A Christmas Railway Mystery Page 19

  ‘I’m beginning to see what you mean,’ she said.

  ‘The man we’re after wanted to administer a violent shock to the whole community and bring the Works to a dead halt. He succeeded. That’s what we might have here, Madeleine. The murder could have been an act of rebellion.’

  The candle flickering beside it threw a lurid glow over the head of Frank Rodman. After watching the dancing flame for several minutes, the man made up his mind.

  ‘I think it’s time for you to make an appearance, Frank.’

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Hythe was a small but pretty coastal town that overlooked the Straits of Dover. Keen to get there as soon as possible, Alan Hinton gave thanks for the existence of the railway system. Like Colbeck, he’d come to appreciate its extraordinary value during an investigation. He was denied any pleasure from looking at the quaint cottages or the long beach of Hythe because he arrived in darkness. A cab took him from the station to the barracks. He was eventually admitted to the office belonging to Captain Philip Ardingley. After introducing himself, Hinton explained why he was there. The other man glowered at him.

  ‘Frankly, Constable, I feel insulted.’

  ‘I didn’t intend any insult, sir.’

  ‘You are suggesting that I am at fault in this instance.’

  ‘I simply asked if anyone else had access to your correspondence.’

  ‘It was an unnecessary question,’ said Ardingley. ‘Private correspondence is kept strictly private. From the moment it arrived and had been read by me, Captain Wardlow’s letter has been under lock and key.’

  ‘Does anyone else have a key?’

  ‘No, they don’t.’

  Ardingley looked like a younger brother of Edward Tallis, with the same square jaw, stolid frame and arresting presence. He was angry to hear that a mere constable had been dispatched from Scotland Yard to solve what was to him a heinous crime.

  ‘Were you the only officer at the superintendent’s disposal?’

  ‘No, sir, I travelled with Constable Legge. He’s still in Canterbury.’

  ‘I expected half a dozen senior detectives.’

  ‘Unfortunately, none were free.’

  ‘Then they should have been liberated from their present duties to lend their assistance and expertise here. Kidnap, I hardly need remind you, is something that is intended to bring a quick profit. There’s no time for a leisurely approach. If they feel they are being kept waiting, the abductors will simply kill their prisoner.’

  ‘Heaven forbid!’

  ‘That’s why we need the very best minds at work on the case.’

  ‘Someone found out that Superintendent Tallis was going to stay with his friend,’ explained Hinton, patiently. ‘The only way he could have done that was to read Captain Wardlow’s letter.’

  ‘I accept that.’

  ‘Then why did you react so strongly when I asked if another pair of eyes had seen the letter here?’

  ‘What I accept,’ said Ardingley, crisply, ‘is that someone did read the captain’s letter but that he must have done so before it was actually sent. Look for no villainy here, Constable. You should be questioning the captain’s domestic staff.’

  ‘Why should one of them betray his employer?’

  ‘It may not have been a question of betrayal. He may not even have read the letter. Captain Wardlow could simply have told him that a guest would be arriving at the house and gone on to say who he was and why he was there. The manservant might inadvertently have released the information in a public place and it was seized on.’ Ardingley shot him a look of disapproval. ‘This is only supposition, of course. Heavens, man, do I have to do your detective work for you?’

  ‘No, sir. I’m grateful for your help. The problem is evidently not here.’

  ‘This barracks is run with a firm hand.’

  ‘Then Superintendent Tallis would feel at home here,’ said Hinton with a smile. Seeing Ardingley’s scowl, he became serious. ‘I do apologise for taking up your time, Captain. It was good of you to provide us with soldiers to help in the search. On behalf of the Metropolitan Police, I thank you for that.’

  ‘We were too late, unfortunately.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Major Tallis is no longer in Canterbury. I can guarantee that. If he had been, we’d have found him long before Scotland Yard had deigned to send two detective constables here. Don’t you realise that, by the slowness of your response, you may have imperilled the major’s life?’

  ‘We can’t really act until a ransom demand is made, sir.’

  ‘And what if one never actually comes?’

