Points of Danger Read online

  ‘I never lose my control like that,’ he insisted.

  ‘You were inebriated, Andrew.’

  ‘That’s what appalled me the most. I am, habitually, a moderate drinker. I suppose that fact led to my downfall. Because I’m not used to excessive amounts of alcohol, it had a much stronger effect on me.’

  ‘That’s possible,’ said Freed. ‘Count yourself fortunate that my wife didn’t come to the door when we heard you caterwauling outside. As well as receiving a lecture on the virtues of temperance, you’d have had a bucket of cold water poured over you.’

  ‘I’d have deserved it.’

  ‘Anthea was quite disgusted by what she could hear.’

  ‘I’ve written a letter of apology to her,’ said Swarbrick, ‘and I’ve sent a similar one to my stepmother. I’ve given a firm undertaking that I won’t come anywhere near your house again.’

  ‘You won’t be allowed to, believe me. The gateman and the household staff are now on the alert. One of the servants found the gap you created in the fence so that you could get on to my land. It’s been mended and reinforced.’

  ‘Send me the bill. I’ll pay it instantly.’

  ‘There are some things you can’t repair with money,’ said Freed, sharply. ‘One of them is my wife’s low opinion of you and the other is my loss of confidence in you as the person best qualified to replace your father in the House.’

  ‘Don’t say that!’

  ‘Oliver Trant would never descend to antics in the way you did.’

  ‘I’ve got to secure that nomination, Cecil.’

  ‘How do you intend to go about it – by turning up at people’s front doors and threatening violence if they don’t vote for you?’

  Swarbrick’s head dropped to his chest. The assertiveness he’d shown since returning to Norwich had seeped away in its entirety. What remained was a pathetic need for forgiveness. Freed was in no mood to provide it. Walking across to his visitor, he stood over him.

  ‘Your father would have been revolted by what you did last night,’ he said with disgust. ‘He and I had to withstand many stormy meetings together, but it never made him reach for the bottle. Dignity was his watchword. Whatever the circumstances, dignity had to be preserved.’

  Swarbrick looked up. ‘You don’t need to tell me that.’

  ‘Somebody has to, Andrew. The simple truth is that you’re not and can never be a second Jarvis Swarbrick. I think you should abandon all hope of a parliamentary career.’

  ‘No!’ exclaimed the other, rising to his feet. ‘I refuse to do so. The House of Commons is not full of saints, you know. My father told me that some members only go there to frequent the bars. All right,’ he went on, ‘I was in a deplorable state last night. I confess it. In my case, it was a rare lapse. For some MPs, drunkenness is a permanent condition.’

  ‘I don’t care about other constituencies,’ said Freed, vehemently, ‘but I do care about this one. On the basis of what I saw last night, it needs to be protected from you.’

  ‘That’s unfair!’

  ‘Inspector Colbeck was right. You should, by rights, have been charged with assault and trespass. A night in a police cell should have been the least that you suffered.’

  Swarbrick winced. He walked around the room as he tried to gather his thoughts. When he spoke, his voice was much firmer.

  ‘Father was always very grateful towards you, Cecil.’

  ‘He had good reason to be.’

  ‘He said you were the only person he could confide in.’

  ‘I know how to keep a secret, Andrew.’

  ‘His death removes the need for them,’ said Swarbrick, ‘so please tell me this. Did he ever speak to you about my inheritance?’

  ‘Yes, he did.’

  ‘And was the house ever mentioned?’ Freed looked away. ‘Please, Cecil, I need to know. I was the intended recipient, wasn’t I? He as good as told me that.’

  ‘Then you don’t need my confirmation.’

  ‘Yes, I do. I need it very badly.’

  Freed faced him again. ‘Your father did plan to leave it to you. I was amazed to learn that he changed his mind because it was so unusual for him to do so. The last time we spoke about it,’ he said, ‘the terms of the will remained very much in your favour.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said the other, moving towards the door. ‘That’s all I want to know.’

  ‘Where are you going?’

  Swarbrick spun round, shoulders back and jaw thrust out. ‘I’m going to fight for what is truly mine,’ he said.

