A Christmas Railway Mystery Page 14

  ‘There you are then.’ Gill tapped his own chest. ‘I’m in the clear.’

  ‘Not quite, I’m afraid. When someone talks to me parrot-fashion, I never believe what they tell me. Mrs Gill behaved like a dutiful wife and I don’t blame her for that. She was only obeying orders from you.’

  ‘Anne told you the truth.’

  ‘Yes, she did – eventually. When I pointed out to her that misleading the police with false information was an offence, she changed her tune completely. It seems that, on the night of the murder, you didn’t spend the whole time in bed with her because you got back hours after midnight.’

  ‘My wife is mistaken. I was there not long after eleven o’clock.’

  ‘On balance,’ said Leeming, levelly, ‘I’d trust her word before yours.’

  Gill quailed. His defence had just crumbled to pieces. The sergeant was looking at him with an accusatory stare. He realised that he’d underestimated the detectives. His mind was racing as he sought to save himself from arrest. As a last resort, he fell back on a small portion of the truth.

  ‘I was very late,’ he confessed, ‘but it wasn’t because I went anywhere near the Locomotive Works. I’ve got good reason to hate the place. As for Frank Rodman, I haven’t seen him for years.’

  Leeming stepped in closer. ‘Where were you on the night in question?’

  ‘I was too drunk to know what I was doing, Sergeant. I’d been to the pub on the corner and … had too much. The landlord will back me up. He had to turn me out. I managed to stagger home somehow,’ said Gill, ‘then I collapsed in the doorway. All I remember is that I eventually woke up shivering, unlocked the door and crawled upstairs. My wife will have told you the state I was in.’

  ‘Mrs Gill said that you stank of beer.’

  ‘And I didn’t ask her to tell you that. How am I supposed to have murdered Frank Rodman when I couldn’t even stand up properly?’

  ‘Killers often need a strong drink before they go after their victim.’

  ‘It wasn’t me,’ howled Gill. ‘I swear before God. And I do that as a true Christian. My wife and I go to St Mark’s every Sunday.’

  ‘Yet you told me a little earlier that you hadn’t seen Mr Rodman for years. If you go to church, you’re bound to have seen him singing in the choir. Every time you did that, you’d be reminded why you hate him so much. Stop telling me lies, Mr Gill,’ warned Leeming, ‘or I’ll bring your uncle into the conversation. It may be time that he realised his nephew could be a vicious criminal.’

  It was not difficult to watch the two men. All that they had to do was to mingle with the crowds that had flocked into the cathedral. Wardlow and Tallis were moving so slowly that they were easy targets. There was so much to see and they’d clearly resolved to see most of it. They even explored the crypt, then climbed the circular stone steps of the tower. The effort eventually took its toll on Wardlow and he excused himself, settling down in a pew and indicating that he’d stay there and enjoy a respite until Tallis returned. The superintendent was content with the arrangement but the two men behind him were even happier. Detached from his friend, Tallis was much more vulnerable. They simply had to wait for the right moment.

  It came when Tallis wandered out into the cloisters, the place where the sandalled feet of generations of monks had walked in the past. There was a divine serenity about the whole area that would have encouraged contemplation. A scattering of other visitors were there so the two men had to stay their hand. They watched Tallis go into every nook and cranny before strolling on to the tunnel that led to King’s College, the famous school attended by many luminaries from past centuries. To get there, Tallis had to duck his head and go into dark shadow for a few moments. They caught up with him in a flash. One of them pushed him face first against the wall while the other thrust a pistol against his back.

  ‘This is loaded,’ he warned. ‘Cry out and I’ll pull the trigger.’

  ‘Who are you?’ demanded Tallis.

  ‘Be quiet! We’ll do the talking.’

  ‘There’s a way out through the school gate,’ said the other man. ‘We’re going to walk towards it. If you so much as blink, you’ll be shot in the back and I’ll slit your throat to make sure you’re dead.’

  He reinforced his warning by running the blade of a dagger across Tallis’s neck. The superintendent winced but no blood was drawn.

  ‘I have to speak to a friend,’ he said, trying to turn.