  Hinton felt unable to reply. After thanking him again, he left the barracks and made his way back to the railway station, scolding himself for believing that the kidnappers could possibly have had a confederate inside a closely guarded barracks. He would have to look elsewhere.

  As they left Swindon Railway Station on the following morning, daylight had still not dispersed some of the gloom. It took them a moment to recognise William Morris as he walked towards them. For his part, he picked them out by their distinctive profiles. They exchanged warm greetings with him.

  ‘Thank you for your recommendation, Inspector,’ said Morris.

  ‘I wasn’t aware that I’d made one,’ replied Colbeck.

  ‘You praised that poem by my namesake.’

  ‘Ah, yes – “The Haystack in the Floods”.’

  ‘I managed to track down a copy. It’s a fine piece of work.’

  ‘Who chops off whose head?’ asked Leeming.

  ‘A French soldier decapitates Robert, a British soldier, with a display of Gallic barbarity. It’s not a poem to read to your children.’

  ‘They like nursery rhymes.’

  ‘Some of those have an underlying violence, of course,’ said Morris. ‘By the way, Sergeant, you got me into trouble.’

  ‘I didn’t mean to, sir.’

  ‘When I gave you Daniel Gill’s address, I didn’t realise that he’d come to the office to yell abuse at me. I had to threaten to call the police to get rid of him. I was grateful that he hadn’t brought his cleaver with him.’ Morris chuckled. ‘Inspector Piercey was in a much more amenable mood. One of the addresses I gave him led to the arrest of someone who sent a letter to you designed to obtain money under false pretences.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Colbeck, ‘he called in at our office and reported to me. I gave him a similar assignment and sent him off happy. You see the advantages of working as a partnership. The combination of detectives, local police and the editor of the Swindon Advertiser achieved a positive result.’

  ‘Is that a way of telling me that you’re about to arrest the butcher’s assistant?’ asked Morris, scenting his next headline.

  ‘We haven’t got that far yet, sir.’

  ‘Let me know when you do. Meanwhile, I must be off to Bristol.’

  ‘Don’t let us hold you up, Mr Morris.’

  ‘I’ll see you both this evening.’

  ‘Will you?’ said Leeming in surprise.

  ‘You’ll be at the concert, won’t you? I never miss them. There’s always a report of the Saturday concert in the next edition of the Advertiser. It will be a unique experience for both of you.’

  When the rolling mill was working at full throttle, the noise was a continuous onslaught on the eardrums. It made conversation almost impossible so the men often communicated with gestures. At one point, however, they heard another sound above the hullabaloo. It was very faint but they recognised it immediately. Rehearsing for the concert, Gareth Llewellyn was opening his lungs to give a full-throated rendition of a Welsh folk song.

  Liza Alford was pleased with the slight improvement in her friend. Though Betty Rodman was still subdued, she no longer kept bursting into tears and wailing about her future. The vicar’s visit on the previous evening had been a turning point. He’d not only soothed her, he’d stayed long enough to talk to her two sons and tell them what had happened t
o their father. They’d been stunned by the news at first but seemed to know instinctively that it was their mother who needed comfort and not them. Because they snuggled up against her in bed, she’d enjoyed the first real sleep since the murder.

  All three children were now downstairs with her. The baby was in her arms and the boys were within reach. Liza was making a cup of tea in the kitchen. When something was slipped through the letter box, therefore, Davy was the first one to reach it. Picking up the letter from the floor, he took it to his mother. Betty saw that her name was written neatly on the missive. Wondering who had sent it, she put the baby down, tore open the letter and read the message inside.

  When Liza heard her friend’s cry of anguish, she came rushing into the room and saw that Betty had fainted. As if knowing there was a crisis, the baby began to howl piteously.

  Caleb Andrews was approaching the house when he saw Lydia Quayle coming towards it from the other direction. They exchanged greetings and agreed that the weather was colder than ever and that the threat of snow still hovered. Admitted to the house, they were welcomed by Madeleine who whisked them into the drawing room and told them the good news about her husband’s visit the previous evening.

