‘Is that a photo of Enid on the piano?’
‘Yes,’ said Jenks. ‘If she wasn’t practising on her violin, she’d be sitting at the piano. Music was everything to Enid. She could play anything. It was because she was so well taught. My wife was a wonderful pianist as well. She wanted one of the children to learn how to play and the boys weren’t interested. Enid was. She had enough interest for both of them.’ He touched Marmion’s arm and lowered a voice as if about to impart a secret. ‘The vicar approached us, you know. He asked if Enid would be interested in learning the organ.’
‘I daresay she’d have been proficient at any keyboard instrument.’
‘Are you musical, Inspector?’
‘No, sir,’ replied Marmion. ‘The only piano I could play is one with a handle on the side.’
Once the joke about the barrel organ had slipped out Marmion regretted it but the other man found it amusing enough. Jonah Jenks was quite unlike Neil Beresford. Where the latter had been knocked senseless by the enormity of what had happened, the former had merely accepted it and sought to carry on. He loved his daughter deeply but her death was not going to become an obsession. Having already lost a wife and a second daughter to diphtheria, he knew all about pangs of grief. Another child had died, leaving him to look after the two surviving boys. That’s what mattered most to Jenks. They were the ones who were really suffering. Though they’d argued constantly with their sister while she was alive, they were dumbstruck at her death, all the more so because it had been as a result of a crime. Jenks had kept them home from school and they were upstairs in the bedroom they shared.
‘I just wanted to assure you that the investigation is well under way,’ said Marmion. ‘I have a team of detectives working under me.’
‘That’s good to hear.’
‘You’ll appreciate that I’m under a slight disadvantage. I don’t know anything about the five victims. I’m trying to find out all I can about each one of them. I’ve spoken to Agnes Collier’s mother and to Maureen Quinn’s family.’
‘Agnes came here once or twice. She was a nice girl.’
‘What about Maureen?’
‘Oh, I’ve never met her.’
‘Who was Enid’s best friend?’
‘That would be Shirley Beresford. She used to go and watch her play football. Enid was very clever but she was hopeless at sports. Her brothers used to tease her about it. Shirley, on the other hand, was a good all-round athlete.’
‘So I’ve been told. I called on her husband earlier.’
‘I see.’
Jenks glanced at the photograph on the piano then sat opposite his visitor. He was a spare man in his fifties with hair neatly slicked back over a domed head. His spectacles gave him an owlish appearance and he had a scholarly air that inclined Marmion to think that he was a teacher. The well-stocked bookshelves indicated a reading man. In fact, however, Jenks was the manager of a large hardware store. Wearing a three-piece suit indoors, he kept his thumbs in the pockets of his waistcoat.
‘What do you want me to tell you, Inspector?’
‘Describe your daughter, please, if you will.’
‘Enid was a lovely girl. I can’t speak too highly of her.’
Jenks spoke in a low, measured voice. He talked fondly about his daughter’s achievements and about his ambitions for her. A religious man, he took all three children to church every Sunday, then the family visited the graves of its missing members. A new one would now be added. Instead of being in regular use, the piano would act as a memento to Enid. Marmion was at once interested and saddened by the effect that factory life had had upon her. Putting her music aside, she’d dedicated herself to the production of arms. Jenks was a mild-mannered man who seemed at variance with the image of him that Maureen Quinn had conjured up. She had recalled the help given by Florrie Duncan at a time when Enid was having terrible rows with her father. Yet Jenks was giving his visitor a detailed picture of a household where perfect harmony prevailed. He even boasted that he never had to raise his voice to Enid.
Jenks became practical. ‘Isn’t there something you’ve forgotten?’
‘I don’t think so.’
‘Where foul play is involved in a death, I thought that next of kin would be asked to identify the body.’
‘Ordinarily, that’s the case, sir,’ said Marmion, ‘but the remains are not really recognisable. When a bomb goes off in a confined space, it causes the most unimaginable injuries. We wish to spare the families such a disturbing sight.’
‘That’s very wise of you, Inspector — wise and considerate.’
‘Identification will have to be made by items they owned, by watches, bracelets and so on.’
‘Enid wore a silver crucifix.’
‘I’ll remember that.’
‘When will the bodies …’ Jenks gave an apologetic half-smile. ‘When will the remains be released to us?’
‘Very soon,’ said Marmion. ‘The post-mortems have not yet been completed. When they have been, the undertakers can take over. They’re used to this sort of thing. Not that they’ll have seen many victims of a bomb blast, of course, but they can take a dispassionate look at … human remains in whatever form.’ He looked across at the photograph of Enid. ‘She was a very pretty young lady.’
Jenks was nostalgic. ‘She took after her mother.’
‘Enid must have had a lot of admirers.’
‘Everyone liked her. She was so outgoing.’
‘I was thinking of boyfriends, Mr Jenks,’ said Marmion. ‘I have a daughter of my own so I know what happens when they reach a certain age. Was there anyone special in Enid’s life?’
‘No, there wasn’t,’ snapped Jenks.
‘Are you certain of that?’
‘Enid had no room in her life for that sort of thing.’
‘Then she’d be most unusual.’
‘There was nothing unusual about my daughter. Haven’t you been listening to what I said? Enid was a good girl.’ Hearing the anger in his voice, he tried to control it. ‘I’m sorry, Inspector. You’re entitled to ask such a question. But I’ve given you the answer. Enid was just not interested in young men. It probably stems from the fact that she had two brothers. All she wanted was her music.’
‘Then we’ll leave it at that, sir.’
Getting up from his seat, Marmion took a step nearer the piano so that he could have a closer look at Enid Jenks. She was not simply pretty. When the photo was taken, she was beautiful. Marmion simply couldn’t believe that none of the young men at the factory had failed to notice the fact.
CHAPTER EIGHT
They met by prior arrangement at a café not far from the Golden Goose. Having sacrificed lunch in the interests of advancing the investigation, they were having an early tea. Keedy munched a pasty and Marmion sipped his tea while eyeing the cakes on the display stand and wondering if he should have one. It was time to compare notes. Marmion talked about his visits to the respective homes of Shirley Beresford and Enid Jenks and how differently their families had responded to the untimely deaths. As the inspector was talking, Keedy opened the folder given to him by the works manager.
‘Everything you say about the two of them accords with what Mr Kennett found out,’ he said. ‘Shirley was the captain of their football team and Enid was good enough as a musician to make a living at it. They were both well liked by the others, Shirley in particular.’
‘That’s not surprising, Joe. She was their goalscorer.’
‘At least that would have killed off any complaints.’
