Points of Danger Page 7

  ‘The stationmaster is far from stupid,’ said Colbeck, ‘and, in his report, he made exactly the same suggestion. Knowing the time when that goods train was due to come through, someone used it to hide behind.’

  ‘I think Pryor could be involved somehow.’

  ‘If he is, he’ll give himself away before too long. Let’s go back to Duff, shall we? What did Burridge tell you about him?’

  ‘He doesn’t like the man, sir, but I doubt if many people do. The sergeant said that he struts around the station as if he’s cock of the walk. Duff is good at keeping the railway policemen in line and even better at making them do all the work while he just looks on.’

  ‘I’d still like to know the reason he left the Metropolitan Police.’

  ‘He dared to poke fun at Superintendent Tallis?’

  Colbeck smiled. ‘If that was a crime,’ he said, ‘we’d both have been hanged for it years ago. Well, Victor,’ he continued, ‘so far we have four names in the hat. Others will no doubt soon be added. Hopefully, one of them will be the name of the killer.’

  ‘You did point out that we needed to find his accomplice first.’

  ‘Is it Pryor, perhaps?’

  ‘No,’ said Leeming, thoughtfully. ‘I’m wondering if Duff is our man. He’s much more cunning.’

  When he turned down the alley in the fading light, Bartram Duff first looked up and down to make sure that nobody could see him. He then knocked hard on a door. Almost immediately, it was opened.

  ‘What kept you?’ asked a gruff voice.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Madeleine Colbeck had not long finished her breakfast when she was told that she had a visitor. Delighted to find that it was Alan Hinton, she took him into the drawing room.

  ‘I can’t stay, Mrs Colbeck,’ he warned. ‘I’m due at Scotland Yard very soon. I just wondered if I might ask a favour.’

  ‘Yes, of course – what is it?’

  ‘If at all possible, I need to get a message to your husband.’

  When he explained why, Madeleine was touched by his concern for a man who’d treated him so badly. Evidently, there was something wrong with Edward Tallis and it was typical of Hinton that he wanted to do something about it, especially when his colleagues refused to believe that there was any problem. In seeking Colbeck’s advice, Hinton had a secondary purpose. It gave him an opportunity to ask after Lydia Quayle.

  ‘Have you heard from Miss Quayle recently?’

  ‘She was here only yesterday,’ said Madeleine, ‘and she mentioned your name in passing. Since you were commended for your actions during the rescue of the superintendent, Lydia was wondering if you’d had a promotion.’

  ‘The very opposite has happened,’ he said with a hollow laugh.

  She was taken aback. ‘You’ve been demoted?’

  ‘Not exactly – but it feels like it sometimes. I’ve not been employed in the way that I’d hoped.’

  ‘Is my husband aware of that?’

  ‘Oh,’ he sighed, ‘the inspector is always too busy on a new case to worry about me.’

  ‘If he realised what was happening,’ said Madeleine, ‘I’m sure that he’d speak up for you. He’ll be very upset to hear of the way that the superintendent has treated you.’

  ‘Thank you, Mrs Colbeck.’

  ‘Do you have a message for Lydia?’

  The question caught him unawares and he came close to blushing. Having seen him and Lydia together, she knew how deep their feelings for each other were but neither of them seemed to know how to move the relationship on beyond a formal one. Hinton felt that the gulf between them was too wide to bridge. While he was a detective constable on a modest wage, Lydia had inherited a large amount of money from her mother. For her part, she felt that the differences in their background were meaningless, but she couldn’t bring herself to make that first vital step towards him. She had befriended Hinton when he was assigned to protect her from the attentions of a stalker. He’d not only provided much-needed reassurance for her, he’d arrested the man and ensured his conviction. Lydia’s gratitude had been mixed with a growing affection for him.

  ‘Well,’ repeated Madeleine, ‘do you have a message for her?’

  ‘Please give her my warmest regards,’ he said.

