JOYCE QUINN was not in the habit of taking risks. She had a mobile phone and a can of Mace spray with her when she left her shop in Mill town on Tuesday night according to her husband Ray. When she bought the shop in the Co Kildare village four years ago she fitted a burglar alarm and steel shutters. Every night she would tidy up about five minutes before closing. Her car was always parked in front of the shop and she would load cigarettes and the cash till drawer into the back.
Mr Quinn, a commandant based in Army headquarters in Dublin, was also security conscious. He was late home from work that evening, he said, because he had been installing a panic button at his sister in law's house in Dublin. She lives in the same area where civil servant Marilyn Rynn was murdered before Christmas, he said.
Mr Quinn got worried at about 7.15 p.m. when Joyce had not arrived home. He tried to telephone her on the mobile but got a message saying she was out of range. He drove to Milltown with his son, David (16), then they drove to Newbridge where he thought Joyce might have gone to give blood. "I even drove along the blasted road where they found her," he said.
David was anxious and wanted to look for his mother, Mr Quinn said. They returned to Milltown and started searching the small graveyard beside the shop by torchlight. Mr Quinn said he heard his son sob after he had crossed the road and found the family Citroen parked in the national school yard. Gardai said the cash till drawer on the back seat was empty and there appeared to be bloodstains on the seat.
The Quinns would have been married 23 years next June. They had three children, David, Nicole (21) and Lisa (14). The family moved to the area more than five years ago, Mr Quinn said. The live around five miles from the shop in Milltown.
Outside Mrs Quinn's shop called The Store, a local man who did not want to be named said Mrs Quinn was more a friend than a proprietor "She always had a big smile and everyone knew her." She would often deliver uncollected newspapers of fuel to peoples houses in the evenings. Another man said people would often approach her as she was locking up the shop. "If she didn't have time to open up again she would give you a packet of cigarettes from the back seat and tell you to pay in the morning."
The takings from the shop would have been fairly low on Tuesday, they said, as her only customers that afternoon were the primary school children and a few local people. One man said her daughter Lisa was in the shop at around 5.30 p.m. on Tuesday and she would often help out on her way back from school in Newbridge. The shop was open seven days a week and almost 12 hours a day.
Yesterday evening a garda stood in front of the metal shutter. A bunch of flowers was propped against it. Inside the shop the magazines were arranged on top of the drinks counter. Against the window a stand held greetings cards and potted plants. The bolt on the lock up for the coal and briquettes was hanging open. The garda on duty said it was open when he arrived. Possibly closing the bolt was one of Joyce Quinn's last duties in her lock up routine.
