Fear on the Phantom Special Read online

  ‘We’ll do as we’re told,’ grunted the other.

  ‘Would you like to say that to Lord Culverhouse himself?’

  Ainsley was cowed. Lowering his head, he took a step backwards. Though he still wore a mask of hostility, he’d been brought to heel. Leeming had won. In mentioning Culverhouse, he had an effective means of control. He fired a first question.

  ‘Have you examined those carriages yet?’

  ‘What carriages?’

  ‘The two that formed the Phantom Special, of course,’ said Leeming. ‘They’re parked in a siding near the station.’

  ‘Why should we bother with them?’

  ‘They have a tale to tell, Sergeant. Earlier this morning, Inspector Colbeck searched every one of the six compartments. In the one in which Mr Piper travelled, he discovered that the oil lamps had been more or less emptied so that the light was likely to be extinguished at some stage in the journey. We’re told that one of the lamps did exactly that, plunging the compartment into half-darkness and spreading fear. In short,’ said Leeming, jabbing a finger at him, ‘someone was bent on causing trouble. Why didn’t you realise that?’

  ‘We know our trade. This is no lawless backwater. It’s a well-policed provincial town with a gaol as well as a house of correction. We’re proud of our record and we don’t deserve criticism.’

  ‘That depends on how many other things you failed to notice. Let me go through them one by one, shall I?’

  Ainsley struck back. ‘How long have you been here?’ he asked, pointedly.

  ‘We arrived yesterday evening.’

  ‘Yet you have the brazen cheek to claim that you know far more than people who’ve been looking into this case for days.’

  ‘We’re very well informed, Sergeant.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Mr Hedley has been our main source.’

  ‘Ah, yes, we know all about Geoffrey Hedley,’ said the other with an expressive sniff. ‘He’s been in here time and again to get his friend out of trouble.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Piper has been a thorn in our flesh for years. Because his uncle is Lord Culverhouse, he thinks that he’s above the law. Anybody else would have been prosecuted for drunkenness, causing an affray, damaging property and, most recently, knocking someone senseless in the King’s Arms. In every single instance,’ Ainsley went on, ‘Hedley claimed that it was simply a case of high spirits. Behind the scenes, victims were paid off and quietly withdrew their charges. I’ll wager that Hedley didn’t mention that to you.’

  ‘No, he didn’t,’ conceded Leeming.

  ‘And there’s a lot more I could tell you about Alexander Piper. He’s been a real menace.’

  ‘Is that why you’re dragging your feet?’

  Ainsley crooked a finger to beckon him closer.

  ‘Can I tell you something in confidence?’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘I don’t want this reported to Lord Culverhouse.’

  ‘You have my word on that.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Ainsley. ‘I’ll do my level best to find Mr Piper and use my full resources. But, if you want the truth, I was delighted when that arrogant bastard disappeared. I hope that he never comes back.’

  The visit to Ambleside had given Colbeck much food for thought and he was glad that he had met the parents of the missing man. Even though he was visibly grieving, Rodney Piper insisted on driving his visitor to the railway station. As the dog cart rumbled along, Piper was philosophical.

  ‘Fate can be very cruel,’ he said, ‘but we must abide by it.’

  ‘In this case, we don’t yet know the full truth.’

  ‘I do, Inspector. Just as we were about to get our son back, he’s gone for ever. We have to fit our minds to accept that.’

  ‘I understand.’

  Colbeck was in luck. When they reached Birthwaite, the train was just drawing into the station. There was a relatively short wait before he could take his seat and reflect on what he’d learnt in the course of his trip. Piper and his wife struck him as devout people who set moral standards so high that even the most dutiful son would struggle to live up to them. Their house was more like a small church than a place of habitation, and there was a pervading air of purity and self-denial. While the parents had answered all of his questions, there had been one awkward moment.

