Five Dead Canaries Read Online Free

the crowd and still the tumult. When word spread that some canaries had been holding a party in the outhouse, there were shrieks of horror and vows of revenge. Speculation as to the cause of the blast was loud and contradictory. Everyone from foreign agents to landlords of rival pubs were blamed. It was only when police reinforcements arrived that the fire engine was able to get through to the Golden Goose. Intense heat kept onlookers from getting too close but curiosity made them surgeforward in waves. For the first half an hour, the chaos was almost uncontrollable.
    The journey from central London was much faster than the permitted speed limit but Marmion ignored that fact. It was imperative to get to Hayes as swiftly as possible, even if it meant upsetting other drivers and frightening pedestrians. When their car finally found its way to the correct address, scores of people were still clogging up the street. The fire was more or less under control and an ambulance was just leaving the site. Jumping out of the car, the detectives identified the senior officer and found themselves speaking to the burly Sergeant Edwin Todd, a man whose broad shoulders seemed to be about to burst out of his uniform. Sweat was dribbling down his face and his eyes were blazing. When the newcomers had introduced themselves, Todd waved a brawny arm at the crowd.
    ‘If only this bloody lot would get out of our way,’ he said with vehemence. ‘They seem to think it’s a sideshow laid on for their benefit.’
    ‘Tell me about the fatalities,’ said Marmion.
    ‘They were five canaries from the munitions factory, sir. According to the landlord, they were celebrating someone’s birthday. He put them in the outhouse because some of his customers don’t take too kindly to women with yellow faces.’
    ‘Five dead, you say – do we know any names?’
    Todd referred to his notebook. ‘The only one the landlord could remember was Florence Duncan,’ he replied. ‘It was her birthday and she handled all the arrangements with the landlord. He’s Leighton Hubbard, by the way.’
    ‘What sort of state is he in?’
    ‘Still filling his pants, I expect.’
    ‘Have all the bodies been taken away?’ asked Keedy.
    ‘Yes, sir – and the other woman’s been taken to hospital as well.’
    ‘What other woman? I thought there were only five.’
    ‘Six of them went into that outhouse, Sergeant. What you might call a real flock of canaries.’ He gave an incongruous chuckle. ‘But Leighton told me that one of them came flying out minutes before the bomb went off. Apparently, she was found lying on the pavement. They took her off to hospital, suffering from shock.’
    ‘Do we know her name?’ asked Marmion.
    ‘No, we don’t, but she’s a very lucky woman.’
    ‘We need to speak to her. Joe,’ he went on, turning to Keedy, ‘take the car and get across to the hospital. See if she’s still there. If she’s not, go on to the factory and make enquiries there.
Someone
must have an idea who these six women were. Ask about friends of Florence Duncan.’ He looked at Todd. ‘Miss or Mrs?’
    The policeman sniffed. ‘A bit of both, according to the landlord,’ he recalled. ‘She was Mrs Duncan till her hubby was killed at the battle of Loos. Hubbard described her as a real live wire who preferred to be called “Florrie”. She sounds like something of a merry widow, though she had little enough to get merry about.’
    ‘That’s enough to go on,’ said Marmion. ‘Off you go, Joe.’
    Keedy nodded. ‘What about you, Inspector?’
    ‘I’ll have a chat with the landlord. Meet me back here.’
    ‘Right you are.’
    When Keedy went off in the car, Marmion looked at the smoking ruin that had once been the outhouse. It was no more than a pile of stones and charred timbers now.
    ‘Nobody could have survived that blast,’ he said.
    ‘No,’ agreed Todd. ‘And the Golden Goose will need some repairs before it can reopen. A real pity – they