  ‘Robert was here?’ asked Andrews. ‘Why didn’t you send for me at once? I could have given him my opinion on what Brunel did wrong to the railway system.’

  ‘I think he can live without it, Father.’

  ‘But we could have discussed his latest case.’

  ‘Robert wanted a brief respite from it and a chance to see his daughter.’

  ‘Is he sanguine about the investigation?’ asked Lydia.

  ‘On balance, I believe that he is.’

  ‘Christmas is getting very close.’

  ‘It’s what drives him on, Lydia. But he brought news of another awful crime,’ she told them. ‘Superintendent Tallis has been kidnapped in Canterbury.’

  ‘Who by, Maddy?’ asked her father.

  ‘Nobody knows.’

  ‘Didn’t he have someone protecting him?’

  ‘He was with an army friend, apparently, but they split up in the cathedral. Somehow and somewhere, he must have been overpowered.’

  ‘That’s frightening,’ said Lydia. ‘You’d never expect someone in his position to be set on. Robert must have wished he’d been able to lead the manhunt.’

  ‘He did but it was left to Superintendent Grosvenor to send detectives to Kent. One of them, you’ll be interested to know, was Alan Hinton.’

  ‘He’s far too young,’ complained Andrews.

  ‘Robert felt it should be someone more senior.’

  ‘Constable Hinton will do his best, I’m sure,’ said Lydia. ‘The very fact that he was sent to Canterbury shows you the esteem in which he’s held.’

  ‘That’s one way of looking at it,’ said Madeleine. ‘It’s given Robert another reason to arrest a killer in Swindon as quickly as possible. He’s determined to join in the search. My husband never does things by half measures,’ she went on with a smile. ‘He wants to solve two major crimes before Christmas.’

  Colbeck read the message that had caused Betty Rodman to swoon. Written in capitals, it told her that she’d get her husband’s head back very soon. The crude simplicity of the letter had been too much for her. As she was still trying to cope with the gruesome fact of the murder, she was rocked by the news that his head had been hacked off.

  ‘It took me an hour or more to calm her down,’ said Liza Alford.

  ‘You’ve no idea who sent this, I suppose?’

  ‘No, Inspector. I should have rushed to the door and flung it open in the hope of seeing the man running away. But I was too busy picking Betty up off the floor and trying to soothe the children. When they saw what their mother did, they all started crying. Oh,’ she went on, angrily, ‘it was such a cruel thing to do to her.’

  Liza had come to the detectives’ office to tell them about the anonymous letter and its effect. Colbeck was alone. He could imagine the searing pain inflicted on Betty Rodman. She was not only stunned by the information, she was hurt that it had been kept from her in the first place. Though he didn’t confide his thoughts, Colbeck was relieved that the return of the head was imminent. When it was reunited with the body, a proper post-mortem could take place.

  ‘How is Mrs Rodman now?’ he asked.

  ‘She’s still shaking. The only reason I was able to slip away is that the vicar’s wife called. Mrs Law is looking after her. She could see from Betty’s face that something horrible had happened.’

  ‘Did Mrs Rodman have any idea who might have sent that letter?’

  ‘She just kept saying that it was her fault.’

  ‘That’s patently untrue.’

  ‘Betty believes that someone is trying to pay her back for … rejecting them.’

  ‘So she still thinks it may be an old admirer?’

  ‘There were lots of them, Inspector,’ she said ruefully. ‘My own husband was one of them and Betty could probably name seven or eight others. It was never a problem that I had to put up with. I used to envy her, being so pretty when I was so plain. I don’t envy her any more, I pity her.’

  ‘So do I, Mrs Alford.’

  ‘I felt that you had to see the letter.’

  ‘You did the right thing,’ said Colbeck. ‘Unfortunately, she’s seen it. The fact that it’s written in capitals means the handwriting is far more difficult to place. The sender wanted to make sure that Mrs Rodman didn’t recognise it.’

  ‘Betty doesn’t want it back in the house.’

  He put it down on his desk. ‘This is evidence. I’ll take good care of it.’

