Points of Danger Read online

  ‘Father’s death will cause a bye-election.’

  ‘I hadn’t thought that far ahead.’

  ‘Well, I have. I’d like to put myself forward to become the Conservative candidate and to continue his work in Parliament.’

  Freed gasped. ‘I didn’t realise you had political ambitions.’

  ‘You do now, and I hope I can count on your help.’

  ‘Well …’

  ‘You have great influence on the people who’ll make the choice.’

  ‘That’s true,’ said Freed, ‘but I can’t just wave a magic wand to guarantee your selection. There’ll be other hats in the ring.’

  ‘My father’s record will surely give me an advantage?’

  ‘Yes, but only up to a point. You’ll be competing with people who’ve dedicated themselves to this constituency for years and who feel that they deserve a reward for their service.’

  Swarbrick frowned. ‘Are you saying that you wouldn’t support me?’

  ‘Not at all – I just need to adjust my brain to the idea. To be candid, you’ve caught me off balance.’

  ‘I need hardly remind you of the relationship between my bank and the ECR. Over the years, we’ve provided vital finance for the company as well as expert advice.’

  ‘Nobody denies that, Andrew.’

  ‘Then why are you hesitating?’

  ‘I can see that it could be a popular decision in some quarters,’ said Freed. ‘Your father had a loyal following. He increased his majority at every election. There isn’t the slightest doubt that we will have another Conservative Member of Parliament.’

  ‘And his name will be Andrew Swarbrick.’

  ‘It could be …’

  ‘I was expecting more enthusiasm from you, Mr Freed.’

  ‘The more I think about it,’ said Freed, trying to hide his misgivings, ‘the more it grows on me. You wouldn’t be the first person to inherit a seat from his father and I’m sure you have his ability to marshal an argument and speak well in public. Yes,’ he went on, injecting a little passion into his voice, ‘I’d certainly put my weight behind you, Andrew.’

  The Ribs of Beef was a pub near the centre of the city. Built in the previous century, it stood beside the river and was renowned for the quality of its beer, the taste of its food and the warmth of its atmosphere. When they met there as arranged that afternoon, Colbeck and Leeming were able to find a table in a quiet corner where they could enjoy a light meal and discuss the case without interruption. Having wet his whistle, the sergeant first explained how Claude Ryle had seen a horse and rider fleeing the city at speed not long after the murder. Colbeck was impressed by his argument that the killer must have changed horses somewhere after leaving the railway.

  ‘That must be the explanation,’ he said.

  ‘I think we found the exact spot,’ said Leeming. ‘I walked along the track with Pryor, following the hoof prints. They ended near a gap in a fence. I suspect that that’s when he slowed down and slipped quietly into the streets before making his way to the place where he’d stabled the bay mare seen haring along the road to Acle.’

  ‘Well done, Victor. You’ve done well and your advice to inspector Jellings was sound. By dint of enquiries along that road, he may be able to find out where the man was heading.’

  ‘What about you, sir?’ asked Leeming, downing the last of his pint. ‘How did you get on with Mrs Swarbrick?’

  ‘She’s still very confused.’

  ‘Who can blame her?’

  ‘I had to chisel the words slowly out of her. Recounting what happened when the robber appeared reduced her to tears. She was incoherent for minutes.’

  ‘What about her stepson?’

  ‘She doesn’t feel strong enough to see him,’ said Colbeck, ‘and fears that he’ll blame her, somehow.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous. Mrs Swarbrick might have been killed herself.’

  ‘The stepson can only see things from his point of view, Victor. He seems to think that she brought bad luck into the family. One interesting fact emerged. It transpires that his stepmother was born and brought up in Jersey. She and her first husband were living in St Helier when he died of consumption. They had no children.’

  ‘How did she meet her second husband?’

  ‘She came to stay with a friend in London,’ said Colbeck, ‘and was introduced to Swarbrick at a social gathering. The fact that they’d both recently lost their spouses gave them something in common. I’d like to have learnt more about their early relationship, but my questions had already caused her enough distress. She’s very vulnerable.’

