11 - Ticket to Oblivion Read online

  ‘What’s that?’ asked the curate.

  ‘On the balance of probability, I’d say that it was highly unlikely that Mr Tunnadine will ever marry your cousin, Imogen.’

  Percy Vaughan was both startled and elated by the good news. Shedding his inhibitions for once, he put his head back and emitted a laugh of pure joy that echoed around the quadrangle.

  Clive Tunnadine was not without his finer feelings. Having used his mistress to allay his frustration, he began to be troubled by remorse. Lucinda Graham had met his needs for over twelve enjoyable months and deserved more than to be treated with such inconsiderate brutality. He needed to make amends. When he returned to the house, therefore, he did so with a basket of flowers and a series of apologies. Having nursed her resentment, Lucinda was inclined to rebuff him but Tunnadine continued to smooth her ruffled feathers and to tell her how much she meant to him. Her anger slowly melted into a vague feeling of pleasure. What eventually won her round was the promise that, after his marriage, he would still retain his intimate relationship with her. Lucinda might be able to stay at the house, after all.

  ‘I’m still very cross with you,’ she warned.

  ‘You’ve every right to be so.’

  ‘It will take more than a basket of flowers to make me forgive you.’

  ‘A fresh supply of flowers will arrive every week,’ he promised.

  ‘What would please me more is an explanation. You’ve dealt with me roughly before but not with the same violence as you did this last time. What did I do to provoke such behaviour? For what offence was I being punished?’

  ‘It was not punishment, Lucinda,’ he assured her. ‘It was a mistake.’

  ‘You were like a man possessed.’

  ‘I can see that now and I swear that it will never happen again. All that I can tell you is that …’ he paused as he searched for the words ‘… is that there has been a serious problem in my private life that has yet to be resolved. That’s no reason to behave as I did towards you, of course. What I did was reprehensible. Suffice it to say that it belongs in the past. Our future together will be a source of continuous pleasure to both of us.’

  ‘I trust that it will be,’ said Lucinda, forcefully. ‘I’ll not stay to be treated again so harshly. Use me as the loving friend that I am and not as a common trull whose slit can be bought cheaply in the backstreets of Seven Dials.’

  Tunnadine admired her show of spirit. It made him enfold her gently in his arms and kiss her full on the lips. Lucinda pulled away.

  ‘Will you spend the night here?’ she asked.

  ‘No, Lucinda. I have to go. There’s someone I must see.’

  She was about to ask if the meeting related to the problem of which he’d spoken but she checked herself. Certain that he’d been referring to his forthcoming marriage, she remembered what had happened when she’d first mentioned the event. It had caused him to stalk out and slam the door on her. Now that they’d been reconciled, she had no wish to upset him again. By way of a farewell, he took a long, luscious kiss from her and left her feeling once more that he really cared for her.

  ‘When will I see you again?’

  ‘It will be as soon as I may arrange it,’ he promised.

  On that note, he sniffed the flowers then took his leave, closing the door softly behind him. Lucinda glanced at the chest of drawers in which she’d hoarded all her treasures. It might yet be possible to put some of them back on display.

  Tunnadine, meanwhile, took a cab back to his house. Dismissing Lucinda from his mind, he concentrated his thoughts on the other woman in his life. He had no illusions about Imogen Burnhope. She could never offer him the delights he found in the arms of his mistress. Imogen would be a highly suitable wife, obedient and undemanding. She would give him an important link to a titled family and, in time, bear his children. Her future, he envisaged, would be one of quiet domesticity, leaving him to roam freely. First, however, she needed to be released from danger and restored to him. It was that consideration that had made him spurn the chance of a night with Lucinda Graham. For the moment, she had to take her turn behind Imogen.

  When he reached the house, he paid the cab driver and let himself in. A letter awaited him on the hall table. He snatched it up and tore it open. The words ignited a fire inside his head. Tunnadine reeled from their impact.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Edward Tallis was not a man to let the sun go down on his anger. Furious at the way that Tunnadine was still at liberty after shooting someone dead, he’d returned to Scotland Yard to set legal wheels in motion. The following day saw him reading reports of other crimes that his detectives were investigating. Conscientious to a fault, he worked hard to ensure that cases were swiftly resolved so that his men could be redeployed on one of the other crimes that merited the attention of the Detective Department. The telegraph arrived late that morning. Victor Leeming was in the superintendent’s office at the time. As he read the short message, Tallis inhaled deeply through his nose.

