The Railway Detective irc-1 Read online

  ‘It might well have led to frustration. Caring for a sick parent meant that he had no real life of his own. When he was not at the Chubb factory, he was fetching and carrying for his mother. I find it significant that, the moment she died, Daniel Slender sold the house.’

  ‘If he was moving to another post, he would have to do that.’

  ‘I doubt very much if that post exists, Victor.’

  ‘Do you know what it was?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Colbeck. ‘I even have the address of the factory to which he is supposed to have gone. But I’ll wager that we won’t find anyone of his name employed there.’

  ‘So why did he come to London?’

  Colbeck raised an eyebrow. ‘I can see that you’ve never visited the Black Country. On the journey to Wolverhampton, I saw what the poet meant when he talked about ‘dark, satanic mills’.’

  ‘Poet?’

  ‘William Blake.’

  ‘The name means nothing to me, sir,’ admitted Leeming, scratching a pimple on his chin. ‘I never had much interest in poetry and such things. I know a few nursery rhymes to sing to the children but that’s all.’

  ‘It’s a start, Victor,’ said Colbeck without irony, ‘it’s a start. Suffice it to say that – with all its faults – London is a much more attractive place to live than Willenhall. Also, of course, Daniel Slender had to get well away from the town where he committed the crime.’ He nodded in the direction of the next office. ‘What sort of a mood is Mr Tallis in today?’

  ‘A vicious one.’

  ‘I told him not to read the newspapers.’

  ‘They obviously touched him on a raw spot. When I saw the Superintendent this morning, he was breathing fire.’

  ‘I need to report to him myself,’ said Colbeck, moving to the door. ‘Hopefully, I can dampen down the flames a little. At least we now have the name of the man who made it possible for the robbers to open that safe with such ease.’

  ‘That means we have two suspects.’

  ‘Daniel Slender and William Ings.’

  ‘I did as you told me, Inspector,’ said Leeming. ‘I asked the men on that beat to keep watch on Mr Ings’s house, though I still think that he’s unlikely to go back there. It would be too risky.’

  ‘Then we’ll have to smoke him out of the Devil’s Acre.’

  ‘How on earth could you do that?’

  Colbeck suppressed a smile. ‘I’ll think of a way,’ he said.

  Work had kept Brendan Mulryne too busy throughout most of the day to continue his search. That evening, however, he took a break from The Black Dog and strode along to Hangman’s Lane. The name was apposite. Most of the people he saw loitering there looked if they had just been cut down from the gallows. The man who told him where Polly Roach lived was a typical denizen of the area. Eyes staring, cheeks hollow and face drawn, he spoke in a hoarse whisper as if a noose were tightening around his neck.

  Entering the tenement, Mulryne went up the stairs and along a narrow passageway. It was difficult to read the numbers in the gloom so he banged on every door he passed. At the fourth attempt, he came face to face with the woman he was after.

  ‘Polly Roach?’ he inquired.

  ‘Who’s asking?’

  ‘My name is Brendan Mulryne. I wanted a word with you, darling.’

  ‘You’ve come to the wrong place,’ she said, curtly. ‘I don’t entertain guests any more.’

  ‘It’s not entertainment I want, Polly – it’s information.’ He looked past her into the room. ‘Do you have company, by any chance?’

  ‘No, Mr Mulryne.’

  ‘Would you mind if I came in to look?’

  ‘Yes,’ she cautioned, lifting her skirt to remove the knife from the sheath strapped to her thigh. ‘I mind very much.’

  Mulryne grinned benignly. ‘In that case, we’ll talk here.’

  ‘Who sent you?’

  ‘Isadore Vout.’

  ‘That mangy cur! If you’re a friend of his, away with you!’

  ‘Oh, I’m no friend of Isadore’s,’ promised Mulryne, ‘especially since I lifted him up by the feet and made him dance a jig on his head. He’d probably describe me as his worst enemy.’

  ‘So why have you come to me?’

  ‘I’m looking for someone called William Ings – Billy Ings to you.’

  ‘He’s not here,’ she snapped.

  ‘So you do know him?’

  ‘I did. I thought I knew him well.’

