Did you see much of Alan Suggs in here?’ asked Marmion.

‘He wasn’t one of my regulars,’ said Hubbard. ‘Alan’s more interested in chasing women than playing darts in my bar. When he did come in, he had that smile on his face as if he’d been having fun somewhere else. He even tried to flirt with my missus once.’ His expression hardened. ‘I wasn’t having that and neither was she. After we’d both had a go at him, we didn’t see him in here for months.’

‘What are these ticks against certain names?’

‘Those are men who’ve been coming here for years, real dependables.’

‘What about the crosses? Do they indicate men employed at the munitions factory?’

‘Yes – it’s what you asked for, Inspector.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ said Marmion, pocketing the two pieces of paper. ‘It could turn out to have been a profitable piece of homework. One of the patrons on your list might have been the bomber.’

Hubbard was incensed. ‘I deny that,’ he said, hotly. ‘I know everyone who comes into the Goose. Not one of them would dare to do such a thing to me.’

‘But they didn’t do it to you– they did it to five young women.’

‘It amounts to the same thing. It was on my premises.’

‘Which would have been worse?’ asked Marmion, looking him in the eye. ‘A bomb planted in the outhouse or one hidden in your cellar?’

‘One in the cellar, of course – we’d all have been killed then.’

‘Please bear that in mind, sir. Instead of moaning about being a victim, you should be grateful that you’re a survivor.’

But the landlord could only see the explosion in terms of what it had cost him. He drifted away to talk to one of the workmen. His place was taken by Royston Liddle, grinning and nodding simultaneously.

‘Good morning, Inspector,’ he said.

‘Hello, Mr Liddle. Perhaps you can help me.’ Marmion took out the lists given him by Leighton Hubbard. ‘Have a look at those, please.’ The grin vanished and Liddle took a step backwards. ‘Ah, I see. You can’t read. In that case, I’ll go through the names of people in whom I’m interested. Tell me what you know about them.’

‘I can read a bit,’ said Liddle, ‘but I’m very slow.’

‘Let’s start off with Les Harker.’

‘Oh, he comes in here a lot. He works at the factory.’

‘All the people that I want to hear about work there.’

There were over a dozen names on the list. Marmion went through them one by one. Liddle knew them all by sight and was able to supply a lot of detail about some of them. The last name required no comment from him.

‘You’ve already told me enough about Alan Suggs,’ said Marmion.

‘He said that you talked to him.’

‘Oh, I did. We had a long and fruitful conversation. Mr Suggs has a very complicated private life, but I daresay you know that.’

‘Alan came after me.’

‘Did he threaten you in any way?’

‘He did more than that, Inspector,’ said Liddle, rubbing his shoulder gingerly. ‘He pushed me so hard against a fence that I’ve got bruises. I saw them in the mirror. He chased me down the alleyway. If I hadn’t run so fast, he’d have really hurt me.’

‘I warned him against reprisals.’

‘What are they?’

‘Never mind,’ said Marmion. ‘I’ll speak to him again.’

‘Tell him that I didn’t mean to get him into trouble. I’m his friend.’

‘He might take some convincing on that score.’ Folding the pieces of paper again, he slipped them into his pocket. ‘But thank you for your help with those names. You’ve saved me bothering with most of them.’ The praise made the other man beam. ‘Keep your eyes open. If any of the people we talked about show up here at night just to gloat, let me know.’

‘I’ve always wanted to be a policeman,’ said Liddle, excitedly.

‘Don’t wish too hard,’ cautioned Marmion. ‘The hours are terrible, the work is never-ending and a lot of people think it’s their mission in life to tell you dreadful lies. You’re better off doing odd jobs, Mr Liddle. It’s a lot safer in every way.’

When he was shown into the room, Keedy was astonished to see how barely furnished it was. Apart from the desk and the chair behind it, there were only two upright chairs and a bookcase. The floor was uncarpeted and the only wall decoration was the large crucifix above the fireplace. Father Cleary was amused by his reaction.

‘What did you expect, Sergeant?’ he asked.

‘It’s so Spartan.’

‘The Catholic priesthood is not a road to luxury, you know. This study is ideal for me. It has no clutter and nothing to distract the eye. That’s my idea of an ideal environment.’

‘It wouldn’t suit me, Father Cleary. I like a bit of comfort.’

‘Then we’re clearly not soul mates.’

