A Christmas Railway Mystery Read online

  ‘And did you arrange to meet him two nights ago?’ She lowered her head. ‘Please tell us what happened.’

  ‘He didn’t turn up. He’d never let me down before. I couldn’t just wait there. I had to keep going back to our own rooms. When I heard my husband snoring again,’ she said, ‘I went out for the last time and … Gareth was there.’

  ‘Would that be Gareth Llewellyn?’ asked Leeming.

  ‘Yes, it would.’

  ‘And did he say where he’d been all night?’

  ‘No, Sergeant,’ she replied, looking up, ‘but his hands were covered in blood.’

  The effort of making her confession was too much for her. Having betrayed her husband by having assignations with another man, she had now betrayed her lover and was in despair. She burst into tears and began to shake uncontrollably. Colbeck put a consoling arm around her and told her that she’d been very brave to do what she’d just done. It was several minutes before she stopped weeping.

  ‘You must think I’m wicked,’ she wailed.

  ‘We think you did the right thing,’ said Colbeck.

  ‘But I’m a married woman with a child. What I did was terrible.’

  ‘Nothing is quite as terrible as a murder, Mrs Griffiths.’

  ‘I just can’t believe that Gareth would have …’

  ‘He may yet be innocent and that will put your mind at rest. I can see how much you must have agonised over this. When you first heard about the murder, it must have been like a blow from a sledgehammer. It’s to your credit that you felt you had to tell us what you knew.’

  ‘I feel like a traitor. How can I ever face Gareth again?’

  ‘You may not have to,’ said Leeming, bluntly.

  Colbeck stepped in quickly. ‘What the sergeant means,’ he said, ‘is that you might be advised to keep out of Mr Llewellyn’s way for a while.’

  ‘I’ll do that,’ she agreed.

  It was another ten minutes before she’d recovered from what was plainly an ordeal for her, confessing that she’d committed adultery then naming her lover as the likely killer. When she felt able to get up, Colbeck accompanied her to the door and left her with a few last comforting words. She thanked him for his kindness then left.

  ‘That wasn’t what I meant at all,’ complained Leeming. ‘I said she wouldn’t have to face Llewellyn again because we’d put him behind bars.’

  ‘We’re not going to do that, Victor.’

  ‘But we’ve just had solid evidence.’

  ‘All we know is that he arrived for a tryst with blood on his hands.’

  ‘Yes, he was late turning up because he’d been killing Rodman.’

  ‘It’s a possibility,’ agreed Colbeck, ‘but it’s very far from being a probability. I can think of all kinds of reasons why a man would have blood on his hands. Daniel Gill’s hands were bloodstained when I met him.’

  ‘He’s a butcher.’

  ‘I’m not convinced that Llewellyn is.’

  Leeming was astounded. ‘Are you saying that we should … do nothing?’

  ‘We have to watch and wait, Victor. Before we do anything as rash as making an arrest, we should get more proof. To do that, we need to find out a great deal more about Llewellyn and his movements that night. In any case,’ he continued, ‘we don’t want to commit an unforgivable crime ourselves.’

  ‘What do you mean, sir?’

  ‘If we take him into custody now, he’ll be unable to perform at the concert. We can’t deprive a Welshman of the chance to sing,’ he said with a twinkle in his eye. ‘That would be tantamount to wilful cruelty.’

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  There were two of them. Concealed among the trees, they’d been keeping the house under surveillance since early that morning. When Wardlow and Tallis finally emerged from the drive in the dog cart, the men gave them time to get well past the copse before coming out of it. They followed their quarry at a discreet distance. There was never any danger of being seen. The old soldiers were deep into their memoirs once more and were oblivious to all else. When the dog cart pulled up in the cathedral precinct, the men who’d trailed behind it were given an unexpected bonus. They saw Wardlow alight from the vehicle with some difficulty then reach for his walking stick. Tallis seemed unimpaired but he slowed his pace to match that of his friend. The two men exchanged a look.

  ‘Nobody told us he couldn’t walk properly,’ said one.

  His companion grinned. ‘Are you complaining?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Nor me.’

