Blood on the Line Read online

  After spending the night in Wolverhampton, the two detectives began the day by walking to the railway station. The town was still in a state of shock after the turn of events. People were grim, silent and fearful. They moved about as if in a daze. Posters had already been put up at the station, offering a reward for information leading to the arrest of Jeremy Oxley. A brief description was given of him. Colbeck and Leeming interviewed the clerk in the booking office. He remembered the young woman who’d arrived late for a train the previous morning and said that he’d issued her with a single ticket to Birmingham. Since he saw so many passengers in the course of a day, he could give only the sketchiest details about her. Like all the employees at the station, he was very apprehensive. Murder on the LNWR was a very bad advertisement for the company. It would inevitably deter some passengers from travelling by rail.

  ‘I hope that you catch him soon, Inspector,’ said the clerk.

  ‘We’ll do our best,’ promised Colbeck.

  ‘Until he’s under lock and key, nobody will feel safe when they travel on the railway.’

  ‘I never feel safe on a train,’ said Leeming under his breath.

  Hiring a cab, the detectives were driven to the tunnel where the murder victims had been tossed onto the line. They climbed a fence and walked across the track. A railway policeman emerged from the tunnel and ordered them to leave at once. His manner became more respectful when he heard that he was talking to detectives from Scotland Yard. His job was to guard that end of the tunnel to prevent those of ghoulish disposition from seeking out the exact point at which the policemen had been mangled by an oncoming train. The other end of the tunnel was also under supervision.

  Lighting a lamp, the man used it to guide his way into the gloom of the tunnel. Colbeck and Leeming walked in single file behind him, their footsteps echoing in the void. When they heard a distant train approaching, they swiftly flattened themselves against the dank wall. The noise got closer and closer, then there was an explosion of sound as the locomotive plunged into the tunnel. The train was only feet away when it shot past, deafening them momentarily and creating a gust of wind that scooped up the dust from the ground. Colbeck and the policeman took it in their stride but Leeming was scared.

  ‘That was too close for comfort,’ he complained.

  ‘You’d never make a railwayman, Victor,’ said Colbeck.

  ‘It’s dangerous being in here.’

  ‘Yes, it is.’ Colbeck brushed dust from his sleeves. ‘My coat will get filthy if that happens again.’

  Their guide led them eventually to the spot where the corpses had been found. He held up the lantern so that they could see that there was still blood on the line. The bodies had been sliced apart by a speeding train. Bob Hungerford, alive when hurled out of the compartment, had died under the wheels of a locomotive. Anxious to get away from the place, Leeming kept glancing up and down the tunnel, wondering from which direction a train would come next. Colbeck, meanwhile, crouched beside the track and ran a hand across it. He did not envy Sergeant Riggs the task of breaking the bad news to the two wives. Reporting a death of any kind to family members was a dismal undertaking and Colbeck had done it many times. Having to pass on details of a horrific murder made it far more disturbing for all concerned. The visit to the tunnel served to reinforce his vow to catch the killers.

  ‘Right,’ said Colbeck, standing up. ‘There’s nothing more we can do here. We have to get to Birmingham.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Leeming.

  ‘I want to look at the compartment in which the crime took place.’

  ‘What can that tell us, Inspector?’

  ‘I don’t know until we get there.’

  They retraced their steps and were grateful that no other trains powered their way through the tunnel. When they got back to their cab, Colbeck asked the driver to take them to the nearest railway station. At Bescot Junction, they caught a local train to Birmingham and got out at New Street. On their last visit to the city, they had arrested a silversmith and his female accomplice, both of whom had later been hanged for their part in a gruesome murder. The place also held happier memories for Colbeck. It was in the wake of the arrest in the Jewellery Quarter that he had proposed to Madeleine and sealed their betrothal by buying her an engagement ring.

  There was no occasion to venture into the city this time. What they wanted was the carriage that had been detached from the train driven by Caleb Andrews a day earlier and shunted into a siding. It was guarded by a railway policeman who had less respect for London detectives than the man who’d taken them into the tunnel. Surly and uncooperative, he had to be put firmly in his place by Colbeck. Still glaring at them mutinously, he pointed out the relevant compartment. Colbeck climbed up into it with ease then offered a hand to pull Leeming in after him.