Keedy had arrived to receive a cordial greeting. The priest seemed to expect him and waved him to a chair. On the desk in front of him were neat piles of paper and a Bible. There was a chill in the air.

‘Once February is out, I manage without a fire,’ explained Cleary.

‘You’re a model of self-denial, Father.’

‘Oh, I don’t flatter myself that I occupy that status. Models are for people to copy. You won’t find any of my parishioners taking up their carpets and throwing out half the furniture.’ He smiled benignly. ‘You’ve come about Maureen Quinn, haven’t you? I had a feeling you would, sooner or later.’

‘To be frank,’ said Keedy, ‘I’ve come about the whole Quinn family. I was hoping that you could tell us more about them. Maureen seems very nice but her father couldn’t wait to get us out of the house.’

‘Eamonn was never very hospitable.’

‘He stopped the children coming to church, I believe.’

‘Yes, and it was a crying shame because they learnt so much while they were here, Maureen especially. Her brothers were a bit of a handful, mind you, and I don’t think their father liked it when I told him about their little tricks.’

‘Tricks?’

‘When they came to Sunday school, each of the children was given a penny for the collection. Maureen and Lily always put theirs dutifully on the plate but the lads kept the money and tried to palm us off with blazer buttons and the odd foreign coin. I soon put a stop to that. But all credit to them,’ Cleary went on, ‘they might have been little devils as children but, when war broke out, Liam and Anthony were among the first to volunteer for the army.’

Hands clasped and shoulders hunched, he went on to give Keedy a brief history of the family and of its fluctuating interest in the church. Diane and her daughters had last attended a service at Christmas. It was years since Eamonn had been near the place. In Cleary’s judgement, he was essentially a man’s man and missed his sons badly. He’d spent most of his free time with them and taught them the rudiments of carpentry in the garden shed. Liam had gone on to be apprenticed to a cabinetmaker. Anthony had worked in a foundry. Keedy was given the image of a relatively happy and close family whose lives had been fractured by the war. Maureen had been a major casualty. In spite of a good education and other assets, she’d ended up toiling in the munitions factory to contribute to the family budget.

‘What was your view of her father?’ asked Cleary.

‘He likes to let his family know that he’s in charge,’ said Keedy, ‘which is a polite way of saying that he’s an uncouth bully.’

‘He has his better qualities.’

‘We weren’t allowed to see them.’

‘I’m sure you know that he fell foul of the law.’

‘Yes, he was fined twice for causing an affray.’

‘Oh, he caused trouble more than twice,’ said Cleary with a laugh. ‘Eamonn is quick to anger and slow to cool down. He’s been banned from a couple of pubs for threatening behaviour. Even with watered beer, he can get horribly drunk.’

‘I feel sorry for his wife and children.’

‘They’ve learnt to live with him.’

‘Do they have any choice?’ Keedy took out his notebook and consulted a page. ‘This is my record of our interview with Maureen. She was deeply shocked, of course, as anybody would be when friends have died in such horrible circumstances. But there was something more than shock in her face.’

‘It was guilt, Sergeant. They died while she lived. That fact will haunt her.’

‘I’d taken account of that, Father Cleary. There was something else as well.’

‘What was it?’

‘That’s the trouble – I don’t know. And we were unable to draw it out of her because her father was sitting beside her. Inspector Marmion had the same reaction as I did. We didn’t get the full truth out of Maureen, somehow.’

‘You must allow for her confusion,’ warned the priest. ‘After a ghastly experience like that, the poor girl must be totally bewildered. Give her time.’

‘We don’t have unlimited time to give her,’ said Keedy. ‘In cases of murder, we find that the first forty-eight hours after the event are crucial. That’s when memories are fresh and we’re likely to get a clearer idea of what actually happened. The longer an investigation goes on, the more difficult it sometimes becomes. Witnesses are less reliable, evidence disappears and the killer is given valuable time to get far away from the scene.’

‘I don’t think he’s far away at the moment, Sergeant. He’s right here.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘It has to be a local man, hasn’t it? You’re looking for someone familiar with the Golden Goose and with the fact that a birthday party was being held there.’

Keedy blinked. ‘Well done, Father. That’s exactly who we’re after.’

‘And you think Maureen can help you find him?’

‘I just feel that she may be hiding something.’

Cleary’s smile was enigmatic. ‘I’ll be interested to hear what it is.’