11 - Ticket to Oblivion Page 29

  ‘I can’t do it,’ said Imogen, pulling back. ‘It’s impossible in this dress.’

  ‘Lift it up and tuck it in. That’s what I’ll do.’

  ‘What if we fall?’

  ‘We won’t fall if we take care. Please hurry. They’ll be here any moment.’

  Imogen was in two minds. Part of her wanted to follow her maid’s bold plan of escape. Their room was on the first floor. The roof of an extension was only feet below. It would be relatively easy to climb onto it. Getting down to the ground from there would be more problematical. Rhoda was so eager to get away that she was even prepared to jump from the roof. Imogen’s desire for escape was balanced by her fear of injury and retribution. Even if she got to the ground without tearing her dress or breaking an ankle, she couldn’t expect to outrun the two men. They would catch the fugitives and punish them accordingly. Rhoda’s scheme consisted of leaving the hotel and hiding nearby but they had no idea where they were or what cover was available.

  ‘We must go now,’ insisted Rhoda, trying to instil some confidence in her. ‘What they have in mind for us may be far worse than what we’ve already suffered. They think they’ve broken our spirits, but they haven’t.’

  ‘No,’ said Imogen, reviving. ‘They haven’t.’

  ‘I’ll help you out of the window.’

  ‘You go first, Rhoda. I’ll follow you.’

  Clambering onto the roof with a dress to hamper her was not easy but Rhoda did it eventually. She turned to help Imogen, advising her not to look down and guiding her with both hands. They were now both on the roof of the extension, edging their way to the corner so that they could descend by means of a thick drainpipe. When they got to the second stage of their flight, they heard an ominous sound. Someone was trying to get into their room. Their fortifications were holding firm but the door was being rattled with ferocity. Suddenly, the noise stopped.

  Terrified of being caught, Rhoda changed her plan. She lay face down on the roof and lowered herself slowly backwards until she was hanging from the guttering. She then let go and dropped heavily to the ground, jarring both legs as she did so but causing no real injury. She begged Imogen to do the same thing and the latter copied her maid, soiling her dress as she worked her way down the roof then dangling from the guttering. Rhoda reached up to steady her.

  ‘Leave go now,’ she said.

  Imogen obeyed and dropped to the ground, falling over but so pleased to have got free that she almost shouted with joy. Rhoda helped her up and they hugged each other excitedly.

  ‘We did it,’ said Imogen. ‘We did it, Rhoda.’

  When they tried to run off, however, Whiteside was blocking their way.

  ‘Where do you think you’re going?’ he asked, menacingly.

  The return to Crewe brought memories rushing back for all three of them. Years before, it had been the scene of an incident that set the detectives off on one of their most challenging assignments. When a trunk was being unloaded from the roof of a railway carriage, it fell and landed on a large hat box, breaking the strap so that the lid flipped open. Out of the hatbox rolled a human head. It had taken Colbeck and Leeming a long time to match a dead body to it and to identify a killer. In the later stages of the investigation, Madeleine had more than proved her worth. The severed head at Crewe station had taken them all the way to that year’s Derby at Epsom. The present case, they felt certain, would involve a different itinerary.

  While he went off to the police station, Colbeck left Madeleine in the waiting room with Leeming. Sergeant Dean was very helpful, especially when he realised to whom he was talking. He’d been a humble constable when Colbeck was in the town investigating the earlier murder and had been very impressed by the thoroughness of the Railway Detective. To be able to assist him now was in the nature of an honour. Dean told his visitor everything he’d already heard from Alban Kee with a few minor discrepancies. Colbeck was curious.

  ‘What did you make of Mr Kee?’

  ‘Is he a friend of yours?’ asked Dean, cautiously.

  ‘No, he’s far from it, Sergeant.’

  ‘Then my impression was that he didn’t tell me the full truth, sir. Like you, I’m used to listening to people giving long accounts of crimes and I’ve learnt to pick out the wheat from the chaff. In fairness,’ he went on, ‘there wasn’t much chaff with Mr Kee’s story but I thought I detected some.’

