Blood on the Line irc-8 Page 17

  He kissed her. ‘You’ve no need to be scared when I’m here.’

  ‘Where exactly are we going?’

  ‘Wait and see. Meanwhile, try to get some sleep.’

  ‘I will,’ she said, eyelids already fluttering.

  Fatigue sent her quickly asleep. It was a noisy journey. The uproar of the engine and the rattle of the carriages failed to wake her and so did the opening and slamming of doors when they stopped at stations. What finally opened her eyes was the soft rustle of paper. The train was stationary. Irene blinked in the light then looked at Oxley through narrowed lids. Staring at a newspaper he’d bought from a vendor on the platform, Oxley had turned white. It was the first time that Irene had ever seen him truly afraid.

  ‘What is it?’ she asked, reaching out to touch him.

  ‘There’s a report about the shooting in London,’ he said, lower lip trembling. ‘It seems that the man I killed yesterday was Detective Constable Ian Peebles. I knew there was danger – Inspector Colbeck is still alive.’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  Gordon and Susanna Younger felt utterly humiliated. Under the searching gaze of Robert Colbeck, they were perched side by side on their sofa like a pair of enormous birds. Their lies had been swiftly exposed. They were known to have offered sanctuary to fugitives from the law. Their only hope lay in pleading ignorance of the crimes committed by Oxley and Irene. If they could portray themselves as innocent victims rather than accomplices, they might yet escape imprisonment. They did have one shred of comfort. When he realised that the suspects had fled, Colbeck had sent the two policemen off in search of them. It spared the Youngers further embarrassment. As their neighbours woke to a new morning, they would not look across and see telltale uniforms outside the home of their friends. How long it would remain the Youngers’ home, of course, was debatable.

  Colbeck had searched the whole house before he was ready to question them. The long wait gave time for their fears to intensify. When he finally sat before them, he was in no mood for evasion.

  ‘Let me make one thing clear before we start,’ he said. ‘You tried to mislead me on your doorstep. If you lie to me again, I’ll arrest you at once and we’ll continue this interview at Scotland Yard. Is that understood?’

  ‘Yes, Inspector,’ said Younger, guiltily.

  ‘What about you, Mrs Younger?’

  ‘We’ll tell the truth,’ promised Susanna.

  ‘I’m glad to hear it,’ said Colbeck. ‘And bear in mind that I’ll be talking to both of your servants in a while. If you say something that they are unable to confirm, then I’ll know you deceived me.’ He took out a pad and pencil to make notes. ‘How long were they here?’

  ‘A few days,’ said Younger.

  ‘Did they come by invitation?’

  ‘No, Inspector, they turned up out of the blue.’

  ‘And why did they do that?’

  ‘Jerry Oxley was an old friend from the days when we lived in Yorkshire. We … kept in touch from time to time.’

  ‘Were you aware that he had a criminal record?’

  ‘We were not.’

  ‘He’s reputed to dress well and live in some style. Where did you imagine that his money came from?’

  ‘He mentioned an inheritance at one point.’

  ‘That could be a play on words, I suppose,’ said Colbeck, dryly. ‘If you rob somebody, then – technically – you inherit their money. Had either of you met Irene Adnam before?’ They shook their heads. ‘What did you think when Oxley arrived unexpectedly?’

  ‘It was typical of his behaviour.’

  ‘You didn’t mind?’

  ‘One makes allowances for old friends,’ said Younger.

  ‘In this case, I fancy, you made incredible allowances. You offered shelter to two dangerous criminals, both of whom were named in the newspapers yesterday, as you must have noticed.’

  ‘We rarely read newspapers, Inspector.’

  ‘I certainly couldn’t find any when I looked around.’

  ‘They’re always full of such dire news.’

  ‘Today’s editions will be especially dire,’ said Colbeck. ‘They will report the murder of my former colleague.’

  ‘I swear that we knew nothing about that, Inspector.’

  ‘We never wanted to know what Jerry did,’ Susanna blurted out. ‘It was none of our business. Until this time, we hadn’t seen him for almost two years. He seldom wrote to us. We had no idea where he was or what he was doing.’

