Points of Danger Page 20

  ‘I must say that I found your request rather strange, Mr Swarbrick.’

  ‘Why is that?’

  ‘You didn’t need to come here to ask about your father’s will when he kept a copy of it at the house.’

  ‘It’s no longer there, Mr Gilby.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘I’ve instituted a thorough search.’

  ‘It would be kept in the safe, surely?’

  ‘That was the first place I looked.’

  ‘How odd!’ said Gilby, frowning. ‘Has it disappeared?’

  ‘It’s disappeared or been deliberately removed.’

  ‘Could your stepmother shed no light on the mystery?’

  ‘I’ve been unable even to see her, let alone have a conversation.’

  ‘The shock of what happened must have dealt Mrs Swarbrick a fearsome blow. I can understand why she’s still stunned.’

  ‘Let’s leave her out of this,’ said Swarbrick, tetchily. ‘I came here to see the terms of my father’s will.’

  ‘You must already know the general outline of it, surely?’

  ‘I want the specific details.’

  ‘Strictly speaking—’

  ‘Don’t shilly-shally, man. I have a legal right to know what my father’s wishes were and I’d be obliged if you’d stop prevaricating. You’ve kept me waiting long enough already.’

  ‘There’s no need to take that tone with me,’ said Gilby, retreating into pomposity. ‘Your father and I enjoyed an excellent relationship for many years. It was built on trust and mutual respect.’

  ‘I accept that,’ said Swarbrick, tone softening. ‘He spoke well of you, Mr Gilby. I hope that you and I can achieve the same level of understanding.’

  ‘That will depend on you. What helped us was the fact that your father had read jurisprudence at Oxford, as I later did. Indeed, we went to the same college. Jarvis Swarbrick,’ he continued, ‘had an appreciation of how the law works. That’s indispensable when it comes to framing legislation in Parliament. Your own background, I believe, is in finance.’

  ‘That’s immaterial,’ said the other, smarting at what he saw was a deliberate jibe. ‘The House of Commons needs people who have a grasp of the monetary system just as much as it needs lawyers. In any case, I learnt a great deal from my father. I watched him draft his bill for the amalgamation of five railway companies, and we went through it together line by line.’

  ‘He was very punctilious.’

  ‘So am I, Mr Gilby. That’s why I deserve to replace him.’

  The solicitor was startled. ‘You wish to replace him as an MP?’

  ‘Is that such an absurd ambition?’ said Swarbrick, peevishly.

  ‘No, no, in one sense, you’d be the obvious person. I wish you well. You follow someone who set a very high standard.’

  ‘I promise to maintain – if not to surpass – that standard.’

  ‘The people of Norwich will be pleased to hear that,’ said Gilby. ‘First, however, you have to gain the nomination. That will entail a contest with other potential candidates. One man, in particular, has coveted a seat in Parliament for many years.’

  ‘I’ve already spoken to Oliver Trant.’

  ‘He’ll be your most dangerous rival.’

  ‘I have qualities that he signally lacks.’

  ‘But he lives and runs a business in Norwich. Mr Trant is very visible and highly esteemed.’

  ‘I, too, will have my base in this city. When I acquire ownership of the family home, I’ll move here at once with my wife and children. I think it’s vital for a Member of Parliament to reside in the constituency that he represents.’ He saw the look on the solicitor’s face. ‘Have I said something wrong?’

  ‘Your plans are built on a supposition, sir.’

  ‘There’s no supposition involved,’ asserted Swarbrick. ‘I give you my word. I’m certain to win that nomination.’

  ‘I’m not thinking about that, sir.’

  ‘Then what’s the problem?’

  Gilby didn’t need to put it into words. He simply looked at his client with a kind of reluctant sympathy. When he realised what must have happened, Swarbrick was rendered speechless. His jaw muscles tightened, his eyes bulged and his body went slack. All that he could do was to sit there like a rag doll. It was a full minute before Gilby broke the silence.

  ‘I assumed that you knew, Mr Swarbrick,’ he said.

  ‘There must be a grotesque mistake.’

