Five Dead Canaries (9 page)

‘They came now and again but neither were regulars. They don’t live in Hayes, you see, and Agnes has a baby to look after. She brought him here once. He’s got a good pair of lungs on him, I know that.’

Keedy sensed that he was claiming to know the women rather better than he actually did. He spoke about them with an affection that – Keedy suspected – was not entirely reciprocated. Harte was too dry and humourless to mix easily with characters like Florrie Duncan and Agnes Collier, both reportedly given to constant laughter. What he did do was to describe aspects of the five victims’ characters that didn’t appear in the notes provided by Kennett. Jean Harte had had ambitions of being a
dress designer. Florrie Duncan lived alone in a two-room flat because – in spite of her gregariousness – she preferred her own company. Shirley Beresford had been a suffragette before the war. Agnes Collier was an expert cook and had won a number of local competitions. Enid Jenks had twice tried to move out of the family home but had been baulked by her father on both occasions.

Keedy soaked it all in, then remembered the question that Marmion put to him.

‘Why were Enid and Shirley such close friends?’

‘I used to wonder about that,’ admitted Harte.

‘Did you reach a conclusion?’

‘No, Sergeant. It’s something I just can’t explain.’

Alan Suggs was a thickset man in his late twenties with curly, black hair and a beard that gave him a faintly piratical air. When he pulled the lorry into the parking bay, he switched off, took out a cigarette, lit it then jumped out of the vehicle. He was just locking the door when Marmion strolled across to him.

‘Mr Suggs?’ he enquired, politely.

‘That’s me. Who wants to know?’

Marmion introduced himself and noted the man’s reaction. Suggs stiffened, drew nervously on his cigarette then exhaled a cloud of smoke. He decided that the best means of defence was stout denial.

‘If someone’s told you I’ve been giving unauthorised lifts to people,’ he said, ‘then he’s lying through his teeth. I’d never do that. I know the rules and I’ve signed to say I’d never break them. Anyway,’ he went on after another puff of his cigarette, ‘why is Scotland Yard worrying about drivers misusing their lorries? It’s small beer to you lot. Haven’t you got anything better to do than that?’

‘I’ve been talking to Royston Liddle,’ said Marmion, meaningfully.

‘Don’t listen to anything that poor bugger tells you. Royston is soft in the head. My dog has got more brains than him.’

‘He claims to be a friend of yours.’

Suggs laughed harshly. ‘Royston is no friend of mine.’

‘Then why did you ask him to look the other way when you borrowed the key to the outhouse at the Golden Goose?’

‘That what he told you, Inspector? It’s rubbish.’

‘He didn’t strike me as a practised liar.’

‘Royston doesn’t know what day it is.’

‘He knows that he’d lose his job if the landlord discovered that he’d helped you to make use of that outhouse with someone. And before you deny it, Mr Suggs,’ he continued, locking his gaze on the driver, ‘let me warn you that I’m investigating the explosion at the Golden Goose. You had access to the place where they died.’

‘It was nothing to do with me!’ roared Suggs.

‘Then why were you in the outhouse on the eve of the blast?’

‘That’s private.’

‘There’s no such thing as privacy in a murder investigation.’

Suggs was scarlet. ‘I didn’t murder anyone. What the hell d’you take me for?’

‘I take you for someone I’d never care to employ,’ said Marmion, levelly. ‘I think you’re vain, shifty, dishonest and untrustworthy. If, as you claim, you had no connection with that bomb, all you have to do is to give me the name of the person with whom you spent half an hour in that outhouse. A lot can happen in thirty minutes, Mr Suggs. You’d have plenty of time to hide a bomb with a timing device.’

Having been quick to protest, Suggs now fell back into a sullen silence. Marmion could almost see the man’s brain whirring as he
sought for a plausible tale to explain his presence at the Golden Goose. He stared at Marmion with an amalgam of dislike and apprehension. Suggs had a glib manner that had suddenly let him down. After a last pull on the cigarette, he dropped it to the ground and stamped on it.

‘You obviously have a problem with your eyes,’ said Marmion, pointing to the sign on the wall. ‘That says No Smoking. You also seem to have trouble with your memory. The best way to revive it is for us to have this discussion in the presence of Royston Liddle. Mr Hubbard would also be an interested observer.’