  Oliver Trant turned out to be a man of medium height and middle years whose bald head gleamed as if it had just been expertly polished. He was the owner of a factory that made boots and shoes. Well groomed and well dressed, he gave Colbeck a warm welcome when the inspector called there that morning. They met in Trant’s office. Shelves along one wall had various pairs of gleaming shoes on display. A faint aroma of leather hung in the air. Offered refreshment, Colbeck declined it. He sat opposite Trant and appraised him carefully.

  ‘You’ve heard the sad news, I take it, sir.’

  ‘It’s not merely sad, inspector,’ said the other man with apparent sincerity, ‘it’s nothing short of a disaster. Jarvis Swarbrick was a man of exceptional talents. In political and in commercial terms, he seemed to have a magic touch.’

  ‘That could be the reason he was murdered, sir.’

  ‘I thought he was killed during a robbery that went awry?’

  ‘There was nothing awry about the crime, sir. Somebody was set on shooting him dead.’

  Trant looked startled. ‘What possible motive could anyone have to murder Jarvis?’

  ‘The obvious one is envy.’

  ‘Ah,’ said the other, adjusting to the news. ‘Now I understand why someone has whispered my name in your ears. But you’ve been fed false information, I fear. I was never really envious of Jarvis. I just disagreed with his plans for the ECR. That’s why we fell out.’

  ‘I was told a rather different story, sir.’

  ‘Yes, yes, I’m sure you were. Don’t believe what Cecil Freed had to say. I have not been waiting for the chance to wreak my revenge on Jarvis, nor have I been labouring under the misapprehension that he was directly responsible for getting me voted off the board. In reality,’ said Trant with a disarming smile, ‘that was Cecil’s doing and I knew it from the start. He was the one who put down the poison. In his eyes, I was a disruptive influence. Don’t ever trust what Cecil Freed tells you. He’s a devious fellow. Given the choice,’ he added with a twinkle in his eye, ‘I’d have preferred it if the killer had shot him instead.’

  ‘Are you saying that you approve of murder?’ asked Colbeck.

  ‘Nobody in his right mind would do that, inspector. I just wanted to let you know the sort of person Cecil Freed is.’

  ‘Why did you oppose Mr Swarbrick’s plans for the ECR?’

  ‘In principle, I supported them. There just happened to be some problematical clauses in the bill he was hoping to present in the House of Commons. I simply sought to have them removed. In the event,’ he said, producing the disarming smile again, ‘the only thing removed was me.’

  ‘You don’t seem rancorous about it, Mr Trant.’

  ‘Why should I be? Setbacks are bound to happen.’

  ‘Would you like to rejoin the board?’

  ‘Of course, I would – but only on my terms.’

  ‘You’d have to accept Mr Freed’s authority again.’

  ‘Oh, I know how to work around Cecil. He’s not as wily as he imagines. With Jarvis no longer available, I’m needed more than ever. I have an eye for detail that nobody else on the board possesses.’

  ‘That’s an extravagant claim, Mr Trant.’

  ‘Examine my record, if you wish. I can show you the minutes of board meetings where I voiced my concerns about Jarvis’s bill. I picked out potential anomalies that nobody else had spotted.’

  ‘Not even Mr Swarbrick himself?’

  ‘He wasn’t infallible, inspector. Even the best horse stumbles.’ He looked quizzically at his visitor. ‘How much do you know about ECR?’

  ‘I know that it’s had a troubled history.’

  ‘That’s an understatement. It got off to a very bad start.’


  ‘Yes,’ said Colbeck, seizing the opportunity to show his credentials. ‘The directors ignored the advice of their engineer and foolishly adopted a five-foot gauge. When they were forced to convert to the standard gauge, over eighty miles of track had to be adapted at an average cost of one thousand pounds per mile. Am I correct?’

  Trant blinked in surprise. ‘You’re very well informed, inspector.’

  ‘I have a passion for railways, sir, so you don’t need to give me a history lesson. I know that George Hudson, the notorious Railway King, was your chairman in earlier days before leaving you in an unholy mess. And there have been many other calamities since then. What concerns me, however,’ said Colbeck, ‘is not the ECR’s past but its present. Mr Swarbrick’s ambition was to unify the disparate companies into the Great Eastern Railway.’

  ‘We all shared that ambition.’