  Colbeck had asked them if he might see their son’s bedroom because it might give him some insight into the latter’s character. Both of them were profoundly shocked. It was as if he’d wanted to lift the lid of Alexander Piper’s coffin and peer in. It took Colbeck some time to placate them. When he’d left the house, he could see that Emma was still jangled. Having met Lord Culverhouse, he found it hard to believe that she was his sister. What sort of childhood did they have together? Why had it sent them off in opposite directions? Culverhouse had embraced all the pleasures of life while she had spurned them, drawing succour instead from a more puritanical existence. It was her misfortune to give birth to a child who shared his uncle’s delights rather than those of his mother.

  As the train headed back, Colbeck kept one eye on the passing landscape. Halfway back to Kendal, he caught sight of a search party steadily moving forward and searching intently. High above them on a peak was a tiny figure in black, staring down at the people below. Colbeck only had time to catch the merest glimpse of him because, like a startled animal, the man suddenly turned tail and ran swiftly away.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  After his abrasive meeting with the first of the people named as possible suspects, Leeming approached the second one with more care. As it turned out, his fears were groundless. Cecil Dymock had been a testy doctor, insulted by the very idea that he should be questioned about the disappearance of Alexander Piper. Norman Tiller was altogether different. As soon as Leeming went into the bookshop, he was given a cordial welcome and a broad grin. Tiller was a slim, hirsute, stooping man of medium height and indeterminate age. Though he looked as if he was in his fifties, his voice and manner suggested he was much younger. His coat was shabby and his trousers baggy but he had a cheerful unconcern for his appearance.

  Extending a palm, he gave Leeming a firm handshake.

  ‘Norman Tiller,’ he said. ‘Most people call me Norm.’

  ‘I’m Victor Leeming.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you, sir – we don’t get many visitors at this time of year. Will you be staying in Kendal for long?’

  ‘That depends.’

  ‘On what, may I ask?’

  ‘On what we manage to uncover,’ said Leeming. ‘I didn’t give you my title, Norm. It’s Sergeant Victor Leeming. I’m a detective from London, helping in the search for a man who went missing.’

  ‘Alex Piper.’

  ‘You knew him, I believe.’

  ‘Everyone knew Alex. He made sure of that.’

  Leeming looked around. The shop was small, cluttered and smelt faintly of damp. With no source of heat, it was also very cold. The walls were covered by well-stocked bookshelves and, even on a chilly day, there were some tattered volumes for sale on a rickety table standing outside the shop window. Tiller looked thoroughly at home in his surroundings. Literature was his natural habitat. Leeming appraised him.

  ‘I was told that you were a poet,’ he said.

  ‘That’s right, Sergeant. The Lake District is the nearest thing to the Garden of Eden. It cries out to be celebrated in verse. Do you like poetry?’

  ‘I like reading nursery rhymes to my children.’

  ‘And which poets do you read for your own pleasure?’

  ‘Oh, I never get time to read anything,’ said Leeming, ‘unless it’s a statement I’ve taken from a witness. I’ve already collected a few of those since I’ve been here.’

  ‘The police need all the help they can get. That’s why they sent for you, I daresay.’

  ‘Actually, we’re here at the behest of Lord Culverhouse.’

  ‘Oh, of course – Alex was his nephew
.’

  Leeming wondered if he’d come to the wrong place. There was absolutely no trace of rancour in Tiller’s voice when Piper’s name was mentioned. The bookseller was a gentle soul, patently at ease with the world and living in what he felt was a paradise. The sergeant began to probe.

  ‘Did Mr Piper ever come in here?’

  ‘You’re talking about Alex, I assume?’

  ‘Yes, I am.’

  ‘Then the answer is that he didn’t. He’s not the reading type. Alex is a man of action. His father, by contrast, did pop in here from time to time. The archdeacon would browse for hours and always bought something of an ecclesiastical nature.’

  ‘What about Mr Hedley? Do you know him?’

  ‘Having lived here all my life, I know most people in the town. Geoffrey Hedley has come in here in the past in search of books pertaining to the law. He’s a charming fellow and always asks after my poetry.’

  ‘If you run this shop, when do you find the time to write?’

  ‘Whenever inspiration strikes,’ replied Tiller. ‘Sometimes, that’s in the middle of the night. I’ve got up at all hours.’

  ‘Doesn’t your wife complain?’

  ‘Luckily, she’s a heavy sleeper.’