‘Keep him out of this,’ begged Suggs. ‘Leighton would strangle me.’

‘You look as if you’d like to inflict the same fate on Liddle, so let me say now that if any harm befalls him, I’ll come looking for you with an arrest warrant. Now then,’ Marmion went on, folding his arms, ‘why don’t you dredge up something resembling the truth?’

Suggs swallowed hard. ‘I didn’t plant that bomb. I swear it.’

‘Did you advise the people who did?’

‘No!’

‘Did you tell them where the key could be found?’

‘Of course, I didn’t.’

‘Where were you when the bomb went off?’

‘I was fast asleep at home, Inspector. I work long hours. I need my rest.’

‘You didn’t need any rest on the previous evening. My guess is that you were feeling quite vigorous.’ He took out his notebook. ‘What was her name?’

‘There
was
no “her”. I was in there on my own.’

‘Royston Liddle saw a young woman being hustled in there.’

‘Are you going to rely on the word of a halfwit?’

‘It’s far more dependable than anything you’ve told me so far.’
Marmion put the book away. ‘Let’s go and find Mr Hubbard. He has a right to hear the truth.’

‘No, no,’ said Suggs, both palms raised, ‘anything but that.’ He pursed his lips for a few moments. ‘Okay,’ he said at length, ‘maybe there
was
someone in there with me on the night before that explosion.’

‘Ah – we’re making progress at last.’

‘But I’m not in a position to tell you her name.’

‘It’s very gallant of you to protect her anonymity, Mr Suggs, but I’m afraid that I can’t let you do that. Unless you tell me who she is, I can’t get corroboration.’

Suggs blinked. ‘What’s that mean?’

‘It means that I need someone to confirm what you tell me.’

‘Can’t you take my word for it?’

‘No, sir – I fancy that you’re a congenital liar. Indeed, that may be the reason you won’t divulge the name of the young lady. Perhaps you’ve been telling her fibs as well.’ He put his head to one side as he fired his question. ‘Are you married?’

‘No!’ retorted Suggs.

‘Are you sure you haven’t led her to believe that you’re single?’

‘I’d never do anything like that.’

‘Then let me have a name.’ There was a lengthy pause. ‘Or are you holding it back because the young lady is the one who’s married?’

Suggs licked his lips then examined the ground for a full minute. When he raised his head, he scratched at his beard then smoothed the ruffled hairs down. Marmion could see that he might now get an approximation to the truth.

‘Lettie and me are both single,’ Suggs began. ‘I’m hoping that one day we can get engaged but her parents don’t like me. I don’t know why. They refuse to let me anywhere near the house. That won’t stop Lettie
and me. We arranged a few secret meetings and the only place I could think of was that outhouse.’

‘Why not invite her to your home?’

‘I live with my parents.’

‘Surely, they’d like to have met your girlfriend?’

‘We wanted privacy.’ He nudged Marmion. ‘You were young once, Inspector, weren’t you?’

‘Yes, but I drew the line at courting in some disused stables.’

‘It suited us.’

‘What’s Lettie’s surname?’

‘You don’t need to know. I’ll tell you everything.’

‘Then let’s start with the facts, Mr Suggs.’

‘I’m giving them to you,’ claimed the other.

‘If you live with your parents,’ observed Marmion, dryly, ‘there must be a very nasty smell in the house because, according to your neighbours, they both died years ago. You live alone and that raises the question of why you didn’t invite Lettie – or whatever her real name is – to your home.’ He narrowed his eyelids. ‘What are you trying to hide, Mr Suggs? And what were you
really
doing in that outhouse?’

Having finished her shift, Alice Marmion was still in uniform as she made her way back to her flat. On a previous bus journey there she’d once been stalked, but her new status protected her from unwanted attention. It was an important bonus. The uniform had another advantage. It reassured her landlady, a watchful old woman who believed that the virtue of all four young female tenants under her roof was in constant danger and who’d devised a system of rules to keep men at bay. They were only allowed onto the premises between limited hours and confined to the drawing room, a place in which all the chairs were deliberately set apart from each other to discourage any form of intimacy. Alice had entertained Joe Keedy there once and their conversation had been interrupted at regular intervals by the landlady, checking to see that her rules were being obeyed.