  ‘That’s perhaps just as well, Mrs Younger,’ observed Colbeck. ‘Had you known the full record of his villainy, you couldn’t have tolerated him under your roof for a second.’

  ‘I’m glad you understand that, Inspector.’

  ‘We are law-abiding people,’ said Younger, earnestly. ‘Ask any of our neighbours. Or speak to the vicar – he’s keen for me to take over as churchwarden next year. I’m happy to accept the position. Does that sound like the action of someone who consorts with criminals?’

  ‘No, sir,’ replied Colbeck, ‘but it might interest you to know that days before they robbed a shop in Birmingham, your erstwhile guests attended church in Coventry. Even criminals are prone to religious promptings at times.’ He scrutinised Younger’s face. ‘You appear to be living in retirement, sir.’

  ‘That’s right. I was an archaeologist for many years but my knees finally gave out. It’s a noble profession but a dig does involve a lot of hard manual work. I restrict myself to writing the occasional article on the subject.’

  ‘Yes, I noticed the books in your study. Several were about archaeology. But when I went back for a closer look, I saw that most of them were medical textbooks. That’s an odd hobby. Do you have medical training, by any chance?’

  There was a pause. ‘No,’ said Younger at length, forced back on deceit, ‘but my father did. He was a doctor in Bradford and, when he died, he bequeathed the books to me.’

  ‘What was his name?’

  ‘Why do you ask that, Inspector?’

  ‘Well, when people buy expensive books, they usually write their names in them, so I’d expect to find a Dr Younger. Yet when I glanced inside one tome, the name inscribed there was Dr Philip Oldfield.’

  ‘That was the original owner,’ said Younger, quickly. ‘My father bought the book second hand.’

  ‘Then he would surely have crossed out the name of the previous owner and replaced it with his own.’ Colbeck leant forward. ‘I’m a curious man, sir. It’s an occupational hazard. The truth is that I looked inside the covers of half-a-dozen of the medical books. Every one of them had Oldfield’s name inside. It seems that your father specialised in buying books from the fellow.’ His voice darkened. ‘Unless, of course, there’s another explanation …’

  Younger said nothing but his face was expressive. Susanna looked even guiltier than he did, shifting her position and clenching her fists. A nervous smile brushed her lips.

  ‘I put it to you, sir,’ said Colbeck with assurance, ‘that you are Dr Oldfield and that, for some reason, you decided to be reborn as a younger man with a preference for archaeology. I’m intrigued to know why the counterfeit was necessary. When a man changes his name and invents a new profession for himself, he must have something to hide.’ He gave Younger a shrewd look. ‘What is it?’

  Victor Leeming was bored. He’d been left at Willesden in case the fugitives eluded Colbeck and made their way to the station. Had they seen a uniformed policeman waiting there, they would have been alerted, whereas the sight of Leeming in plain clothes would not have forewarned them. The station was a small, featureless place with a few posters to divert him and a tiny kiosk that sold newspapers, books and other items that passengers might need. After a lengthy and unproductive wait, Leeming bought a newspaper and read the account of the murder of Ian Peebles. It had been drafted by Edward Tallis and copies had been sent to various editors. Leeming found no new details in it. As he read on, he felt a surge of grief at the death of their young fellow
detective. Excessively proud to work alongside Colbeck and Leeming, Peebles had had his career terminated before it had really begun.

  Another career had been brought to an end in the shooting and it was a much longer and more celebrated one. As a result of his action in exposing Peebles to danger, Tallis had resigned. It was a hugely significant act. At the very moment when the superintendent had announced his intentions, Leeming had experienced a sense of sheer joy. The man who’d terrified him for so many years was leaving Scotland Yard altogether. Two thoughts qualified his joy. The first was that Tallis would be a great loss to the police force. Fearsome as he could be, he was an efficient administrator and worked assiduously to improve the performance of those under him.

  However, it was the second reservation that unnerved Leeming and made him wish that Tallis might, after all, stay in his job. If the superintendent left, the obvious candidate to replace him was Robert Colbeck. That would rob Leeming of the finest partner with whom he’d worked as well as his closest friend. Colbeck was at his best out in the field. Shackled to a desk and directing others, his talents would be wasted. The mistake that Tallis had made was to think that he could act just as decisively as Colbeck. He’d wanted to be an alternative Railway Detective and learnt that he was unfitted for the role. By the same token, Leeming felt, Colbeck would be a poor imitation of the superintendent. Each man needed the other in his present position. Reluctantly, Leeming accepted that Edward Tallis must somehow be persuaded to reconsider his decision to resign.

