Railway to the Grave

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

Instead of mourning the death of an old friend, Edward Tallis threw himself into his work with such commitment that there was little room left for brooding on his grief. Policing a city as large and turbulent as London was well beyond the limited resources allocated to the task. Crime flowed through the capital with the force and inevitability of the River Thames. Nothing could stop it. The most that could be achieved was to divert a small proportion of it into tributaries where it could be contained and, even then, success was only ever temporary. Puffing on his cigar, Tallis looked at the list of serious crimes perpetrated in the previous twenty-four hours. It was daunting. Many of them could be dealt with by uniformed constables but some called for the specialist assistance of the Detective Department.

Before he could begin to assign his men to deal with specific cases, however, there was a tap on the door. It opened to allow Robert Colbeck to step in, looking as suave as ever. Tallis was flabbergasted.

‘How did you get here this early, Inspector?’ he asked.

‘It involved some personal discomfort, sir,’ said Colbeck, smoothly. ‘I took a milk train to York, inveigled my way into the guard’s van of a goods train to Peterborough then picked up an express to King’s Cross. I intend to return by more direct means.’

‘Have you identified the killer yet?’

‘We have two main suspects in mind. It’s our belief that they may have been acting together.’

‘Give me the details.’

Unlike Leeming, the inspector was never intimidated by Tallis. He was able to give a clear, succinct, well-presented account of what they’d been doing since the sergeant had delivered his more garbled report. Tallis was impressed by his thoroughness but he had doubts that Adam Tarleton was involved.

‘He’s not the sort of man to kill anyone,’ he asserted.

‘He may not have done it himself, sir,’ said Colbeck, ‘but he could be capable of hiring someone else to commit the murder.’

‘You believe that he suborned Bruntcliffe?’

‘We are coming around to that view.’

‘I can see that this fellow might have had a strong enough motive. If the colonel sent him to prison, Bruntcliffe could have wreaked his revenge by killing the person the colonel loved most. What I can’t see is a motive for Adam.’

‘Do you remember how he conducted himself at the inquest?’

‘Only too clearly,’ said Tallis, disapprovingly. ‘He didn’t look like a son who’d just lost a stepfather by suicide. There was no sense of genuine bereavement.’

‘We felt the same, Superintendent,’ said Colbeck. ‘While his sister was suffering agonies, he behaved as if he had no connection with the deceased. All that interests him is the money he stands to inherit. When we met him at the house yesterday, he hadn’t even put on appropriate mourning wear.’

‘That’s unforgivable.’

‘He admitted quite freely that he resented the colonel and had never acknowledged him as a father. By the same token, he must have borne a grudge against his mother for foisting her second husband on him. From what I can gather, Mrs Tarleton sought to retain his affection by providing him with money. But as we’re aware,’ said Colbeck, ‘that source of income ceased. How would a parasite like Adam Tarleton react when he could no longer sponge off his mother?’

‘He’d be very angry – even vengeful.’

‘There’s your motive, sir.’

Tallis scratched his head. ‘I wonder.’

‘The only way to get the money he felt was his due was to kill his mother in such a way that suspicion fell on the colonel. The stratagem worked. Most people still believe that he killed his wife.’

‘I know and it’s monstrously unjust.’

‘Yet it’s shared by people like the rector. He’s an intelligent man who wouldn’t simply follow the herd. The problem,’ Colbeck went on, ‘is that he exerts such influence in the village and its environs. He has a hold on people’s minds.’

‘That’s why we must trumpet the colonel’s innocence,’ said Tallis, tugging the cigar from his mouth, ‘and there’s only one way to do that.’ He shot Colbeck a shrewd look. ‘How convinced are you that Adam is the real killer?’

‘To be frank,’ admitted Colbeck, ‘I’m only partially convinced, even though he lied about not seeing Bruntcliffe for years. On his own, he might baulk at the idea of murder. Given assistance, however, it might be a different matter. That’s where Bruntcliffe comes in.’

‘But he was locked up in Northallerton.’

‘And he was visited there by Adam Tarleton.’