  ‘So where is he now?’

  Polly was bitter. ‘You tell me, Mr Mulryne.’

  ‘Is he not coming to see you?’

  ‘Not any more.’

  There was enough light from the oil lamp just inside the door for him to see her face clearly. Polly Roach looked hurt and jaded. The thick powder failed to conceal the dark bruise on her chin. Mulryne sensed that she had been crying.

  ‘Did you and Mr Ings fall out, by any chance?’ he asked.

  ‘That’s my business.’

  ‘It happens to be mine as well.’

  ‘Why – what’s Bill to you?’

  ‘A week’s wages. That’s what I get when I find him.’

  ‘His wife!’ she cried, brandishing the knife. ‘That bitch sent you after him, didn’t she?’

  ‘No, Polly,’ replied Mulryne, holding up both hands in a gesture of surrender. ‘I swear it. Sure, I’ve never met the lady and that’s the honest truth. Now, why don’t you put that knife away before someone gets hurt?’ She lowered the weapon to her side. ‘That’s better. If you were hospitable, you’d invite me in.’

  She held her ground. ‘Say what you have to say here.’

  ‘A friend of mine is anxious to meet this Billy Ings,’ he explained, ‘and he’s paying me to find him. I’m not a man who turns away the chance of an honest penny and, in any case, I owe this man a favour.’

  ‘What’s his name?’

  ‘There’s no need for you to know that, darling.’

  ‘Then why is he after Billy?’

  ‘There was a train robbery yesterday and it looks as if Mr Ings may have been involved. His job at the Post Office meant that he had valuable information to sell.’

  ‘So that’s where he got the money from,’ she said. ‘He told me that he won it at the card table.’

  ‘Isadore Vout heard the same tale from him.’

  ‘He lied to me!’

  ‘Then you have no reason to protect him.’

  Polly Roach became suspicious. She eyed him with disgust.

  ‘Are you a policeman?’ she said.

  Mulryne laughed. ‘Do I look like a policeman, my sweetheart?’

  ‘No, you don’t.’

  ‘I work at The Black Dog, making sure that our customers don’t get out of hand. Policeman, eh? What policeman would dare to live in the Devil’s Acre?’ He summoned up his most endearing smile. ‘Come on now, Polly. Why not lend me a little assistance here?’

  ‘How can I?’ she said with a shrug. ‘I’ve no idea where he is.’

  ‘But you could guess where he’s likely to be.’

  ‘Sitting at a card table, throwing his money away.’

  ‘And where did he usually go to find a game?’

  ‘Two or three different places.’

  ‘I’ll need their names,’ he said. ‘There’s no chance that he’ll have sneaked back to his wife then?’

  ‘No, Mr Mulryne. He said that it wouldn’t be safe to leave the Acre and I can see why now. He’s here somewhere,’ she decided, grimly. ‘Billy liked his pleasures. That’s how we met each other. If he’s not gambling, then he’s probably lying between the legs of some doxy while he tells her what his troubles are.’

  The long day had done nothing to curb Superintendent Tallis’s temper or to weaken his conviction that the newspapers were trying to make a scapegoat of him. Even though he brought news of progress, Colbeck still found himself on the receiving end of a torrent of vituperation. He left his superior’s office with his ears ringing. Vic
tor Leeming was in the corridor.

  ‘How did you get on, Inspector?’ he asked.

  ‘Superintendent Tallis and I have had quieter conversations,’ said Colbeck with a weary smile. ‘He seemed to believe that he was back on the parade ground and had to bark orders at me.’

  ‘That problem will not arise with your visitor.’

  ‘Visitor?’

  ‘Yes, sir. I just showed her into your office. The young lady was desperate to see you and would speak to nobody else.’

  ‘Did she give a name?’

  ‘Madeleine Andrews, sir. Her father was the driver of the train.’

  ‘Then I’ll see her at once.’

  Colbeck opened the door of his office and went in. Madeleine Andrews leapt up from the chair on which she had perched. She was wearing a pretty, burgundy-coloured dress with a full skirt, and a poke bonnet whose pink ribbons were tied under her chin. She had a shawl over her arm. Introductions were made then Colbeck indicated the chair.

