Five Dead Canaries

‘And he didn’t tell you where he was going?’

‘No, he didn’t.’

She was very happy to answer their questions until they asked if they could see Wylie’s room. Suddenly, she became defensive, wondering what had really brought them there and why they were so keen to speak to her tenant. Keedy took over and invented a plausible story concerning an accident at the factory that Wylie had witnessed and about which he’d promised to deliver a written report. The combination of Keedy’s charm and Marmion’s rank persuaded her that she should let them have their way. Once inside the room, they began a thorough search.

‘Thanks, Joe,’ said Marmion, opening a wardrobe. ‘You saved us the trouble of getting a search warrant.’

Keedy sniffed. ‘Would you want to live in room like this? It stinks.’

‘I think that Wylie came to the same conclusion.’ He indicated the empty wardrobe. ‘The cupboard is bare. What’s in those drawers?’

The sergeant opened them one by one. ‘Nothing — he’s made a run for it.’

Wylie had taken almost all of his clothing and personal items. All that he’d left behind were a few books and a grubby shirt hung on the back of the door. They could find nothing that indicated where he’d gone. Marmion was disappointed that they’d found no evidence to co

But the visit yielded a clue that made the pair of them grin broadly.

‘Do you see what I see, Joe?’ asked Marmion.

‘I do, indeed,’ replied Keedy.

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

The news that her son was at last coming home on leave had filled Ellen Marmion with a delight that never faded. As she did her housework that morning, she was almost radiant. Her only complaint was that she’d not yet had time to discuss with her husband or daughter the welcome they should prepare for their returning hero. Paul’s letter had talked about his need for a long rest but there would be other members of the family eager to meet him, so there had to be a big celebration. Plans for a party began to form in her mind. Taking wartime food shortages into account, Ellen even went through the meal that would be served. It was when she got to her son’s bedroom that she felt real exhilaration. Though he’d been away for a long time, she’d cleaned the room regularly and dusted all of his trophies. Paul had been a talented sportsman. He’d won cups for his prowess at athletics and te

Her stomach lurched slightly as she glanced at some of the other young men. Heartened by the fact that they could all be in the same regiment if they joined up together, the whole team had rushed off to the recruiting office. Some of the players had already been killed and others had been sent home with missing limbs and disturbing memories. While luxuriating in her own pleasure, Ellen spared a passing thought for families less fortunate than her own. When she picked up the photo to examine it more closely, she was struck by something that Marmion had told her about the investigation. Some of the victims were members of a ladies football team. Such a thing had never existed in her youth and Ellen was not sure that it ought to exist now. While she saw the necessity for change, she was fearful of the way that the boundaries between the two sexes were being blurred and, in some cases, eradicated altogether. Women now played football, drove buses, ran canteens and refugee centres, filled shells in munition factories, joined the police service and did almost everything else that had once been the exclusive territory of their male counterparts. Some, like Ellen herself, sewed and knitted with varying degrees of skill in order to send gloves, socks and other items to soldiers at the front.

It was unsettling for a woman with the values of her generation. Particularly worrying for Ellen was the rise of the suffragettes. Having suspended their campaign at the outbreak of hostilities, they’d devoted themselves to unflagging war work as a means of attesting their patriotism and of proving that they could match what men did and should therefore be given an equal right to vote. That was going too far, in Ellen’s view, and she was u

‘What’s the fellow’s name?’

‘Herbert Wylie.’

‘Where did he work?’

‘In the Cartridge Section at the munitions factory.’

‘When did he last turn up there?’

‘On the day of the explosion,’ replied Marmion.

‘What did you find at his digs?’

‘We saw evidence of bomb-making ingredients, sir.’

‘Anything else?’ asked the superintendent.

‘It looks as if he’s flown the coop.’

After their visit to Wylie’s house, the detectives had returned to the police station. In view of what he felt was a significant discovery, Marmion had rung Claude Chatfield to tell him what had been found in the garden shed. He praised Keedy for drawing the information out of Maureen Qui

‘What do we know about him?’ enquired Chatfield.

‘We know very little, I’m afraid,’ said Marmion. ‘Mr Ke

‘Did you tell her that he’s now a suspect in a murder inquiry?’

‘No, sir — it seemed too cruel to shatter her illusions. Besides, we don’t know that he was the bomber. We’ve had strong evidence in the past that turned out to be a

‘My instinct tells me we’ve picked up the scent of the man we want,’ said Chatfield, emphatically. ‘I’ll release his name to the press and say that we’re anxious to trace him. He’s gone to ground somewhere and we need to flush him out.’

‘I agree, Superintendent.’

‘What will you and the sergeant do in the meantime?’

‘Sergeant Keedy has gone back to the factory to talk to people who knew Herbert Wylie rather better than the works manager. With luck, there might even be a photograph of employees that includes the man. I know that there are group photos of female workers because I saw one on the wall in Mr Ke

‘You haven’t told me what you’ll be up to, Inspector.’