  ‘I think that you’re about to confirm my own reservations,’ said Colbeck. ‘What seemed perverse to me was that he should try to hide in a ditch which was difficult to get out of when he would have had far better protection behind the hedge on the other side of the field.’

  ‘That’s exactly what I was about to say, Inspector. Mr Kee gave me the precise location so I rode out there to investigate the site. Nobody would choose the ditch over the hedge.’

  ‘What did you infer from that?’

  ‘Well,’ said Dean, rubbing the side of his nose with a finger, ‘I think he was behind that hedge but was somehow prevented from interfering. He lied to us.’

  ‘You’ve sound instincts, Sergeant.’

  ‘Thank you, sir. But I discovered something else that may help you. When I drove back to the railway station, I timed the journey. The stables which they’d used are very close. Mr Kee gave me the exact time of the murder and the kidnappers would have gone immediately to the station. Allowing time for them to return what they’d hired,’ said Dean, reaching for a sheet of paper on his desk, ‘I had a rough idea of the first train they’d be able to catch.’

  ‘They certainly wouldn’t have wanted to linger in Crewe,’ said Colbeck, ‘because they’d know the murder would soon be reported by Kee.’

  Dean handed over the paper. ‘This is a list of trains that left here in the hour after they’d returned to the stables. My guess,’ said Dean, ‘is that, before they met up with Mr Tunnadine, they’d already booked tickets.’ Colbeck scanned the list. ‘Is that of any use to you, Inspector?’

  ‘It’s invaluable. I congratulate you.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  ‘I think I know exactly the train that they took.’

  ‘How did you work that out, sir?’

  ‘It was my first thought,’ said Colbeck, ‘and you’ve given me the evidence to buttress it. The men we’re after are former soldiers – Captain Whiteside and Sergeant Cullen. They’ve extracted a substantial amount of money out of two separate people, one of whom they shot dead. What they need now is a hiding place.’

  ‘That’s true.’

  ‘They’ve chosen somewhere they think we’re unlikely to find them.’

  ‘Have you worked out where it might be?’

  ‘I think so. Our superintendent searched army records to identify these two individuals. They’re deserters who live on their wits. Manus Cullen was born in Dublin. This is the train they caught,’ decided Colbeck, tapping the sheet of paper. ‘It would have taken them to Holyhead. They were on their way to Ireland.’

  Choppy water made the crossing very unpleasant. The one time that Imogen and Rhoda had been afloat before was on the placid surface of a lake where the pull of the oars caused the only ripples. The sea was altogether more aggressive, hurling its waves at the side of the vessel as if indignant that anyone should dare to ride upon its back. Both of them felt so sick that all they could think about was the heaving of their stomachs. Terence Whiteside, on the other hand, suffering no discomfort, was very much aware of their escape attempt and vowed that they wouldn’t be given a second chance to get away. While they were on board, of course, there was no possibility of flight but he nevertheless separated them so that they could not devise a plot. He and Imogen sat side by side in a tiny cabin while Cullen and Rhoda were seated on deck together. As long as the women were kept apart, they’d never try to run away.

  They were in sight of the Irish coast before Imogen’s queasiness slowly abated. She finally found her voice again.

  ‘Why did you have to kill Mr Tunnadine?’ s
he asked.

  ‘I didn’t do so, Imogen,’ he reminded her. ‘It was the sergeant who fired the shot. Mr Tunnadine disobeyed his instructions, you see. He not only had a weapon on him, he brought an accomplice who hid behind the hedge ready to shoot at me. His name was Alban Kee. After he’d knocked the gentleman out, the sergeant relieved him of his business card as well as the two weapons he carried. In other words,’ he argued, ‘Tunnadine had planned to have us killed by his accomplice. We acted in self-defence.’

  ‘What you did was appalling.’

  ‘Your memory is letting you down, Imogen.’

  ‘You both deserve to be hanged.’

  ‘We’ve escaped the noose before,’ he said with a laugh, ‘and will no doubt do so many times more. But I obviously need to remind you of some of the things you said in your letters. You didn’t love Tunnadine. In fact, you grew to dislike him intensely and feared being married to him. I was a far more acceptable bridegroom.’

  ‘That was before I knew your true character.’