  ‘Do sit down again, Miss Andrews,’ he said, courteously.

  ‘Thank you, Inspector.’

  Colbeck sat opposite her. ‘How is your father?’

  ‘He’s still in great pain,’ she said, ‘but he felt well enough to be brought home this afternoon. My father hates to impose on anyone else. He did not wish to spend another night at the stationmaster’s house in Leighton Buzzard. It will be more comfortable for both of us at home.’

  ‘You went to Leighton Buzzard, then?’

  ‘I sat beside his bed all night, Inspector.’

  ‘Indeed?’ He was amazed. ‘You look remarkably well for someone who must have had very little sleep.’

  She acknowledged the compliment with a smile and her dimples came into prominence. Given her concern for her father, only something of importance could have made her leave him to come to Scotland Yard. Colbeck wondered what it was and why it made her seem so uneasy and tentative. But he did not press her. He waited until she was ready to confide in him.

  ‘Inspector Colbeck,’ she began at length, ‘I have a confession to make on behalf of my father. He told me something earlier that I felt duty bound to report to you.’

  ‘And what is that, Miss Andrews?’

  ‘My father loves his work. There’s not a more dedicated or respected driver in the whole company. However…’ She lowered her head as if trying to gather strength. He saw her bite her lip. ‘However,’ she went on, looking at him again, ‘he is inclined to be boastful when he has had a drink or two.’

  ‘There’s no harm in that,’ said Colbeck. ‘Most people become a little more expansive when alcohol is consumed.’

  ‘Father was very careless.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘At the end of the working day,’ she said, squirming slightly with embarrassment, ‘he sometimes enjoys a pint of beer with his fireman, Frank Pike, at a public house near Euston. It’s a place that is frequented by railwaymen.’

  ‘In my opinion, they’re fully entitled to a drink for what they do. I travelled to the Midlands by train today, Miss Andrews, and am deeply grateful for the engine drivers who got me there and back. I’d have been happy to buy any of them a glass of beer.’

  ‘Not if it made them talkative.’

  ‘Talkative?’

  ‘Let me frank with you,’ she said, blurting it out. ‘My father blames himself for the robbery yesterday. He thinks that he may have been drinking with his friends one evening and let slip the information that money was being carried on the mail trains.’ She held out her hands in supplication. ‘It was an accident, Inspector,’ she said, defensively. ‘He would never willingly betray the company. You may ask Frank Pike. My father stood up to the robbers.’

  ‘I know, Miss Andrews,’ said Colbeck, ‘and I admire him for it. I also admire you for coming here like this.’

  ‘I felt that you should know the truth.’

  ‘Most people in your situation would have concealed it.’

  ‘Father made me promise that I would tell you the terrible thing that he did,’ she said, bravely. ‘He feels so ashamed. Even though it will mean his dismissal from the company, he insisted.’ She sat forward on her chair. ‘Will you have to arrest him, Inspector?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  ‘But he gave away confidential information.’

  ‘Not deliberately,’ said Colbeck. ‘It popped out when he was in his cups. I doubt very much if that was how the robbers first learnt how money was being carried. They had only to keep watch at the station for a length of time and they would have seen boxes being loaded under armed guard on to the mail train. Such precautions would not be taken for a cargo of fruit or vegetables.’

  Her face brightened. ‘Then he is not to blame for the robbery?’

  ‘No, Miss Andrews. What the villains needed to know was what a particular train was carrying and the exact time it was leaving Euston. That information was obtained elsewhere – along with the means to open the safe that was in the luggage van.’

  Madeleine caught her breath. ‘I’m so relieved, Inspector!’

  ‘Tell your father that he’s escaped arrest on this occasion.’

  ‘It will be a huge load off his mind – and off mine.’

  ‘I’m delighted that I’ve been able to give you some reassurance.’

  Relaxed and happy, Madeleine Andrews looked like a completely different woman. A smile lit up her eyes and her dimples were expressive. She had come to Scotland Yard in trepidation and had feared the worst. Madeleine had not expected to meet such a considerate and well-spoken detective as Robert Colbeck. He did not fit her image of a policeman at all and she was profoundly grateful.