  ‘It’s exactly as Colbeck predicted,’ he said, passing it to Leeming. ‘A second demand has arrived. The money is to be handed over tomorrow.’

  ‘Then I’d suggest we don’t take Mr Tunnadine next time.’

  ‘He won’t be allowed anywhere near the kidnapper.’

  ‘The demand is for twice as much,’ noted Leeming, seeing the figure. ‘I didn’t think that anybody had that amount of money tucked away.’

  ‘Sir Marcus inherited both capital and extensive property. That is why his daughter was selected as a target. The kidnapper knew that Sir Marcus would be able to afford the ransom.’ He took the telegraph back and read it again. ‘We were lucky that this whole business happened between Worcester and Oxford.’

  ‘Why is that, sir?’

  ‘Both of them have telegraph stations. Messages can be sent to London at a fraction of the time it would take a courier to bring them. It’s one of the many boons that the railway has brought us.’

  ‘I preferred it the way it was before.’

  ‘You can’t stand in the way of progress.’

  ‘It’s not progress in my eyes,’ said Leeming, grumpily.

  ‘Then you need spectacles, Sergeant. The world is changing fast and we must change with it or the criminal fraternity will outpace us. They’ve already seized on the potentialities of railways as a source of crime. Look at this very investigation, man, or consider what happened on the Caledonian Railway earlier this year.’

  Leeming started. The enforced stay in Scotland was not an enticing memory. Before he could say why, they were interrupted. There was a tap on the door then Colbeck stepped into the room.

  ‘Good day to you both,’ he said, genially.

  ‘What kept you in Worcestershire so long?’ asked Tallis. ‘This telegraph says that a ransom demand was delivered during the night. You could have caught a train shortly after dawn.’

  ‘That’s exactly what I did do, Superintendent. It took me to Oxford where I was able to make a number of productive enquiries. I also had the pleasure of meeting the Reverend Percy Vaughan again and of talking to his father. When my work there was done,’ admitted Colbeck, ‘I did permit myself half an hour to reacquaint myself with a city that is very dear to me.’

  ‘It’s a pretty place,’ observed Leeming. ‘It’s got fine old buildings galore.’

  ‘When I require a gazetteer of Oxford’ said Tallis with a glare, ‘I’ll ask for one. As for you, Inspector, let me remind you that you went there to solve a crime, not to indulge in distracting reminiscences.’

  ‘Oh, I was not distracted,’ said Colbeck. ‘I felt from the start that the city held secrets that I needed to bring into the open and so it proved.’

  He gave the account that he’d prepared carefully on the train journey to London. Colbeck told them about the way that he’d intercepted the visitor to Burnhope Manor during the night and how he’d questioned the head porter at University College. Thanks to the Master’s help, he’d been ab
le to identify a critical factor in the wooing of Imogen Burnhope.

  ‘His name is Arthur Lugstone,’ said Colbeck.

  ‘Who is he?’

  ‘He is a scout at the college, sir – or, at least, he was until the truth came out.’

  ‘What’s a scout?’ asked Leeming.

  ‘Try listening for once,’ said Tallis, sardonically, ‘and you may find out.’

  ‘A scout is a manservant,’ explained Colbeck. ‘Undergraduates enjoy the luxury of having one to look after them. It’s one of the university’s traditions. Until today, Arthur Lugstone was part of it.’

  ‘Why did you seek this particular fellow out?’ asked Tallis.

  ‘According to the Master, he was engaged to take care of guests at the college. Whenever she visited, Sir Marcus’s daughter was looked after by him. In other words, he was in the perfect position to carry any messages to her. It was the way that Captain Whiteside kept in touch when she was in the city. Lugstone denied his involvement at first,’ said Colbeck, ‘but I threatened him with a spell in prison and he crumbled at once. To be fair to him, he had no idea what the letters contained but he’s still culpable of aiding what amounts to a conspiracy. The moment that the Master heard what had been happening under his nose, he dismissed Lugstone on the spot.’

