Points of Danger Read online

  ‘In that case, he may not even be in Yarmouth.’

  ‘Let’s at least establish what he looked like first,’ said Colbeck. ‘Once we know that, we have something to work with. It’s unlikely that he’ll have given anyone his real name, but we might discover where he was going from here.’

  ‘I’ve already started to wear out the soles of my shoes.’

  ‘Don’t worry, Victor. We’re in the right part of the country. Norwich is renowned for its shoe factories. If you speak nicely to him, Mr Trant might even give you a discount.’

  Having her friend there meant that she could have a second opinion of Lionel Fairbank. She felt much more comfortable now that there were three of them. He did not stay long. When he rose to leave, he took an envelope from his pocket and held it out.

  ‘Haggling over money has always seemed to me to be a rather uncivilised way to behave,’ he said, ‘and that’s why I’ve avoided it. What I have here, Mrs Colbeck, is my offer. You can peruse it at your leisure. If it’s acceptable, please get in touch very soon. I’m staying in London for a couple of days with my son and his family. The address is also in the envelope.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Fairbank,’ said Madeleine, getting up to take it from him. ‘To be honest, the fact that you want to commission me is far more important than the amount of money involved.’

  ‘Artists must eat.’ He looked around with approval. ‘Though, in your case, I can see that that is never going to be a problem.’ He turned to Lydia. ‘Goodbye, Miss Quayle. It was a delight to meet you.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Fairbank,’ said the other.

  After a flurry of farewells, Madeleine led him into the hall where he retrieved his top hat. While a servant let him out, she returned to her friend.

  ‘Well?’ she asked.

  ‘I think he’s a charming old gentleman,’ said Lydia, ‘though he must have given you a fright by turning up unexpectedly like that.’

  ‘Yes, I was quite rattled at first.’

  ‘You seemed very calm while I was here.’

  ‘I was so glad it was you, Lydia. When I heard the doorbell ring, I prayed that it wasn’t my father. Given the arguments we’ve had about him, I really don’t want Father to meet Mr Fairbank, especially since I’ve learnt that he’s a shareholder in the GWR.’

  ‘Have the two of you been reconciled yet?’

  ‘I hope so.’

  ‘Good,’ said Lydia. ‘I’m glad for both of you.’ She sat forward. ‘There’s something I couldn’t ask you while we had company.’

  ‘You want to know about the superintendent.’

  ‘Yes, Madeleine.’

  ‘As he promised, Constable Hinton went down to Canterbury yesterday and called on Captain Wardlow, the superintendent’s old army friend. I’m sure he’ll have responded to the appeal for help. Robert told me that he idolises the former Major Tallis.’

  ‘What if it means the end of his career at Scotland Yard?’

  ‘He’d be lost without it, Lydia.’

  ‘But suppose that he is forced to retire. Would Robert be chosen to replace him?’

  ‘He might be chosen but he’d reject the offer. Robert has been acting superintendent before and found it very irritating to be stuck behind a desk all day.’

  ‘It would suit you to have him working in London all the time.’

  ‘I’d never dream of saying that to him. He’s always followed his own inclinations and he always will.’ Lydia grinned. ‘What’s so funny?’

  ‘You are, Madeleine.’

  ‘What have I said?’

  ‘It’s nothing you’ve said, it’s something you haven’t done. If I was holding an envelope with an offer of money in it, I’d have torn it open at once. Don’t you want to see how much he’s prepared to offer you?’

  ‘Yes, I do,’ said Madeleine, opening the letter and reading the message inside. Her jaw dropped. ‘I don’t believe it!’

  ‘What has he said?’

  ‘See for yourself, Lydia.’

  And she passed it to her friend with a trembling hand.

  Having gone their separate ways, Colbeck and Leeming continued their respective searches. It was tiring work but they forced themselves on. Leeming looked with envy at all the people who were patently there on holiday, basking in the sun or enjoying the many delights of Yarmouth. As he passed the market, he loved the pervading aroma of fish. When he found another livery stable, he went through the questions he now knew by heart. Every time he stopped, he came away disappointed and decided that the killer had not stopped in the town, after all. Yells of joy took him down to the sand where a crowd of children had formed a semicircle around a booth in which Punch and Judy were giving a hilarious puppet show. Leeming couldn’t resist sidling up to the edge of the crowd.

