‘We are fortunate enough to have a survivor of the blast.’
‘Ah, of course — Maureen Quinn.’
‘She supplied the name that led to a series of productive enquiries.’
Ingles was overcome with relief. ‘Thank heaven!’ he exclaimed.
‘Why didn’t she tell you about this man earlier?’ asked Harte.
‘For the same reason that you wouldn’t let me into your house on my first visit, sir,’ said Marmion with a half-smile. ‘She was stunned by what happened and couldn’t begin to think straight. Her instinct was to withdraw into herself. It’s exactly what I did when my father was murdered. I just brooded for hours on end.’
‘I can understand that only too well, Inspector.’
‘Anyway, I wanted you both to know about Wylie in advance so that it won’t come as a complete shock when you read the newspapers tomorrow. But I must emphasise that the case is very far from being closed,’ said Marmion. ‘We still have some way to go so don’t make any assumptions.’
‘Thank you so much for your consideration,’ said Ingles, beaming. ‘I can’t speak for Reuben but this news has really lifted my spirits. I can’t tell you how pleased I am.’
‘Yes,’ conceded Harte. ‘It is a consolation.’
‘If this fellow was not pursuing either Florrie or Jean, who
Harte turned to Marmion. ‘Was it Maureen Quinn, by any chance?’
The pastoral care of his flock weighed heavily with Father Cleary and every day apart from the Sabbath consisted of a series of visits to people in distress or requiring comfort. In the course of an exceptionally busy afternoon, he made time to call on Maureen Quinn. Over a cup of tea, he chatted with Diane and her elder daughter. Pleased to see that Maureen looked and sounded better than at their previous meeting, Cleary was alarmed to hear of the offer made to the grieving families of the victims.
‘They’re advocating a
‘That’s what we’ve been told,’ replied Diane.
‘I find the very notion of it abhorrent — and I hope that you do.’
‘To be honest, Father Cleary, it worried me a little but my husband thought it was a good idea. Eamonn said that, if Maureen had died in that blast, then he’d have accepted the offer.’
‘Goodness gracious!’
‘It would have saved us a lot of money we don’t have.’
‘That’s a secondary consideration, Mrs Quinn,’ said the priest, sharply. ‘Besides, we’re always prepared to help out financially in cases of genuine need. We have a fund set aside for that purpose. It’s other aspects of the situation that are paramount.’
‘What do you mean, Father?’ asked Maureen.
‘A funeral is, by its very nature, a very private event.’
‘Yet they have mass funerals in France and Belgium,’ said Diane. ‘As you know, Liam and Anthony are both serving at the front. They’ve attended funerals where dozens of men have been buried at the same time.’
‘That’s a regrettable consequence of war, Mrs Quinn. Where large numbers are involved, they have to resort to such exigencies. There are only five victims here and they deserve a burial service that preserves their individuality. Had Maureen been in that situation,’ he continued, ‘I’d have done everything in my power to persuade you and your husband that, from start to finish, the funeral service should follow the established practice of the Roman Catholic Church. I’d hate to think that it would be diluted in any way.’
‘Sadie Radcliffe’s daughter was one of the victims. She came to ask my advice on the subject.’
‘What did you tell her?’
‘That I was glad I wasn’t put in the same position.’
‘I hope you pointed out that you wouldn’t have made any decision without consulting me.’
‘I’d have had to talk it over with my husband first,’ said Diane.
‘It was your duty to refer the matter to your parish priest.’
‘Luckily, the situation never arose.’
‘I sometimes wish that it had,’ said Maureen under her breath.
‘In none of the five cases,’ resumed Cleary, ‘is it a normal funeral. Most of the services at which I officiate relate to old people who’ve withdrawn gently from life and whose demise was inevitable. Here we have an instance of the most violent and heinous crime. Young women with whole lives before them have been summarily killed. In each case, the funeral needs to be handled with extreme sensitivity.’
‘I can see that, Father Cleary.’
Diane could also see that he’d really come to talk with her daughter alone. Withdrawing to the kitchen on the pretext of making another pot of tea, she left the pair of them together. Cleary’s smile was filled with kindness and concern.
‘How are you, Maureen?’
‘I’m bearing up, Father Cleary.’
‘Have you been saying your prayers?’
‘I say them night and day.’
‘At a stroke,’ he said, ‘you lost five good friends. It’s a heavy cross to bear. As the survivor, you have responsibilities to the other families. Have you been in touch with any of them?’
‘Agnes’s mother — that’s Mrs Radcliffe — called here but I don’t feel that it’s right for me to visit any of the other parents. They might not wish to see me.’
‘I can’t see why you should think that. You could offer solace.’ She looked doubtful. ‘You could, Maureen. For one thing, you could give them precious details of what happened at the party. It might give them a modicum of cheer to know that their daughters died while they were happy. There might even be last words you can remember some of them saying. It would be something for parents to hold on to.’
Maureen shuddered inwardly. She was dreading a meeting with the families of the victims. Even the conversation with Sadie Radcliffe had been a trial for her. Others might not be in as forgiving a mood as Agnes Collier’s mother. Yet she had to face them all sooner or later. The inquest was imminent and so were the funerals. If they did indeed all take place on the same day, she’d be spared the agony of having to attend all five separately and of being under intense scrutiny at successive events. From purely selfish motives, she hoped that the collective burial would take place at the cemetery. Her ordeal would be over in one fell swoop and the fact that so many people would attend meant that she’d be largely hidden in such a massive crowd.
Father Cleary leant forward to take her hands and look into her eyes.
‘What’s troubling you, my child?’ he asked, softly.
‘Everything.’
‘I fancy that there’s something in particular.’
‘No,’ she replied. ‘I just have this feeling all the time.’
‘What sort of feeling?’
‘It’s difficult to explain, Father. I keep thinking how … unworthy I am.’
‘You must never think that, Maureen.’
‘I can’t help it. As soon as I wake up, it’s still there.’
‘And is there no special reason for this sense of guilt?’ She lowered her head. ‘I asked you a question, Maureen.’
She met his gaze. ‘There’s
But there was a distinct tremble in her voice.
It fell to Joe Keedy to apprise Sadie Radcliffe of the latest development in the case. Marmion had already told Jonah Jenks and Neil Beresford about their new suspect, and he’d planned to go on to the homes of Reuben Harte and Brian Ingles. That left only Agnes Collier’s mother unaccounted for so Keedy paid her a visit. Having just put the baby down for a sleep, she spoke in a whisper as she hustled him into the house. Only when she’d closed the living room door behind them did she talk in her normal voice. Unsurprisingly, she looked harried and careworn.
Keedy told her about the identification of Herbert Wylie as a suspect.
‘I’ve heard that name before,’ she recalled.
‘Do you remember what was said about him, Mrs Radcliffe?’
‘No, not really — it was one time when Maureen had called on Agnes. They were talking about the men they
