Fear on the Phantom Special Page 8

  ‘You have the most regrettable sense of humour, Horace.’

  ‘My wife has been telling me that for almost forty years.’

  ‘Emma did warn me about it.’

  ‘Yet you still married her,’ observed Culverhouse. ‘That’s clear evidence of the power of true love. You married her in spite of her disreputable brother. It was the same in the case of Melissa Haslam. Love triumphed once again. Regardless of volatility in your family, she was ready to become Alex’s wife.’

  ‘That’s true.’

  He put a hand on Piper’s shoulder. ‘And that still might happen, Rodney. Don’t rule it out, because it’s what I’m praying for.’

  Edward Tallis was renowned for his conscientiousness. First to arrive each morning at Scotland Yard, he was invariably the last to leave, often taking work home with him. Since he lived alone, he was able to dedicate himself completely to the cases in hand. Having returned after a restorative break, Tallis was even more industrious than usual. Seated at his desk, he was so busy going through a pile of documents that he didn’t hear the tentative knock on his door. When he looked up, he saw Alan Hinton standing in front of him.

  ‘I did knock, sir,’ said the newcomer. ‘This came for you.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Handing over a telegraph, Hinton turned to leave but he only got as far as the door before he was called back. Tallis waved the telegraph in the air.

  ‘This has been sent by Inspector Colbeck,’ he said. ‘A full report will arrive in tomorrow’s mail, but he informs me that a great deal of intelligence has already been gathered and that he is confident of success.’

  ‘That’s encouraging, sir,’ said Hinton.

  ‘I’m sure that Mrs Colbeck would like to hear what I’ve just told you. I believe that you know the lady.’

  ‘Yes, I do, Superintendent.’

  ‘Then you might pass on the news to her. She, too, will doubtless receive a missive from her husband tomorrow morning but she might appreciate advance notice, so to speak.’

  Hinton was momentarily stunned. In the past, Tallis had never accepted that his officers had wives and families, and no reference was ever made to them. The fact that he’d actually mentioned Madeleine Colbeck was astounding. A loud cough from the superintendent signalled that he wanted an answer.

  ‘I’m sure that she’ll be delighted, sir,’ said Hinton.

  After thanking him, the young detective let himself out. An excuse to visit Madeleine was always seized upon because there was often a chance of meeting Lydia Quayle there. Hinton almost skipped along the corridor.

  On his way to meet the third suspect, Leeming wished that Hedley had given him more details about the man. All that the lawyer had provided was a name and address, so the sergeant had no idea what to expect when he approached the house. Rebuffed by Cecil Dymock, he’d been warmly received by Norman Tiller who even gave him a book he felt might help the investigation. Of the two, Leeming thought the doctor a far more dangerous enemy to have than the obliging poet, but he was not discounting the latter yet. It remained to be seen how Walter Vine, the third man, would react to questioning by a detective. Leeming soon found out.

  In response to the ringing of the bell, the front door of Vine’s house was opened by a manservant. When he was given the visitor’s name, he invited Leeming into the hall. It was as far as he got because a young man came striding down the staircase with a sense of purpose. Dark, good-looking and of medium height, he had one arm in a sling. He had clearly overheard Leeming introducing himself.

  ‘I know why you’re here,’ he said, acidly, ‘and I’ve no wish to speak to you or anyone else about Alex Piper. I was not even in the county when he disappeared, so you are wasting your time and mine by coming here.’ He turned to the servant. ‘Show the sergeant out, Murchison.’

  The interview was over as quickly as that.

  Caleb Andrews had spent well over an hour at the pub with his friends. When both Sowerby and Passmore eventually peeled off to go home, Andrews took the opportunity to walk into nearby Euston Station, a place from which he’d departed on the footplate of a locomotive on so many occasions. As he strolled around, his mind was a blizzard of happy memories, though some unhappy ones did assail him as well.