  ‘No wonder she wants to keep clear of her stepson.’

  ‘Fortunately, Mrs Freed stands between them like a fence.’

  ‘She was standing between me and my drinking habits until I found out about this place. What do you think she’d say if she caught us here?’

  ‘We’ll have to make sure that she doesn’t.’

  ‘She’d stand over us and make us sign the pledge.’

  ‘The only pledge I’m making is that we’ll find the killer.’

  ‘What’s our next move, sir?’

  ‘I think we need to examine the other railway companies who’ll be involved in the projected merger.’

  ‘How many of them are there, sir?’

  ‘Four,’ replied Colbeck. ‘The Norfolk, the Eastern Union, the East Anglian and East Suffolk Railway Companies have been squabbling with each other – and with the ECR – for years. Some of them run lines over identical routes. In practical terms, amalgamation is essential.’

  ‘Then why hasn’t it happened before?’

  ‘That’s what we need to find out. We’ll take two each, Victor.’

  ‘Which ones do I look into?’

  ‘I’ll handle the Norfolk and the Eastern Union, leaving the others to you.’ He took a slip of paper from his pocket and passed it to Leeming. ‘These are the people you need to question. Find out what their reaction is to the murder of Jarvis Swarbrick.’

  ‘Do we meet up here again?’

  ‘No, we’ve been invited to dine with Mr and Mrs Freed.’

  ‘But there’ll be no alcohol at the table,’ protested Leeming.

  ‘Denial is good for the soul.’

  ‘It will be like slow torture to me. I thought that Freed said he’d leave us entirely alone.’

  ‘He’s the chairman of the ECR,’ Colbeck reminded him. ‘In short, ‘he’s a mine of information about his and the other railway companies. Talking to him in a relaxed atmosphere could yield information we may not get elsewhere.’

  ‘You dine with them, sir. I prefer to sneak off and eat here.’

  ‘We have to present a united front, Victor.’

  ‘Is that an order?’

  ‘It’s a request that you can’t ignore.’ Leeming groaned. ‘I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news,’ Colbeck went on. ‘By way of extenuation, I’ll tell you something that will lift your spirits.’

  ‘Only a decision to take rooms here at the pub will do that.’

  ‘I had a telegraph from the superintendent earlier.’

  Leeming shuddered. ‘Don’t tell me he’s coming to join us.’

  ‘He was replying to my enquiry about Sergeant Duff.’

  ‘Do you know why he left the Metropolitan Police?’

  ‘I do, indeed,’ said Colbeck, taking the telegraph from his pocket and reading from it. ‘Bartram Walter Duff was dismissed for being drunk in a public house with a female when on duty at one o’clock in the morning.’ He handed the paper to Leeming. ‘What do you think about that?’

  Cecil Freed was put under what amounted to a constant bombardment of demands from his visitor. It was clear that Andrew Swarbrick had set his heart on succeeding his father in the constituency. Freed had to raise both hands to stop the torrent of words.

  ‘That’s enough, Andrew!’ he said.

  ‘I just want you to understand my position.’

  ‘You’ve made it abun
dantly clear.’

  ‘It will be an honour to represent this city in Parliament and I’ll do so with the same vigour and commitment shown by my father.’

  ‘Stop!’ yelled Freed, slapping his desk for emphasis.

  Swarbrick fell silent at last. Annoyed by the interruption, he crossed his legs and folded his arms. Freed quivered under his sullen glare.

  ‘Let me remind you of something,’ he said, reasonably.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘When your father remarried in what most people considered to be almost indecent haste, you were outraged. You felt that he should have mourned your mother properly first.’

  ‘I did. I still do.’

  ‘Well, aren’t we in the same situation now? Within a day of your father’s murder, you come here and start making demands regarding the bye-election.’

  ‘I just wanted you to know where I stand.’

  ‘Couldn’t you at least have waited until after the funeral?’ asked Freed. ‘Your behaviour is, at best, inconsiderate; at worst, it’s downright offensive. Is this the way to mourn the man who was your father?’