  The approach of a trap made him get to his feet and walk to the exit. He saw one of the vehicles hired earlier and containing the two policemen. Leeming went across to them.

  ‘Did you catch him?’ he asked.

  ‘No,’ said one of the men, ‘he did a moonlight flit. We searched everywhere for him. He stole a horse and cart from a nearby farm but we’ve no idea where he went with it.’

  ‘What about Inspector Colbeck?’

  ‘He’s still at the house, talking to the owners.’

  It was unkind and discourteous of him but for Colbeck it was a means to an end. In deliberately keeping his suspects in their dressing gowns, he deprived them of their camouflage and their nerve. Having found it in the wardrobe in the guest room, he also waved Oxley’s bloodstained waistcoat in front of them. It weakened what little resolve they still had. Faced with his probing, Gordon and Susanna had soon capitulated. They not only talked honestly about their guests’ brief stay with them, they divulged their real names and their reason for leaving Bradford. On searching for one set of fugitives, Colbeck had stumbled on another. He was astounded at the way Dr and Mrs Oldfield had maintained their new identities so successfully. They’d been Gordon and Susanna Younger for so long that they’d come to believe that that was who they really were. The vicar who’d approached Gordon to be churchwarden was in for a terrible shock.

  Anna Oldfield, as she’d once been, said that she knew they’d be found out one day and that there was an element of relief in it. Her husband, however, took a very different stance, arguing that a doctor’s first duty was to relieve pain and that, if someone found life itself intolerably painful, he was justified in releasing that person from agony. Colbeck let him state his case before reminding him how his actions would be viewed in a court of law. As an accessory, his wife also had to prepare herself for a harsh sentence.

  When he’d squeezed what he wanted out of them, Colbeck let them get dressed and eat a final breakfast at the house. He joined them at the table. Over a cup of coffee, he searched for more detail.

  ‘You say that Oxley kept on the move,’ he noted.

  ‘Yes,’ replied Oldfield, ‘that’s how he evaded arrest. Jerry had a sybaritic streak, Inspector. He was very fond of staying at hotels where he could be waited on hand and foot.’

  ‘Did he ever mention the names of any hotels?’

  ‘Not that I can recall.’

  ‘Jerry didn’t,’ said Anna, ‘but Irene did. It was when she and I were sitting in the garden one day. She confided to me how exciting it was to be with Jerry. He’d introduced her to a different world.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Colbeck, ‘one in which she’d have to kill someone.’ He raised a hand. ‘I’m sorry to interrupt you, Mrs Oldfield.’

  She was startled. ‘It’s such a long time since I was called that.’

  ‘You were going to name a hotel.’

  ‘It was one in which they’d stayed not long ago and Irene said it was the most luxurious she’d ever known.’

  ‘Where exactly was it?’

  ‘Somewhere in Coventry.’

  ‘Then you’ve no need to say any more,’ Colbeck told her. ‘I’ve actually visited that establishment. It’s the Sherbourne Hotel.’

  Irene was rocked. She’d never known Oxley make mistakes before yet he had now made three in succession. In retrospect, the move to London had been a grave error on his part. She had accepted the logic of it because Oxley had been so persuasive. It was their first mistake. The second had been his attempt to kill Inspector Colbeck. Having taken the trouble to choose an ideal location for the murder, Oxley had sent a note to Scotland Yard in the firm belief that it would draw the detective out into the open. In order to bait Colbeck, he’d included a reference to Helen Millington. In the end, however, the plan had turned into a fiasco. The wrong man had been shot and Colbeck remained alive to pursue them.