  ‘Your father didn’t make mistakes, sir. He had a lawyer’s penchant for exactitude. When he changed the will in favour of his wife …’ He paused as Swarbrick twitched angrily. ‘Naturally, he left you a generous share of his capital and part of his property, but the house and the bulk of the estate will go to his spouse.’

  ‘When did this happen?’ demanded Swarbrick, now on his feet.

  ‘It was well over six months ago, sir.’

  ‘That can’t be true. Father and I had started to see each other in London occasionally. We were mending fences. We were closer than we have been for years.’

  ‘It’s not reflected in his will, I fear.’

  ‘Let me see it!’

  ‘I don’t think you should in that mood, Mr Swarbrick.’

  ‘You can’t keep it from me. It’s a legal right.’

  ‘When you calm down, I’ll be happy to let you peruse it.’

  ‘I am calm,’ insisted the other. ‘Where is it?’

  Gilby stood up. ‘I’ll not be badgered, sir.’

  ‘This is her doing, isn’t it? When my father came to alter his will, my stepmother was at his elbow, wasn’t she? It’s disgraceful. I’m not having my inheritance stolen by that harpy!’

  ‘I’d rather you stopped shouting, Mr Swarbrick.’

  ‘Don’t tell me what to do!’ yelled the other. ‘You’re part of the conspiracy to rob me of what I was promised. I’ll contest the will. That’s what I’ll do. I’ll hire the best solicitor in London and fight you tooth and nail.’

  ‘You’re at liberty to do so, sir, but it will be a shameful waste of time, money and effort. When your father made those changes,’ he stressed, ‘he was in full possession of his faculties. You will just have to accept the decisions that he reached.’

  ‘Never!’ howled Swarbrick, banging on the desk with a fist. ‘I want my rights and I’m determined to get them.’

  Turning on his heel, he charged out in a towering rage.

  Colbeck and Leeming had adjourned to the Rib of Beef to review the day’s events while consuming their much-needed drinks. After quaffing more of his beer, Leeming smacked his lips with satisfaction.

  ‘This is good stuff, sir,’ he said, holding up his tankard.

  ‘Don’t let Mrs Freed see you with it, Victor. She’d evict us.’

  ‘I’d like that. We could take rooms here instead.’

  ‘We’re better off in that cottage. Now that Mrs Swarbrick has moved into the house, we can see her any time we like without having to dodge her stepson, the young Hamlet.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘He’s the main character in Shakespeare’s play of that name,’ said Colbeck. ‘When his father is murdered, he’s horrified to hear that his mother has married again without mourning the death of her husband properly. In Swarbrick’s case, it’s his father who married with indecent haste after his first wife died, so you can see the similarity. I won’t continue the analogy because it goes no further than that basic situation. Besides,’ he added, ‘Hamlet is young, highly sensitive and has the best soliloquies ever written by Shakespeare. We can’t really put Swarbrick in that league.’

  ‘According to you, he’s an arrogant bully.’

  ‘That’s the kindest thing I’d say about him.’

  ‘What about the father? Was he the same?’

  ‘Common report has it that he was an exceptional man – a brilliant speaker, a tireless MP, a passionate believer in the future of the railway system and a thoroughly decent human being.’


  ‘Who could want to kill such a man?’

  ‘We go back to our earlier conclusion, Victor. It must be either someone with a grudge against him or a person wishing to replace him.’

  ‘There is another possibility, sir.’

  ‘I’d be glad to hear it.’

  ‘Instead of looking at the murder victim,’ suggested Leeming, ‘perhaps we should look closer at his wife. Suppose that someone was very attracted to her and saw Swarbrick as an obstacle that had to be removed.’

  ‘That’s an interesting idea,’ said Colbeck, pensively.

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  ‘It wouldn’t be the first time that thwarted love was a motive for murder. I can’t believe that Mrs Swarbrick would ever encourage another man, but she must have been a beautiful woman in her younger days. You can still see vestiges of it.’

  ‘Who would know if she had any other admirers?’

  ‘Mrs Freed might.’

  ‘How much older was Swarbrick than his wife?’

  ‘Oh, it was several years.’