  ‘There we are, Victor,’ he said, pointing to a bloodstained coat. ‘There’s evidence here, after all. This must have been discarded by Oxley before he fled.’ He picked the coat up by the collar and looked at the name inside it. ‘This was made by a reputable tailor and you can see its quality. Oxley makes a point of dressing well.’

  Leeming looked at the garment. ‘That coat gives me a good idea of his size. He’s about my height but somewhat slimmer.’

  ‘He couldn’t be seen wearing this when he left the train. That means his accomplice probably brought another one for him to wear. She’s obviously a thoughtful lady.’

  ‘She’s thoughtful and she’s murderous,’ said Leeming as he studied the bloodstains on the seat.

  Putting the coat down, Colbeck sat on the other side of the compartment. ‘She must have been here when they set off,’ he ventured. ‘Oxley and the two policemen were opposite. Even if she had no experience of firing a gun, she could hardly have missed from such close range. But I suspect that most of this blood was shed by Constable Hungerford. My guess is that she hit him with the butt of the pistol. He must have been knocked out before they could heave him off the train.’

  ‘We’re dealing with a very desperate woman, sir.’

  ‘Yet one who must have looked unthreatening at the time. She caught the policeman completely off guard. Had their suspicions been aroused by her appearance, they might still be alive now.’

  Colbeck went through an elaborate mime, shooting someone opposite then getting up and pretending to take part in a struggle with an invisible assailant. He then opened the door and dragged a body across to it. Satisfied that he had reconstructed the crime with some accuracy, he shut the door again.

  ‘What do we do now, Inspector?’ asked Leeming.

  ‘We go our separate ways, Victor.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘You can return to London to report to the superintendent. Rehearse what you’re going to say beforehand. That way, he won’t unsettle you so much.’

  Leeming rolled his eyes. ‘Mr Tallis was born to unsettle me.’

  ‘Console yourself with the thought that you can see your wife and family again this evening. I know how much you hate to spend a night away from Estelle and the children.’

  ‘I miss them, Inspector. Wait until you get married. You’ll begin to understand then.’

  Colbeck smiled. ‘I already do, I assure you.’

  ‘Where will you be?’

  ‘I’ll be searching for Oxley’s accomplice.’

  ‘But you have no idea where to start.’

  ‘Yes, I do,’ said Colbeck. ‘You heard what Constable Marner told us. She’s a Manchester girl.’

  ‘It’s a big city, sir. You could spend a lifetime hunting for her there. And that’s assuming that she’s actually in Manchester.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter if she is or if she isn’t, Victor.’

  Leeming was baffled. ‘I don’t follow.’

  ‘If she’s working with Jerry Oxley, the chances are that she’s no novice. He’d always choose someone with experience.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘She’ll have a criminal record,’ said Colbeck. ‘The
police up there will know of her even if they’ve never managed to arrest the woman. I want to put a name to her face, then we can start looking for her in earnest. She’s the person who’ll lead us to Oxley,’ he added, holding up the coat once more. ‘Find her and we’ll find the man who used to wear this.’

  Jeremy Oxley had learnt to travel light. When he’d committed a crime, he immediately moved away from the area and went to ground for a while before selecting his next target. In the course of his travels, he would either stay in hotels under an assumed name or in the homes of criminal associates. Since he was an expert at his trade, he always had plenty of money to buy whatever he needed and to indulge the latest women in his life. Irene had lasted much longer than any of her predecessors. She had never stayed at hotels of such quality before but quickly adapted to her good fortune. Oxley was impressed by the fact that she was the least acquisitive of his mistresses. While others had demanded jewellery and other gifts, Irene was content simply to be with him and to take part in his exploits. The thrill of acting as his accessory was enough for her.

