Blood on the Line irc-8 Page 18

  ‘He won’t get the opportunity to do so now, Victor. We just have to make sure that he didn’t die in vain,’ said Colbeck, ‘and the way to do that is to call Jeremy Oxley to account. Unlike Dr Oldfield, he can’t pass off his murders as mercy killings.’

  ‘You’re in complete control now, sir.’

  ‘That rather unnerves me. It feels wrong somehow.’

  ‘Will you draft in someone to replace Constable Peebles?’

  ‘No, I think that we can manage on our own.’

  ‘As acting superintendent, you’ll have several detectives to deploy and lots of other cases to supervise.’

  Colbeck was adamant. ‘I’m still an inspector,’ he said, ‘and I intend to remain so for the foreseeable future. One thing I won’t do is to relinquish my part in this investigation. I owe it to Constable Peebles to pursue our enquiries with vigour. In a sense, he died in place of me. That leaves me with a sense of obligation.’

  ‘It’s the young lady I keep thinking about,’ said Leeming, sadly. ‘He talked so fondly of her – Catherine, her name was. It’s a tragedy. All their plans have suddenly turned to dust. He told me that the banns of marriage were being read for the first time next month.’

  ‘That would have been a very special moment.’

  ‘It was for me and Estelle. I was shaking with fear. When the vicar asked if anyone had just cause or impediment why we shouldn’t be joined together in holy matrimony, I was terrified that someone would jump up and spoil everything.’

  ‘They’d have had no reason to do so.’

  ‘That didn’t stop me worrying,’ said Leeming. ‘I suppose that the truth of it is that I never felt good enough for Estelle. I never believed that I deserved a wife as wonderful as her, so I kept waiting for someone to step in and take her away from me.’

  ‘Your fears were groundless. Anyone who’s seen the two of you together knows that you’re ideally suited.’

  ‘I still thank God every day for my good fortune. With a face like mine, I thought I’d be lucky to attract any woman, yet I finished up with a beautiful wife.’ He laughed with delight. ‘But I do remember sitting through the banns with my hands shaking. It was a test of nerves, I can tell you. Well,’ he added, ‘you’ll find that out for yourself, sir. When are your banns being read for the first time?’

  Colbeck was taken aback. The question was innocent enough yet it left him befuddled. The truth was that he hadn’t given the matter any thought at all. Since the killer of Helen Millington had reappeared in his life after so many years, everything else had been pushed to the back of his mind. It was unfair on those close to him. They’d been neglected. Talk of marriage had reminded him of his engagement to Madeleine and he felt more than a twinge of guilt at the way he’d kept postponing a decision about the date of the wedding.

  ‘That’s yet to be decided,’ he said, evasively.

  ‘I think that you and Miss Andrews are a perfect match, sir.’

  ‘Thank you, Victor. I like to think that as well.’

  ‘Dirk Sowerby is still on about it,’ moaned Andrews. ‘He has this daft idea of sailing across the seven seas on a steamship.’

  ‘What’s so daft about it?’ she asked.

  ‘It will never happen, Maddy. He can’t afford it on his pay.’

  ‘Everyone is entitled to dream.’

  ‘It’s not a dream, it’s sheer nonsense. It just won’t happen.’

  ‘You never know, Father. Look at me. I used to think about marrying Robert one day but I never really believed that my dream would ever come true. Yet, against all the odds, it did.’

  ‘That’s because you’re very special, Maddy – Dirk is not.’

  ‘You’re being unfair on him. Last week you were telling me what a good driver he’ll make.’

  ‘It’s only because I taught him all he knows.’

  ‘Stop mocking his ambitions.’

  ‘I like to tease him. What harm is there in that?’

  Andrews had returned home that evening in a jovial mood. It was not simply because he’d been drinking with his friends. As his retirement got ever nearer, he was coming to see the benefits that it would bring. He could still visit his favourite pub of an evening but he would no longer have to get up early the next morning to begin work again. A yoke would suddenly be removed from his neck. When they finished supper, he touched on a subject he’d raised before.