  He recalled the first time he’d taken Madeleine there. She was only a young girl at the time and had hated the deafening noise, swirling smoke and abiding stink of the place. Frightened that she might be knocked over by the eddying crowds, she’d begged her father to take her home at once. It was ironic that someone who had once fled in a panic from a railway station went on to become an artist who specialised in painting locomotives or scenes related exclusively to railways. Madeleine had completely overcome her initial fear.

  On his way back home, he reflected on the fact that Robert Colbeck had, to a large extent, helped her to conquer her dread of railway stations. Significantly, it was at a railway station that the couple had first met and, as their relationship became ever closer, Madeleine followed his career as he dealt primarily with major crimes committed on the railway system. There was more than one occasion when – to her father’s envy – she was directly involved in the investigative process, showing a flair for the work that she didn’t know she possessed.

  Andrews was bound to feel a pang when he compared his experience with that of his daughter. For him, the railway had meant long hours and hard work as he gradually progressed from being a cleaner to a fireman and on to a fully fledged driver. Standing on a footplate with little protection, he was at the mercy of the weather. He remembered the fatigue in his body, the stink in his nostrils, the smoke in his lungs, the filth on his clothing and the ever-present danger of a job that had killed or maimed many other railwaymen. For all that, he’d loved the work and the people with whom he shared it.

  For his daughter, however, railways were simply a source of inspiration. It did entail visits to various engine sheds and other locations, but bringing a locomotive vividly to life was something she did in the comfort of a studio where she could break off at any time for refreshment. Yet Andrews felt no bitterness. He was proud of his daughter’s achievements, all the more so because she was keeping the family link with a railway system that had transformed the whole country in the course of his lifetime.

  When he eventually let himself back into his house, Andrews was still wallowing in his memories. The first thing he did was to glance at Madeleine’s painting above the fireplace. It never failed to excite him afresh whenever he studied it. There was something else that had special value for him. It was the award he’d received from the LNWR in recognition of the outstanding service he’d given the company. Taking out a key, he unlocked the little cupboard and lifted out the box in which it was kept, intending to hold the medal in the palm of his hand and gaze at it with pride. There was, however, a problem.

  When he opened the box, it was empty.

  CHAPTER NINE

  Hoping to interview Caroline Treadgold, Colbeck went to her house, only to be told that she’d gone out for the afternoon with another search party. That confirmed how close her relationship with Alexander Piper must have been. Others involved in the search were predominantly male. Few women had joined in. After leaving a message that he’d return, Colbeck decided to make contact with Sergeant Ainsley with a view to weighing him up. When he called at the police station, he was invited into a room that Ainsley used as an office. It was small, cold, barely furnished and had an unfriendly feel to it. Posters were pinned to a board on one wall. The desk was littered with piles of paper.

  After a formal handshake, the two men took a moment to appraise each other. Ainsley was exactly as Leeming had described him, a typical guardian of law enforcement in a small town and a man with the requisite physique for a job that entailed danger. For his part, the sergeant was unimpressed by Colbeck’s gentlemanly air and striking elegance.

  ‘You’re not dressed for these parts,’ he said.

  ‘We left London in ra
ther a hurry,’ explained Colbeck. ‘I’m afraid that I didn’t have time to go home for climbing boots and outdoor wear.’

  ‘The Lake District is a pretty place in spring and summer but, at this time of year, the weather can turn nasty.’

  ‘That would hamper the search.’

  ‘It’s already hampered. They’re looking for somebody they’ll never find.’

  ‘That’s a rather negative attitude.’

  ‘It’s based on experience, Inspector. Ten years ago, I was involved in the search for Gregor Hayes. Just like Piper, he also vanished mysteriously.’

  ‘Yes, I’ve heard the bare bones of the story.’

  ‘We never found him. It will be the same in this case.’

  ‘Do you see any parallels between the two victims?’

  ‘Not really,’ said Ainsley. ‘Gregor was a blacksmith here in Kendal. He was a likeable man, the sort you could enjoy talking to over a pint. I suspect that Sergeant Leeming will have told you my opinion of Piper. Gregor worked for a living. Piper didn’t. He was a … gentleman of leisure.’