  It was the third mistake that stunned Irene. Insisting that they were in no danger of being recognised from their descriptions in the newspapers, he suggested that they might recuperate at the Coventry hotel where they’d had such good service. Desperate for somewhere to rest, she’d agreed wholeheartedly. It was a fateful decision. Irene would never forget the look in Gwen Darker’s eyes as they stepped across the threshold of the hotel. She knew exactly who Mr and Mrs Salford really were and, in a carrying voice, ordered one of her staff to summon a policeman. Oxley and Irene had to take to their heels.

  They were now at a hotel in Crewe, a railway junction that would allow them to escape, if the need arose, in one of various directions. To avoid being seen together, they checked in separately. Oxley waited until the coast was clear then joined her in her room. There was a frantic embrace.

  ‘I’m frightened, Jerry,’ she said.

  ‘You’ve no need to be.’

  ‘You keep saying that but it’s not true. Look what happened in Coventry. That manageress recognised us. She’ll tell the police and they’ll get into contact with Inspector Colbeck.’

  ‘But they’ll have no idea where we are.’

  ‘I wonder.’

  He pulled her closer. ‘Stop worrying, will you?’ he said. ‘You never used to do this, Irene. We’ve had narrow shaves before and you found it exhilarating. Why get upset because Mrs Darker worked out who we must be?’

  ‘If she can do it, Jerry, so can someone else.’

  ‘Only if we’re seen together and we’ll move around separately from now on. The police are hunting for a couple, not for two single individuals. Wherever we stay, we’ll have different rooms.’

  ‘But I want to be with you,’ she pleaded.

  ‘You will be, Irene – all night long.’

  ‘This is starting to get me down,’ she admitted.

  ‘I know,’ he said, kissing her and starting to unbutton her dress. ‘I have just the cure for that.’

  ‘I keep thinking about Gordon and Susanna. What are they going to say when they realise that we ran away from them?’

  ‘I hope they have the sense to say nothing but I can’t guarantee that. Anyway, you can forget them. There’s no chance whatever of Inspector Colbeck finding out where we stayed in London.’ Undoing the last button, Oxley slipped his hand inside the dress to caress her breast. ‘He’ll still be chasing his tail at Scotland Yard.’

  Victor Leeming was flabbergasted at the turn of events. When they followed the trail to Willesden, the last thing he envisaged was that they would arrest two people wanted by the
Bradford Borough Police for a series of so-called mercy killings. On the train journey back to London with them, he thought that they were being arrested for having sheltered two killers. It was only when Philip and Anna Oldfield were in custody that he learnt of their criminal past. Leeming was staggered by the number of victims involved.

  ‘There were over a dozen?’ he gasped, eyes bulging. ‘I’m glad that he was never my doctor.’

  ‘The patients all seem to have been elderly women who begged him to rescue them from their misery. Oldfield still refuses to accept that he was committing a crime.’

  ‘It was murder, pure and simple.’

  ‘That’s not how he describes it,’ said Colbeck. ‘He claims that he spared them horrid, lingering deaths. I must write to the police in Bradford. After all this time, they’ll be grateful to get their hands on Dr and Mrs Oldfield again. It’s their case, Victor, and not ours. We have other fish to fry.’

  ‘I’d call Oxley more of a shark than a fish, sir.’

  ‘He certainly has a shark’s viciousness.’

  ‘He kills anyone who gets in his way.’

  They were in Colbeck’s office at Scotland Yard, reviewing the day’s developments. Ordinarily, the inspector would have reported to Tallis as soon as he entered the building. That was no longer possible because his superior had resigned. He left behind him a feeling of emptiness. When Colbeck glanced in the direction of Tallis’s office, Leeming read his mind.

  ‘I don’t think that the superintendent should leave,’ he said.

  ‘Neither do I,’ said Colbeck.

  ‘It’s ridiculous, isn’t it? There have been hundreds of times when I’ve wished him out of here, yet the moment he does go, I miss him. He did his job well even if it meant yelling at me whenever I got within earshot of him.’

  ‘I don’t think his resignation will be accepted, Victor.’

  ‘If he wants to go, nobody can stop Mr Tallis.’

  ‘I’m hoping to talk him out of it.’

  ‘How can you do that?’ asked Leeming. ‘He was so shocked by what happened. Because they’d both been in the army, he looked on Ian Peebles with especial favour. I’m ashamed to say that I thought he’d never make the grade at first.’