The Holiday Murders Read Online Free

But I’m not a fool, Sergeant. Whatever was wrong with Xavier, I soon realised it would take a lot more than the love of a good woman to fix. As I said, he frightened me. I only saw him occasionally after our second outing. I think he spent most of his time in his room.’
    She looked down at her hands. Joe Sable followed her gaze, half expecting to find her wringing them. They were still calmly placed, one on top of the other.
    ‘The truth of the matter is, Sergeant, that in all the time I’ve known the Quinn family, I’ve never had a real conversation with Xavier. Even when he took me to church, he barely spoke. I couldn’t tell you what his views were about anything, and I certainly couldn’t tell you who his friends were, or if he had any. I suppose that sounds odd.’
    ‘Not at all. It’s possible even for people who’ve been married for a lifetime to know practically nothing about each other.’
    Sheila Draper leaned forward, and Joe felt a rush of sympathy from her. He blushed, suddenly aware that she supposed he’d been referring to his own parents. Titus would have been angered by this leak from his private life. In any investigation, distance between the questioner and the questioned always had to be maintained.
    ‘I was speaking generally,’ he said.
    ‘Yes. I’m sorry I can’t be more helpful.’
    ‘You’ve been most helpful, but I should point out that we may need to speak to you again.’
    ‘Mary’s going to spend the night with me. She couldn’t possibly sleep here.’
    ‘Of course,’ Joe said. ‘The house will have to be thoroughly searched, so there’ll be people here until morning.’
    ‘What a horrible way to spend Christmas Eve,’ Sheila said.
    Titus and Joe stood in Xavier Quinn’s bedroom. Mary Quinn and Sheila Draper had been escorted to Sheila’s boarding house. Neither of them had objected to being accompanied by a policeman, although at first the suggestion had created a mild panic in Mary.
    Xavier’s bedroom window was open. Mary confirmed later that he never closed it, choosing to mortify the flesh with both hot and cold air, depending on the season. The room was crowded with Catholic paraphernalia. There were rosaries, crucifixes, and a gallery of Sacred Hearts, Perpetual Succours, and unpleasant-looking saints, all of them looking smugly ecstatic in their martyrdom. The one thing that the room had going for it was its neatness: it was crowded, but well ordered.
    ‘This stuff would give me nightmares,’ Joe said. ‘No wonder he hallucinated.’
    ‘Whoever killed him was giving all this a bit of a nod, so we can probably assume it was someone who knew him.’
    Xavier Quinn’s obsessive neatness was a gift for anyone searching his room. In no time at all, Titus discovered two diaries, each filled with pages of beautiful copperplate.
    ‘It’s Latin,’ he said. ‘Do you read Latin, Sergeant?’
    ‘No, sir. Latin isn’t big in Jewish families.’
    ‘Mine’s too rusty to be of use. This will have to be translated as quickly as possible.’
    ‘Mary Quinn might read Latin.’
    ‘She might, but it wouldn’t be appropriate for her to read these at this stage, would it?’
    Titus kept his tone neutral. Nevertheless, Joe was acutely conscious of having been corrected again. It wasn’t that he particularly craved Inspector Lambert’s approval, but he hated his inexperience being so apparent. Although Titus had never expressed it explicitly, Joe was aware that he hadn’t been altogether happy about being landed with an apprentice. The recently formed Homicide Division was short-staffed, and Joe’s age would have precluded him from a promotion to it under normal circumstances. However, the war meant that there was no longer such a thing as ‘normal circumstances’.
    Titus had never asked Joe why he was a policeman and not a soldier. Maude had wondered, though, soon after she’d met Joe, if it had anything to do with his being Jewish. Jewish refugees weren’t