  ‘Stay where you are,’ ordered the man with the pistol, thrusting it deeper into his ribs. ‘Captain Wardlow will have to do without you.’

  ‘How do you know his name?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Are you going to rob me?’

  ‘Oh,’ said the second man, ‘we’re going to do a lot more than that. Now do as you’re told. Hold your tongue and walk just ahead of us as if nothing is amiss. Don’t give me an excuse to use my dagger.’

  ‘Now, let’s go,’ said his companion.

  He turned Tallis towards the school and nudged him forward. They were either side of their prisoner and slightly behind him so that he was unable to see them. As they walked towards the gate, they didn’t even earn a glance from the boys they passed or from the gardener clearing away leaves. All that onlookers would have seen was a trio of men, ambling along together as if they were friends. Tallis was helpless.

  He was their prisoner.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  As they walked along the street abreast, they presented a curious sight to the observer. Caleb Andrews was in the middle, marginally shorter than either of the two women and far less smartly dressed. Madeleine Colbeck and Lydia Quayle combined beauty and elegance. While they glided along, Andrews seemed on the point of breaking into a trot in order to keep up with them. He looked and felt like a large weed between two exquisite roses. Notwithstanding that, he was enjoying the afternoon outing.

  ‘I never thought that I’d one day be shopping at Hamleys,’ said Madeleine.

  ‘When you were born,’ recalled her father, ‘we couldn’t afford to shop anywhere. We made the toys you had for Christmas. Your mother knitted all kinds of things for you to play with and I made you some wooden dolls.’

  ‘I’ve still got them somewhere.’

  ‘What about you, Lydia? Have you still got keepsakes from your childhood?’

  ‘One of two,’ she replied, ‘but it’s not a time I look back on very often. With two elder brothers competing with me, I was always kept in the shade. It got much better when they were sent off to school and I was alone with my sister.’

  Andrews was apologetic. ‘That’s another thing we couldn’t do, Maddy – send you off to school.’

  ‘And I’m very glad,’ said Madeleine. ‘I wouldn’t have liked being brought up among strangers. Besides, I’ve been lucky enough to repair some of the gaps in my education. Robert has a wonderful library and his recommendations are always very wise.’ She turned to Lydia. ‘But you used to borrow books from a much bigger library, didn’t you?’

  ‘Yes, I did.’

  As soon as she asked the question, Madeleine regretted it because she knew that it would awaken memories best left dormant. When she’d first met Lydia, the latter was living with an older woman because she was in flight from her family. As the friendship with Madeleine burgeoned, tensions arose between Lydia and her companion. In moving in with the older woman, Lydia had not only signalled a break with her parents, she’d given up all thought of having children herself. Now released from what she’d come to see as a kind of comfortable incarceration, Lydia felt able to have the same aspirations as any other young woman. Hitherto, she’d never have even thought about visiting a toy shop yet here she was, turning into High Holborn, and striding eagerly towards one of the most famous toy shops in the world.

  ‘I would have thought you’d already bought enough for Helen,’ she said.

  ‘Oh, yes,’ agreed Madeleine, ‘but I just love the thrill of being in Hamleys. It’s such a
magical place. I’ve come to look rather than buy.’

  ‘Well, I intend to buy something for my granddaughter,’ said Andrews.

  ‘What did you have in mind, Father?’

  ‘What else but a toy engine?’

  Madeleine laughed. ‘She’s far too young for that.’

  ‘Besides,’ said Lydia, ‘it’s not really suitable for a girl.’

  ‘I made one for Maddy when she was a girl,’ said Andrews, ‘and she loved playing with it.’

  ‘It’s true,’ said Madeleine.

  ‘That’s what happens when you come from a railway family.’

  ‘But that’s not Helen’s position,’ argued Lydia. ‘Her father’s a celebrated detective and her mother – when she can get the time – is an artist.’

  ‘That makes the choice more difficult,’ he said.

  ‘What would you suggest, Lydia?’ asked Madeleine.

  ‘You could always get her a magnifying glass and a box of paints,’ said Lydia.