  ‘What do we do?’

  ‘We bide our time. And then …’

  They sniggered. Their task had now become easier.

  It was the second time that Hector Samway had been hauled out of the Foundry and it annoyed him. When he confronted Colbeck in the detective’s office, he was forthright.

  ‘You’re costing me money,’ he protested.

  ‘I may not have to keep you long, Mr Samway.’

  ‘You shouldn’t have needed to see me at all. I told that sergeant of yours everything. Why are you bothering me again? If I’m away from my job for any length of time, the foreman will dock my wages.’

  ‘I’ll make sure that doesn’t happen.’

  ‘Rules are rules.’

  ‘If I speak to him, Mr Stinson will be able to bend them in your favour.’

  Samway muttered grudging thanks. Physically, he was exactly as Leeming had described and there was the constant sense of a temper just being kept in check. Not wishing to provoke it, Colbeck’s manner was more emollient.

  ‘I’m sorry to take you away from your work again,’ he began.

  ‘Why couldn’t you wait until my shift was finished?’

  ‘We’d like to clear up certain things as quickly as possible, Mr Samway.’

  ‘I can’t help you.’

  ‘Don’t be too certain of that.’

  ‘I had nothing to do with the murder. I can’t understand why my name came up in the first place.’

  ‘We’re acting on an anonymous allegation about you.’

  ‘Then the man who made it is a liar!’ snarled the other.

  ‘In actual fact, more than one person named you in connection with the crime. We don’t know who they are but all of them felt strongly enough about it to put pen to paper. Unfortunately, they held back their identities.’

  ‘Cowards!’

  ‘Their claims are consistent, Mr Samway. Each of them asserts that there was bad blood between you and Mr Rodman. According to Sergeant Leeming, you don’t deny it. Is that true?’

  ‘What if it is?’

  ‘Can you account for your movements on the night of the murder?’

  ‘I was in bed asleep.’

  ‘Will anyone confirm that?’

  ‘My neighbours saw me go into the house at the usual time and they know I’m always exhausted at the end of a shift. When I’d had some food, I went straight to bed. We have an early start in the Foundry.’

  ‘Why do you think people are naming you as a suspect?’

  ‘We all have enemies – even you.’

  Colbeck smiled. ‘Oh, I have a lot more of them than you,’ he said, wryly. ‘If you wish to make yourself very unpopular, you simply have to become a policeman. At a stroke, you create an army of enemies.’

  ‘Did any of these people who wrote to you have proof that I was the killer?’

  ‘No, they didn’t.’

  ‘Then you might as well let me go back to work.’

  ‘There’s a question I must put to you first. If you are not the culprit, somebody else is. Can you suggest who that somebody else might be?’

  Lost in thought, Samway screwed his face up until it became a mask of cold anger. His expression would intimidate most people. The fact that Rodman had got the better of him in a fight said a lot about the strength and determination of the murder victim. At length, Samway spat out a name.

  ‘Danny Gill.’

  ‘But he doesn’t work here any mo
re.’

  ‘That’s why he’d hate Rodman almost as much as I did. Danny was sacked but Rodman stayed on. They got rid of the wrong man.’

  ‘Who made the decision?’

  ‘It would have been the foreman but Mr Stinson would have had the final say. He goes to church regular so he’ll have seen Rodman singing his bleeding head off every Sunday. That counted in Rodman’s favour. Danny couldn’t sing a note. Also,’ said Samway, ‘he’s really mean when he wants to be. You should talk to him.’

  ‘I already have,’ said Colbeck. ‘He remains a suspect.’

  ‘What about me?’

  ‘We’ll have to keep you in mind.’

  ‘But I’ve told you that I’m innocent. Bring a Bible and I’ll swear on it.’

  ‘How often do you go to church?’

  Samway looked sheepish. ‘It’s not as often as I ought to.’

  ‘Is there a reason for that?’

  ‘Every time I go to church, I’m reminded of my wife’s funeral. So I keep away most of the time. The vicar told me that I’d feel better if I went every Sunday but it’s not true. My stomach churns whenever I go in there and hear Mr Law spouting a sermon’ He straightened up and wagged a finger. ‘I’m not saying it is Danny Gill, mind, but it could be.’