  ‘I can see that that would be grounds for resentment,’ said Colbeck, ‘especially as he used his position to misbehave with impunity. Did you never even get him into court?’

  ‘Never – but, then, I was told not to try too hard.’

  ‘Was that a case of interference by Lord Culverhouse?’

  ‘The whisper in my ear came from Mr Hedley.’

  ‘Let’s go back to the blacksmith. What links the case of Gregor Hayes with this one?’

  ‘That’s what baffles me. The only link is Hither Wood. Gregor went into it and was never seen alive again. People believe that it’s haunted by his ghost but, then,’ added Ainsley, cynically, ‘the ones who’ve dared to go there at Hallowe’en have usually been fortified by drink. That makes them very suggestible.’

  ‘Piper scoffed at the idea of a ghost. He organised the Phantom Special to prove that there was no such thing.’

  ‘He was just showing off.’

  ‘Don’t you have any sympathy for him?’

  ‘I have sympathy for his parents and for his intended, of course. They must be suffering. From the moment I heard the news,’ said Ainsley, ‘I’ve tried to do what was expected of me and deployed my men accordingly, but please, I beg you, don’t ask me to feel sorry for Piper.’

  ‘You felt sorry for Gregor Hayes.’

  ‘He was a friend. He used to shoe my horse.’

  ‘A victim is a victim,’ said Colbeck, sternly, ‘whatever you may think about him or her. As such, they’re entitled to sympathy. Thank you for what you’ve told me, Sergeant. It’s been quite enlightening.’ He put on his hat and adjusted the angle slightly. ‘This investigation has suddenly become more complicated. It looks as if we have to solve the mystery of Gregor Hayes’s disappearance before we can find out what happened to Alexander Piper.’

  ‘I’ve spent ten years searching for the truth about Gregor.’

  ‘Then I welcome your assistance. I know you see us as intruders, but we’re only trying to shine a light into some very dark places. If you help us to do that,’ he went on, ‘everyone in this town and beyond it will reap the benefit.’

  ‘You won’t have cause for complaint about me.’

  ‘Thank you. I’ll need to see the records of the earlier case.’

  ‘They’re available whenever you wish to go through them,’ said Ainsley. ‘I think you’ll see how thorough we’ve been. Before you study them, however, I suggest that I take you to the exact spot where Piper disappeared, then − while light still holds − we’ll drive on to Hither Wood. You must see that.’

  The first thing that Caleb Andrews did was to begin a frantic search. He went from room to room, opening every cupboard and rummaging through every drawer. When he’d first received the award, he’d been so proud of it that he slept with it under his pillow. It was then put on display on the mantelpiece until he realised that it distracted the eye from Madeleine’s painting on the wall above it. The little cupboard was the obvious home for it. Tucked away in the corner of the living room, it would always be accessible and was protected by a stout lock.

  His initial frenetic hunt yielded nothing. Andrews therefore made himself sit down in order to think clearly. The medal had gone. That meant someone had not only broken into his house, he’d also contrived to open the door of the cupboard and steal the medal. And yet, he reminded himself, nothing else had been taken. A burglar would surely have stolen whatever he deemed to be of value in the house. A small bronze medal with an inscription would be of no real use to him. Andrews began to wonder if he’d made a mistake. Perhaps the treasured object was still there, after all.

  He’d had lapses of memory before, quite serious ones. Had he taken the medal out and forgotten to lock it away? It was more than a possibility. Moving slowly from room to room, he began a more rigorous and systematic search. The medal was irreplaceable. It simply had to be found.

  Leeming returned to the bookshop. After his frosty reception at the home of Walter Vine, he went back to the one place where he’d been given a welcome. Norman Tiller looked up from the book he was reading and smiled.

  ‘It’s nice to see you again, Sergeant.’

  ‘I needed to see a friendly face for a change.’

  ‘You’ll always find one here,’ said Tiller. ‘Have you had chance to look at that book I gave you?’

