A Wreath for my Sister by Priscilla Masters Page B

wondered whether Macclesfield might lend us a couple of officers,’ she said. ‘It would give us a bit of a start. And after all, this might help clear up their unsolved murder too.’
    It was much later and they were sitting in Colclough’s office eating greasy chip-shop chips and drinking lager out of cans.
    â€˜It’s funny,’ said Joanna. ‘Sharon had close friends but kept a lot of secrets from them.’ She paused. ‘I suppose somewhere near the top of the list of suspects has to be Finnigan, her ex-husband and father of the two older children. And he does have a history of violence.’
    â€˜Not sex attacks, though,’ Mike pointed out. ‘Not rape.’
    â€˜ABH,’ she said. ‘He knocked her about and broke her jaw.’
    Arthur Colclough raised his eyebrows. ‘I’m surprised he didn’t get GBH for that one.’
    â€˜The old provocation card was flashed,’ Joanna said. ‘He did come home from night duty to find her in bed with another man.’
    Colclough nodded. ‘Did they get a divorce?’
    â€˜Yes, two years ago.’
    â€˜Then she took up with Paul Agnew,’ Mike put in. ‘He works at the oatcake shop at the top end of town.’
    Joanna was in the act of sliding a chip into her mouth. ‘Mike,’ she said. ‘We haven’t asked anyone whether she had a job.’
    â€˜She had three kids,’ Mike said. ‘She wouldn’t have had the time.’
    â€˜Part time?’ Joanna said. ‘It’s worth a try.’
    Mike nodded.
    â€˜I’ll ask Christine tomorrow.’
    Colclough was enjoying the chips too much to feel even a twinge of guilt. This felt like old times before he was too senior to enjoy a newspaper full of chips at the station. ‘Nectar,’ he said, puzzling the others. ‘What was that you said about the father of the third child?’
    â€˜Yet another of the many mysteries of Sharon Priest’s overcrowded sex life,’ said Joanna. ‘But he’s almost certainly the married lover.’
    â€˜And we know nothing about him ...’
    Mike shrugged. ‘No,’ he said.
    Colclough dabbled a chip on the sprinkling of salt. ‘But somebody knows,’ he said. ‘And if he was married and she threatened to pull the plug on him it would give him an excellent motive for wanting her silenced.’
    Joanna nodded. ‘We’d thought of that,’ she said, then glanced at the computer. ‘But doesn’t this look a little larger than a simple domestic affair?’
    The Super frowned at her. ‘Do we know nothing about this married man?’
    â€˜Bugger all,’ Mike said gloomily, ‘apart from the fact that he drives a smart car.’
    Colclough popped the last of his chips into his mouth and stared at the greasy paper regretfully.
    â€˜Well, that really narrows the field,’ he said. ‘And the ad in the paper?’ He was looking at Mike.
    â€˜Not much help,’ Mike said gloomily. ‘It seems they just hand over all the mail addressed to a particular box number. Anyone could have picked it up. It’s really lax,’ he grumbled. ‘It could be anyone ... The editor said half of the men who reply to the lonely hearts are married anyway.’
    â€˜So it doesn’t even rule out married men.’
    â€˜Quite honestly, sir,’ Mike said reluctantly, ‘I don’t think we’ll ever know who all of them are.’
    â€˜Well, we don’t need to know all of them, Sergeant, Colclough said sharply. ‘Just the one.’
    Mike flushed.
    The Super glanced at Joanna. ‘You’ve got your work cut out, Piercy.’
    She nodded. ‘I know, sir.’
    He grinned. ‘You’ll get there, in the end. But it’ll take an awful lot of leg work.’
    She looked at him. ‘I’ve got to get him,’ she said, ‘otherwise he’ll kill