  ‘Can you offer another name?’

  ‘No, Inspector.’

  ‘What about Simeon Cudlip?’

  ‘I don’t know him.’

  ‘He’s a clerk and he didn’t get on with Mr Rodman.’

  ‘Neither did lots of us – he could be very nasty.’

  ‘Yet he sang in the church choir and educated himself from books in the library at the Mechanics’ Institution. He can’t just be dismissed as an ogre. Mr Rodman was a complex man.’

  ‘You never met him.’

  ‘I’ve built up a fairly detailed picture of him – and, of course, I’ve met his wife.’ Colbeck studied him. ‘You knew her before she was married, I gather.’

  ‘If you lived in the village, you couldn’t miss Betty Marklew. She was lovely.’

  ‘Did you make efforts to court her?’

  ‘Yes, I did, and I’m not ashamed of it.’

  ‘Yet you went on to marry someone else.’

  ‘Betty was … no longer within reach.’

  ‘But you continued to admire her, I daresay,’ said Colbeck, ‘and that kind of admiration can sometimes exert a powerful influence on a man. Is that why you and Mr Rodman fell out? Did you try to pester Mrs Rodman?’

  Samway was roused. ‘I’d never do that to her, Inspector,’ he insisted. ‘Even after my wife died, I never went near Betty. I was just sickened at the way that Rodman treated her. While he was getting drunk in the pub, she was always left alone with the children without enough money to feed and clothe them properly. It wasn’t fair on her. When I had that row with him, I told him the truth to his face. I said that Betty deserved someone far better than him. Rodman thought I was talking about myself.’

  Colbeck regarded him coolly. ‘Weren’t you?’

  Though she had the three children and though Liza Alford had spent a second night with her, Betty Rodman felt that the house was strangely empty. When the vicar called on her again, she told him about it.

  ‘The emptiness is in your heart, Betty,’ he said, ‘and not in your house.’

  ‘Will it ever go away?’

  ‘The feeling will shrink with the passage of time. I’m speaking from personal experience. When my father died, I was devastated. Something of vital importance had just been stolen from my life. At the time, I never thought that I’d get over it but, with God’s help, I have.’

  ‘That’s different,’ Liza interjected. ‘Your father wasn’t murdered.’

  ‘No, he died peacefully from old age.’

  ‘Betty’s case is not the same.’

  ‘I agree,’ he said. ‘Perhaps it was foolish to make such a comparison.’

  He’d brought some scones his wife had made especially for the children. Since he intended to stay an hour at least, he offered Liza the opportunity to slip away if she wished to do any shopping. After discussing it with Betty, she accepted the offer but promised to return before the vicar left.

  ‘Somebody ought to be with her all the time,’ she said.

  ‘Nights are the worst,’ admitted Betty. ‘I couldn’t manage without Liza.’

  ‘I’ll sleep here as long as I’m needed.’

  ‘You’ve got your own family to look after. It’s what Fred was saying when he called in yesterday. He didn’t like the idea of you sitting in that chair all night. Fred told me he’d rather sleep there himself so that you could be with the children.’

  Unable to hide her disapproval at the suggestion, Liza bade them farewell. Howard Law waited until she was out of the house.

  ‘You can come to us as soon as you wish,’ he said.

  ‘As long as they’ll let me,’ she replied, ‘I’d rather stay here. This house has … memories I cling on to.’ Betty became fearful. ‘When you spoke to Mr Stinson, did he give you a date when we had to leave?’

  ‘No, he couldn’t be that specific but I’ll put gentle pressure on him to make sure that it’s as long as possible. The GWR is a caring company. They’ll pay for the funeral, of course, and, as I told you, that’s something we must discuss.’

  ‘I’m not ready yet.’

  ‘No, no, I understand that.’

  ‘And I’m not sure that I ever will be.’

  Law backed off immediately. ‘Then let’s forget about it for now. I’ll have to make certain practical decisions regarding the service but I needn’t bother you with those.’ He sat beside Betty and squeezed her hand. ‘My wife said that you were being very courageous in the face of a malign act of fate.’