  ‘Yet it was not without its detractors, it seems. What better way to frustrate that ambition than to kill the man who might have brought the plan to its fruition?’

  Trant sat back in his chair and looked at Colbeck in a new light. He could see that he was dealing with someone who clearly had insight into the workings of the ECR and its competitors. It made him more cautious. Trant’s glib assertions would never be taken at face value. Colbeck was too astute to be easily misled.

  ‘You look as if you wish to ask me something, inspector.’

  ‘I think you know what my question would be,’ said Colbeck.

  ‘Then the answer is that I have no connection whatsoever with any of the other companies operating in East Anglia. That’s not to say I haven’t been approached to join other boards of directors,’ admitted Trant, ‘but I’ve refused all entreaties. My heart remains with the ECR and I fervently hope to see it exert a controlling influence on the future Great Eastern Railway.’

  ‘Who might wish to stifle that ambition?’

  ‘Those who feel they might lose by it.’

  ‘Could you supply me with any names?’

  ‘Look at the directors of the smaller railway companies. Some of them fear being swallowed alive by the ECR then spat out like pips.’

  ‘Amalgamation must come one day.’

  ‘Agreed – but killing Jarvis will definitely delay it.’

  ‘Did he really have a magic touch?’

  ‘In some ways, he did. From our point of view, the vital thing was that he was well respected in Parliament. In debate, he was forceful and persuasive.’

  ‘You and he must have had some interesting tussles at board meetings.’

  Trant grinned. ‘We certainly did.’

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ said Colbeck, rising to his feet. ‘I may need to speak again before too long.’

  ‘You’re always welcome here, inspector,’ said Trant, getting up from his desk. ‘This may not be the right moment to draw your attention to the shelf behind you but, since you are clearly a man of exquisite taste, you might care to look at some of our shoes. Their quality is unrivalled.’

  ‘I’ll take your word for it, Mr Trant.’

  ‘Jarvis Swarbrick was a regular customer of ours. He’d never wear shoes made by anyone else. The same goes for his son. Andrew walks through life in our excellent footwear.’

  Andrew Swarbrick was thwarted at every turn. Hoping to confront his stepmother that morning, he was delayed by the arrival of the doctor who examined her, found her still in a state of distress and advised that she remain in bed until she felt well enough to get up. As soon as the doctor departed, he was replaced by another barrier to Mrs Swarbrick. It was the last person Andrew wished to see. For her part, Mrs Freed was not at all pleased to see him.

  ‘Inspector Colbeck told us that you were here. I must say that I was surprised. What are you doing here?’

  ‘This is my home, Mrs Freed.’

  ‘Yes, but you’ve chosen to turn your back on it for years.’

  ‘In the wake of Father’s death, everything has changed.’

  ‘Have you spoken to your stepmother?’

  ‘Chance would be a fine thing!’ he complained.

  ‘It’s all for the best. As he left the house, the doctor told me what his advice was. In any case, I don’t think that she’d be happy to see you at this moment. You’d only revive unhappy memories.’

  ‘I need to discuss the future with her, Mrs Freed.’

  ‘Heavens above!’ she exclaimed. ‘Show some pity. Your father’s body is probably still warm and you want to start talking about what happens next! You’ll have to be patient, Andrew. Can’t you see how upsetting it will be for Grace to find you here?’

  ‘I have every right.’

  ‘Legally, that may be true, but you don’t have the right to hector a woman in such a fragile state. It’s cruel. Learn to wait.’

  ‘You should have given that advice to my stepmother,’ he said, pointedly. ‘She didn’t show any patience, did she? No sooner had my mother died than she came sniffing around my father.’

  ‘That’s not what happened at all. It was months before she even met your father.’

  ‘You might have swallowed that story, Mrs Freed, but I don’t.’

  ‘It was the truth. Grace told me how their paths crossed.’

  ‘I’m not prepared to argue about that now,’ he said, testily. ‘The simple fact is that she and I have a lot to talk over.’

  ‘What you mean is that you want to harry her while she’s at her most vulnerable. That’s despicable of you, Andrew. What do you think your father would say about your behaviour?’

