Points of Danger Read online

  ‘Why did you pull a face like that?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Lydia, it was uncalled for. The truth is that I wish I hadn’t even mentioned the commission to my father. One way or another, it’s caused a lot of trouble.’

  ‘Why – what has he done now?’

  ‘I’m sure he acted with the best of intentions.’

  ‘There’s an ominous note in your voice.’

  ‘It’s there with good reason,’ said Madeleine. ‘Without even telling me, he went to the gallery to ask what sort of person Mr Fairbank was. As a regular customer, Mr Fairbank is well known there. When my father told me what he’d done, I was mortified.’

  ‘Mr Fairbank wouldn’t be altogether pleased, either.’

  ‘He wouldn’t, Lydia. I keep praying that he’ll never find out. It’s as if we’re treating him as a criminal. You saw his letter. There’s nothing remotely suspicious about it.’

  ‘Mr Andrews was too impulsive.’

  ‘I share that fault with him at times,’ said Madeleine, ‘so I can’t complain too much. But I was so angry when I heard. In future I’m simply not going to discuss my work with him.’

  ‘He’ll be very hurt at being excluded.’

  ‘I know – but at least I’ll have peace of mind.’

  Caleb Andrews walked almost furtively along the street until he came to the Red Gallery, an art shop whose door, window frame and brickwork were painted in an attractive shade of red that made it stand out. The first time he’d ever gone there, he’d been able to put his nose against the window and gloat over his daughter’s debut as a professional artist. Her painting of a locomotive steaming along had been displayed on an easel in the window. Prints of her other work had appeared regularly until childbirth had given her an enforced rest from her studio. Now, however, Andrews didn’t feel that he was entitled to enjoy the sight of her work. He could no longer stand there and feel proud of Madeleine. She’d deprived him of that pleasure.

  He was honest enough to realise that it was his own fault. In telling her to reject the offer of the commission because of Fairbank’s likely preference for GWR locomotives, he’d overstepped the mark. When he went to apologise, however, he’d only distressed Madeleine even more. In a bid to win back her approval, he did something he thought would please his daughter, but it had only enraged her. Andrews could still hear the pain in her voice. She’d been deeply wounded by what he’d done. As a result, he’d been banished from an important part of her life and made to feel like an outcast. It was dispiriting.

  When he glanced across the street again, he saw the owner in the window, rearranging some of the items on display. Sinclair looked up and recognised him. Overcome with embarrassment, Andrews pulled down his hat and scuttled away from what was now forbidden territory.

  True to his promise, Ned Grigson had found all the information requested by Colbeck. As they sat side by side in the stationmaster’s office, he worked his way down the list, providing details of each person. Colbeck’s eye alighted on a familiar name.

  ‘I didn’t know that Sergeant Burridge once worked here.’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said Grigson. ‘Eric was a railway policeman in his younger days and a very competent one.’

  ‘Why did he leave?’

  ‘The Constabulary paid him a better wage and offered the promise of a promotion.’

  ‘So, he’d know this station well.’

  ‘He’d know it as intimately as I do, inspector.’

  As they continued to go through the names one by one, Colbeck was struck by how many employees had come and gone in such a relatively short time. Some had been dismissed for drunkenness or unpunctuality, but others had simply resigned.

  ‘Can’t the ECR hold on to its staff?’ asked Colbeck.

  ‘Long hours and low pay are not the best way to create loyalty, sir.’

  ‘That’s true of any place of employment, not least the Metropolitan Police Force. Those in uniform in London contend with the additional problem of continual danger. Policemen, alas, make tempting targets.’ He spotted another name. ‘Bernard Pryor – is he any relation to Horace Pryor?’

  ‘Bernard’s his cousin, sir.’

  ‘He was dismissed for fighting, I see.’

  ‘He was only here for three weeks. The wonder is that he lasted that long,’ said Grigson. ‘Horace has given us no real trouble but his cousin was a menace. He picked a fight with one of the clerks. I had to pull him off by the scruff of his neck.’