Notwithstanding the strict regime, Alice liked living there. The rooms had generous proportions and she got on well with the other tenants. While she’d lost all the comforts of her own home, she’d gained
a precious independence. That made the move there very worthwhile. She could spread her wings. When she got to the house and let herself in, she intended to climb the stairs to her room but she was intercepted by her visitor. Ellen came bounding out of the drawing room, waving a letter.

Alice gasped in surprise. ‘What are you doing here, Mummy?’

‘I just had to tell
somebody
. We’ve had a letter from Paul.’

‘That’s wonderful – what does he say?’

‘Read it yourself,’ said Ellen, thrusting it at her. ‘He’s coming home on leave next week. I can’t wait.’

Alice took the letter then moved into the drawing room to read it. Her brother had spidery handwriting and a shaky grasp of grammar but that didn’t matter. He was coming home. Having been away in France for what seemed like an inordinately long time, he’d finally been given leave. It would be a blessed relief for Paul himself and a delight for the rest of the family. Thrilled by the good news, Alice was also slightly disappointed by the letter. Though her brother had been told about the two major changes in her life – her move to the police and engagement to Joe Keedy – there was no mention of either. Did that mean Paul disapproved of both? It troubled her.

‘I hope you didn’t mind me coming,’ said Ellen.

Alice returned the letter. ‘Not at all, Mummy,’ she said, brightly. ‘I’m so glad you did. If Daddy had been in his office, of course, you could have phoned him there from home but he’s out of reach at the moment. He’ll be so pleased.’

‘The same goes for Joe. He and Paul always liked each other.’

‘Yes, they did.’

‘Anyway, I have something else for you as well. Knowing the interest you took in the case, I bought the lunchtime edition.’ Taking the
newspaper from her bag, she handed it over. ‘I wish that they could find a better photo of your father.’

Alice studied the front page. ‘It does make him look sinister, doesn’t it?’

‘You’d think he was the bomber instead of the person who’s after him.’

‘Thank you, Mummy. I’ll enjoy reading this.’

‘That’s more than I did. Some of the details are very upsetting and you can see the damage that was done by the explosion. I know I’ve said it a hundred times but I’d never make a detective. I’m far too sensitive.’

‘You have to develop a thick skin.’

‘Then I’ll stay as a housewife. I’m good at that and it suits me.’ She looked Alice up and down. ‘What kind of a day have you had?’

Folding up the newspaper, Alice clicked her tongue then sighed.

‘Oh, it was a lot less exciting than being involved in a murder investigation.’

‘Did you have any trouble with the inspector?’

‘There was a little bit of friction but it soon passed.’

‘She ought to be grateful to have you there.’

‘Gratitude is not her strong suit,’ said Alice, rolling her eyes. ‘She tackled me this morning about the explosion. Had I been discussing it with my father? Did I have any inside information? Was I overstepping my authority? And so on.’

‘What did you do?’

‘I denied the accusations, of course. I admit nothing to Gale Force.’

‘You could always apply for a transfer.’

‘That would mean conceding defeat and I won’t give her that satisfaction. The inspector will get fed up with chivvying me one day and find a new victim. However,’ she added, ‘that’s enough about me.
Now that you’re here, I’ll make you a cup of tea. Then we must talk about the welcome we’re going to lay on for Paul. We must really push the boat out for him.’

While he sat in the back of the car outside the police station, Joe Keedy flipped through his notebook to refresh his memory. In terms of gathering information about the victims, it had been a productive day. On the other hand, they seemed no nearer to identifying the bomber. Marmion had told him about the interview with Alan Suggs and how he was certain that the driver wasn’t in any way connected to the crime. A prime suspect had therefore been removed. He needed to be replaced. Keedy could imagine what Marmion was doing. Having rung the superintendent to bring him up to date with developments, he’d now be listening to an irritating series of complaints and commands from Claude Chatfield. Nothing short of an arrest would placate him and that seemed to be a very long way off.