  ‘He’s not in a position to tell me.’

  ‘I find that remark in appalling taste.’

  ‘Truth is sometimes distasteful.’

  ‘You should be ashamed of yourself.’

  ‘I’ll take no lectures from you, Mrs Freed.’

  ‘Do you have to be so unconscionably rude?’

  ‘Father was a person who did what he felt was right,’ he declared, ‘and that’s all that I’m doing. I’m standing up for myself.’

  ‘Well, you’re not going to harm Grace in the process,’ she warned, eyes ablaze. ‘I’m here to protect her. A tragedy like this should bring the two of you together, not license you to hound her. This is a time for mourning. Join the rest of us in our grief.’

  But he was in no mood to do so. Turning on his heel, Swarbrick left the room angrily and slammed the door behind him.

  Madeleine was, as always, pleased to see her friend. Lydia had timed her arrival to coincide with the hours when Helen would be alone with her mother. As the child tottered around the drawing room, the two women urged her on and applauded her. It was only when the nanny came for Helen that they were able to have a quiet conversation at last.

  ‘I had an unexpected visitor earlier on,’ said Madeleine.

  ‘Who was it?’

  ‘Alan Hinton.’

  Lydia was curious. ‘What did he want?’

  ‘Ideally, he wanted you to be here.’

  ‘Don’t be silly!’

  ‘It’s the truth, Lydia. I could see it in his eyes.’

  Madeleine told her about Hinton’s request and how she admired him for trying to help someone who was so obviously unwell, even though he’d felt the lash of Tallis’s tongue twice in a row.

  ‘That’s very considerate of him,’ said Lydia.

  ‘Would you expect anything less?’

  ‘No, I wouldn’t. Alan is such a thoughtful person.’

  ‘And we both know whom he thinks about,’ teased Madeleine. ‘As it happens, a letter arrived from Robert not long before you did. Since I now have an address where I can reach him, I’ll pass on the request and tell him how Alan Hinton feels overlooked at Scotland Yard.’

  ‘Did he … mention me at all?’

  ‘Of course, he did. When I told him that you’d been asking after him, he was delighted. He sends you his warmest regards.’

  ‘Thank you, Madeleine.’

  ‘I’m sure that he’d have preferred to pass the
m on in person.’

  Lydia smiled. ‘I would have liked that.’

  When the summons from Edward Tallis came, Alan Hinton was at first apprehensive. It could only mean that he’d be the victim of another burst of vituperation. His uneasiness was, however, tempered by hope. Could it be that the superintendent actually wanted to apologise to him? On the previous day, Tallis had spoken unkindly to him yet he was now inviting Hinton to his office. Instead of frightening him, it might be seen as a good sign. Bitter experience suggested that it was not. Obeying the call, Hinton stood outside the superintendent’s door for a full minute before he built up the courage to knock.

  ‘Come in!’ shouted Tallis.

  Hinton entered the room. ‘You wanted me, sir?’

  ‘That’s why I sent for you. I require your assistance.’

  ‘What must I do, sir?’

  ‘You’re about to take part in a murder investigation.’

  ‘Am I?’ said Hinton, heart pumping instantly.

  ‘Let’s see if you’re up to the task.’

  ‘I’m sure that I will be, Superintendent. Where am I to go?’

  ‘The record office,’ said Tallis, brandishing a telegraph, ‘and you can take this with you. Colbeck sent it from Norwich. One of the men on his list of suspects claims to have worked as a policeman in London.’

  ‘How long ago was that, sir?’

  ‘Read the telegraph and it will tell you.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said Hinton, taking it from him.

  ‘Colbeck wishes to know if this man, Bartram Duff, left of his own account or was discharged. Do you think you could find out for him?’

  ‘I’m sure that I can, sir.’

  Mastering his disappointment, Hinton was about to leave when he noticed that Tallis was no longer looking at him but right through him. It was quite eerie. The glassy look he’d seen twice before in the older man’s eyes had returned once again. Tallis didn’t even know that Hinton was still in the room. The constable took no risks this time and refrained from any attempt to establish contact again. Anxious not to rouse him, he crept silently away.