  ‘Is he still in the city?’

  Grigson chuckled. ‘He’s not in a position to leave it.’

  ‘Why is that?’

  ‘Bernard Pryor is serving a sentence in Norwich Prison.’

  ‘Then I think we can safely eliminate him from our enquiries,’ said Colbeck with a smile. ‘Is there anyone else on this list who dabbled in criminal activities?’

  ‘As it happens, there are one or two people …’

  As the stationmaster picked out the names, Colbeck jotted them down in his notebook and resolved to check up on the individuals concerned when he was next in the police station. The chat with Grigson was productive, even if the stationmaster had to pop out from time to time to despatch another train. When they’d been through the list, Colbeck thanked him for his assistance.

  ‘Before you go, inspector,’ said the other, ‘could I make an observation?’

  ‘Please do, Mr Grigson.’

  ‘Well, you may already have worked this out for yourself but, in case you haven’t, I believe that it wasn’t the first time it happened.’

  Colbeck was nonplussed. ‘I beg your pardon.’

  ‘I was on the platform when it occurred. It was some distance away, but I saw it all. The rider galloped alongside the train, reined in his horse then flung open the door of the compartment he wanted.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘It happened quickly but also precisely. In other words,’ said Grigson, ‘I don’t think it was the first time the killer had done that. He’d have practised beforehand.’

  ‘That’s an interesting idea,’ said Colbeck, ‘and it had never entered my head. I’m grateful to you, Mr Grigson. If the killer wanted to make sure there were no mistakes, he’d have rehearsed the crime a number of times, probably.’

  ‘But he wouldn’t have done it on that particular section of the branch line because it was always in view, even at night. He’d have found somewhere more private.’

  ‘And he’d have needed railway carriages to practise on. Are there any sidings where old rolling stock has been shunted?’

  ‘There are a number of them, inspector. I took the liberty of drawing up a list.’ He took a sheet of paper from the drawer. ‘Here you are, sir.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Colbeck, taking it from him and looking at it. ‘This is extremely useful. I’m ashamed to say that neither Sergeant Leeming nor I even thought about the speed with which the killer arrived. Luckily, you did. That’s the value of having an intelligent witness like you, Mr Grigson. You’ve opened my eyes.’

  Elated as he’d been by making a surprise visit home, Victor Leeming knew that he couldn’t enjoy the company of his wife and children for long. He had a timetable to follow. After packing some clean shirts and underwear, he hailed a cab and set off for Westminster. Madeleine had the letter for her husband all ready, but she’d also written to Lionel Fairbank to say how pleased she was to accept his invitation. Leeming offered to post the letter for her.

  ‘Lydia Quayle called here earlier,’ she said.

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry I missed her.’

  ‘She thought that it was wonderful that you’re all showing such compassion towards the superintendent, especially as he’s been a hard taskmaster for you all.’

  ‘He’s in desperate need of help,’ said Leeming. ‘We have to forget our old battles with him and provide it.’

  ‘I think that Colonel Wardlow may be the solution. He’s an old and trusted army friend. He talks the same language as the superintendent.’<
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  ‘That’s true.’

  ‘Well, I won’t hold you up. I know you have to catch a train.’

  ‘Is there any message for the inspector?’

  ‘It’s in my letter but you can tell him that his daughter sends her love. She keeps asking where Daddy is but, then, I suppose that your children ask where you are all the time.’

  ‘According to Estelle, they never stop.’

  She became serious. ‘Is the superintendent really as unwell as you say he is?’ she asked, face puckered.

  ‘It’s almost as if his mind is starting to crumble.’

  ‘That’s a terrible fate for a man of such keen intelligence.’

  ‘I can only hope that he’s not beyond recovery.’

  ‘What are the chances of that, Victor?’

  ‘I’m not a doctor.’

  ‘Did you sense that it might be … too late?’

  ‘It’s in the lap of the gods, Mrs Colbeck. All I can tell you is this. I’ve despised that man for some of the things he’s done to us and, when being yelled at by him, I’ve even wished him dead. But when I saw the superintendent earlier on,’ confessed Leeming, ‘I felt as if I was looking at his corpse.’