Putting his notebook away, Keedy took out his wallet and extracted the sepia photograph of Alice that he carried everywhere with him. He turned it over to read the message she’d written. After all this time, he still found it touching. It was strange to think that, when he first met her, she was barely into her teens. Neither of them had ever thought for a moment that their destiny was to be together. Turning the photo over again, he let his eyes dwell lovingly on her face until a dark shadow fell across it. Harvey Marmion was standing beside the car with such a look of displeasure that Keedy hastily put the photo away in the wallet. Marmion opened the door and climbed in beside him.

‘What did Chat have to say?’ asked Keedy.

‘I’ll give you one guess.’

‘He wants a visible sign of progress.’

‘He wants more than that, Joe. He’s demanding a blooming miracle. This case has aroused national interest. Chat insists on a swift resolution.’

‘Then he should lend us his magic wand. We certainly haven’t got one.’

‘The phone call wasn’t entirely made up of the usual diatribe.’

‘You mean that he actually had something
useful
to say?’

‘Yes,’ replied Marmion. ‘Enough of the bomb and the timer were recovered to send back to the lab. First reports suggest it’s a fairly sophisticated device. In short, we’re up against a pro.’

‘Well, there are plenty of those at the munitions factory. It’s their trade. Are you sure that one them wasn’t working hand in glove with Suggs? He could have got an accomplice into that outhouse and kept watch.’

‘The only accomplice that Suggs had was young, compliant and female. He has quite a private life, it turns out. Royston Liddle told me that Suggs took a woman in there on a few occasions but he missed out a significant detail.’

‘What was that, Harv?’

‘It wasn’t always the
same
woman.’

Keedy laughed. ‘You mean that he’s a ladykiller?’ he said. ‘From what you told me about him, it didn’t sound as if any woman would give him a second glance.’

‘Appearance isn’t everything, Joe. Suggs was coarse, ugly and as cocky as they come but that obviously attracts a certain sort of woman. I feel sorry for them, especially for the regular girlfriend.’

‘Who’s she?’

‘The one who spends the odd night at the house,’ explained Marmion. ‘When he told me that he was in bed at the time of the
explosion, he was being honest for once. What he omitted to tell me was that someone else was in bed with him.’

‘He obviously likes variety,’ said Keedy in amazement. ‘You’ve got to admire the man’s stamina. He has a production line.’

‘It’s not the way it looks, Joe. That’s what Suggs kept telling me. He admitted that he was getting rather bored with his girlfriend and has been searching for a replacement. What happened in that outhouse was a series of auditions.’

‘Where on earth does he find all these women?’

‘They’re from the factory. Where else? Look at the numbers,’ suggested Marmion. ‘There must be five women to every man. Suggs said it was like picking apples off a tree.’

‘Did you remind him what happened to Adam and Eve?’

‘I didn’t need to because I fancy that the serpent was named Alan Suggs. He’d corrupt anyone.’ Marmion leant forward to give the driver some instructions then sat back. The car started up and moved away. ‘Let’s see what we can learn about Florrie Duncan.’

‘Yes,’ said Keedy, ‘and let’s hope we actually get invited properly into the house while we’re doing it. Mr Harte didn’t let me anywhere near the living room.’

‘Perhaps he didn’t like the look of you.’

‘That’s where you’re wrong, Harv. At least I got through the door. When you put a slip of paper through the letter box with your name on it, Harte didn’t believe you were a detective. He thought it was a trick to lure him out.’ Keedy’s grin spread from ear to ear. ‘He said that you were shifty.’

Marmion was offended. ‘Shifty?’

‘That was the word.’

‘I take exception to that.’

‘It’s why he didn’t let you in. You’ll have to take some lessons from Alan Suggs.’ Marmion bridled. ‘He’s obviously a master at turning on the charm.’

Everyone had a good word to say about Royston Liddle. Tolerant of his severe limitations, they found him harmless, likeable and unfailingly helpful. As he walked past the Golden Goose, he exchanged a few words with the glazier repairing some of the shattered windows of a neighbouring house. Farther down the street, two old women were chatting on the doorstep. They broke off when they saw him coming and gave Liddle a warm greeting. One of them slipped indoors to find some lettuce leaves she’d saved for his rabbits. When it was time to move on, there were other cheery waves and kind comments to collect from friends. He felt looked after. Wherever he went in Hayes, he was given a welcome. Liddle’s famous grin was never wider.

