A Woman Unknown (33 page)

‘Then get me a Jewish solicitor. My brother, he’ll find someone.’

‘I don’t see how, when he’s only been here a few days. And where do we find a Jewish solicitor on a Saturday. Why Jewish?’

‘Because a Catholic would despise me, a Protestant wouldn’t care. I think a Jew would have feelings.’

I racked my brains, but could think of no one.

‘The gym,’ Deirdre said. ‘Brasher, the boxing promoter. He knows everyone.’

I looked up at the station clock. It was approaching five. If we were not back in Kirkstall by six, Marcus
would send out a search party. ‘Come on. We’ll take a taxi. Where is this gym?’

I was right in thinking that Detective Sergeant Wilson would come to Norman View to collect Deirdre.

I let him in. ‘Mrs Fitzpatrick is in the front room, with her solicitor.’

I did not relish the call I would make to Philippa, to tell her that I had found the woman unknown but that the investigation did not appear to have moved on even an inch.

‘How does she do it?’ Sykes joined me on a sofa in the hotel foyer. We were trying to blend in, so as not to upset the real guests by being living, breathing reminders that a murder enquiry was underway. It was easy for me, but Sykes cannot help looking like a plain-clothes policeman, in my eyes anyway.

‘How does who do what?’

‘Deirdre Fitzpatrick. Not only does she arrive with the fiercest solicitor this side of the Pennines, who presents her as more sinned against than sinning, but in her wake come two priests and six nuns, four in black, two in brown, speaking up for her, offering to act as chaperone, insisting she is in a state of near collapse after her multiple ordeals. Where’s the bishop? Why isn’t the pope here? Apparently she’s planning to take the veil. How soon before she’s canonized?’

‘Calm down, Mr Sykes. People are looking.’ It was time to go outside before we were thrown out. ‘Come on, I need some air. And I’d quite like a ride on the back of your motorbike.’ I had come into town with Sergeant Wilson, while Deirdre travelled with her solicitor.

‘Where do you want to go?’ Sykes asked.

‘I’ll tell you when you calm down.’

Avoiding the main entrance, we walked through the corridor towards the hotel’s side door, where there is entry to the tobacconist’s and the hat shop, both of which were still open. Sykes muttered something about buying a small cigar and went into the tobacconist’s. I decided to tell Madame Estelle how pleased I was with the hat she sold me on race day.

She was packing up for the night, but delighted to see me. ‘You were in such a dash when you came in for the hat last week, we didn’t have time for a word. Are you pleased with the hat?’

‘It’s perfect, and brought me luck, too. I backed the winner.’

Madam Estelle clapped her hands. ‘There you are, just goes to show! Some people say luck at the racecourse depends on the size of your brim. Obviously that’s not true. It’s the quality of the hat, whether brimmed or a cloche.’ She drew back the curtain that concealed the shelves where she kept her stock, brought out a small hat box and removed the lid with a flourish. She lifted out a cream and brown silk turban hat, decorated with a coffee-coloured flower.

‘It’s lovely.’

She handed it to me. ‘Try it on. I designed it myself. The moment it was finished, I thought, Mrs Shackleton to a t.’ Madam Estelle moved to the back of the shop and bolted the doors that led into the hotel. ‘I’ve had no end of hotel guests who would have snapped this up, but I didn’t let them clap eyes on it. And believe me, after the expense of this week, I was tempted to give it pride of place in the window.’

I took off my own hat and set it down. ‘What expense is that?’

‘Of course you don’t know. I haven’t seen you since race day. I had a new lock to fit.’ She nodded at the shop door. ‘Two new locks, to be on the safe side.’

‘What happened?’

‘Well it was a break-in, wasn’t it? I joked to the bobby that it must have been a single man, or he’d have helped himself to a hat for his wife. Fortunately, I don’t keep money here, though the cash drawer had been pulled out. Go on, let me see you in it!’

I put the turban hat on the counter. ‘When did this break-in happen?’

‘In the early hours of Saturday morning.’ She waited for me to put on the hat. ‘I know you’ll fall in love with it.’ She turned the shop sign to Closed.

‘Did you report the break-in?’

‘Yes, to my insurance company. Constable Millen secured the premises, sent for a locksmith. It all went in Mr Millen’s notebook.’ She warmed to her subject. ‘You see sometimes, we have vagrants find their way up this side street. They are attracted by the warm air vent from the hotel, and these doorways.’

I was looking at Sykes through the window, smoking his cigar. ‘I’m going to ask Mr Sykes to come in.’

‘You want him to see the hat?’

‘I’d like you to tell him what you’ve told me, about the break-in.’

‘Oh it’s all right. I’ve had no trouble since.’

I opened the door. ‘Mr Sykes, Madam Estelle had a break-in, in the early hours of last Saturday morning.’

Sykes stepped into the shop. ‘Was anything taken?’

‘The cash drawer was pulled out but there was nothing in it.’ Madam Estelle pursed her lips. ‘I’m sorry, but cigar smoke has a rather penetrating effect on hat materials, felt and straw, you understand.’

Sykes made instant apologies and left the shop.

Madam Estelle resumed her sales talk. ‘Well, are you going to try the hat?’

‘It’s beautiful. Will you keep it for me to try next week?’

She sniffed. ‘Of course. I can’t promise mind. I do tell my assistant, don’t touch this, don’t bring out that, but she does. You could put a deposit.’

‘I’ll come back. There’s something I have to attend to. Sorry.’

I joined Sykes in the alley. Moments later, the door blind descended in a very definite manner.

My first motorbike ride would have to wait.

‘Mr Sykes, has that break-in found its way into the murder book? Apparently PC Millen reported it and saw to the change of lock.’

Sykes shook his head. ‘I didn’t see anything about it. Whoever broke in could have gone through to the hotel.’

‘Exactly. They would need to draw two bolts, that’s all. Pulling out a cash drawer made it look like attempted burglary.’

He stubbed his cigar. ‘How could that have been missed?’

‘I don’t know. You’re the special constable with access to Sergeant Wilson and his murder book. You tell me.’

‘They’re overwhelmed with paperwork up there. And that’s not counting everything up at CID headquarters, relating to Mr Runcie’s financial affairs at the bank, and all his dubious schemes.’

We went back into the hotel through the tobacconist’s shop. ‘Mr Sykes, after you’ve spoken to Wilson, let’s try and be one jump ahead on this. See if you can talk to this PC Millen who reported the break-in. Call round this evening and let me know what you find out. It doesn’t matter how late.’

Sykes nodded. He strode quickly to the wide staircase, and took the steps at a rapid pace.

It was time for me to tell Anthony Hartigan and Eddie Flanagan that I had found Deirdre. It would not please either of them to know she was now being questioned by the police.

At Reception, I asked when Mr Hartigan would be leaving. Tomorrow morning, came the reply.

I asked for paper and an envelope. In the briefest of notes, I told him that his sister was safe and well, and gave him the name of her solicitor.

The hotel buttons took the letter by hand to Mr Hartigan in his room, no doubt expecting a better tip than my sixpence.

As the buttons disappeared upstairs, I left the hotel. Having promised Deirdre that I would inform her aunts, I now wished I had told her to send a telegram. Abandoning 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.