Five Dead Canaries (15 page)

‘Where did you get this monstrous tale?’

‘If only it were monstrous, sir.’

‘Who is your informant?’ demanded Jenks.

‘It was Maureen Quinn. Your daughter confided in her and Maureen would hardly have invented a story like that. She struck me as a truthful young woman.’ Marmion looked at Beresford. ‘You know her well, Mr
Beresford, because she is in your football team. Would you say that Maureen was honest by nature?’

‘Yes,’ said Beresford, ‘I would. She’s very honest.’

Marmion turned back to Jenks. ‘Facts are facts, sir, however distasteful they may be. You’ll simply have to accept the truth.’

Jenks was dazed. The daughter whom he’d loved and trusted was changing before his eyes and it was a distressing transformation. He was so shocked that he dropped down into an armchair with his head in his hands. All that Marmion and Beresford could do was to wait until he began to rally. Sitting up straight, Jenks looked at Marmion with apprehension.

‘What other revelations do you have about my daughter?’ he asked.

‘I know of nothing to her discredit,’ said Marmion. ‘The fault, it seems, lies entirely with Wylie. When you read a newspaper tomorrow morning, you’ll see that he’s been identified as a chief suspect.’

‘Then why, in God’s name, haven’t you arrested him?’

‘He’s disappeared and we don’t know where he is.’

‘Have you been to his house?’

‘Sergeant Keedy and I called there earlier. What you need to know, Mr Jenks, is that Wylie kept sending notes to your daughter. One of them is of special interest to us because,’ said Marmion, solemnly, ‘it contained a threat that, if
he
could not possess Enid, then nobody could.’

‘It was Herbert!’ cried Beresford. ‘I bet he planted that bomb.’

‘We’re working on that supposition, sir. The search has begun.’

Jenks was horrified. ‘Are you saying that Enid
caused
this disaster?’

‘Not at all,’ stressed Marmion. ‘She was an innocent victim and so were the other four people at that birthday party.’

‘If she’d told me, I could have tackled this devil and sent him packing.’

‘Perhaps she found it difficult to confide such things in you, sir.’

‘I still can’t accept that she lied to me, Inspector.’

Beresford stood up. ‘How sure are you that Herbert was behind the crime?’

‘The evidence speaks for itself, sir.’

‘Well, he’d certainly know how to make a bomb. It was his job.’

‘We found items at his address that proved he had the means to construct an explosive device. And when someone suddenly vanishes from the scene, it’s often because he wants to escape justice.’

‘I’d like to tear him apart,’ growled Jenks, rising to his feet.

‘So would I,’ affirmed Beresford.

‘He must have put my daughter through hell. If he turned up at church, Enid must have realised that there was nowhere to hide. The poor girl must have been at her wits’ end.’ He wrung his hands. ‘Why ever didn’t she turn to me?’

‘That’s a question only you can answer, sir,’ said Marmion, quietly.

Everyone to whom Keedy talked said the same thing about Herbert Wylie. He was a quiet, industrious, rather lonely man who did his job but who made few friends at the factory. Those who realised that a detective would only take an interest in their colleague if he was suspected of something expressed their surprise. Alf Rutter, the foreman under whom Wylie worked, refused to countenance the notion that the man was capable of committing a crime. Rutter was a bull-necked man with a bald head and a toothbrush moustache that wiggled as he talked. He was also very fond of gesticulating as a means of underlining any points he was trying to make. Keedy felt that it was like talking to a human windmill.

‘Herb Wylie?’ said Rutter. ‘He wouldn’t say boo to a goose.’

‘What about a Golden Goose?’ asked Keedy.

‘You’ve got the wrong man, Sergeant.’

‘Did he have a girlfriend?’

‘No, he was far too shy. A barmaid only had to smile at him and Herb would blush bright red. Now, in my case,’ boasted Rutter, hands whirring away, ‘it was different. I was in the merchant navy. I saw a bit of the world, if you take my meaning.’

‘What about hobbies?’

‘There’s no time for hobbies in this place. You work till you drop then stagger home to bed. The only thing that any of us have any time for is a reviving pint and a natter with the missus.’