There was, however, one person who had taken against him and he was lying in wait. When Liddle turned down an alleyway, he walked straight into the arms of Alan Suggs and was shoved unceremoniously against a fence. With one hand to his captive’s throat, Suggs held a menacing fist inches from his nose. Caught unawares, all that Liddle could do was to splutter and tremble. The driver was bigger, stronger and much more aggressive than he could ever be. Suggs looked as if he was ready to inflict a terrible beating.

‘Hello, Alan,’ said Liddle, weakly.

‘You’re a numbskull, Royston.’ He squeezed the throat. ‘What are you?’

‘I’m … whatever you say.’

‘You’re a stupid, flea-brained, loud-mouthed, bloody nuisance.’

Liddle was in pain. ‘You’re hurting me.’

‘I ought to cut you into little bits and feed you to those rabbits of yours.
They’ve
got more sense than you have. They know how to keep their traps shut.’

He released his hold and took a step back. ‘I thought you were a friend.’

‘I am, Alan, I always will be.’

‘Not any more. You landed me in trouble.’

‘I didn’t mean to,’ said Liddle, rubbing his throat.

‘Why did you have to talk to the coppers?’

‘But I didn’t – it was that inspector who talked to me.’

‘Yes,’ said Suggs, pushing him against the fence again, ‘and what did you do? You broke your promise and opened your trap. Inspector Marmion grilled me for over an hour. Thanks to you, he thought I’d planted that bomb.’

‘Oh, no, I didn’t say that. I told him that you only went into that outhouse to be alone for a bit with your friend.’ He recovered his grin. ‘What’s her name, by the way?’ Suggs went for the throat again. ‘Sorry,’ croaked Liddle, ‘what have I done wrong now?’

‘You behaved like the imbecile you are. Someone should have locked you up years ago. It’s not safe to let you out.’ He swung Liddle round and smacked the side of his head. ‘Why I trusted you, I’ll never know.’

‘I did you a favour,’ argued Liddle. ‘I kept watch for you.’

‘I paid you to keep your gob shut, not to spill the beans to the coppers. When I came off work today, the inspector was waiting for me. He did everything but slap a pair of handcuffs on me. And it was your bloody fault!’

‘I couldn’t tell a lie to the police.’

‘You didn’t need to tell them anything at all.’

‘But that detective frightened me.’

‘That was no reason to blab about me borrowing that key,’ said Suggs. ‘What happened was private, see? It was nobody else’s business. Then you betray me to Inspector Marmion and he bullied the truth out of me.’

Liddle tried a smile of appeasement. ‘I won’t do it again.’

‘You
can’t
do it again, you fool. The outhouse was destroyed. I’m not going to be taking anyone into a pile of rubble, am I?’

‘What I meant is that I’ll remember what you tell me next time.’

‘There won’t
be
a next time, Royston,’ said the other, vehemently, ‘because I’d never trust you again. Keep out of my way from now on or I’ll give you the hiding you deserve.’ He made a threatening move towards him. ‘Now bugger off!’

With a cry of alarm, Liddle scuttled down the alleyway until he felt that he’d put a safe distance between them. Upset at his treatment and wounded by the cruel way Suggs had spoken to him, he felt an uncharacteristic urge to strike back.

‘I know what you did in that outhouse,’ he taunted, ‘because there’s a hole in the back wall. Last time you went in there, I watched the pair of you. She had big tits and I saw both of them wobbling away.’ He giggled at the memory. ‘I’m not that daft. I know what you were up to. You and her were doing what my rabbits do. I
saw
you, Alan.’

Enraged by the information, Suggs let out a roar of anger and charged down the alleyway. Liddle bolted at once, disappearing around the corner as if a runaway lorry was on his heels. Suggs went in pursuit but he was slower than his quarry and was soon panting at the exertion. Something brought him to a sudden halt. Marmion had warned him not to wreak revenge on Royston Liddle or there’d be repercussions. It was a warning that had to be taken seriously but Suggs wanted to inflict punishment somehow. Liddle would not escape completely.