  When he heard that Andrew Swarbrick had come to see him, Oliver Trant asked for him to be admitted immediately. Neither man actually liked the other but Trant was curious to see how Swarbrick had reacted to the murder of his father. Offering his condolences, Trant extended a hand to his visitor but there was no warmth in the handshake. Once they were seated, they exchanged meaningless pleasantries for a few minutes then Trant glanced down at the other’s shoes.

  ‘I see that you remain faithful to Trant footwear,’ he said. ‘Did you call in to buy a new pair?’

  ‘No, I didn’t.’

  ‘That’s a pity. We have some wonderful new designs.’

  ‘I came because of something Mr Freed said to me.’

  ‘And what was that, I pray?’

  ‘He told me that you had political ambitions.’

  ‘I’ve always had them and made no secret of the fact.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Swarbrick, ‘but they were not linked to Norwich before. As long as my father was the sitting tenant, so to speak, your chances of taking over his seat were negligible.’

  ‘I never entirely lost hope.’

  ‘Freed reckoned that you’d been looking further afield.’

  ‘It’s true. Whenever I sniffed an ailing Tory MP, I did some research on his constituency. Until a couple of days ago, my best bet seemed to be in Nottinghamshire. One of the two members for Newark is reportedly on his last legs,’ he went on, ‘and will soon be forced to retire. My spies tell me that they have just over a thousand registered voters there. With my manufacturing background, I’m sure that I’d have a great appeal to them.’

  ‘You’d be up against local candidates.’

  ‘I have a habit of winning most battles I take part in.’

  ‘Then I wish you well in your enterprise.’

  ‘But my focus has shifted dramatically now, Andrew,’ warned the other. ‘Why go all the way to Nottinghamshire when there’s a vacancy on my doorstep?’

  ‘It’s a vacancy I intend to fill myself.’

  Trant rubbed his hands. ‘Then I look forward to the contest.’

  ‘There doesn’t have to be one, Trant.’

  ‘Why? Are you prepared to withdraw?’

  ‘No,’ said Swarbrick, fixing him with a stare, ‘but I suggest that you should. It would spare you a lot of embarrassment.’

  ‘Why should I be embarrassed?’

  ‘You won’t secure the nomination. I’ll see to that.’

  ‘Do you have enough of the right people behind you?’

  ‘I will have in due course.’

  ‘Then I’ve stolen a march on you,’ said Trant, smirking. ‘While you’re still touting for support, I already have it because I’ve attended meetings of the Conservative Association on a regular basis. Also, of course, you’ve lived in London for years. That will count against you.’

  ‘The Swarbrick name will count against you, Trant,’ argued the other. ‘It’s not simply because my father represented this constituency with honour. The manner of his death will have a wide effect on the emotions of electors.’

  ‘It’s a shame it didn’t have an emotional effect on you, Andrew.’

  Swarbrick was stung. ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘Look in any mirror. You won’t see a man mourning his father.’

  ‘I prefer to keep my feelings hidden.’

  ‘Well, I don’t. I wear my heart on my sleeve so that people know what to expect from me. It’s another factor in my favour. You have to use your father as a stepping stone,’ said Trant, ‘because it’s the only weapon you have, but everyone remembers that you and he were estranged. The stepping stone will wobble dangerously under your feet.’

  Swarbrick was silenced. There was some truth in the taunt. Even when he lived in Norwich, he hadn’t been as active in local politics as Trant had been, and there was a nagging fear that Cecil Freed would not give him the unqualified support that he needed. A different approach was required. Though it took a real effort, he conjured up a smile.

  ‘Why on earth are we arguing?’ he said, easily. ‘There’s so much common ground between us that we ought to be friends.’

  ‘Do I sense a peace offering?’

  ‘Let’s be realistic. You have a thriving business to run. It would undoubtedly suffer without you at the helm. In pursuing your political ambitions, you’d be causing problems here.’