  ‘No,’ said Andrew, looking slightly shamefaced, ‘it isn’t and you’re right to take me to task. I should have waited.’

  ‘You should, indeed.’

  ‘It’s just that I have this urge inside me.’

  ‘Try to control it, Andrew.’

  ‘I will but it’s going to damage my hopes.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘While I’m tied up with the funeral arrangements and providing information for reporters wishing to write an obituary of my father, the others will steal a march on me.’

  ‘What others?’

  ‘I’m referring to rivals for the right to stand in the bye-election,’ said Andrew, petulantly. ‘They’ll be at it already, I daresay, building support, applying pressure, calling in favours. Father told me that when he first went in search of the nomination, one rival was shamelessly offering bribes.’

  ‘It will be a small field,’ promised Freed, ‘and no bribery will be allowed. A shortlist will be drawn up. You need to be one of the three potential candidates to be grilled in turn by the members.’

  ‘If I’m given the chance, I can beat anybody.’

  ‘Confidence is a key factor and you clearly have that.’

  ‘I also have a detailed knowledge of the proposed merger. I had to convince my colleagues at the bank that it deserved our utmost support. Who else could possibly compete with me?’

  ‘There is someone, alas.’

  ‘And who is that?’

  ‘It’s a man who called on me earlier. Like you, he was quick to see that a vacancy had occurred in Parliament. He hinted that he’d be doing all he could to fill that vacancy.’

  ‘What’s his name?’

  ‘Oliver Trant!’

  ‘Damn the fellow!’ exclaimed Andrew.

  ‘I had a feeling you’d react like that,’ said Freed with a smile. ‘Be warned, Andrew. This is not going to be easy. Trant will fight with all the weapons he can lay his hands on. Being the heir-apparent may not be enough to secure nomination for you.’

  Horace Pryor was increasingly jumpy. Having been told by Leeming that he might lose his job, he worked harder than ever, hoping that he was seen doing so by Duff and by the stationmaster, two men with power over him. Dismissal would leave him in a very difficult position. Pryor was clambering up on to the platform when Duff pounced on him.

  ‘Where did you go?’ he demanded.

  ‘I was just doing what I normally do, Bart.’

  ‘That’s not true. You went off with Sergeant Leeming.’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said Pryor, ‘I wasn’t counting that.’

  ‘Where did he take you?’

  ‘We followed the hoof prints of the killer’s horse.’

  ‘How do you know that’s what they were?’

  ‘It was obvious. We started at the spot on the branch line where Mr Swarbrick was shot. You could see the marks where the horse had skidded to a halt beside the train. All we had to do was follow the prints he left when he galloped off.’

  ‘And then what?’

  ‘We think we found the place where the killer had left railway property and sneaked off to change his horse.’

  ‘Why should he change his horse?’ asked Duff, sternly.

  ‘It’s what the sergeant worked out he must have done.’

  Pryor went on to explain that Leeming had made deductions on the basis of what a witness had told him at the police station. Duff listened intently, jaw tight and cheek muscles oscillating. When his recitation came to an end, Pryor struck a note of supplication.

  ‘Bart …’

  ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Is it true that I might lose my job?’

  ‘Yes, it is,’ said the other, ‘but there’s one certain way to keep it.’

  ‘Tell me what it is and I’ll do it.’

  ‘Report to me every single word that inspector Colbeck and Sergeant Leeming say to you. Do you understand? I need to know exactly what they’re thinking.’

  ‘Why don’t you ask them yourself?’

  ‘They’re more interested in you than in me,’ said Duff. ‘At least, the sergeant is. He’s already told you things that never reached my ears. Whenever he’s here at the station, stay close and pick up what you can. Do you think you can manage that?’

  ‘It’s a promise.’

  ‘I want results. Get them for me.’

