‘Well,’ she said, eyes glistening with interest, ‘this case is fascinating. It’s all about six young women of my age or thereabouts. I have some idea of how they might think and act. It’s the one advantage I have over you and Joe. I don’t want to be co-opted on to the investigation — that would be impossible — but I would like to know about any developments. Who knows? I might be able to offer some useful ideas.’
Marmion was caught momentarily off balance and Keedy looked less than enthusiastic about her offer. Both of them were having second thoughts about the wisdom of discussing the case so freely with her. Alice wanted to be included. They traded a look of mild desperation, neither of them knowing quite what to say.
Alice was forceful. ‘What have you got against me?’ she demanded. ‘I might actually be able to help. I’m in the police force as well, remember.’
CHAPTER FIVE
Since neither of his daughters was leaving the house that day, it was Eamonn Quinn who was the first to get up. He liked to get to the coal yard early so that he had the pick of the bags. After he’d had a swill in the kitchen sink, his face was relatively clean. It would be black by the time he came home in the evening. Like his elder daughter, he had a job that changed his colour completely. The difference was that Maureen’s yellow patina could not be washed off with cold water. On his visit to the privy, he had his first cigarette of the day and reflected on the distressing events at the Golden Goose. They’d give Maureen a worrying prominence. He’d feel the effects himself as his customers bombarded him on the doorstep with questions about what exactly had happened and how his daughter was coping with the fraught situation. It was the kind of interest that he’d never willingly seek. Others might bask in it but Quinn was a man who shunned attention.
By the time he returned to the kitchen, he found the kettle on the gas stove and his wife preparing his breakfast. Diane was still sleepy, moving as if in a dream and yawning intermittently. She tried to shake herself fully awake.
‘It feels funny, doesn’t it?’ she said.
‘What does?’
‘Most mornings, Maureen would have left hours ago. She’d be at work before either of us got up. It seems strange having her still here.’
‘It’s not strange, Di, it’s necessary.’
‘I know that.’
‘She’s had a terrible time. She needs to recover.’
‘Maureen was shivering all over when I put her to bed last night.’
‘I blame
‘What do I do if they come back, Eamonn?’
‘Keep them away from her.’
‘But they’re from Scotland Yard.’
‘I don’t care where the buggers come from,’ he said, rancorously. ‘I don’t want them battering her with questions again. Maureen is not up to it.’
‘She’s stronger than she looks,’ said Diane, turning off the gas and pouring hot water into the teapot. ‘Working in that factory has made her grow up fast. Well, you’ve noticed it yourself. Maureen used to be very shy but she’s got a lot more confidence now.’
‘That doesn’t mean she’s up to being interrogated by those two.’
‘They need information, Eamonn.’
‘Whose side are you on?’ he snarled. ‘This is our daughter, Di, and we’ve got to protect her. You know what I think about coppers. Don’t let them into the house.’
‘What am I to say to them?’
‘Any excuse will do. Just get rid of them.’
‘I don’t want to get us into any trouble,’ she said, nervously.
‘Shut up and do as you’re told, woman.’ He sat down at the table. ‘And get on with my breakfast. I’ve got a hard day ahead. I need some grub inside me.’
Diane went through her usual routine, pouring his tea, cooking his food and setting it in front of him. All that Quinn did was to gobble it down in silence then end with his usual belch. He’d changed and his wife made allowances for it. He was never the most congenial of men but the war had made him even more churlish and self-centred. She put it down to the fact that their two sons had both enlisted and were facing unknown dangers at the front. Quinn missed them dreadfully. He was now the only man in the household. The balance had tilted sharply against him. Instead of being able to spend time with two strapping young men who shared his interests, he was stuck with a wife and two daughters and felt isolated. He still loved Diane after his own fashion but he made no attempt to show it, considering any display of affection to be somehow unmanly. What Maureen and Lily had to put up with was his uncertain temper and a series of gruff commands. Like their mother, they’d learnt to read the warning signals and keep out of his way.
‘I’m off,’ he announced, washing down his last mouthful of food with a swig of tea. ‘Expect me when you see me.’
‘Yes, Eamonn.’
‘And — at all costs — don’t let those coppers over the threshold.’
‘I’ll do my best.’
‘You’ll do as I bloody well say.’
On that truculent note, he hauled himself up and walked out. Diane heard him putting on his coat and his cap before letting himself out of the house. The door was slammed even harder than usual. Other wives might have baulked at such brusque treatment but she was accustomed to it, always finding an excuse for her husband. It was not simply his underlying anxieties about their sons this time. The main cause of his anger, she told herself, was his concern for Maureen. Their elder daughter had escaped being blown up by the skin of her teeth. It was a shattering experience for her and Quinn was struggling to come to terms with it. As in all crisis situations, he reverted to aggression and bullying. His wife forgave him as a matter of course.
Diane had her own fears for Maureen. Just when the girl was starting to blossom and mature, she’d been thrown into disarray. There was no telling if she’d ever be quite the same again. She’d survived a disaster but would be scarred by it for life. It had already kept Diane awake in the small hours. It would, inevitably, cause Maureen nightmares. The loss of Agnes Collier would be particularly wounding because the two of them saw each other every day. A massive gap had suddenly opened up in Maureen’s life. Diane felt an urge to console her and went padding upstairs in her slippers, expecting to find her elder daughter lying in bed. When she tapped on the door and opened it, however, she was given a profound shock.
There was no sign of Maureen. Her mother flew into a panic. She searched the rest of the house in vain, recruiting Lily to help her and even dashing out into the tiny garden. It was bewildering. Without any explanation, Maureen had vanished.
Quick to criticise Marmion whenever the opportunity arose, Claude Chatfield had to acknowledge that the inspector knew how to control a press conference. Marmion remained calm and even-tempered throughout, winning the crime correspondents over by referring to each of them by their Christian names and producing the occasional quip. He fed them enough information to fill their columns while holding back some significant details. Chatfield knew what those details were because he’d seen the full report that Marmion had put on his desk earlier that morning. He marvelled at the way that questions were fielded and answered. What irritated him was the exaggerated respect that everyone was showing Marmion. It was not always the case. During a previous investigation — the brutal murder of a conscientious objector — the newspapers had been highly critical of what they saw as inertia on the part of the police. Marmion had been the scapegoat. When both the crime and a subsequent murder were solved, however, he was given full credit and his reputation was greatly enhanced. It remained to be seen whether he could succeed with what, on the surface, appeared to be a more complex investigation.
A hand went up and another question was fired at him.