  It was not until he headed back towards the railway station that Leeming sensed that somebody was tailing him. He paused from time to time to look at a shop window, using it as a mirror to see if there was anyone behind him. Even though nobody was ever there, his doubts were never allayed. Leeming did his best not to advertise his suspicion. If his shadow became aware that his presence had been discovered, he’d vanish into thin air. The sergeant therefore strolled along with a casual air before turning in through the main entrance to the station. When he went straight to the appropriate platform, he could almost feel the person closing in on him. Leeming had no idea who was there but he guessed why he was being followed.

  He believed that he’d picked up the trail of the killer. That meant he was in possession of dangerous knowledge, something that would send everyone involved in the crime to the gallows. The person behind him, he believed, wanted to stop him passing on the information. Thinking that the man would do anything to silence him, Leeming braced himself for an attack as he mingled with the crowd on the platform. The train then approached, passengers surged forward and he suddenly felt heavy pressure on his back. Wheeling around at speed, he grabbed the person behind him in the firm conviction that he was holding a would-be assailant. Instead, he had his arms around a portly woman in her sixties. Her scream was deafening.

  Since he’d returned from his visit, Terence Wardlow had hardly spoken a word to his friend. He felt too embarrassed. His attempt to pass off Kitson as a retired stockbroker had not fooled Tallis for one second. He’d known from the moment he’d met him that Kitson was a doctor. Wardlow wished that he’d been more honest with his guest. Afternoon found them seated together in the garden. Tallis had deliberately chosen a bench that faced in the opposite direction to Canterbury.

  With an effort, Wardlow finally mastered his discomfort.

  ‘I owe you an apology, Edward,’ he said.

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Kitson was here under false pretences.’

  ‘I, too, was guilty of pretence,’ said Tallis. ‘Kitson was pretending not to be the doctor he so obviously was and I pretended not to notice his brave attempt at deceiving me.’

  Wardlow was shocked. ‘You knew all the time?’

  ‘Of course, I did.’

  ‘But you asked me what he’d done for a living.’

  ‘I was teasing you, Terence. I can detect a doctor at ten paces. It’s a noble profession and I’d never say that about stockbroking.’ They shared a laugh and the tension eased. ‘Let’s go back to the question I asked you earlier. What was Kitson’s diagnosis?’

  ‘He felt that you were fatigued and desperately in need of a holiday.’

  ‘Holiday?’ repeated Tallis. ‘There’s no such word in my lexicon.’

  ‘Then there ought to be.’

  ‘I only function properly when I’m at work.’

  ‘Sadly, that’s not true,’ said Wardlow. ‘Let me speak frankly.’

  Tallis was waspish. ‘I was hoping you’d get round to it in the end.’

  ‘You’ve every right to criticise me, Edward. In my own defence, let me say that you don’t make it easy for anyone to help you.’

  ‘Self-reliance is one of my touchstones.’

  ‘It’s led, in your case, to a dangerous isolation.’

  Wardlow spoke frankly. For the first time, he told him in detail about the incidents that had made Alan Hinton catch a train to Canterbury to p
lead for help on the superintendent’s behalf. Had Tallis been allowed to carry on as he was, his condition would have deteriorated to the point where the commissioner would have had no alternative to dismissal.

  Tallis was disturbed. ‘Was I really that bad?’

  ‘I’ve only seen glimpses of it. Constable Hinton saw far more examples of your – let’s call it by its name – decline. You’re patently not the man you were when you first came here last December. You were brimming with good health.’

  ‘Yes, I was – in every way. I want to be like that again.’

  ‘You will be, Edward.’

  There was a noticeable lack of conviction in Wardlow’s voice. Now that his ruse had been exposed, he was not sure how to proceed. The one thing he had to avoid was provoking his guest in any way. Tallis was unstable enough. He had to be handled with extreme care. Talk turned to the flower beds in the garden and Wardlow regretted that he was no longer able to take any part in tending them. Pointing to various flowers in turn, Tallis tried to identify them. More often than not, he failed. But at least they’d moved into neutral territory. Conversation became easier. Half an hour glided past effortlessly.

