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“OF COURSE, THE BODY hasn’t officially been identified as your husband, Mrs Connery, but based on the description you gave of the clothes he was wearing when he went missing, and the wallet and sovereign ring that were found with him, I think you should prepare for the worst. I’m so sorry.”
Martha nodded and pulled another tissue from its box to stem the free-flowing tears. “Thank you for letting me know,” she said. “Deep down, I think I always knew this day would come, but now it’s here, it’s all quite surreal. And you say he was found buried under the floor in the basement?”
“Yes, in the air-raid shelter.”
Martha sniffed, blew her nose, and shook her head. “There isn’t an air-raid shelter in the basement.”
“Well, perhaps you used it for something else, did you?” said Sam.
“No, I mean we didn’t have a shelter of any description in the basement,” said Martha.
Sam and Harvey exchanged a glance. “Mrs Connery. That’s where we found your husband. In the recess beneath the floor.”
Martha shook her head again. “I don’t understand. I admit, I didn’t go down to the basement very often—too many creepy crawlies in dark corners—but it was my shop for almost fifty years, so I think I’d have known if it had an air-raid shelter.”
“Didn’t you use the basement for anything?” asked Sam.
“Well, it ended up being the place where we put everything that was in the way. You know, old dress dummies, the vacuum cleaner, that sort of thing. In all the years I owned the shop, I can count the number of times I went down there on two hands. Bruce used to go down there more than me if he happened to be there and I needed something. Otherwise, Moira would go down and fetch whatever we needed... God rest her soul.” Martha took a tissue from her pocket and dabbed her eyes again. “Oh dear. I’m sorry, detectives. But this has all come as a terrible shock. In fact, if you’ve finished with me, I think I’d like to sit quietly for a while.”
“Of course,” said Sam, as he and Harvey got up to leave. “Thank you for your time.”
William, whose expression had been growing increasingly stony, marched to the door. “I’ll see you out, shall I?” he said, holding it wide open. “You see what you’ve done?” he hissed, when Martha was out of earshot. “You must have known how upset this news would make her. Why couldn’t you have kept it from her for a while? At least until you had proof that the remains are definitely Bruce’s?”
“Mr Donahue, apart from the fact it’s going to be all over the news very soon, Mrs Connery has been waiting for news of her husband for almost fifty years, which is why I made the decision to prepare her for the worst,” said Sam. “Once we have conclusive proof, we’ll be in touch again. I know how distressing this must be for her, so I’ll do everything I can to make sure the results are obtained as soon as possible.”
William gave a snort of disdain before slamming the door and leaving them standing on the doorstep.
“There’s nothing like a satisfied customer,” said Sam, with a grimace. “And he was nothing like one. The sooner we get those remains identified, the better.”
ººººººº
Somewhere in Bliss Bay, a couple discussed the recent developments during a fractious exchange.
“Did you do something to that gas pipe to cause the explosion?”
“Of course not! If I’d known the damn shop was going to blow up, I wouldn’t have rigged the stepladder to stop the renovation, would I? It would have saved me a job and that young man would still have the use of both his arms.
“And, trust me, I wouldn’t have done anything that might have caused Bruce Connery’s remains to resurface. That explosion is going to be the undoing of us if we’re not very careful.”
“Who’s going to think we had anything to do with what happened to Bruce? No one can pin anything on us. We just have to remember our story, and stick to it.”