  ‘Please catch him soon,’ she urged. ‘The murder’s had a terrible effect on everyone, not just Betty. It’s made people behave in strange ways. In fact—’

  She stopped herself at the last moment but Colbeck had already guessed what she was going to say. Liza Alford knew from personal experience that the crime had had a profound impact on people. Her husband was one of them. She’d been about to confess that Alford had been behaving in strange and unsettling ways.

  During the morning refreshment break, Alford ignored the banter of the other smiths and went across to the Erecting Shop. Making sure to get in nobody’s way, he took up a vantage point from which he could stare at the exact point where his friend’s headless corpse had been found. It aroused such deep emotions that he had to drag himself away again. When he got outside, he was running with sweat.

  Victor Leeming was enjoying memories of his night at home with the family. His wife and children had been thrilled to see him and he was able to have a night for once that was not dominated by ceaseless speculation about the murder. Long after they’d arrived in Swindon, he still felt buoyant. Edgar Fellowes was struck by the sergeant’s cheerful manner. When they met near the entrance to the Works, the railway policeman studied him shrewdly.

  ‘Am I right in thinking congratulations are in order?’ asked Fellowes.

  ‘Yes,’ replied Leeming. ‘You can congratulate me on having the sense to spend a night at home.’

  ‘Oh, I thought you’d made an arrest.’

  ‘It won’t be long before we do so.’

  ‘Who is it going to be – Llewellyn?’

  ‘I’m not naming names. What I will tell you is that the inspector and I are not yet in total agreement. By the end of the day, we will be.’

  ‘Does that mean you favour different suspects?’

  ‘It might do.’

  Fellowes grinned. ‘You don’t give much away, do you? Well, it doesn’t matter. I won’t badger you. I’m the same. When I have my suspicions about someone who’s been stealing coal from the wagons, I keep his name to myself until I’m ready to pounce.’

  ‘You told me that all you dealt with was trespass and pilfering.’

  ‘There have been more serious crimes. Someone broke into the Turning Shop one night and made off with some expensive equipment. We’ve had other substantial loss
es as well. Tools cost a pretty penny,’ he continued. ‘If someone is offered them at a lower price, they’re likely to buy them without asking questions.’

  ‘Do you ever catch the thieves?’

  ‘Two of them are already in prison but there are always others willing to chance their arm. They keep us busy.’

  Leeming was puzzled. Looking at Fellowes, he couldn’t believe that he made use of the services provided by Claire Knight and her daughter. The railway policeman looked so staid and respectable yet he was, allegedly, familiar with the two women. It explained his hesitation in telling Leeming where they might be found. The sergeant decided to say nothing about his visit to the house but Fellowes asked him a direct question about it.

  ‘You went to that brothel, didn’t you?’

  ‘Why do you say that?’

  ‘You’re like me, Sergeant. When an idea pops up, you’ll follow it through. If you went there, you’ll have met Mrs Knight.’

  ‘Her daughter was asleep upstairs.’

  ‘Euphemia is very popular, by all accounts. I call in there from time to time,’ said Fellowes, grandly, ‘to keep a fatherly eye on her. I disapprove strongly of what they do for a living but I don’t think they deserve to be assaulted.’

  ‘Is that what happens?’

  ‘Claire can handle most awkward clients. They never even get past the front door. But one or two have sneaked through and … thrown their weight about. So they turned to me for help.’

  ‘Shouldn’t you have told Inspector Piercey where the house is?’

  Fellowes nudged him. ‘I believe in live and let live,’ he said. ‘I’d never stoop to that kind of thing myself, you understand. I’m married so I don’t need to. In any case, it’s against my principles.’

  ‘So why do you bother to go there?’

  ‘To be frank, it’s for old times’ sake. I knew Claire when I was much younger. She and her husband lived a quiet, honest, law-abiding life. It was only when he died that she found herself needing a source of money. She tried all sorts of legal ways to get it but somehow she just couldn’t manage. As it happens,’ he confided, ‘I loaned her some money but that soon disappeared. The next minute, Claire and her daughter disappeared off to Bristol and learnt a different trade altogether. It was obviously profitable. When they came back here after a few years, Claire paid off my loan and set up in the village.’