‘But Wylie wasn’t married.’

‘He had this landlady who doted on him. She couldn’t do enough for Herb. That was his idea of a girlfriend – someone old, kind and wanting to look after him.’

‘What about his family?’

‘I don’t think he had anything to do with them, Sergeant. He left home years ago. He was from Sheffield originally and came south to look for work. God knows how he ended up in Hayes but he did. As for his work,’ said Rutter, arms still flailing away, ‘I got no complaints. Herb was slow but he kept at it. He was … what’s the word?’

‘Tenacious?’ suggested Keedy.

‘That would sum him up perfect. He was tenacious.’

‘You mean that once he got his teeth into something, he’d never let go.’

Rutter grinned. ‘I couldn’t have put it better myself, Sergeant.’

It was an aspect of Wylie’s character that indicated he could well be the person described by Maureen Quinn. When he went through what he knew of the victims, Keedy could see why the reportedly shy
Wylie had settled on Enid Jenks. Florrie Duncan would have been too daunting a challenge for him while Jean Harte was still mourning the death of her fiancé and repelled all male interest. Shirley Beresford and Agnes Collier were both married, the former having a husband on the premises. When he added Maureen Quinn’s name to the list, Keedy decided that she’d be more able to stand up for herself, especially with Florrie at her back. Of the six women who went to the birthday party, Enid Jenks was the most likely recipient of Wylie’s unsought addresses. She was, by all accounts, a quiet, gentle soul with few interests outside her music. Because of her father’s vigilance, she had no opportunity to find a boyfriend or to enjoy some experience of real adult life. As a target, she would have been docile and unable to strike back. Wylie had watched her for a long time before moving in.

‘Where would he go if he wanted to hide?’ asked Keedy.

Rutter was combative. ‘Who says he’s in hiding? I reckon he’s just gone off for a few days’ holiday. To tell the truth, he looked a bit odd last time he was here, like he was ill or something.’

‘Was he jumpy?’

‘No, he just did his job then rushed out.’

‘Thank you, Mr Rutter. You’ve been very helpful.’

‘I’ve saved you a lot of wasted time, Sergeant. There’s no need to go after Herb. He wouldn’t have the courage to look at them girls, let alone blow them up.’

He semaphored with both arms then turned on his heel and strode off. Keedy was glad to have spoken to the foreman. Unwittingly, the man had told him something about the suspect that confirmed his potential as a suspect. When he returned to Kennett’s office, a bonus awaited him. The works manager had dug out an old photograph of some employees about to depart on an outing. A dozen or more men
were standing on a platform at the railway station and grinning happily. Wylie was lurking on the edge of the group as if he was not really part of it. Head bent forward and eyes screwed up in concentration, he stared defiantly at the camera.

‘Can we borrow this, Mr Kennett?’ asked Keedy.

‘Yes, of course,’ replied the other.

‘I’d like the inspector to see it and it will enable us to give the press a more detailed description of the wanted man.’

‘It will be a stigma on us if he does turn out to be guilty.’

‘Why is that, sir?’

‘It will look bad, Sergeant – very bad. Personally, I feel very uneasy at the thought that we may be harbouring a killer in this factory.’

‘Then there’s something you haven’t noticed,’ said Keedy, unable to resist the comment. ‘Everyone who works here is engaged in the production of dangerous weapons. It looks to me as if you’re harbouring several thousand killers.’

Eamonn Quinn was less than pleased with what his wife told him.

‘Sadie Radcliffe came
here
?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then why the hell did you let her in?’

‘She came to apologise, Eamonn.’

‘I’d have sent her on her way,’ he said, vengefully.

‘She’s Agnes’s mother,’ Diane reminded him, ‘and you should have some sympathy for her. Because our daughter left that party early, we were very lucky. Sadie wasn’t. I admire her. With all that she has to cope with, she nevertheless felt that she wanted to say sorry for things she said about Maureen.’

‘I’ll never forgive her for that.’

‘We’d have done the same in her position. If our daughter had died and Agnes had survived, we’d have been bitter and said things we didn’t really mean.’