  ‘What I’d really like to get her is something that even Hamleys can’t supply.’

  ‘What’s that, Madeleine?’

  ‘I want her father back home in time for Christmas.’

  Warned about the man’s hostility towards the church, Colbeck expected to see some real fire in the clerk. Instead he found Simeon Cudlip in a subdued mood. It was as if the man had calculated that he stood to gain more by cooperating with the detectives than by raising his voice. When he was summoned to the office, he made no complaints about being taken away from his desk. He was quiet and composed, noting how much more well spoken, well groomed and sophisticated the inspector was than his sergeant.

  ‘Do you know why you’re here?’ began Colbeck.

  ‘You’re not happy with what Sergeant Leeming told you about me.’

  ‘That’s only part of the reason, sir. I wanted to see you in person to ask you why you tried to shift the blame for the murder on to Fred Alford?’

  ‘I didn’t accuse him directly,’ said Cudlip, defensively. ‘The sergeant kept prodding me with questions about Betty Rodman as if he believed the killer simply had to be someone with strong feelings for her.’

  ‘That’s one possibility. There are others.’

  ‘I felt cornered. Simply because I liked the woman, the sergeant thought I had a reason for killing her husband. If that was the real motive, I suggested, the person to look at was Fred Alford. He worshipped Betty.’

  ‘He also befriended Mr Rodman.’

  ‘It was a way of staying in touch with her.’

  ‘Mr Alford has a wife of his own.’

  ‘Stand her beside Betty Rodman and she’d disappear.’

  ‘I don’t agree,’ said Colbeck. ‘Mrs Alford has many virtues, not least of which is her compassion. She’s the person who’s helping Mrs Rodman through this crisis.’

  ‘I’m glad that someone is. I don’t want her at the mercy of the vicar.’

  ‘What do you have against Mr Law?’

  ‘It’s not him I despise, it’s his breed. They’re all the same. However,’ he went on, lowering his voice, ‘my views on religion don’t matter.’

  ‘They could do.’

  ‘My faith – or lack of it – is a private matter.’

  ‘How long have you been an atheist?’

  ‘I’d rather not go into that.’

  ‘You spoke freely to Sergeant Leeming about your opinions.’

  ‘That was a mistake.’

  ‘Are you afraid that you gave yourself away?’

  ‘No, of course not,’ said Cudlip, sharply. ‘There was nothing to give away. My position is simple. I’ve nothing at all on my conscience. I didn’t kill Rodman and I’ve no idea who did.’

  ‘What about Hector Samway?’

  ‘I’ve never met him.’

  ‘Have you ever met Daniel Gill?’

  ‘Yes,’ admitted the other. ‘When I first came here and was still drinking, I used to play cards with him sometimes. Then I stopped.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Danny was a cheat. I also stopped drinking.’

  ‘What was the reason for that?’

  ‘It’s … personal.’

  ‘Where do you live, Mr Cudlip?’

  ‘I’ve got my own house at last,’ said the clerk with a touch of pride. ‘I saved up long enough. Before that I was in the barracks.’

  ‘Really?’ said Colbeck with interest. ‘What was it like?’

  ‘It was used by single men like me and the conditions were poor. It was bad enough before the Welsh families moved in. After that, it was even worse. They were so aggressive, especially the women. I was glad to move into a place of my own.’

  ‘While you were in the barracks, did you get to know any of the newcomers?’

  ‘I had no choice. They were always complaining about something or other and they formed a choir that used to practise twice a week. I couldn’t stand that.’

  ‘Did you ever come across a man named Gareth Llewellyn?’

  ‘Oh, yes,’ said the other, curling a lip. ‘He was the biggest and loudest of them. I had a row with him about the noise they all made. Llewellyn always had to be the centre of attention. I felt sorry for his wife and children.’

  ‘Why was that?’

  ‘He neglected her and he bullied his two sons.’

  ‘Did you ever meet Mrs Llewellyn?’

  ‘Yes, I did. She wasn’t like the others. She was quiet, pleasant and she always managed to smile even though she was in pain.’

  ‘What was wrong with her?’