  Tallis then stiffened. ‘Where’s Colbeck’s report?’ he demanded.

  ‘You’re not in the office now,’ said Wardlow, gently.

  ‘He knows that I like to keep informed of every development.’

  ‘I’m sure that the inspector is working hard in Norwich.’

  ‘Then why have I had no telegraph from him?’

  ‘You’re having a rest, Edward.’

  ‘I never rest.’

  ‘Try to forget Scotland Yard completely.’

  ‘Don’t be ridiculous, man. It’s where I work and where I’m entitled to the respect due to my rank. Colbeck is at fault and needs admonishing.’ He snapped his fingers as if dealing with a servant. ‘Find me the time of the next train to Norwich. I must go there immediately.’

  Wardlow didn’t move. Alarmed by the suddenness of the radical change in his friend’s behaviour, he had no idea what to do. The man who’d been calmly discussing the flower beds only a minute ago was now wild-eyed and agitated. If he continued to have such lightning alterations of mood, Wardlow knew that he wouldn’t be able to keep him there indefinitely. He had neither the resources nor the training to look after him. One of London’s finest detectives would have to be confined to an asylum.

  ‘When was this?’ asked Colbeck.

  ‘Earlier today,’ said Jellings. ‘Mr Trant came into the police station to find out if there’d been any developments.’

  ‘Why didn’t he ask me?’

  ‘I think he felt that he’d get more luck here, inspector. Trant has a lot of status in this city. We all look up to him whereas you don’t have any need to do so. He couldn’t apply any pressure to you.’

  ‘I’d never allow anybody to do that,’ said Colbeck, evenly. ‘Why didn’t you tell him that we were still in the early stages?’

  ‘He wanted chapter and verse regarding our progress.’

  ‘Did you give it to him?’

  ‘I had to tell him something to get rid of him, sir.’

  ‘That’s all right, Jellings. I don’t blame you.’

  They were in the inspector’s office and Oliver Trant had suddenly come to Colbeck’s attention once more. He was struck by the urgency with which Trant had sought information and could see why Jellings had been forced into releasing more of it than he’d wanted.

  ‘Have you ever had any trouble from him?’ asked Colbeck.

  ‘He does like us to tug our forelocks to him and know our places,’ said Jellings with slight bitterness, ‘but that’s true of all the members of that particular breed.’

  ‘Was it true of Jarvis Swarbrick?’

  ‘To tell you the truth, he was the worst of them.’

  ‘That doesn’t accord with what Mr Freed told me about him.’

  ‘He was never on the receiving end,’ said Jellings, ‘whereas I was. However,’ he added, ‘I’m speaking out of turn. I’m sorry.’

  ‘No, no, please go on.’

  ‘I don’t wish to speak ill of the dead, sir.’

  ‘But you may be holding back something that may be of use to me. That would be very regrettable.’

  ‘What I could tell you is irrelevant to this investigation.’

  ‘Nevertheless, I’d very much like to hear it. Anything about the murder victim, however trivial, is of interest to me. What we’ve been told is that Mr Swarbrick was a popular figure here. Do you agree?’

  ‘Yes, I do. He was an impressive politician.’

  ‘Was he equally impressive as a human being?’

  Jellings was guarded. ‘Like all of us, he had his failings.’

  ‘But he was not like all of us, was he?’ said Colbeck. ‘He lived in a world of privilege. It’s something that you and I can only see from the outside. Jarvis Swarbrick was a patrician. He enjoyed wealth, position and power. And he had a beautiful wife at his side.’

  ‘That wasn’t always the case, inspector.’

  ‘I thought that Mrs Swarbrick supported him to the full.’

  ‘Only when he wanted her to be there,’ said Jellings. Conscious that he’d said too much, he tried to back away. ‘Anyway, that’s all in the past. Nothing can be served by digging it up again.’

  ‘If it’s something that helps me to understand Mr Swarbrick better, then it needs digging up.’

  ‘It’s … best forgotten, sir.’

  ‘Keep talking,’ said Colbeck, watching him intently. ‘Is this to do with that world of privilege he inhabited?’

  ‘Yes, it was.’