  Leeming liked him and wished that he could talk with Tiller at length, but he was there to gather information. He also wanted to know why Hedley had singled this apparently innocuous man out as a potential suspect with regard to the disappearance of the lawyer’s close friend.

  ‘What did you think when you heard the news?’ he asked.

  ‘About Alex, you mean?’ Leeming nodded. ‘Well, my thoughts were with his family. I know that he fell out with his parents because his father mentioned it, so they will be doubly distressed – shocked to have lost a son and desperately sad that they had no time to settle their differences with him beforehand. You can imagine how tortured they must be.’

  ‘You talk as if the young Mr Piper has gone for good.’

  ‘I doubt if we’ll see him alive again.’

  ‘Why do you think that?’

  ‘It’s what everybody is saying.’

  ‘Don’t you have an opinion of your own?’

  Tiller was blunt. ‘Yes – I think he’s dead.’

  ‘Do you think he could have died by natural means?’

  ‘It’s unlikely, Sergeant. He was one of the fittest people you could ever meet.’

  ‘Suppose he did come back alive?’ asked Leeming. ‘How would you feel about that?’

  ‘I’d be grateful, for his parents’ sake. Then, of course, there’s Miss Haslam. I can’t bear to think of her suffering,’ he said, face crumpling. ‘She’s such an enchanting young lady and highly educated as well. Miss Haslam has been kind enough to buy the slim volume of verse that I once had published. She even asked me to sign it.’

  ‘Inspector Colbeck, who is here with me, is hoping to speak with the lady later today.’

  ‘She’s bound to be in a delicate state.’

  ‘He’ll be very considerate.’

  ‘That’s good to hear.’ Tiller eyed him shrewdly. ‘And what’s your view of this situation? Do you think that you’ll ever find Alex?’

  ‘It won’t be for want of trying. Search parties are out there right now.’

  ‘But are they looking in the right place?’

  ‘Of course they are.’

  ‘I wonder.’

  Tiller crossed to a bookshelf and ran his finger along the titles. Finding the one he wanted, he took it out and blew off the dust. He then offered it to Leeming, who held up his hands as if fending off an attack.

  ‘I don’t want to buy a book.’

  ‘I’m not selling it to you, Sergeant. It’s a loan.’

  ‘I told you – I never have time to read.’

  ‘Oh, you’ll find time for this book, I promise you. Read the first chapter just to humour me, and I promise you that you’ll feel compelled to press on until you get to the last page.’

  ‘Why?’ said Leeming, taking it from him and opening it. ‘What is it about?’

  ‘It’s about the real Cumberland, the one you can’t see with the naked eye. Strange and frightening things have happened here in the past. Until you know what they are,’ warned Tiller, ‘you’ll never be able to understand the true nature of this county.’

  Entering the house, Colbeck felt as if he’d interrupted a funeral. Melissa Haslam’s father was helping in the search, but her mother was there and she was pleased to meet the inspector. While she promised to do her best, she told him that she might not be able to persuade her daughter to come down from her room because Melissa just wanted to be left alone. Colbeck said that he was content to wait for hours if necessary, and he mentioned that he’d just been to see Piper’s parents. That made Bridget Haslam’s eyes light up with interest.

  Settling down alone in the drawing room, Colbeck was pleasantly surprised when Bridget returned within minutes with her daughter in tow. Melissa was understandably tense and nervous. After introductions had taken place, she sat beside her mother on the sofa. Colbeck lowered himself into the armchair opposite them.

  The two women looked at him wistfully, as if he represented the last possible hope of ever finding the missing man.

  ‘I’m sorry to disturb you, Miss Haslam,’ he said. ‘I fully understand why you wish to be alone, but I wanted to offer you at least a modicum of reassurance.’

  ‘There’s good news?’ she asked, brightening.

  ‘Not exactly, I fear. By the same token, there’s not bad news either. The search continues. Ignore the passage of time. We were once involved in the search for a child of ten who’d been swept overboard from his parents’ boat. They blamed themselves for his death,’ he explained, ‘but I refused to accept that there was no point in an extensive search. A week later, we found him. He’d been washed up onto a tiny island and kept himself alive by drinking water and eating berries. Now,’ he continued, ‘I know that this case is very different, but the same principle applies. We never walk away until we’ve unearthed the full facts.’