Quinn was adamant. ‘I always mean exactly what I say.’

After washing his hands in the sink, he dried them and took his seat at the table. Diane prodded the potatoes and decided that they needed a few more minutes in the saucepan on the stove. She told her husband how her visitor had asked for advice with regard to the offer made by the factory. Her husband’s reaction was instant.

‘Stupid woman!’ he exclaimed. ‘She should snatch their hands off.’

‘Sadie was undecided.’

‘Think of the money she’d save.’

‘She has to put Agnes first. Money doesn’t really come into this.’

‘Yes, it does,’ he insisted. ‘The factory owes those girls something. They work their fingers to the bone and come home looking like refugees from Peking. The least they deserve is to have their funeral expenses covered.’

‘It’s the idea of a burial all together that worries me,’ said Diane, ‘and I think it would worry Father Cleary as well.’

‘Why?’

‘We’re Roman Catholics and the other families are not. Father Cleary would want us to keep apart from them.’

‘I’d do what I wanted and not listen to him.’ He sat back as she put four plates on the table. ‘What did Sadie decide in the end?’

‘She really wanted to know what the other families thought. Since they’re all strangers to her, she asked if Maureen would go with her because she knew where the parents of the other victims lived.’

‘Then she’s got a damn cheek, if you ask me!’

‘It was a simple enough favour to ask, Eamonn,’ said his wife. ‘Agnes would have done the same for me if she’d been the one to survive. As it was, Maureen refused. It really upset her to be asked. She just ran off upstairs.’

‘Maureen did the right thing.’

Diane went to the door and called to her daughters. Maureen and Lily came into the kitchen and took their places at the table. Their mother put out the cutlery before draining the potatoes. She then served them directly onto the plates. Thin slices of mutton followed with some peas. Bread and thinly-spread butter were already on the table. Quinn began to eat the moment that food was put in front of him. His daughters waited for their mother to slip off her pinafore and join them at the table. After giving Maureen a warning glance, Diane braced herself.

‘We had another visit from Sergeant Keedy,’ she said.

Quinn glared. ‘Why is he still bothering us?’

‘He wanted to talk to Maureen alone.’

‘Well, I hope you told her that he couldn’t. I don’t care who he is, Di. He can’t come barging in here and bombarding Maureen with questions. She’s still recovering from what happened.’ He pointed his knife at Diane. ‘You should have refused outright. Did you?’

‘No – but they were only alone together for a short while.’

‘Two minutes would have been too long!’ he protested.

‘He felt that Maureen could help the investigation.’

‘I didn’t mind,’ said Maureen, coming to her mother’s aid. ‘Sergeant Keedy was very nice. He didn’t make me feel uncomfy or anything. He just wanted to know a little more about the others.’

‘The best way to do that,’ said Quinn, ‘is to talk to their families.’

‘No, it isn’t,’ said Diane. ‘They’re still struggling with the shock of what happened at that pub. Besides, they could only say what their daughters were like at home. Maureen knew them at work where they behaved differently.’

His gaze shifted to Maureen and there was menace in his tone. ‘Don’t you dare tell me that you talked to him about our family. I warned you against that.’

‘Sergeant Keedy didn’t ask about us,’ said Maureen.

‘So what
did
you tell him?’

‘I just told him the truth. I liked them all. They were friends. I miss them. The person that the sergeant was really interested in was Enid.’

‘Enid Jenks – she the one who plays the violin?’

‘Yes, she played the piano as well.’

‘And what did you say about her?’

Maureen hesitated, looking at her sister to indicate that Lily was perhaps too young to hear the information. Quinn became restive. He spoke through a mouthful of half-chewed potato.

‘Well – what did you say, girl?’

‘I told him that Enid was having trouble with a man at work.’

‘What sort of trouble?’

‘He wouldn’t leave her alone.’