  ‘Being an MP and running a company are not mutually exclusive. Lots of people do it very successfully. Take your father, for instance. He managed to balance his parliamentary and business interests without the slightest difficulty. However,’ he added with a grin, ‘I’m touched that you have such concern for the future of Trant Footwear.’

  ‘Let me get to the point. One of us must stand aside.’

  ‘Thank you for volunteering to do so.’

  Swarbrick bristled. ‘You are the one who must give way.’

  ‘On what possible grounds must I do that?’

  ‘You’ll be deferring to a superior candidate.’ Oliver Trant laughed mirthlessly. ‘It’s true, damn you. That seat was bequeathed to me by my father.’

  ‘What an intriguing notion,’ said Trant. ‘Are you telling me that there’s a clause in his will to the effect that – when he gets shot dead in a first-class compartment – you will replace him in Parliament?’

  ‘Don’t be so crass.’

  ‘Then don’t be so insulting. You came here to frighten me off. When you couldn’t do that, you shifted your position. I can smell an offer coming. Let’s hear it, Andrew.’

  ‘If you stand aside, I’ll make it worth your while.’

  Trant was shocked. ‘You’re surely not daring to offer me money?’

  ‘Of course not,’ said Swarbrick. ‘What I can guarantee is that you’ll be my second in command, as it were. You’ll have the chance to influence every word I say in Parliament. That’s a firm promise on my part.’ Seeing the derisive look on the other’s face, he raised his voice. ‘And there’s something else, Oliver. I’ll ensure that you’re restored at once to the board of directors so that you have a voice in the merger negotiations. That’s my offer. Stand against me and you’ll suffer a humiliating defeat. Support me and we’ll represent this city together.’

  ‘I’ll think it over,’ said Trant, masking his contempt behind a smile. ‘Thank you for your kind offer and thank you for not bursting into my office to accuse me of being party to your father’s murder.’

  ‘Why should I do that?’

  ‘In effect, it’s what inspector Colbeck did. Because of a perceived feud with your father, I was singled out as one of the main suspects.’

  ‘That’s a ridiculous idea.’

  ‘I’m glad that somebody else thinks so.’

  ‘If it’s any consolation, Colbeck has e
ven been suspicious of me.’

  ‘Well, you do stand to gain from your father’s death,’ said Trant. ‘You’ll inherit his estate even if you don’t replace him in Parliament.’

  Swarbrick glowered. ‘Is that your answer to my offer?’

  ‘I saw it more as a last desperate gamble, Andrew. You pretend to discount my chances, but you know only too well that I can defeat you.’

  ‘Balderdash!’

  ‘You sound almost as pompous as your father.’

  ‘Good day to you!’ snarled the other, getting to his feet.

  ‘It was generous of you to offer me a seat on the board,’ said Trant, ‘but Cecil Freed has already done so. When you turn up at the next meeting, you’ll see me smiling at you across the table.’

  Unable to find a cutting response, Swarbrick left the office abruptly and made his way to the stables. He was soon riding away from the factory with his teeth gritted and his blood racing. Confident that he could win Trant over, he’d been both outsmarted and rebuffed. As he cantered away, he felt the urge to take his anger out on somebody and the ideal person was waiting at the house for him. He resolved that he would not be baulked any further. When he got back, therefore, he handed the horse over to a servant, went in through the main door and charged up the stairs to his stepmother’s bedroom. Still pulsing with fury, he flung open the door to confront her, only to find that she was not there.

  The housekeeper appeared at his elbow.

  ‘Mrs Swarbrick is not here, sir,’ she explained. ‘Mrs Freed thought it best to have her as a guest in her own house so that she could look after her properly.’

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Back in the police station, Colbeck pored over the map of Norfolk. It was on the desk in inspector Jellings’ office and had a number of pins stuck in it like so many tiny metallic trees.

  ‘What do they designate?’ asked Colbeck.

  ‘They show the route that the rider took. At each point where you see a pin, we found a witness who remembered a horseman galloping past on the day in question.’