  ‘Not really – I’ll have a proper read this evening.’

  ‘Good. It will open your eyes.’

  ‘I really came back here to ask you about a man named Walter Vine. What can you tell me about him?’

  ‘Very little, I’m afraid. He’s not a customer of mine.’

  ‘But you know who he is, I expect.’

  ‘Yes, of course. Mr Vine is very much in the mould of Alex Piper, a young man of independent means who has a lot of energy to burn and free time to fill.’

  ‘He refused to talk to me.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘He didn’t say. I was turned away from the house. It’s obvious that he has no time for Mr Piper.’

  ‘That’s strange. They used to be close friends.’

  ‘Why did they fall out?’

  ‘I don’t know, Sergeant, but, at a guess …’

  ‘A woman was involved,’ decided Leeming, ‘and I think I know her name. It was Miss Haslam.’

  ‘Oh, no, she’d hardly attract Walter Vine.’

  ‘Yet she caught Piper’s eye and you say that he and Vine were birds of a feather.’

  ‘There’s something I didn’t tell you about Melissa Haslam. She has very watchful parents. They wouldn’t let any suitor near her until they were assured that his intentions were honourable.’

  ‘Then how did Piper slip through their guard?’

  ‘His father is an archdeacon,’ said Tiller, ‘and likely to become a bishop. That means a lot to Melissa’s parents. Also, their first encounter with Piper was in a church.’

  ‘What about his reputation?’

  ‘They were sublimely unaware of that, Sergeant. They’re not the sort of people who listen to gossip. They’d consider it far too vulgar.’

  ‘So who was this woman known to Piper and Vine?’

  Even as he asked the question, Leeming realised that he already knew the answer. It was Caroline Treadgold.

  Alan Hinton was so keen to deliver the message that he took time away from Scotland Yard to pay a short visit to the Colbeck residence in John Islip Street. He was thrilled to see that Lydia Quayle was there, taking tea with Madeleine. Both women were pleased at his unexpected visit and he was invited to join them, but he explained that he had to return to work immediately. He passed on the message given him by Tallis.

  ‘That’s so kind of the superintendent!’ said Madeleine. ‘He’d never have done anything like that in the past. As far as he was concerned, I didn’t really exist.’

  ‘He’s come back a different man,’ said Hinton, ‘though I’m not
sure how long it will last.’

  ‘Please thank him on my behalf.’

  ‘I’ll be sure to do so.’ He turned to Lydia. ‘And how are you, Miss Quayle?’

  ‘I’m very well, thank you,’ she replied.

  ‘You certainly look well.’

  There was a brief moment when both of them forgot that anyone else was in the room with them, and they let their affection for each other shine through. Madeleine pretended not to notice. She was happy that the friendship between the two of them had slowly burgeoned and was sorry that their visitor was unable to stay.

  ‘Well,’ said Hinton, ‘I must be on my way, I fear.’

  ‘Do call again whenever you wish,’ said Madeleine.

  ‘Thank you, but I can’t promise that Superintendent Tallis will use me as a messenger boy again.’

  ‘You don’t need an excuse, Alan.’

  ‘We’re always delighted to see you,’ added Lydia.

  Smiling warmly, she held his gaze for a few seconds. Before they could commune in silence for any longer, they were startled by a thunderous knocking on the front door.

  ‘Whoever can that be?’ asked Madeleine.

  Opening the door of the drawing room, she looked out into the hall. Hinton and Lydia moved to stand behind her, their shoulders lightly touching. A maidservant came into the hall and opened the front door. Fearful and wild-eyed, Caleb Andrews barged straight in.

  ‘I’ve been robbed!’ he cried.

  Colbeck had never been driven quite so fast or so furiously in a trap. Ainsley’s bulk meant that his passenger was squeezed into what little remained of the seat. There was no time to admire the scenery. Colbeck’s primary interest was in survival. They followed a twisting road that gave them occasional glimpses of the railway line. At one point, a train steamed past them. It was the signal for Ainsley to slow down slightly.