Read Online Five Dead Canaries by Edward Marston - Free Book Online Page A

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.
    ‘Are you certain this is not the work of foreign agents, Inspector?’
    ‘I’m absolutely certain,’ replied Marmion, levelly.
    ‘Yet the women were canaries. Killing them was a way of weakening the workforce at a munitions factory.’
    ‘I can see that you’ve never been to Hayes. It’s an enormous factory, employing well over ten thousand workers, the vast majority of whom are women. Blowing up five of them will hardly have an adverse affect on production.’
    ‘Point taken, Inspector.’
    Keen to get back to the investigation, Marmion wound up the session by reminding them that an urgent appeal for help needed to be made. He also stressed that it would be both unkind and unproductive of them to pursue the families of the individual victims. They – and Maureen Quinn – needed to be left alone at such a sensitive time. Though everyone in the room nodded in agreement, Marmion wasnot sure if they’d actually obey his instruction. There was always one journalist who’d go to any lengths to get an exclusive story.
    When it was all over, Chatfield stepped in to congratulate him.
    ‘Well done,’ he said. ‘That was exemplary.’
    ‘Thank you, Inspector.’
    ‘You’ve obviously picked up a lot of tips from me.’
    ‘Of course,’ said Marmion.
    It was not true but there was no point in