  ‘Do you think that this other man – if there is one – will be younger than her husband?’

  ‘Oh, no,’ said Colbeck without hesitation, ‘I’m inclined to think that he might actually be older than Swarbrick. Since she’s already married one man from another generation, he could be hoping that it gives him a realistic chance of success.’

  Feeling a need for some fresh air, Madeleine joined the nanny when she took Helen out in the pram for a stroll. The two women chatted away and the child contributed a regular salvo of burbles and giggles. It was pleasant to be out in the late afternoon sunshine and Madeleine felt the surge of maternal pride that always came whenever she was in public with her daughter. After following their established route, they turned back into John Islip Street. A cab rolled past them and stopped outside the house. Madeleine was astonished to see Lionel Fairbank alighting from the vehicle. After paying the driver, he caught sight of them approaching, instantly raising his hat.

  ‘What a delightful picture you make!’ he exclaimed.

  ‘Good afternoon,’ said Madeleine. ‘I wasn’t expecting to see you again today.’

  ‘Is that a complaint?’

  ‘No, it isn’t.’

  ‘I’m relieved to hear it.’ He bent solicitously over the pram. ‘And who is this divine little child?’

  ‘It’s my daughter, Helen.’

  ‘How on earth do you manage to produce such wonderful paintings when you have to fulfil all the duties of a mother?’

  ‘It’s very difficult sometimes,’ she admitted. ‘But let’s not stand out here in the street. Please, step into the house.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘I won’t stay. That’s a promise.’

  The nanny wheeled the pram down the side entrance while Madeleine opened the front door with her key. She and Fairbank went into the drawing room, but he refused her invitation to sit down.

  ‘This won’t take long, Mrs Colbeck.’ He beamed at her. ‘I received your letter and I can’t tell you how pleased I was that you accepted my offer. As for the fee, I suggest that I pay half in advance and the rest when the painting is finished.’

  ‘I won’t need any payment beforehand,’ she insisted. ‘Until you’re completely satisfied with what I’ve done, I won’t accept a penny.’

  ‘That’s very noble of you.’

  ‘It’s the way I prefer to work.’

  ‘I’ll be very satisfied with anything that you paint, be assured of that. However, let’s not haggle over the money. What brought me back here was an idea I had. I do hope you’ll forgive my boldness.’

  ‘What idea was it?’

  ‘Well, I’m returning home in a couple of days. I just wondered if there was any chance that you might come with me to make some early sketches of the landscape?’

  ‘Oh, I’m not sure about that,’ she said, uncertainly.

  ‘It’s not a long journey and, of course, you’d have first-class travel both ways. If we left in the morning, you could be safely back home by this time of day.’

  ‘It’s a rather sudden request, Mr Fairbank.’

  ‘Yes, it is, and I apologise profusely for giving you such short notice. But I know you’re anxious to start on the commission as soon as possible and the locomotive I have in mind will steam past the house close to midday. You’d have the opportunity to make a first sketch.’ He shrugged his shoulders. ‘I can see that the notion has no appeal to you. I’m sorry to have suggested it.’

  ‘It did rather come out of the blue, Mr Fairbank.’

  ‘Say no more, dear lady. I’ll bid you farewell.’ He led the way into the hall then turned to her. ‘If you change your mind, please send word to my son’s house.’

  ‘I’ll … think it over,’ she said.

  He smiled. ‘That’s all I ask, Mrs Colbeck.’

  Terence Wardlow paid the penalty for the country walk with Tallis. His arthritis flared up and he could barely hobble around the house. Having got ready for dinner, he felt a greater need than usual for a preprandial drink. Tallis had gone into the garden for another cigar. When his friend went out to join him, he had to grit his teeth against the stabbing pain. Tallis was seated on a bench but there was no sign of a cigar or of its aroma. He was staring fixedly into the distance. Wardlow called out to him but elicited no response. Getting within a couple of yards of him, his host tried again.

  ‘Edward!’ he called, raising his voice. ‘It’s time to come in.’