  For his part, Colbeck warmed to her. It had taken courage to admit that her father had been at fault, especially when she feared dire consequences from the revelation. There was a quiet integrity about Madeleine Andrews that appealed to him and he was by no means immune to her physical charms. Now that she was no longer so tense, he could appreciate them to the full. Pleased that she had come, he was glad to be able to put her mind at rest.

  ‘Thank you, Inspector,’ she said, getting to her feet. ‘I must get back home to tell Father. He felt so dreadfully guilty about this.’

  Colbeck rose at well. ‘I think that some censure is in order,’ he pointed out. ‘Mr Andrews did speak out of turn about the mail train, that much is clear. On reflection, he will come to see how foolish that was and be more careful in future.’

  ‘Oh, he will, he will.’

  ‘I leave it to you to issue a stern warning.’

  ‘Father needs to be kept in line at times. He can be wayward.’

  ‘What he requires now,’ suggested Colbeck, ‘is a long rest. Far from dismissing him, the London and North Western Railway Company should be applauding him for trying to protect their train.’ He smiled at her. ‘When would it be possible for me to call on your father?’

  ‘At home, you mean?’

  ‘I hardly expect Mr Andrews to come hopping around here.’

  ‘No, no,’ she said with a laugh.

  ‘Mr Pike has given me his version of events, of course, but I would like to hear what your father has to say. Is there any chance that I might question him tomorrow?’

  ‘Yes, Inspector – if he continues to improve.’

  ‘I’ll delay my arrival until late morning.’

  ‘We will expect you,’ said Madeleine, glad that she would be seeing him again. Their eyes locked for a moment. Both of them felt a mild frisson. It was she who eventually turned away. ‘I’ve taken up too much of your time, Inspector. I look forward to seeing you tomorrow.’

  ‘One moment,’ he said, putting a hand on her arm to stop her. ‘I may be a detective but I find it much easier to visit a house when I know exactly where it is.’ He took out his notebook. ‘Could I trouble you for an address, Miss Andrews?’

  She gave another laugh. ‘Yes – how silly of me!’

  He wrote down the address that she dictated then clo
sed the notebook. When he looked up, she met his gaze once more and there was a blend of interest and regret in her eyes. Colbeck was intrigued.

  ‘I hope that you catch these men soon, Inspector,’ she said.

  ‘We will make every effort to do so.’

  ‘What they did to my father was unforgivable.’

  ‘They will be justly punished, Miss Andrews.’

  ‘He was heart-broken when he heard what happened to his locomotive. Father dotes on it. Why did they force it off the track? It seems so unnecessary.’

  ‘It was. Unnecessary and gratuitous.’

  ‘Do you have any idea who the train robbers might be?’

  ‘We have identified two of their accomplices,’ he told her, ‘and we are searching for both men. One of them – a former employee of the Post Office – should be in custody before too long.’

  William Ings was astounded by his good fortune. He never thought that he would meet any woman whose company he preferred to a game of cards but that is what had happened in the case of Kate Piercey. He had shared a night of madness with her and spent most of the next day in her arms. Kate was younger, livelier and more sensual than Polly Roach. Her breath was far sweeter, her body firmer. More to the point, she was not as calculating as the woman he had discarded on the previous night. Ings had bumped into her in the street as he fled from the clutches of Polly Roach. He knew that the collision was no accident – she had deliberately stepped out of the shadows into his path – but that did not matter. He felt that the encounter was fateful.

  There was something about Kate that excited him from the start, an amalgam of boldness and vulnerability that he found irresistible. She was half-woman and half-child, mature yet nubile, experienced yet seemingly innocent. William Ings was a realist. He knew that he was not the first man to enjoy her favours and he had no qualms about paying for them, but he was soon overcome by the desire to be the last of her clients, to covet her, to protect her, to rescue her from the hazards of her profession and shape her into something better. Impossible as the dream might appear, he wanted to be both father and lover to Kate Piercey.

  As he watched her dress that evening by the light of the lamp, he was enchanted. Polly Roach might have brought him to the Devil’s Acre but she had been displaced from his mind completely.