  ‘That’s very comforting,’ said Bridget.

  ‘May I ask your daughter how she first met Mr Piper?’

  ‘It was in church, actually,’ replied Melissa with a wan smile. ‘Alex was in the row behind me and I heard him singing. He had the most glorious voice.’

  ‘His parents told me about it.’

  ‘How are they, Inspector?’

  ‘They are … still dazed by the turn of events,’ he said, tactfully. ‘Knowing that I’d be coming here, they sent their regards to you and your parents.’

  ‘That’s kind,’ murmured Bridget.

  ‘Did your fiancé ever talk about why he left home?’ asked Colbeck, turning to Melissa.

  ‘He just wanted his independence, Inspector.’

  ‘I see.’

  ‘Alex loved his parents, but they wouldn’t let him lead the kind of life he wanted. He agonised over it for months. In the end,’ said Melissa, ‘he chose to move to Kendal. I suppose that I was the main beneficiary of that decision.’

  ‘How long have you known him?’

  ‘It must be four or five months. And yes, I know that it seems too short a time in which to make a decision that would affect the whole of my life. The truth is that, when I met Alex, I felt that I’d known him for ages.’

  ‘He had that effect on me as well,’ agreed Bridget, sadly. ‘He was a remarkable young man – sensible, mature and trustworthy.’

  Colbeck was startled. They were not words he’d expected to hear. Even his best friend had admitted that Piper had faults. Had Melissa’s beauty brought about a complete change in him? It seemed apparent to Colbeck that it was no accident that Piper had happened to be in the church pew immediately behind her. It was a deliberate move. The hymns that he sung were a means of attracting her and making her acquaintance. He remembered something that Lord Culverhouse had told him.

  ‘I believe that you and Mr Piper enjoyed wa
lking?’ he said.

  ‘We loved to be out on a fine day,’ she confirmed.

  ‘And I used to go with them at first,’ Bridget chimed in, ‘but it was soon clear that Melissa needed no chaperone. She trusted him. Alex loved and respected her.’

  ‘He was a true gentleman, Inspector.’

  ‘That’s why we had no qualms on that account.’

  ‘Let’s move on to the Phantom Special, shall we?’ he said. ‘You refused to go on the excursion, didn’t you?’

  Melissa twitched. ‘I was too frightened.’

  ‘Did you mind your fiancé going without you?’

  ‘He couldn’t back out, Inspector. It had been Geoffrey Hedley’s idea at the start, but Alex got excited at the prospect. He wanted to prove that those ghoulish tales about the haunted wood were pure drivel.’

  ‘Did you agree with him?’

  ‘I did at the time.’

  ‘And now?’

  ‘I’ve come to think otherwise. There is some malign spirit out there and Alex paid for taunting it.’

  ‘What’s your opinion, Inspector?’ asked Bridget.

  ‘A malign spirit was certainly involved,’ he said, ‘but he was in human form. My interim judgement is that someone was anxious to stop Mr Piper from getting to his destination. Who that person might be, I don’t know. But I give you my solemn word that I’ll track down the villain and find out exactly what happened that night.’

  ‘Is there any chance Alex may still be alive?’ bleated Melissa.

  ‘Anything is possible, Miss Haslam.’

  ‘Just hearing you say that is a tonic,’ said Bridget.

  ‘I can’t offer any guarantees, mind you.’

  ‘We don’t expect you to do so.’

  ‘But I can deprive you of any fears that what happened was a supernatural event. Everything that occurred on that Hallowe’en excursion was devised by human hand.’ Colbeck smiled. ‘I very much look forward to arresting the person to whom the hand belongs.’

  Geoffrey Hedley was returning from the search when he saw Lord Culverhouse’s carriage coming towards him. He thanked Caroline Treadgold for her assistance then broke away from her. She went off briskly in the opposite direction. When the coach pulled up ten yards away, he walked obediently across to it. Culverhouse spoke to him through the window.