  After almost a year of uninterrupted success, their luck had finally run out in Wolverhampton and Oxley had been arrested. His faith in Irene had been justified. Taking risks and displaying careful forethought, she’d rescued him on a train and earned his profound admiration. What pleased him was that she was no longer agonising over the murder of two policemen. She had not mentioned them all morning.

  ‘Tell me about this Inspector Colbeck,’ she said.

  ‘If you read the newspapers, you wouldn’t need to ask me that. Colbeck has built up a reputation for solving crimes on the railways. He never fails,’ warned Oxley. ‘At least, he doesn’t seem to have done so thus far. His nickname is the Railway Detective.’

  ‘What sort of man is he?’

  ‘I never actually met him. He used to be a barrister.’

  ‘They make lots of money, don’t they?’

  ‘The best ones certainly do.’

  ‘Why did he give up his job to become a policeman?’

  Oxley smirked. ‘I like to think that I might have something to do with that,’ he bragged. ‘Colbeck is prepared to accept much lower pay for the sheer pleasure of catching people like me.’

  They were in their room at a hotel not far from the station. Now that they were alone, Irene wanted to hear more details. She glanced at the report in The Times.

  ‘It says here that the inspector is a master at what he does.’

  ‘The same is true of me, Irene. I’ve managed to stay several steps ahead of Colbeck for a decade now. Not that I’ve been involved in a railway crime before, mind you. That singles me out. He’ll have been delighted to have an excuse to stalk me.’

  ‘How do we keep out of his way?’

  ‘Leave that to me.’

  She put the newspaper aside. ‘Tell me about the woman – the one that you killed.’

  ‘You don’t want to hear about her,’ he said, flicking a hand.

  ‘Yes, I do. What was her name?’

  ‘I’m not even sure that I can remember it. Let me see. It was Helen something. Middleton? No – that wasn’t it, but it’s close.’ He snapped his fingers. ‘I have it – Millington. Her name was Helen Millington. She was looking in the window of the shop when I came running out, so she had a clear view of me. Lots of other people did as well,’ he went on, ‘but we managed to frighten the majority of them off with a warning of retribution. Miss Millington was stupid enough to ignore the warning.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘When I escaped from prison, I paid her a visit.’

  ‘So you didn’t have to appear in court.’

  ‘No, Irene – I was free.’

  ‘Then this woman wouldn’t have been able to give evidence against you, would she? Why didn’t you just ignore her?’

  ‘I wanted to send a message to the other people who’d seen me shoot the jeweller. The letters they’d received from a friend of mine were not made up of empty threats. I honoured my promise to kill anyone who spoke against me. Helen Millington had to die.’

  ‘But her death was unnecessary.’

  His eyes blazed. ‘Not to me.’

  Irene was upset. During his time with her, Oxley had avoided any gratuitous violence. He only struck out when – as in the train – it was vital to do so. His ideal crime was one in which nobody got hurt. He’d threatened people with a gun on occasion but she’d never seen him fire it. The thought that he’d hunted down a woman who was no longer a danger to him was unnerving. It revealed an innate brutality that Irene had never discerned before.

  ‘How did you kill her?’ she asked.

  ‘Does it matter?’

  ‘I’d like to know, that’s all.’

  ‘I strangled her with my bare hands,’ he said, calmly. ‘I choked the life out of Helen Millington. It was no more than she deserved. Her family had begged her not to give evidence against me but she was persuaded by Robert Colbeck that it was her duty to do so. If you ask me, he was rather more than just a barrister involved in the case. I fancy that he and Miss Millington became close friends. In killing her, therefore, I gained myself a bitter enemy. Colbeck is the type of man who never forgets.’

  Irene had never felt afraid of him before but she did now. His attitude to his victim was callous and uncaring. Being a member of the fairer sex had not saved Helen Millington. When his temper was roused, it seemed, Oxley would murder indiscriminately. There was blood on Irene’s hands as well, but she took no pride in the fact. Deep down, she was still mortified by what she’d done, wishing there had been an easier way to liberate Oxley. She had been compelled to kill someone, whereas he had done it for the pleasure of revenge.