  ‘I don’t know, Inspector, but one thing is certain. Mrs Llewellyn is not going to live for three score years and ten. I’d be surprised if she reaches the age of forty.’

  Martin Grosvenor had always been ambitious but he accepted that he might have to wait a long time before promotion. To be singled out as the temporary replacement for Edward Tallis had filled him with a warm glow. It was his chance to impress. If he showed the exceptional talent he believed he possessed, he’d be putting down a marker against the day when the superintendent would retire for good, leaving the chair in which Grosvenor was now sitting enticingly vacant. There would be other contenders for the post – Colbeck among them – but it would be Grosvenor’s stint as acting superintendent that would be in the commissioner’s mind. If he could handicap the Railway Detective in some way or expose his shortcomings, he’d make his future even more secure. The rank, the office, the chair and even the box of cigars might then be his for the rest of his working days.

  He picked up the report that had arrived from Swindon that morning, hoping to find a reason to reprimand Colbeck and to criticise his handling of the case. Though he’d read it a dozen times, however, there was no discernible mistake on which he could pounce. As on the previous day, Colbeck’s account was lucid, detailed and comprehensive. The one thing it lacked was a promise of an early arrest. Grosvenor slapped it back down on his desk and considered the possibility of making an unexpected visit to the town to catch his rival unawares and to take charge briefly of the investigation. If nothing else, it would annoy Colbeck intensely.

  Someone knocked on the door and, in answer to his summons, entered. It was a tall, slim, well-proportioned fresh-faced young man.

  ‘You sent for me, sir,’ said Detective Constable Alan Hinton.

  ‘Ah, yes, come on in, Hinton. I hear good things of you.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  ‘Part of my job is to deploy my detectives wisely. To that end, I’m assigning you to work with Inspector Vallence.’

  Hinton’s face fell. ‘Oh, I see.’

  ‘The inspector is a fine detective.’

  ‘He’s outstanding and it would be a privilege to work with him. But Inspector Vallence is only dealing with cases of fraud at the moment and I was hoping that I might be involved in a murder investigation.’

  ‘You’re not ready for that, Constable.’

  ‘I believe that I am, sir. Inspector Colbeck thin
ks the same.’

  ‘His opinion is irrelevant. I make operational decisions, not him. You’ll report to Inspector Vallence at once. He’s expecting you.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Grosvenor snapped his fingers. ‘Off you go, man.’

  Hinton got as far as the door then turned around.

  ‘When will Superintendent Tallis be back, sir?’

  ‘Not until Monday morning,’ said Grosvenor, complacently, ‘so I’m in charge for the whole weekend. You can forget about the superintendent. He’s attending a reunion with his old regiment and is probably having a high old time.’

  Stripped of his hat and frock coat, Edward Tallis was face down in a mixture of straw and horse dung. There was a large lump on the back of his head and a stream of blood trickling down from his temple.

  Having made the journey to the Old Town, Leeming decided to take a proper look at it. He therefore strolled around the streets, enjoying the country air and freedom from the stifling crowds in London. In retrospect, he felt satisfied with the way he’d scared Daniel Gill and intended to keep him under suspicion. At the same time, he was sorry for the man’s wife who would have to face some vehement reproaches when her husband returned from work. In telling the truth, Anne Gill had destroyed his alibi. Leeming wondered what new version of events she’d now be forced to rehearse and what threats would be used against her.

  As he was approaching Victoria Road, he saw Inspector Piercey coming towards him. The latter had the radiant smile of a man about to make a significant arrest. When he saw Leeming, he quickened his step.

  ‘I have good news for you to carry back to Inspector Colbeck,’ he said.

  ‘Have you found out who sent that letter?’

  ‘I believe so.’

  ‘What’s his name?’

  ‘It’s one of four people. I simply have to visit each of them in turn.’

  ‘How did you narrow it down to four suspects?’

  ‘I had the sense to involve Mr Morris, who edits the Advertiser. Since the letter I was given was posted through his letter box, I reasoned that its author lived in the Old Town. He had to be a regular reader of the newspaper or he’d never have seen the reward notice.’