  ‘How would you feel if I was to get wed again, Maddy?’

  She blinked. ‘Do you have someone in mind, Father?’

  ‘I might and I might not.’

  ‘Well, I’m not going to object, if that’s what you’re asking. You’re old enough to make your own decisions.’

  ‘It would be different if you were still here,’ he said. ‘I wouldn’t feel it was right to bring another woman into the house. But when you’re gone and I have the place to myself, I may get lonely.’

  ‘Do you want to be married again?’

  ‘I do and I don’t.’

  ‘Stop going around in circles,’ she chided. ‘I might and I might not. I do and I don’t. I can and I can’t. If you start playing that game, we could be here all night.’

  He cackled. ‘I simply wanted your opinion, Maddy.’

  ‘Then my opinion is that no woman would be misguided enough to take you on,’ she said, jokingly. ‘You’re too set in your ways and you’re too cantankerous. Why should anyone even look at you?’

  ‘Your mother did.’

  ‘You were a lot younger then.’

  ‘Love is nothing to do with age, Maddy. It can happen to us whether we’re seventeen or seventy. In fact, I fancy it goes deeper when you’re more mature. You’ve learnt how to appreciate it by then.’ She narrowed her eyelids. ‘Why are you staring at me like that?’

  ‘There’s something you’re not telling me, Father.’

  ‘Is there?’

  ‘I think you’ve met someone.’

  ‘I have and I haven’t. That’s to say,’ he added quickly to still her protest, ‘I’ve seen someone who aroused my interest. It’s nothing more nor less than that, I swear it. I just wanted to sound you out. When we’ve spoken about this before, there was a lot of bravado in what I was claiming. It’s different now. I’m serious.’

  ‘Then I’ll give you a serious answer,’ she said, affectionately. ‘I want you to be happy. If the best way to achieve happiness is to get married again, then I’m very much in favour of it.’ She smiled. ‘I wondered why you started coming to church more often. It’s someone in the congregation, isn’t it?’

  ‘Wait and see.’

  ‘Don’t be so coy about it.’

  ‘I’m just being practical,’ he said. ‘It’s pointless of me to think about my wedding when we still haven’t had yours. It’s only when you’ve left that the house will start to feel empty. That’s when I’ll need companionship, Maddy.’

  ‘Robert and I will set the date very soon.’

  ‘I think you should read today’s paper before you say that.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘This case will take longer than you think. The man they’re after has killed again. Yesterday evening, he shot one of the detectives helping the inspector.’ She rushed into the other room and snatched up the newspaper. ‘Don’t worry – it’s not Sergeant Leeming.’

  ‘Then who is it?’ she asked, anxiously.

  ‘It was someone named Peebles.’

  Tallis had always been a religious man. The Bible was his guide and he read a passage from it every day. In times of stress, he would always slip into church to pray for help and to get spiritual support. Head bowed low, he was on his knees now, pleading for forgiveness. Convinced that he was responsible for the death of Ian Peebles, he singled out pride as his besetting sin. It had blinded him to his shortcomings. He’d been too proud to admit that he had any failings and believed that he could emulate and even surpass Robert Colbeck. That myth had been shattered when he knelt over the corpse. Tallis now knew
that he had profound limitations both as a man and as a detective. Given the facts, most of his colleagues would lay the blame squarely on him. Their silent disapproval was nothing compared to the way that he condemned himself. He was suffering.

  He prayed hard until his knees began to ache. Hauling himself upright, he stepped into the aisle, inclined his head towards the altar then quietly left the church. On the walk back to his lodging, he was deep in thought. When he reached the house, therefore, he did not at first notice the figure standing outside it. Colbeck had to step right in front of him to get his attention.

  ‘Good day to you, sir,’ he said.

  Tallis gave a start. ‘What are you doing here, Colbeck?’

  ‘I came to talk to you.’

  ‘I’m not in a talkative vein.’

  ‘There have been some important developments.’

  ‘They don’t concern me any longer,’ said Tallis, flicking a dismissive hand. ‘I’ve resigned from my post.’