  ‘Who killed my husband?’ she asked faintly.

  ‘Inspector Colbeck will find that out.’

  ‘But it must be someone we know. That’s what frightens me. He’s still here, living among us, carrying on as if nothing has happened. I’m afraid to go out at the end of the working day in case I pass him in the street.’

  ‘It’s freezing out there, anyway, so you’re better off in here. When I call in tomorrow, I’ll bring some more coal for the fire. It’s important for you to be in the warm.’

  ‘You and Mrs Law have been so good to me.’

  ‘We’ll help you through the difficult days that lie ahead, Betty. Until you get back on your feet, so to speak, the parsonage is yours. And it will mean you won’t have to impose on Fred and Liza Alford.’

  ‘They both begged me to go to them,’ said Betty. ‘Fred was here yesterday evening and said that they’d find room for us somehow. We’re very close, you see. Moving in with you will be … well, we’ll find it very strange.’

  ‘You’ll be in the best possible place.’

  Though she forced a grateful smile and nodded, she still had reservations about moving into the parsonage because she’d feel constrained and out of place. Betty would be embarrassed by the luxury of having servants. She simply wouldn’t know how to deal with them. Law saw her confusion.

  ‘Put your trust in the Lord,’ he said, ‘and all will be well.’

  ‘I’d rather put my trust in Inspector Colbeck for the time being. I have to know who destroyed our lives and I trust the inspector to catch him in the end. Then,’ she went on, face contorted by an upsurge of hatred, ‘I can go to court to watch my husband’s killer being sentenced to death. I’ll enjoy that.’

  There was a short queue in the butcher’s shop when he got there. Leeming had to stand behind two women and an old man. He looked incongruous in the setting and collected stares of amazement from the other customers. When he’d served the women and the old man, Daniel Gill produced a smile for the sergeant.

  ‘What can I get you, sir?’

  ‘You can get me someone to look after the shop while we have a chat,’ said Leeming. ‘Inspector Colbeck asked me to speak to you. I’m Sergeant Leeming and I don’t much
care for the stink in here or the sawdust under my feet.’

  ‘That’s a good, healthy smell,’ argued Gill.

  ‘I’d rather be out in the fresh air. If I stay here, we’ll have to talk in front of your uncle. Does he know that we’re interested in you?’

  ‘No, he doesn’t and there’s no reason why he should.’

  After gesturing for Leeming to get out, he went off into the back room and invented an excuse to leave the premises for a short while. Then he went outside and wiped his hands on his apron. The sergeant was twenty yards away. Gill was grateful.

  ‘The inspector advised me to keep out of sight of your uncle,’ he explained. ‘We don’t want to put you in an awkward situation, Mr Gill – unless, that is, you happen to be the man we’re after.’

  ‘I had nothing to do with Frank Rodman’s death,’ affirmed the other.

  ‘Would you like to have been involved?’

  ‘I’d have loved it.’

  ‘Thanks for your honesty – it’s a good start.’

  ‘This is a waste of your time. The inspector has already questioned me.’

  ‘There was one small point that needed to be clarified.’

  ‘Oh, what was that?’

  ‘Where were you on the night of the murder?’

  ‘I was fast asleep with my wife.’

  ‘I wish that I’d been in bed with my wife,’ said Leeming, mordantly. ‘I hate being away from home, especially at this time of year.’

  ‘Why pester me? I have an alibi. If you don’t believe me, speak to my wife.’

  ‘I’ve already done that, sir.’

  Gill was shaken. ‘You spoke to Anne?’

  ‘Yes, I did.’

  ‘But you don’t know where we live.’

  ‘I solved that problem by calling on Mr Morris, the editor of the Advertiser. He seems to know where everyone lives. That’s how I got to meet Mrs Gill.’

  ‘You had no right to go there behind my back,’ protested Gill.

  ‘We had every right, sir. Indeed, you invited Inspector Colbeck to speak to her because she would verify what you’d told him.’

  ‘And did she?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said Leeming, ‘she repeated what you told her, word for word.’