Meals of any kind always posed a problem during an investigation. Marmion and Keedy had to eat on the hoof, grabbing whatever they could at whatever unlikely time it might be. It was mid-afternoon before they finally managed to have some lunch. Back at the police station, they munched sandwiches and sipped lukewarm tea. Keedy’s visit to the factory had given them a much more rounded picture of their chief suspect and the photograph was an added bonus. As he reached for another sandwich, Marmion studied the face of Herbert Wylie.

‘What do you see when you look at him, Joe?’ he asked.

‘I see an ugly little bugger in a decent suit.’

‘You’d never think he was off on a works outing, would you?’

‘Maybe he didn’t want to spend a day with a load of other men,’ said Keedy. ‘His idea of fun is to be alone with Enid Jenks.’

‘Alan Suggs was no oil painting but, compared to this sour-faced
chap, he was dazzlingly handsome. If he wanted to impress women, why didn’t Wylie learn to smile properly?’

‘Who knows?’ He looked over Marmion’s shoulder at the photograph. ‘There’s a mean glint in his eye. You can imagine him stalking his prey.’

‘That’s only because you know what he did to Enid Jenks,’ said Marmion. ‘If you didn’t, you’d probably have said that he needed spectacles. I mean, look at this character over here,’ he went on, pointing to a plump individual in the middle of the group. ‘He’s got the face of merciless killer, if ever I saw one, yet he’s probably a devoted husband and father who’s led a spotless existence. The camera
does
lie sometimes.’

‘That’s a fair point,’ conceded the other. ‘I daresay that anyone looking at a photo of me would think I was a homicidal maniac. And remember how Harte reacted when he first set eyes on you? You’re a highly respected detective inspector yet he thought you looked shifty.’

‘There’s no need to bring that up,’ complained Marmion.

‘It shows you that you should never judge a sausage by its skin.’ Keedy glanced at the telephone. ‘Are you going to ring Chat for a chat?’

‘He’ll be too busy claiming credit for unmasking our new suspect.’

‘We do the digging and he gets the pat on the back.’

‘It was ever thus in the police force.’

‘You could have been superintendent, if you’d really wanted the job.’

‘I like it the way it is, Joe.’

‘Really?’

‘Yes, I’m serious.’

‘But it would have meant more money, more power and regular meals.’

‘It would also have kept me caged up in Scotland Yard, missing the dubious pleasure of your company. I’m good at what I do and I’ll settle for that.’

Keedy drank some tea. ‘How did you get on with Enid Jenks’s father?’

‘It was much as I expected.’

‘Did he refuse to believe that his daughter had deceived him?’

‘Yes, he did – and I had some sympathy with him there. It rattled him,’ said Marmion, pressing on quickly before Keedy could respond to the veiled reference to Alice. ‘He thought that Enid did everything that he told her and that she’d never developed a mind of her own. He knows differently now.’

‘Didn’t he have the faintest inkling that she was being hounded?’

‘No, Joe, he’s not the most observant of men. In retrospect, of course, it was another story. When I told him that Wylie had turned up at their church on one occasion, he said that he knew when that must have been because his daughter began to behave strangely one Sunday. She not only dragged him away as soon as the service was over, she held his arm all the way home and she hadn’t done that for years. When he asked if something was wrong, Enid said she felt unwell.’

‘It must have been a torment for her, suffering in silence like that.’

‘She just didn’t feel able to confide in him. By chance,’ continued Marmion, ‘Neil Beresford was there when I called. He’s made an amazing recovery. Last time I saw him, he was almost at death’s door. He’d come to see Jenks to discuss the letter they’d both received from Mr Kennett.’

‘What was their verdict?’

‘They’re both going to accept the offer.’

‘That’s very sensible of them.’

‘So is Mr Ingles, apparently.’

‘I remember him,’ said Keedy. ‘He threw us out of the house.’

‘We touched a sensitive spot, Joe.’

‘My memory of Mr Ingles is that he was a compound of sensitive
spots. You had to be careful what you said. Talking to him was like walking barefoot over broken glass. Next time you go there, Harv, you go alone. There was one thing in his favour, mind you,’ he went on, unable to hide a smirk. ‘At least he didn’t think you were shifty.’