  ‘That’s not strictly true, sir. When I spoke to the commissioner, he told me that he’d refused to accept your resignation and that he’d asked you to take time off in order to think again.’

  ‘I have thought again and my decision stands.’

  ‘There may be factors you haven’t taken into account.’

  ‘I blundered, Colbeck, that’s the only factor relevant.’

  ‘I disagree, Superintendent.’

  ‘And you can stop calling me that,’ said Tallis, testily. ‘It’s a title that I’ve surrendered. I’m just an ordinary citizen now.’

  ‘Not in my estimation,’ said Colbeck. He looked around. ‘Need we have this conversation in the street?’

  ‘There’s no need to have it at all.’

  ‘Have you already discussed it with someone else, then?’

  ‘No,’ conceded Tallis. ‘Apart from the commissioner, I haven’t confided in anyone. There’s no point in any discussion when my mind is so firmly made up.’

  ‘I think there’s every point, sir.’

  It took Colbeck another ten minutes to persuade Tallis to invite him in. He’d never been there before and was interested to see where and how his superior lived. Tallis occupied the first floor of a large Georgian house in a square with a park at its centre enclosed by iron railings. As they entered the well-proportioned living room, Colbeck was surprised to see so much evidence of the older man’s religious devotion. There was a crucifix on one wall, marble angels at either end of the mantelpiece and three paintings of scenes from the New Testament. A leather-bound Bible stood on the desk in the window.

  The air of piety was offset by an array of military memorabilia. There was a display cabinet filled with medals and small weaponry, a collection of sabres hanging on the walls and, in a dominant position over the fireplace, a portrait of the Duke of Wellington, the soldier Tallis most revered. A tall oak bookcase contained a few books on aspects of Christianity but it was largely given over to histories of various battles and the memoirs of those who’d fought in them. War, religion and the pursuit of criminals had been enough for Tallis. He sought nothing else from life.

  Though he waved his visitor to a wing chair, Tallis offered him no refreshment. It was a signal that Colbeck would not be staying long. He was there on sufferance. Tallis sat opposite him, his features set in a permanent scowl. It was as if he were daring Colbeck to begin so that he could deny his request.

  ‘I’ve come of my own volition,’ said Colbeck. ‘I’m not here on behalf of anyone else – except Constable Peebles, that is.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I think that you should bear him in mind, sir.’

  Tallis was stung. ‘How dare you!’ he cried. ‘Peebles has never been out of my mind. Since his death yesterday evening, I’ve thought about nothing else.’

  ‘Then why are you turning your back on him?’

  ‘I’m doing nothing of the kind, man.’

  ‘Yes, you are,’ argued Colbeck. ‘If you feel culpable for his death, you should feel an impulse to avenge it. In your shoes, I know that I would. Yet you’re actually walking away from the case. You are, in effect, letting his killer go free.’

  ‘I’ve lost the right to run this investigation.’

  ‘I don’t believe that and neither does the commissioner.’

  ‘It’s all over, Colbeck. I’m finished as a detective.’

  ‘You’re bound to feel guilty,’ said Colbeck. ‘I understand that. But the way to assuage that guilt is to lead the pursuit of Jeremy Oxley and his accomplice – not to abandon it.’

  ‘I’m accepting my punishment for failure.’

  Colbeck laughed. ‘In that case, everyone in the department should resign, sir. I still squirm when I recall some of my failures and the same applies to others. Detection is not a perfectible art and never will be. The most that we can hope for is a reasonable amount of success. We simply don’t have the resources to solve every crime that’s committed,’ added Colbeck. ‘We have to select priorities and you are a master at doing that, sir. It’s your forte.’

  ‘It was, perhaps. That’s all past now.’

  ‘Is that what you wish me to tell the young lady?’

  ‘What young lady?’

  ‘The one who was betrothed to Constable Peebles – I believe that you spoke to her. When she gets over the initial shock of his death, she’ll want to know that we’re making every effort to apprehend his killer.’ His smile was quizzical. ‘Am I to tell her that you have no desire to take part in the search?’