  Colbeck, meanwhile, had dodged a pile of manure and gone into the pungent yard of yet another stable. The owner was a big, slovenly man dressed in rough attire and exuding a powerful smell of horses. Sizing Colbeck up, he ambled across to him.

  ‘Are you looking to hire a horse, sir?’

  ‘No,’ replied Colbeck. ‘I’m trying to trace a man who might have done so. The horse was a bay mare and it would have been returned here three days ago by someone who’d hired it perhaps a week ahead.’

  ‘What was his name?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Can you tell me what he looked like?’

  ‘I’d say he was in his twenties or thirties.’

  ‘That’s not much help.’

  ‘I need to find him as a matter of urgency.’

  The man smirked. ‘But you know nothing about him.’

  ‘I know the most important thing about him,’ said Colbeck, crisply. ‘He committed a murder in Norwich and may – just may – have ridden here on one of your horses. I’m a detective from the Metropolitan Police Force and I’ve come in search of him.’ He was pleased to see the smirk vanish. ‘Since he’d been riding at a gallop in warm weather, he’d probably have arrived here in a sweat.’

  ‘Ah,’ said the other, ‘now that’s interesting.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I did hire a bay mare to a man in his twenties and he was dripping with sweat when he brought it back three days ago.’

  ‘Can you describe him?’

  ‘He was about as tall as you, sir, but much sturdier. He had dark hair and beard and he wasn’t short of money. He left a large deposit to be reclaimed when he came back.’

  ‘Did he give you a name?’

  ‘John Gorey.’

  ‘Were you shown any proof of his identity?’

  ‘I took him at his word, sir. In my line of work, you have to rely on your instincts. John Gorey struck me as honest and down to earth.’

  ‘Did he say where he was going when he left here?’

  ‘He was about to set sail.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘That very day,’ said the man. ‘You’re wasting your time looking for him here, sir. He could be a long way from Yarmouth by now.’

  Colbeck’s hopes crumbled.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Moving out of the family house had lifted a huge burden from Grace Swarbrick. While she was still trying to cope with the enormity of what had happened, she no longer feared a bruising argument with her stepson. There was faint colour in her cheeks again and she was less likely to reach for her handkerchief so frequently. Anthea Freed had given the servants strict instructions to treat their guest with tact and forbearance. In place of a tense encounter with her stepson, Grace was met with love, kindness and unconditional sympathy. Alone in the drawing room with Anthea, she took the opportunity to thank her.

  ‘What you’ve done for me is truly remarkable,’ she said. ‘You’ve brought me back from the edge of despair.’

  ‘That’s what friends should do, Grace. They are the people to whom you can turn in times of stress and pain.’

  ‘I’ve suffered both and, though I fought hard, I felt that I was being ground down by them. Mi
raculously, you rescued me.’

  ‘You needed to be in a place where you felt loved and cared for.’

  ‘I’ve even regained some of my appetite since I’ve been here.’

  There was a tap on the door then the maid entered with a tray. She went through the ritual of pouring the tea and giving each of the women her cup and saucer. After she’d gone, they resumed their conversation.

  ‘It was so different with my first husband,’ confided Grace. ‘Because he worked largely from home, Roland and I saw each other more or less every day of the year. Jarvis was the opposite, always on the move, attending meetings, going to the House of Commons, making speeches here, there and everywhere. He never stopped.’

  ‘Yet I remember you telling me that you felt you somehow knew Jarvis more intimately than your first husband.’

  ‘That’s right, but I can’t explain why.’

  ‘You and he had a marriage of true minds.’

  ‘We had something I cherished,’ said Grace, dolefully, ‘and it disappeared in a flash.’

  ‘You still have warm memories of him.’