Sadie Radcliffe was in the middle of putting wet dungarees through the mangle when the visitors called. Drying her hands, she went to the door and opened it to a smartly dressed couple whom she’d never seen before. Brian Ingles introduced himself and his wife and asked if they might speak to her. Since the living room was full of baby things, Sadie was embarrassed to take them into it but she had no alternative. After waving them to the settee, she perched on a stool beside the fireplace. She noticed the quality of June’s coat and the pearl necklace at her throat. Ingles took control. Accustomed to giving orders at work, his question sounded more like a demand.

‘Have you come to a decision concerning that letter, Mrs Radcliffe?’

‘Yes,’ replied Sadie. ‘I have more or less.’

‘Then I trust that you had the sense to accept. That’s what my wife and I have done and I can speak for Neil Beresford, Shirley’s husband, as well. I talked to him earlier. I also know that Jonah Jenks is sympathetic to the idea because Reuben Harte told me when I went to see him today.’

‘Mr Harte is against it,’ said June.

‘I’ll persuade him,’ said her husband, testily. ‘I rarely fail to win people over to my viewpoint.’ He smiled condescendingly at Sadie. ‘May I take it that you’ll follow where we lead?’

‘Yes, Mr Ingles.’

‘It will simplify everything,’ said June.

‘It will also make it possible to set a date for the funeral,’ added her
husband. ‘All I have to do is to get Reuben Harte on our side and the job is complete. The five victims can be interred together, as is only right and proper.’

There was an awkward pause. Sadie wondered if she ought to offer them some refreshment but held back because she felt that their tea service would be markedly superior to hers. When she did speak, she blurted her question out.

‘You’re the ones with the big house in Hayes, aren’t you?’

‘Yes,’ said June, smugly.

‘Agnes told me that you have a garden at the front and the back.’

‘It’s everything we ever wanted, Mrs Radcliffe.’

‘Though, actually,’ said Ingles, ‘we’re about to put it on the market.’

‘We can’t do that, Brian,’ urged June. ‘I love that house.’

‘So do I, my dear, but it’s far too large for our needs.’

‘I’d rather have too much room than too little,’ said Sadie.

‘That’s my feeling exactly,’ said June. ‘Besides, the house holds so many fond memories for us. I’d like to stay there indefinitely. My husband thinks that the place feels empty now that Florrie has died but she hasn’t lived there since she got married.’ She looked at her husband. ‘You never worried about it being too big when Florrie was alive. What’s changed?’

‘Need we discuss this here?’ he said, irritably.

‘I’d just like to know.’

‘Very well – I’ll tell you. What changed are the associations with the house. As you said earlier, it holds fond memories but they’ve been overshadowed by Florrie’s death. As long as we stay there, we’ll be reminded of it. I’m sorry, June,’ he went on, ‘I know it’s difficult for you to grasp but we have to get well away from there and make a fresh start. We have to build our lives anew.’

‘I wish I could do that,’ moaned Sadie. ‘I’d love to be able to sell up and move far away but there’s no chance of that happening. We’re stuck here for ever.’

‘I want to get far away from that confounded factory,’ declared Ingles. ‘And I want a smaller house that’s easier to manage.’

‘It can’t be
much
smaller, Brian. That would be intolerable.’

‘Leave this to me.’ He stood up. ‘Thank you, Mrs Radcliffe. I’m glad that the journey here has paid dividends. I can go back to Reuben Harte and tell him that he’s the fly in the ointment. He must accept the majority decision.’

‘I agree,’ said June, now on her feet.

‘God willing, I should be able to phone Mr Kennett later this afternoon to tell him what we’ve all decided. The funeral will be a harrowing experience for us all. If the five of them are buried at the same time, however, we can each draw support from others in the same unfortunate position.’

Sadie led the way. ‘I’ll show you out.’

She was relieved to get rid of them. June had been looking around the living room with polite disdain and Ingles had annoyed her by the way in which he’d taken the arrangements for the burial into his hands. Sadie felt that she hadn’t been given free rein to express her opinions. As she watched them going off down the street, she could still hear them arguing about whether or not to sell their house.