  ‘But wait,’ said Leeming, ‘the young lady only went to Oxford twice a year. Was that enough time for the captain to work on her emotions?’

  ‘They doubtless had another arrangement when she was at Burnhope Manor,’ suggested Colbeck. ‘Clandestine correspondence would have been smuggled in somehow. The obvious go-between was Rhoda Wills.’

  ‘I think you’re right, Inspector. From what the coachman told us, I sensed that the maid was a resourceful woman.’

  ‘It sounds as if she paid for her resourcefulness,’ muttered Tallis. ‘It helped to lead her mistress into a trap.’

  ‘You say that she received letters while in Oxford,’ recalled Leeming. ‘Did this scout carry replies back to Captain Whiteside?’

  ‘He did, Sergeant,’ said Colbeck, ‘and he gave me the address to which he took the missives. That gave me even further insight into the character of this self-styled gallant soldier.’

  ‘You say that with a degree of sarcasm,’ remarked Tallis.

  ‘It was intentional, sir. Lugstone gave me the address to which he took any correspondence from the young lady. The house was in Walton Street,’ said Colbeck, ‘not far from the Clarendon Press. It was owned by a Mrs Greenfield, a widowed lady who took in lodgers. Captain Whiteside stayed there often. Sometimes he brought an army friend, a Sergeant Cullen, with him.’

  ‘It must be his accomplice.’

  ‘He is, Superintendent. Mrs Greenfield had little to say about the sergeant but she spoke well of Captain Whiteside. When he stayed there alone, he always told her about his escapades in the Crimean War. She was enthralled by his tales. Though she didn’t confess it in so many words,’ Colbeck went on, ‘I got the distinct impression that she fell victim to his charms.’

  ‘The blackguard!’ exclaimed Tallis. ‘While he’s paying court to one woman, he’s enjoying the favours of another. That’s despicable.’

  Leeming was even more shocked but it was not the image of the seduced landlady that came into his mind. It was the disturbing sight of Dolly Wrenson’s naked body – minus one arm – on canvas in a Chelsea studio. He fought hard to expunge it from his memory.

  Colbeck’s visit to the house in Walton Street had provided him with far more detail of the kidnapper. Feeling profoundly sorry for the landlady, he said nothing to disillusion her. Mrs Greenfield had been a lonely woman in a house that seemed increasingly empty after the death of her husband. Still in her thirties, she’d felt young enough to contemplate a second marriage and Colbeck was certain that hints of it had been dropped by her favourite lodger as a means of gaining access to her bed.

  ‘In moments alone with the landlady,’ said Colbeck, ‘the captain would have been off guard. He talked at length about his military career. Those details need to be corroborated.’

  ‘I’ll instigate checks in the army records,’ said Tallis, picking up the telegraph. ‘There’s nothing much we can do until the ransom is handed over tomorrow.’

  ‘There’s a lot we can do, Superintendent.’

  ‘I fail to see it.’

  ‘The chosen spot for the exchange is in the Oxfordshire countryside. I think that the sergeant and I should reconnoitre it well in advance.’

  ‘Does that mean I have to ride a bay mare again?’ moaned Leeming.

  ‘You’ll do as you’re told,’ said Tallis, unsympathetically.

  ‘That animal could have killed me, sir.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ soothed Colbeck. ‘You won’t need to be in the saddle this time. We’ll hire a trap at the station and we’ll go far and wide. If the captain has shifted the venue to Oxfordshire, the likelihood is that the two ladies are being held somewhere in the county. He’ll not wish to travel any distance with them.’

  ‘What can I do in the meantime?’ wondered Tallis.

  ‘You face a difficult task, sir.’

  ‘Oh – and what’s that?’

  ‘Well,’ said Colbeck, ‘I’ve already asked Sir Marcus to say nothing of the second demand to Mr Tunnadine. He agreed, albeit reluctantly. If the gentleman somehow finds out what’s afoot, it could prove disastrous. That’s why I’m turning to you, sir. You must stop Mr Tunnadine from ruining everything for a second time.’