  ‘It’s not the same, Anthea.’

  They drank their tea in silence. Grace seemed to have drifted off into a trance. Her friend waited patiently until her visitor came out of it again. Realising what she’d done, Grace was apologetic.

  ‘It’s so selfish of me to do that.’

  ‘You’re entitled to be selfish, Grace.’

  ‘It’s unfair on you.’

  ‘I don’t feel that,’ said Anthea. ‘It’s such a pity you’re so far away from your family. I’ve written to your brother at that address in Jersey you gave me, but there’s no telling when my letter will reach him.’

  ‘Mail deliveries to the island are rather irregular, alas.’

  ‘When he hears what’s happened, I’m sure he’ll come.’

  ‘I do feel the need of my nearest and dearest.’

  Anthea smiled gently. ‘I hope you include me in that number.’

  ‘Yes, of course. Because my family members live so far away, you’ve certainly been the nearest and one of the very dearest.’

  ‘That’s all I wanted to hear.’

  There was another pause. Grace finished her tea then praised the quality of the porcelain. She appeared to be gathering her strength to touch on a more sensitive subject. In the end, she blurted out her request.

  ‘Have there been many obituaries?’

  ‘Yes, I’ve kept every one of them for you.’

  ‘Were they kind to Jarvis?’

  ‘They applauded him for the work he’d done for the ECR and for his contribution to parliamentary affairs. Would you like me to read them to you?’

  ‘No, no,’ said Grace, holding up both hands as if fending something off. ‘I’m not ready for that yet. And I’m certainly not able to face the prospect of the inquest.’

  ‘That’s been deferred until you’ve recovered,’ said Anthea. ‘You are the key witness, so your testimony is crucial. I know it will be harrowing for you, but I’ll be there to lend support.’

  ‘You’re a saint, Anthea.’

  ‘Cecil used to say that about me when we first married. Then I started to collect good causes to support and he complained that I was spreading my saintliness too thinly.’

  ‘Does he mind my being here?’

  ‘He’s as pleased as I am to be able to look after you. No matter what happens, you can always count on us.’

  Grace smiled weakly, her eyes filling with tears of gratitude.

  Madeleine Colbeck still refused to believe it. She kept looking at the letter time and again to see if she’d misread the amount being offered. Lydia Quayle was equally astonished. Though she admired her friend’s talent, she didn’t think that it would ever bring in a commission as generous as that. Yet both women had met Lionel Fairbank and judged him to be a man of integrity and honesty. His offer was a serious one.

  ‘Two hundred pounds!’ said Madeleine. ‘I’ve never earned anywhere near that amount for one of my paintings before.’

  ‘You deserve every penny of it.’

  ‘I wasn’t expecting as much as that.’

  ‘Perhaps you ought to,’ said Lydia, mischievously. ‘From now on, refuse to take anything less for your work.’

  ‘I’m in no position to make demands.’

  ‘Perhaps you need me to act as your agent. I’ll tell Mr Fairbank that he needs to increase his offer to a thousand pounds.’

  They burst out laughing. Madeleine felt wonderful at the thought of being rated so highly by her admirer. Famous artists could command vast sums for their work, but she was realistic enough to know that she could never attain such heights. She was essentially an outsider, a young artist who had managed to find a market and who’d received a steady, if rather modest, income from it.

  ‘I’d go on painting even if I didn’t get paid for doing it,’ she said.

  ‘If you take that attitude,’ warned Lydia, ‘you’ll be exploited.’

  ‘Yes, there is that danger, I suppose.’

  ‘What exactly did Mr Fairbank ask you to do?’

  ‘There’s a particular GWR locomotive that caught his eye. He wants me to paint it pulling a train at speed across the landscape. According to him, I manage to get more sense of movement into a painting than anyone he knows.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Lydia, happily ‘you’ll have two hundred pounds worth of movement this time.’ She got up to embrace her friend. ‘Oh, I’m so happy for you, Madeleine. It’s wonderful news.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘You must share it with your father.’

