Five Dead Canaries

‘They didn’t ask to be killed by a bomb, Ezra.’

‘They brought bad luck and disaster to the Goose.’

‘It’s not their fault,’ said Liddle.

‘What do you know about it, you ignoramus?’

‘Royston is entitled to his opinion,’ said Hubbard.

‘Not when he starts talking out of his arse.’

Liddle was offended. ‘That’s rude, Ezra.’

‘Then bugger off. Nobody asked you to butt in.’

‘All I did was to say I’m sorry about those poor women.’

‘And so am I,’ added Hubbard, casting a jaundiced eye at the pub, ‘even though I’ve been left to pick up the pieces.’

‘When do you want me back?’ asked Liddle.

‘I’m not sure that I do, Royston.’

‘But you always said that I worked hard for you.’

‘It’s true — you did. And if we carry on at the Goose, I’ll want you there as usual. Do we start all over again or sell the pub to someone else? It’s not an easy decision to make, Royston.’

‘If you leave,’ boasted Liddle, ‘I’ll take over the Goose.’ The others laughed scornfully. ‘What’s the joke?’

‘You are,’ said Greenwell, cackling.

‘Running a pub is a complicated job,’ explained Hubbard. ‘I grew up in the trade because my father was a publican. It’s beyond you, Royston.’

‘I could learn.’

‘You haven’t even learnt your ABC properly,’ sneered Greenwell.

‘Yes, I have.’

‘Forget it, Royston,’ said the landlord with a fatherly hand on his shoulder. ‘The Goose is not for you. What you can do, you do very well. Be satisfied with that.’

Liddle accepted the truth of the advice. Since he was feeling hungry, he decided to go home for a late breakfast. As he walked away, he could hear the two of them still laughing at him. It was dispiriting but he soon shrugged off his irritation. After a lifetime of being derided, he found that mockery no longer hurt him. He was about to take a short cut through an alleyway when he remembered what had happened the last time he’d been that way. Alan Suggs had ambushed him and handled him roughly. Even though he knew that Suggs was probably at work, he took no chances of a second encounter, choosing instead to make a long detour. When he eventually came into his own street, he told himself that Suggs was not a danger to him. Having made some vile threats, he hadn’t carried them out. Besides, Liddle had Inspector Marmion on his side. He was protected.

Letting himself into the house, he went through to the scullery, gathered up some lettuce and let himself out into the garden. Ready as he was for breakfast, he had to feed his rabbits first. They brought him a companionship he could never get from a human being so he always treated them with the greatest care. Liddle reached the hutch and unlocked the door, only to recoil in horror.

His beloved rabbits were no longer there.

They met at the local police station which had become their unofficial headquarters during the investigation. Keedy was interested to hear about the offer to pay the funeral expenses of the five victims, especially in view of the categorical way in which the works manager had refused even to consider the idea of paying any compensation to the female munition workers for the way that they changed colour and suffered ill health. He was also intrigued to learn more about the ladies’ football team and how much it had improved during its relatively short existence. Neil Beresford, he agreed, must be a truly outstanding coach. When he heard Keedy’s report, Marmion was intrigued to hear the latest revelation.

‘I knew that you’d winkle something out of Maureen,’ he said.

‘Some of the thanks must go to Father Cleary,’ Keedy pointed out. ‘He told me a great deal about the Quinn family and helped me to understand Maureen a little more. This news about Enid Jenks gives us another possible suspect.’

‘He may be more than that, Joe. If he works at the factory, the likelihood is that he’s capable of making explosives. Alan Suggs clearly wasn’t. That makes this chap — Herbert Wylie, was it? — sound much more promising.’ He gave a wry smile. ‘So much for Jenks’s claim that his daughter was never interested in boyfriends. I saw the photo of her. Enid was gorgeous. They must have come after her in swarms.’

‘Wylie was only her boyfriend momentarily, Harv,’ said Keedy. ‘After one night out together, she never wanted to see him again. He changed from a friend into a stalker. Wylie seems to have dogged her wherever she went.’

‘We need to speak to him as soon as possible.’

The room they were using was cold and cramped but it did have a telephone. Marmion snatched it up from the desk. He was soon talking to Bernard Kennett once again. When he rang off, he replaced the receiver.

‘He’s going to find out if Wylie clocked in this morning,’ he said. ‘If he did, we’ll go straight over there and haul him out of the Cartridge Section.’

‘It could be another false hope,’ warned Keedy.

Marmion was more optimistic. ‘I’m starting to feel that we may be on to something, Joe.’

‘Enid Jenks obviously had a torrid time with this chap.’

‘It’s that threat to kill her that interests me.’

‘Even the most tenacious unwanted admirer gives up after a while. Not in this case,’ noted Keedy. ‘It became an obsession with Wylie and we know the kind of extremes that that can drive people to. On the other hand,’ he continued, ‘I’m not getting too excited. He sounds like our man but, then, so did Alan Suggs.’

‘He was a different kettle of fish altogether. Suggs was no unwanted admirer. According to him, he was wanted by dozens of women at the factory. They were queuing up to go out with him, apparently.’

‘Well, he won’t be able to entice any of them into that outhouse again.’

They chatted for a few minutes until the telephone rang. Marmion took the call and nodded away as he listened. He then wrote something down in his notebook. After thanking the works manager, he put down the receiver and turned to Keedy.

‘Well, well, well,’ he said.

‘What did Mr Kennett say?’

‘Supposing that you’d planted that bomb, Joe. When it went off, what would you do next?’

‘I’d run like hell,’ replied Keedy.

‘It looks as if Wylie did the same. He hasn’t been at work since the night of the explosion.’ Marmion tapped his notebook. ‘I’ve got his address here. Let’s pay a visit and see if he’s hiding under the bed.’

Diane Quinn was increasingly worried about her daughter. Maureen was somnolent, withdrawn and looking distinctly unwell. Whenever her mother suggested calling a doctor, however, she insisted that there was nothing wrong with her. She just wished to be left alone. Diane couldn’t even prise out of her the details of her conversation with Joe Keedy. Once the detective had left, Maureen had effectively clammed up. Diane was preparing lunch when she heard the door knocker. Fearing that it might be some more reporters, she went to the door with trepidation. When she opened it, however, she was astonished to see that her visitor was Sadie Radcliffe. They embraced impulsively, then Diane brought her into the house and took her into the living room. They stayed in each other’s arms for minutes. Sadie then broke away.

‘I came to apologise,’ she said.

‘There’s nothing to apologise for,’ insisted Diane.

‘Yes, there is and that’s why I had to come. I was so shocked by what happened that I lashed out in all directions. I said things about Maureen that …’ she paused in order to dab at moist eyes with a handkerchief ‘… that I regret very much. Instead of moaning because she survived when Agnes died, I should be sharing your relief. Maureen is a lovely girl. She was a good friend to my daughter.’

‘She loved Agnes. They got on so well together.’

‘That’s what I should have remembered, Di.’

‘Sit down,’ invited Diane, easing her onto the settee and sitting beside her. ‘I wanted to come and see you