  When he recovered from the shock of reading the letter, Clive Tunnadine came to see that it presented him with a number of opportunities. The amount of money demanded, while less than the previous ransom, was excessive but he consoled himself with the thought that he would not actually lose it. Cleverly handled, the exchange could work entirely to his benefit. He would make possible Imogen’s release, kill or capture her kidnapper and have the deep satisfaction of solving a crime that Inspector Colbeck had been investigating. It was this last element that had immense appeal to his visitor.

  ‘The prospect fills me with pleasure,’ said Alban Kee.

  ‘You like the idea, then?’

  ‘It’s precisely what I would have recommended, Mr Tunnadine.’

  ‘How well do you know the inspector?’

  ‘I know him far too well.’

  ‘Did you work alongside him at Scotland Yard?’

  ‘Nobody works alongside Colbeck,’ said the other.

  ‘You are always beneath him. I occupied the same rank yet had less power when measured against him. He’s the commissioner’s favourite and that always rankled with me.’

  Tunnadine was glad that he’d engaged Alban Kee. Though he now worked as a private detective, Kee had served in the Metropolitan Police before being promoted to the Detective Department. His elevation had taken rather longer to come there because he was overshadowed by other officers, principal among them being Robert Colbeck. It had left him with bitter memories. Kee was a sturdy man of middle height with dark, mobile eyes either side of a bulbous nose that seemed to explode out of his face. His sparse hair was combed forward and slicked down. The moustache was virtually invisible beneath the domineering proboscis. He’d been recommended to Tunnadine by a friend.

  ‘Your reputation goes before you, Mr Kee,’ said the politician.

  ‘I work quickly, effectively and discreetly, sir.’

  ‘It’s your discretion that I need most. Nothing of our discussion must be leaked to anyone else. Most vital of all, it must not reach the ears of anyone at Scotland Yard – especially those of Inspector Colbeck.’

  ‘I’ll be as silent as the grave, Mr Tunnadine.’

  ‘What do you think of that letter?’

  ‘It’s obviously genuine,’ said Kee, passing it back to him, ‘because you recognise the hand from the earlier ransom demand. My question is this – why send it to you and not to Sir Marcus Burnhope?’

  ‘That bothered me at first,’ admitted Tunnadine
, ‘but I think I’ve worked out the answer. When Sir Marcus was given the opportunity to rescue his daughter, it was an abject failure. My suspicion is that, as a consequence, the kidnapper doesn’t trust him. Aware of my relationship with Imogen, he’s turned to me instead.’

  ‘Why was the first exchange botched, sir?’

  ‘I blame Colbeck for that. He insisted on impersonating Sir Marcus.’

  ‘That’s ever his way,’ sneered Kee. ‘He has to be in charge.’

  ‘The exercise miscarried but at least the money was saved. Sir Marcus had been tricked. His daughter was never even there.’

  ‘What makes you think that the kidnapper will stick to his promise this time?’

  ‘It’s the tone of his letter. He freely concedes that he tried to get too much for too little on the previous occasion. All he wants is what he calls a fair exchange.’

  Kee’s moustache twitched. ‘It’s still a fearsome amount of money, sir.’

  ‘It will be found. I’ve already spoken to my bank. Besides,’ said Tunnadine, ‘I look to you to make sure that I don’t part with a single penny.’

  ‘I hope you’ll part with a lot more than that if I do my job properly.’

  ‘You’ll be handsomely rewarded, Kee.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  Tunnadine liked the man. He seemed alert, decisive and respectful. Years as a detective meant that he could remain calm under pressure. What Kee had not told him was that he was driven out of the Detective Department by Tallis because there were persistent rumours that he accepted bribes from criminals to let them go. It was Colbeck who’d first made the charge against Kee, hence the latter’s undying hatred of him. The fact that Kee was guilty of the crime was irrelevant to him. He’d lost a position in which he could wield power and was now reduced to working on his own. Loss of status was compounded by a loss of income. This latest assignment gave him the chance to recoup some of those losses. A successful outcome would mean good publicity for the private detective. His name would replace that of Colbeck in the newspapers and the thought sweetened him.