Ma Crowther stepped through the door at the head of the stairs, still in her nightdress, clutching her sawn-off shotgun against her breast. Faulkner didn’t see her, so intent was he on the task before him. He poised over his three victims, swinging the iron bar high above his head like an executioner, and she gave him both barrels full in the face.

21

It was almost nine o’clock in the evening when Miller and Jenny Crowther walked along the second-floor corridor of the Marsden Wing of the General Infirmary towards the room in which they had put Gunner Doyle.

They walked slowly because Miller wasn’t in any fit state to do anything else. His body seemed to be bruised all over and he was strapped up so tightly because of his broken ribs, that he found breathing difficult. He was tired. A hell of a lot had happened since that final terrible scene on the roof and with Mallory on his back, he had been the only person capable of handling what needed to be done. A series of pain-killing injections weren’t helping any and he was beginning to find difficulty in thinking straight any more.

The constable on the chair outside the door stood up and Miller nodded familiarly. ‘Look after Miss Crowther for a few minutes will you, Harry? I want a word with the Gunner.’

The policeman nodded, Miller opened the door and went in. There was a screen on the other side of the door and beyond it the Gunner lay propped against the pillows, his nose broken for the fourth time in his life, his right leg in traction, fractured in three places.

Jack Brady sat in a chair on the far side of the bed reading his notebook. He got up quickly. ‘I’ve got a statement from him. He insists that he forced his way into the house last night; that Miss Crowther and her grandmother only allowed him to stay under duress.’

‘Is that a fact?’ Miller looked down at the Gunner and shook his head. ‘You’re a poor liar, Gunner. The girl’s already given us a statement that clarifies the entire situation. She says that when you saved her from Faulkner in the yard, she and her grandmother felt that they owed you something. She seems to think that’s a good enough defence even in open court.’

‘What do you think?’ the Gunner said weakly.

‘I don’t think it will come to court so my views don’t count. You put up the fight of your life back there on the roof. Probably saved our lives.’

‘Oh, get stuffed,’ the Gunner said. ‘I want to go to sleep.’

‘Not just yet. I’ve got a visitor for you.’

‘Jenny?’ The Gunner shook his head. ‘I don’t want to see her.’

‘She’s been waiting for hours.’