  Once again, he got no reply and no indication that he’d been heard. Wardlow went slowly around the bench so that he was standing directly in front of Tallis, yet his friend remained wholly unaware of his presence. It was unsettling. Tallis was locked in a private world. Wardlow had to tap him on the shoulder for a reaction and it was not what he’d expected.

  ‘What the devil are you doing?’ roared Tallis, getting to his feet. ‘And who are you, anyway?’

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  When they’d paid another visit to the police station to discuss the deployment of officers on the following day, Colbeck drove off in the direction of their cottage. Leeming was beside him in the trap.

  ‘Mr Freed promised us he wouldn’t get under our feet,’ he said, ‘and he kept that promise.’

  ‘Having such leeway has been a bonus,’ said Colbeck. ‘There’s only one thing that I regret.’

  ‘What’s that, sir?’

  ‘Because of the demands of this case, we’ve had no time to explore Norwich. It has a fascinating history. Back in medieval times, it was a major city.’

  ‘It’s been dwarfed by big industrial towns now.’

  ‘Look around you, Victor. It’s still a flourishing community. Its weaving trade may have declined as a result of stiff competition from the mills of Yorkshire and Lancashire, but other trades are booming here. I remember what Mr Trant told me,’ he went on. ‘Boot and shoe manufacture is on the rise. Then there’s engineering.’

  ‘What about brewing?’

  ‘That, too, is thriving.’

  ‘It’s a pity we can’t take advantage of it,’ said Leeming, soulfully.

  ‘You’ll have to survive on surreptitious visits to the Rib of Beef.’

  ‘I like a drink at the end of the day.’

  ‘The water here is excellent.’

  Leeming pulled a face in disgust. When they reached the estate, the gatekeeper unlocked the iron gates and swung them open. The ride to the cottage took them past the main house but the sound of raised voices made them stop beside it. An angry altercation was taking place on the doorstep. Supported by a manservant, Cecil Freed was trying to send Andrew Swarbrick on his way. The visitor was refusing to leave.

  ‘I gave orders to the gatekeeper that you weren’t to be allowed in,’ yelled Freed.

  ‘That’s why I found another way of getting on to your property. And having got this far,’ warned Swarbrick, ‘I’m not leaving until I’m allowed to see my stepmother.’

 
‘She’s not well, Andrew.’

  ‘I don’t believe that.’

  ‘Go away and stop bothering us.’

  ‘I’m coming in.’

  Lurching forward, he pushed Freed aside and tried to get into the house. The servant grappled with him. Swarbrick threw him so violently against the side of the porch that the man released his hold. Before he could dart into the house, however, Swarbrick felt himself being grabbed from behind by strong arms. Leeming had jumped from the trap to intervene. During his years in uniform, breaking up fights had been a regular exercise for him and he’d become expert at it. Though Swarbrick shouted, struggled and made vile threats, Leeming held him in a grip of iron. Freed stepped forward.

  ‘Thank heaven you came, inspector!’ he exclaimed. ‘Andrew turned up drunk and demanded to see his stepmother.’

  ‘Let go of me, you thug!’ cried Swarbrick.

  ‘You’ll have to calm down first, sir,’ said Colbeck, ‘or Sergeant Leeming will arrest you for assault.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous! I was simply exercising my rights.’

  ‘You attacked Mr Freed and fought with his servant. Had we not arrived in time to stop you storming into the house, you’d have caused your stepmother great alarm.’

  ‘It’s no more than she deserves!’

  ‘Go home, Andrew,’ said Freed. ‘We’ll discuss this tomorrow.’

  ‘I want to discuss it now. Do you know what that scheming bitch has done?’ Mustering his strength, he tried to shake Leeming off but was held firmly. ‘Get this idiot off me!’

  ‘You are the one exhibiting signs of idiocy, sir,’ said Colbeck, coolly. ‘We overheard you boasting that you broke into the estate. That means we can add a charge of trespass to your list of offences.’

  ‘That won’t be necessary,’ said Freed, displaying both palms. ‘I just want him kept off my property. We promised to protect Grace from him and that’s what we’ll continue to do.’

  ‘It’s so unfair!’ howled Swarbrick, giving up.

  Colbeck took over. ‘You can let him go, Sergeant,’ he said.