  ‘Oh, no, that would be a big mistake.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I’ll be painting a locomotive from the Great Western Railway. Father wouldn’t approve of that if I was offered ten thousand pounds.’

  ‘What do you think he would have made of Mr Fairbank?’

  ‘They’ll never meet, Lydia. I’ll make certain of that. The two of them live in different worlds. I’d rather it stayed that way.’

  They met at the appointed place and time. It was now the hottest part of the day and Leeming was uncomfortable. It grieved him that Colbeck looked calm, relaxed and untroubled by the weather.

  ‘Before you ask me,’ said Leeming, ‘I had no luck at all until I strayed on to the beach and watched a puppet show. Punch and Judy always make me laugh. My boys would have loved the performance.’

  ‘You were searching for a flesh-and-blood person, Victor, not for a pair of puppets with a stormy marriage.’

  ‘I scoured the livery stables and learnt nothing of note. What about you, sir?’

  ‘I had success fringed with failure.’

  ‘I’m too tired for riddles,’ moaned Leeming.

  ‘I’m fairly confident that I found the stable where the killer had hired one of the horses he used. There was only one problem.’

  ‘What was it?’

  ‘Once he’d returned the animal, he sailed off.’

  ‘Where was he going?’

  ‘That’s what we have to find out.’

  ‘Don’t tell me that the rogue has sailed away out of our reach.’

  ‘Nowhere is out of our reach,’ insisted Colbeck. ‘If we can find out what his destination was, we can go after him.’

  ‘How can we get that information?’

  ‘We must talk to everyone in the harbour who owns a vessel. I have a rough description of the man we’re after. He’s operating under the name of John Gorey. Let’s make a start.’

  ‘It could take us ages,’ said Leeming, mopping his brow with a handkerchief. ‘The harbour is full of vessels.’

  ‘Then it’s time to start asking questions on the quayside. Only this time,’ he said, meaningfully, ‘there’ll be no slipping off to watch Punch and Judy. We have a killer to catch. Think of the man you saw lying on a slab in the police morgue. Mr Swarbrick needs us.’

  For someone as addicted to work as Edward Tallis, the enforce
d rest soon felt like an imposition. Being in Canterbury again made him feel restless. He complained to Wardlow that he couldn’t stay there because Scotland Yard would never run efficiently without him. Even when he was repeatedly told that the commissioner had sanctioned his holiday, he remained agitated. Wardlow found to his dismay that he was having the same conversation with his friend time and again.

  ‘Don’t you understand?’ said Tallis. ‘They’ll miss me.’

  ‘They appointed an acting superintendent, Edward.’

  ‘Who is it?’

  ‘Inspector Vallence.’

  ‘I’m not sure that he’d be able to cope with the complexity of the role. It’s not something one can master easily.’

  ‘He’ll follow your example.’

  ‘Colbeck would have been my choice.’

  ‘The inspector is dealing with a murder in Norwich. You talked about it when we chatted over a brandy last night.’

  Tallis was surprised. ‘Did I?’

  ‘Yes, someone was shot dead on a train, one of the local Members of Parliament. You said that it was the kind of challenging case that only Colbeck could solve.’

  ‘But he can only solve it with me harrying him remorselessly.’

  ‘Inspector Vallence will have to do that now.’

  ‘What about me?’

  ‘You’ll stay here until you start to feel better.’

  ‘I am better, Terence. There’s nothing wrong with me.’

  ‘No, of course, there isn’t,’ said Wardlow with a reassuring pat on his companion’s knee. ‘But we all need a rest from time to time.’

  They were ensconced in leather-backed chairs in the drawing room, two distinguished old soldiers who’d served together in India and survived all manner of dangers. Wardlow tried to guide the conversation around to an exchange of military reminiscences but he was soon interrupted by a visitor. The maid brought in a tall, skinny, sharp-featured man in his sixties. His gaunt face was ignited by his smile. Wardlow struggled to his feet to exchange a handshake, then he turned to Tallis.

  ‘Edward, this is a friend of mine – Donald Kitson.’