  ‘I thought you were going to see your father,’ he said. ‘That’s why we came to Manchester, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes, Jerry – I’ll go now.’

  ‘Would you like me to come with you?’

  ‘No,’ she replied, feeling that she’d like some time apart from him for a while. ‘I can manage on my own.’

  For once in his life, Leeming managed to deliver a report to Tallis without repeating himself or stumbling over his words. He was as nervous as ever in front of the superintendent but he’d taken Colbeck’s advice and made notes of what he was going to say. Tallis was pleased with the lucidity of his account but disappointed in their apparent lack of progress.

  ‘You seem to have made little headway in the case,’ he said.

  ‘We are still gathering evidence, sir.’

  ‘What are your orders?’

  ‘I’m to remain here until Inspector Colbeck returns. He’s making enquiries in Manchester today. One thing is clear already,’ he pointed out. ‘This is going to be a complicated investigation. The case is not going to be solved in five minutes.’

  ‘I realise that, man,’ said Tallis. ‘There’ll be travelling involved and you and Colbeck will be at full stretch. I’ve decided that you need some assistance.’

  Leeming blenched. ‘You’re not to take charge of the case yourself, are you, sir?’

  ‘I wish that I could, Sergeant, but I’m fettered to this desk. Someone has to stay in control here. London, as you well know, is the capital city of crime. My job is to police it effectively.’

  ‘You do it so well, Superintendent.’

  It was not exactly true but Leeming felt obliged to say it. He was relieved that Tallis would not take an active role in the investigation. Neither he nor Colbeck could work properly with their superior breathing down their necks. They’d had experience of his interference during a case that took them to a village in Yorkshire. Because an old army friend of Tallis had been involved, he had insisted on making a personal intervention. It had been unfruitful. Only when the detectives had got rid of him were they able to move forward. When the villain was finally unmasked, Tallis was – helpfully – a long way away.

  Steepling his fingers, the superintendent sat back in his chair.

  ‘I propos
e to assign Detective Constable Peebles to you.’

  ‘I’ve never heard of the fellow,’ said Leeming.

  ‘That’s because he’s new to the department.’

  ‘I see, sir.’

  ‘He joined the police force when he left the army,’ explained Tallis. ‘The one is an excellent preparation for the other. Nobody appreciates that more than I do. Ian Peebles comes to us highly recommended. It’s up to you and the inspector to make full use of his proven talents.’

  ‘We’ll endeavour to do so, Superintendent.’

  ‘I expect no less.’ There was a tap on the door. ‘Ah, that will be Peebles now.’ His voice became a rasp. ‘Come in!’

  The door opened and the newcomer stepped into the office. Leeming goggled at him. Ian Peebles was not at all what he had expected. The detective was tall, skinny and straight-backed. Though he was now in his twenties, he looked as if he was still in his teens. Peebles was youthful, fresh-faced and buck-toothed. Leeming simply could not imagine him in some of the perilous situations in which they were likely to find themselves.

  For his part, Peebles gazed at the sergeant with a respect that bordered on veneration. It was the uncritical look of a son for a father. His buck-toothed grin broadened.

  Tallis waved a hand. ‘Allow me to introduce Constable Peebles.’

  ‘I’m pleased to meet you,’ said Leeming, struggling to smile.

  ‘It will be a privilege to work with you, Sergeant,’ said Peebles with a light Scots accent. ‘You and Inspector Colbeck have been my exemplars for much more than a wee while.’

  Leeming’s heart sank. At a time when they needed expert help, they were being saddled with an immature and wholly inexperienced detective. Blinded by hero worship, Peebles was far more likely to hinder the investigation than provide any useful assistance. They would have to teach him his trade as they went along and that would be fatal. It was like trying to build a locomotive while it was actually speeding along the track. Because of Peebles’ army background, Tallis might favour him, but Leeming could see no advantage coming from his addition to the team. Catching someone as elusive as Jeremy Oxley was a huge challenge for even the best detectives. Leeming now felt that he and Colbeck would be doing it with their hands tied behind their backs. The only beneficiary of the arrival of the new detective was the man they were actually pursuing.