  ‘Oh, you still have a lot to learn about me yet, Imogen,’ he warned. ‘We are going to live together in a fine house as man and wife – except that our union will not be blessed by the church. Don’t let that trouble you. “Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds.” You’ll be a wife in reality if not in the eyes of God.’

  ‘Never!’ she said, recoiling from him. ‘I hate you for what you did.’

  He chuckled. ‘Then I’ll have to woo you all over again, won’t I?’

  ‘I’d die sooner than let you touch me.’

  ‘That’s not a practical alternative for you at the moment,’ he said, seizing her arm. ‘You’ll do exactly what I want when I want it. At the same time, naturally, your maid will be obliging the sergeant. We were annoyed when you tried to escape from that hotel in Anglesey but we were also rather pleased.’

  Imogen was astonished. ‘Pleased?’

  ‘Yes, it showed that the pair of you had more spirit than we’d imagined. That was an interesting discovery. I like spirit in a woman. All my previous “wives” have had that, Imogen,’ he told her with a grin. ‘Take heart from the fact that you’ll be keeping up a noble tradition.’

  Madeleine Colbeck was not looking forward to the short voyage. While she was delighted to be working alongside her husband, the prospect of sailing across what looked like a turbulent sea was rather forbidding. Her anxieties were negligible compared to those of Victor Leeming. He was squirming in sheer terror. Even though he’d once sailed with Colbeck to New York and back, he was no experienced sailor. In fact, that voyage had made him resolve never to leave dry land again but he had no choice. His only hope was that a mistake had been made and that the fugitives had not, after all, fled to Ireland. He and Madeleine stood on the windswept quay and watched the waves pounding remorselessly away. Gulls wheeled and dipped in the air above them, their piercing cries making conversation difficult for Leeming and Madeleine. They were surrounded by scores of other passengers who’d made the journey to Holyhead.

  It was a long time before Colbeck eventually returned. Madeleine was relieved to see him at last and Leeming was praying that he’d tell them their visit to Ireland was unnecessary. In fact, however, he was waving something in his hand.

  ‘I’ve booked our passages,’ he said. ‘We’ll be sailing within the hour.’

  ‘The sea is far too rough, sir,’ protested Leeming.

  ‘You’ll soon get used to that once we’re aboard, Victor.’

  ‘Are you sure that they went to Ireland?’ asked Madeleine.

  ‘Yes,’ replied her husband. ‘I’ve just spoken to the booking clerk. It looks as if they’re travelling as two couples. The names of Mr and Mrs Terence Whiteside were in the book alongside those of Mr and Mrs Manus Cullen. From the point of view of the ladies, I fear, they’re very much unholy alliances.’

  The wind stiffened and the waves continued to lash the quayside, prompting the apprehensive Leeming into a whole series of protests. Madeleine’s qualms were stilled now that she was holding her husband’s arm. She began to see the voyage as an adventure. When their vessel finally arrived and unloaded its passengers, they joined the long queue that filed aboard. None of them looked over their shoulder to see the last passenger step out of the shadows in order to join the ship.

  Alban Kee was determined not to miss out on the chase.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Win Eagleton knew how to choose her moment. She busied herself in the kitchen until all her chores had been done, then she went in search of him. Vernon Tolley was leaning against the carriage, pressing tobacco into his clay pipe before he lit it. He puffed hard for a few seconds. The horses stood between the shafts in readiness for instant departure, should they be called upon. Nobody else was about as Win padded across the courtyard. Wrapped up in thought, the coachman was completely unaware of her approach. It was only when she stood directly in front of him that he knew that she was there.

  ‘I know what you’re thinking,’ she said with a sympathetic smile.

  ‘Do you?’

  ‘Yes, Vernon, you’re thinking about that hat in the Mickleton Tunnel.’

  ‘That wasn’t on my mind at all, Win,’ he said. ‘I was just wondering when Sir Marcus would need me again. I was told to stand by.’

  ‘Where is he going?’

  ‘He may not be going anywhere. The situation seems to change by the hour.’

  ‘You know about Mr Tunnadine, don’t you?’ she said in a whisper. ‘They were overheard talking about it at breakfast. What an awful thing to happen to him! He was shot dead. The wedding will not take place now, but then,’ she added, slyly, ‘I don’t suppose that it would ever have done so.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, they’re not coming back, are they?’