  ‘What happened?’

  Jellings shuffled his feet and looked uneasy. Having got himself into an awkward situation, he tried to talk his way out of it but Colbeck refused to let him do so. In the end, Jellings capitulated.

  ‘It was a couple of years ago.’

  ‘I’m listening.’

  ‘Late one night, I led a raid on some premises in the more affluent part of the city. We’d received reports that gentlemen were seen late at night visiting the house.’

  ‘I can guess who one of those gentlemen must have been.’

  ‘What could we do? Had we released his name, Swarbrick would have denied it and I would’ve been stripped of my rank. You can’t fight privilege. It always wins. He got away with it.’

  ‘This was when he was married to his second wife.’

  ‘Yes, it was. I felt sorry for her. Why ever did he do it?’ asked Jellings. ‘He had everything.’

  Colbeck remembered something Andrew Swarbrick had told him.

  ‘I wonder …’

  Extricating himself from an awkward situation took Victor Leeming so much time that he missed the train altogether. It pulled out while he was still apologising to the woman, assuring her scandalised husband that he had not been deliberately molesting her and trying to ignore the hostile stares of the passengers all around him. When the train was in motion, the stationmaster came over and threatened to call the police. Leeming took out his warrant card and waved it under the man’s nose.

  ‘As you can see, I’m employed by the Metropolitan Police Force.’

  ‘That card could be a forgery,’ said the stationmaster.

  Leeming was irate. ‘Do I look like a criminal?’

  ‘Frankly, sir, you do.’

  ‘I’m a detective assigned to a murder case. You must have heard about Mr Swarbrick, shot dead in a train at Norwich station. I came to Yarmouth as part of our investigation.’

  ‘What made you think you were licensed to grab an innocent lady in that way?’

  ‘I thought she was the person dogging my footsteps.’

  ‘This sounds very fishy to me, sir.’

  ‘It’s the truth,’ said Leeming.

  ‘You’ll have to be detained until we can sort this out.’

  ‘There’s a very easy way to do that. You have a telegraph station here. Why not send a
message to inspector Colbeck in Norwich, asking for confirmation that I’m working on the case with him?’

  The stationmaster was dubious. ‘I might do that, I suppose.’

  ‘He’ll speak up for me.’

  ‘I’ll get one of the railway policemen to take charge of you while I’m away.’

  Leeming was incensed. ‘You don’t need to do that, man!’

  ‘It’s to prevent you running away, sir.’

  ‘Why would I do that? I’m here to catch a train to Norwich. If it hadn’t been for an unfortunate mistake, I’d be on my way there now.’

  ‘The lady made a complaint and so did her husband.’

  ‘I apologised to them time and again.’

  ‘You had no right to molest her.’

  ‘It was an accident,’ said Leeming, trying hard to bank down his frustration. ‘Now please go and send that telegraph. When it finally reaches inspector Colbeck, he’ll explain who I am and what I’m doing here. Off you go,’ he added. ‘I give you my word that I won’t move from this spot or,’ he couldn’t resist adding, ‘take liberties with another female passenger.’

  The stationmaster eyed him shrewdly. After a few minutes of cogitation, he accepted Leeming’s explanation and realised that he could assist a murder investigation. It gave him a sense of importance.

  ‘The next train is in fifty minutes, Sergeant Leeming,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry for the misunderstanding.’

  The moment his shift finished, Alan Hinton took a cab to Westminster and called at the Colbeck residence. To his delight, Lydia was still there. She explained the predicament that Madeleine was in and he agreed to make enquiries immediately. First, however, he had questions to put.

  ‘Did the gentleman know who your husband is, Mrs Colbeck?’

  ‘No,’ replied Madeleine.

  ‘Did he ask where he might be?’

  ‘As a matter of fact, he did. I said that he was away on business.’

  ‘Solving a murder is hardly just business,’ observed Lydia. ‘On reflection, it might have been better if you’d told him the truth.’

  ‘I explained it to you before,’ said Madeleine. ‘Where my work is concerned, Robert insists on staying out of sight. He feels that I should be seen as an independent artist rather than someone’s wife.’