  Caleb Andrews called at the house that afternoon and had the supreme pleasure of playing with his granddaughter and trying to teach her new words to add to her tiny vocabulary. Since her infant tongue was still not able to pronounce anything clearly, he settled for some enthusiastic burbles from her. Though he revelled in his role as a grandfather, Madeleine could see that he’d really come to see her. When they were alone together later on, he walked gingerly around the subject before finally plunging in.

  ‘Maddy …’

  ‘If you’re here to talk about that commission,’ she warned, ‘I’d rather that we kept off the subject altogether.’

  ‘But you don’t know what I was going to say.’

  ‘Whatever it is, Father, I’d prefer not to hear it.’

  He was affronted. ‘You can’t just shut me up like that, Maddy.’

  ‘I’m trying to stave off an argument.’

  ‘There’ll be no argument.’

  Madeleine sighed. ‘How many times have I heard that?’

  ‘This time, it’s different.’

  ‘The subject is closed,’ she declared. ‘I’ve written to Robert and I’m certain that he’ll encourage me to meet Mr Fairbank and listen to his proposal. Lydia will be there with me because you’d be unable to keep your prejuduces against the GWR to yourself.’

  ‘I just want to make things right between us, Maddy. So I came up with an idea. You’ll be so pleased with it.’

  ‘What was it?’ she asked, fear already lapping at her.

  ‘I went to the gallery and spoke to Mr Sinclair.’

  ‘You did what?’

  ‘I spoke to the man who appreciates your work so much that he sells it in his gallery. I told him who I was.’

  ‘You had no right to go there behind my back,’ she said, angrily. ‘Mr Sinclair and I have a business arrangement. It took me a long time to find someone who’d support me like that. What’s he going to think of me if you go barging in there without my permission?’

  ‘All I did was to ask a simple question.’

  ‘You should never have been there in the first place.’

  ‘Mr Fairbank is a regular customer of his, so I asked if the man was trustworthy.’

  ‘I don’t want to hear another word,’ said Madeleine, putting her hands over the ears.

  ‘Mr Sinclair told me that he was, and he’s known the man for years. So, you see,’ he announced as if he’d just given her an expensive gift, ‘you can meet Mr Fairbank without the slightest worry
because someone has vouched for him. Doesn’t that make you feel better?’

  ‘No, it doesn’t,’ she said, reining in her temper. ‘It’s made me feel very angry.’

  ‘Why? I thought I was helping.’

  ‘It’s not help, Father, it’s interference. It’s hard enough being both a mother and an artist. I struggle to find a balance between the two. Out of the blue, someone says that he’d like to commission a painting from me and you raise objections immediately.’

  ‘I tried to make amends, Maddy.’

  ‘Well, you didn’t. You only made things worse.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘If Mr Fairbank finds out we’re checking up on him as if he’s some kind of threat, he’ll feel insulted. I might have to wave goodbye to that commission.’

  ‘I’ll speak to him in person and explain,’ he volunteered.

  ‘Oh, no, you’ve done enough damage as it is.’

  ‘Mr Fairbank is a family man. He’ll understand a father’s concern.’

  ‘You mustn’t go anywhere near him,’ she said, stamping her foot in exasperation. ‘Being recognised as an artist means a lot to me, Father. I can’t have you meddling like this. Instead of helping me, you’re more likely to endanger my career. From now on,’ she concluded, ‘I’ll never discuss my work with you again.’

  Andrews bowed his head in shame. Her threat was like a knife between the ribs.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  In quantity and quality, their breakfast was excellent and the maid was attentive. Because of his discomfort at receiving such a treat, Victor Leeming was only able to enjoy the meal when the woman had left. He helped himself to more bacon and began to relax.

  ‘I feel so out of place here,’ he admitted. ‘I’m just not used to being waited on like this. Last night’s dinner in the main house was even worse. I just didn’t belong. I was afraid to speak at first.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Colbeck, ‘I noticed. That’s why I brought the name of Jenny Lind into the conversation and let you explain that we’d once escorted her from London to Birmingham where she was due to give a recital at the Town Hall. Mrs Freed was very impressed by that.’

  ‘I had no idea that Jenny Lind had a connection with Norwich or how good she’d been to the city.’