  ‘Don’t say that, Win!’ he protested.

  ‘It’s no good pretending.’

  ‘That’s not what I’m doing.’

  ‘Both of them disappear, Rhoda’s hat is found in a tunnel and a man is murdered in cold blood. If that doesn’t convince you, what will?’

  ‘I’m busy,’ he said, moving away. ‘You’ll have to excuse me.’

  She followed him across the yard. ‘But you’re only waiting for Sir Marcus.’

  ‘I’d prefer to do it alone.’

  ‘Why are you always avoiding me?’

  He stopped and faced her. ‘I’m not avoiding you, Win. I just want to be left on my own. I have things to think about.’

  ‘But that’s why I came, Vernon. I hate to see you moping.’

  ‘I’m not moping.’

  ‘Yes, you are and you’ve been doing it for days. I simply want to help you.’

  ‘You can do that best by letting me get on with my job.’

  ‘Smoking a pipe and resting against the carriage – what kind of work is that?’

  ‘I may be needed at any moment.’

  ‘It’s not only Sir Marcus who needs you,’ she said, softly. ‘We all do, Vernon. Everyone in the kitchen is worried about you. We know what Rhoda meant to you and we’re so sorry that she’ll never …’ Feigning grief, she used the back of her hand to wipe away a tear. ‘I loved her as well. That’s why I’m in mourning, too.’

  ‘Rhoda is not dead,’ he insisted.

  ‘No, no, of course not,’ she said, hurriedly. ‘She’s still alive and so is Miss Imogen. They’ll come back very soon and we’ll all be happy. It’s wrong to let the waiting get us down. We must be patient. However,’ she added, ‘we have to be ready just in case anything does go wrong.’ She inhaled deeply. ‘I’ve always loved the smell of your tobacco. Whenever you light that pipe, I like to be near you.’

  After a last puff, he tapped the pipe against his heel and the tobacco spilt onto the ground. He put the pipe in his pocket and looked her in the eye.

  ‘Yes,’ he said with slow deliberation, ‘there is a chance that Rhoda may never come back. There is a chance that something bad has happe
ned to them. I accept that. If that’s the way it is, then I know exactly what I’d do.’

  ‘What’s that, Vernon?’

  ‘I’d leave Burnhope Manor and look for work elsewhere. I’d move far away, Win. There’s nothing to keep me here.’

  Stung by the rebuff, she turned on her heel and scuttled back to the kitchen.

  Tolley was glad to have shaken her off. Alone at last, he sighed deeply.

  ‘Where are you, Rhoda?’ he pleaded. ‘Where are you?’

  Rhoda Wills took the warning seriously. She’d crossed the Irish Sea with a large number of passengers but she’d been told what would happen if she tried to shout for help. Cullen never left her side. When he sat beside her, she could feel the pistol beneath his coat. It had already accounted for Tunnadine. If she disobeyed orders, Rhoda knew that she could be the next victim. At any other time, a visit to Dublin would have excited her but she left the vessel with dread in her heart. What caused her most anxiety was that she and Imogen were kept apart. Cullen hustled her into a cab and they were taken to a nearby hotel with the luggage. When he booked two rooms, her hopes rose slightly. She was to be reunited with Imogen, after all. They could offer each other solace.

  Instead, she was conducted to a room at the top of the hotel and pushed into it by Cullen. The first thing he did was to drag her across to the window.

  ‘The most beautiful city in the world is out there, Rhoda,’ he said, beaming, ‘but don’t even think of exploring it by trying to run away again. It’s a very long way down to the ground, as you can see. You’d be dead as soon as you hit the pavement.’

  ‘Where are the others?’

  ‘You just worry about yourself.’

  ‘I want to know where Miss Imogen is.’

  ‘She disappeared the moment we boarded the vessel,’ he said with a smile. ‘She’s Mrs Whiteside now and she’ll soon be entertaining her husband in the room next door. You’ll stay here until your own husband is ready for you.’ He bared his teeth. ‘Goodbye, Mrs Cullen.’