the idea of a lift on Sykes’s motorbike, I set off walking towards the Bank, to break the good and bad news. Your niece is safe and well. I debated with myself about mentioning the solicitor, the entourage of clergy, and that she was helping police with their enquiries. I did not know where to find faithful Eddie Flanagan, but felt confident that the aunts would get word to him.
Glad of the lightness of the evening, I tried to remember the labyrinth of streets Deirdre had led me through when I followed her that Thursday morning. Many of the factory chimneys had stopped smoking at noon. The air was clear of the worst of the fog. This part of the town is depressing, but then so much is. People live on nothing, in the most abject surroundings. I kept my eyes front, and marched on towards Cotton Street.
It was only when I began to lose my bearings that I remembered – the police either give this area a wide berth, or walk in twos. On East Street, passing a crowd of ragged men on the corner, I wanted to turn back. There were small public houses, no bigger than a couple of dwellings knocked together, and men standing outside, drinking and making remarks as I passed. But turning back is not in my nature, especially when I have an audience.
From nowhere, someone lunged against me, and grabbed my satchel. I yelled and turned to run after him, but the youth suddenly dropped to the ground as he received a punch, then my satchel was being handed back to me, by Eddie, the once upon a time boxer.
‘You shouldn’t be round this end on your tod.’
‘I know. Stupid of me.’
‘I was in the Black Dog. Someone said a posh tart was walking along. I thought it must be you.’
I put my satchel on my shoulder. ‘Well you were right.’
‘You might be clever but you’ve no sense. I’ve no sense left, but I’ve these.’ He clenched and unclenched his fists, looking at them as though they belonged to someone else.
‘I was on my way to tell the aunts about Deirdre, and to tell you too, since you asked me to find her.’
His face clouded with anxiety. ‘Where is she now?’
‘She was in a convent, as you probably guessed. I believe you spotted her at the funeral.’
He nodded.
‘She knows about her husband’s death, and she wanted to come home.’
‘To Norman View?’
‘Yes. But at present, she’s talking to the police.’
He swayed as if he had taken a hard punch in the solar plexus. He closed his eyes. ‘It had to happen, Mr Flanagan. She has a solicitor, a Mr Cohen, arranged through a chap you probably know, Mr Brasher.’
He nodded.
‘I’ve left a note for her brother at the hotel. He will be signing out tomorrow, and on his way to Southampton. I came to find you, to tell you and the aunts not to worry.’
‘What will they do to her?’
‘Something tells me Deirdre will come out of this unscathed.’
He nodded, and even smiled. ‘The aunts can bide awhile. I’ll walk you back.’
Sykes checked with Wilson. It had taken a week for the information about the hat shop break-in to filter through from uniform, to CID, and from there to the murder enquiry room. Sergeant Wilson went to interview Madam Estelle.
Sykes would not have the motorbike or his special constable position much longer. Once he had seen Anthony Hartigan safely on the train to Southampton tomorrow, his duties would end. It would be over to the railway police and whoever else the chief inspector had appointed.
He decided to make the most of his last hours of officialdom. Sykes knew the City Centre beat, and the shifts. PC Millen would be pounding his beat now. The question was, where would he be? Sykes rode to the top end of town, up by the barracks, and along onto North Street. Slowly he rode through the streets of the town, keeping his eyes peeled for the portly constable. He finally caught up with Millen in City Square, under the watchful eye of the Black Prince.
Sykes hailed him. ‘Mr Millen! Jim Sykes.’
The men knew each other by sight and nods. Sykes told him to expect a summons. ‘I thought you’d like to be forewarned. Your report on the hat shop break-in has only just come through to the murder enquiry bunch. The sarge will be wanting a word with you.’
After two minutes with him, Sykes knew exactly how the