  ‘That would be a gross misrepresentation.’

  ‘It’s exactly how it will appear to Catherine, sir.’

  ‘Nobody is more anxious to see Oxley brought to book than me. He’s a fiend in human shape and his accomplice is just as bad as him. They’ve now killed three policemen between them.’

  ‘I make the number four.’

  ‘There were two from Wolverhampton and one from London.’

  ‘You’re missing someone out, sir.’

  He was perplexed. ‘Who’s that?’

  ‘Superintendent Edward Tallis,’ said Colbeck. ‘To all intents and purposes, he’s been killed as well. He’s withdrawn from the fight. He poses no threat to Oxley and is, in effect, posthumous.’

  ‘That’s babbling idiocy.’

  ‘I only describe the situation as I see it.’

  ‘And I’ve not withdrawn from the fight,’ said Tallis, vehemently. ‘I simply felt that I no longer deserve to hold the authority that I did.’

  Colbeck sat back in the chair. Having planted a seed of doubt in Tallis’s mind, he sought to nourish it so that it would grow. He looked up at the portrait of Wellington whose stern eyes stared down either side of the famous hooked nose. Like Tallis, the Duke had never inspired great affection in those under his command but he did earn their respect. There was another similarity. Both men had a will of iron.

  ‘It’s a striking portrait,’ remarked Colbeck.

  ‘He was a striking man,’ said Tallis, ‘and merits the thanks of the whole nation for trouncing the French at Waterloo.’

  ‘Did he have an unblemished record of success?’

  ‘Nobody has that in the army, Colbeck. There are always minor setbacks and situations over which you have no control. The Duke was often hampered by scant resources but he nevertheless managed victories against superior numbers.’

  ‘That’s another parallel with you, then, sir.’

  ‘I’m no Duke of Wellington.’

  ‘Perhaps not, but you have some of his qualities. For example, you know how to get the best out of men under your command, especially when they are up against insuperable odds. You are a true leader, Superintendent.’

  ‘Stop using that title!’

  ‘Would the Duke have resigned when he met with a setback?’

  ‘He resigned because he had incompetent rivals alongside him. It was only when they realised how great a loss he was to the army that they restored him and put him in ful
l command.’ Colbeck glanced at the portrait then stared at Tallis. ‘It’s presumptuous to compare me with the Duke. He was a genius. Besides, I’m no longer in the army.’

  ‘But you run the department with military precision.’

  ‘That’s just my way.’

  ‘Ian Peebles understood that, sir. He admired you greatly. I think he’d have expected you to atone for what you did by helping to catch his killer. Will you desert your post now of all times?’

  Tallis was discomfited. His eyes went up to the portrait and he had to make an effort to turn them away. After weighing up what he’d been told, he turned away to ponder. Colbeck did not disturb his cogitations. It was minutes before Tallis broke the silence.

  ‘You say that there have been developments.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ replied Colbeck, ‘I made two critical arrests this morning. In doing so, I solved a crime that’s been troubling the Bradford Borough Police for a number of years.’

  Colbeck told him about the early morning visit to Willesden and how Gordon and Susanna Younger had been unmasked. They had provided an immense amount of information about the activities of Jeremy Oxley and Irene Adnam. Though he tried to remain indifferent, Tallis was patently intrigued by the sudden progress made. He wished that he’d been there to interrogate the two prisoners. His interest in the case was reawakened so much that he even tried to shift part of the blame onto Colbeck.

  ‘You must take some responsibility for what happened to Peebles,’ he said. ‘If you had not gone off on a wild goose chase to Coventry, you’d have been there to read your letter and to take the appropriate action. Constable Peebles would still be alive today.’

  ‘I wish that were true,’ said Colbeck, ‘but my trip to Coventry was not a wild goose chase. Mrs Darker, who runs the Sherbourne Hotel there, was able to identify two of her guests as Jeremy Oxley and Irene Adnam. She did so for the second time today.’

  ‘How can you possibly know that?’