‘That may be,’ said Tallis, ‘but they could hardly have hatched a murder plot together. Prison visits are closely supervised. He and this Bruntcliffe wouldn’t have been alone for a second.’

‘Then they could have waited until Bruntcliffe’s release.’

‘Is there any evidence that Adam was in Yorkshire at that time? And where did the discharged prisoner go when they let him out? How would he have known that the colonel’s wife would be walking to Northallerton on that particular day? Where would Bruntcliffe have acquired those two cartridges found with the dead body? No,’ decided Tallis, ‘there are too many imponderables here, Inspector. All that you have at the moment is a series of coloured marbles. You need to find the thread that will link them together in a pearl necklace.’

‘I’d prefer to see it as a hangman’s noose, Superintendent.’

Tallis smiled grimly. He was grateful that Colbeck had taken such trouble to report to him in person but disappointed that no incontrovertible proof had been found. As he sat there in the swirling cigar smoke, he wondered if he should return to Yorkshire with the inspector. He was sorely tempted. Colbeck tried to stifle the notion.

‘Sergeant Leeming and I are very grateful for the freedom you’ve granted us to pursue this investigation,’ he said. ‘Had you been there, we’d have been hampered by the need to defer to you at every stage.’

Tallis glared. ‘Are you telling me that I’d be in the way?’

‘We work better when you’re not looking over our shoulders, sir,’ said Colbeck, easily. ‘It’s the same for anyone. I’m sure that you work more effectively when you’re not under continual scrutiny.’

‘There’s something in that.’

‘Then stay in London and rule the roost here, Superintendent.’

‘I’ll give you the weekend,’ warned Tallis. ‘If you’ve made no real advance by Monday, I may well join you to lend my assistance.’

‘You might be able to assist us right now, Superintendent,’ said Colbeck, dismayed to hear that he’d been given only two days to solve a complex case. ‘It’s this business about the colonel’s regular visits to Doncaster. Can you suggest why he went there? Nobody else can.’

‘I’m sorry, I can’t help you.’

‘Did the colonel make no mention of it in his letters?’

‘No, Inspector, our correspondence usually took the form of reminiscences about our time in the army. I can’t recall a single reference to Doncaster.’

‘Can you explain why he’d want to keep his visits so secret?’

Tallis was annoyed. ‘I know what’s behind that question,’ he said, irritably, ‘and I find it impertinent. When a married man disappears from time to time, the obvious assumption is that he’s going off for an illicit assignation.’

‘That’s not an assumption that I made, sir,’ said Colbeck.

‘Well, it’s one that other people will make and I want to tell you why it’s both unkind and untrue. This, mark you,’ he went on, ‘must go no further than this room.’

‘You have my word of honour, Superintendent.’

‘Whatever else took the colonel to Doncaster, it was definitely not a woman. When we saw action together in India, I escaped with minor injuries but the colonel was less fortunate. A bullet ricocheted and wounded him in the groin. The damage was permanent. That’s why the colonel and his wife never had children of their own,’ he said, pointedly, ‘and why he’d never be led astray by a female.’

Eve Doel was still crushed beneath the combined weight of grief and remorse. Back in the house where she’d been brought up, she found it curiously empty and deeply upsetting. Wherever she looked, she saw reminders of happier days. One glance into her mother’s bedroom had been all that she managed before she was overwhelmed by a tidal wave of loss and regret. One of the things that made her pain so hard to bear was that it was patently not shared by her brother. Over breakfast that morning, she taxed him with his lack of sympathy.

‘You’re not even pretending to mourn,’ she said.

‘That time will come, Eve,’ he promised her. ‘At the moment, I have to keep my mind clear to defend our rights.’

‘Mr Everett can do that. He’s a lawyer.’

‘He’s no match for someone like the rector. A decision needed to be reached about the funerals. The inquest into Mother’s death is on Monday. As soon as that’s over, we can take possession of the body and have a joint funeral at St Andrew’s.’

She was dubious. ‘Did the rector actually agree to that?’

‘I gave him no chance to disagree.’

‘So all you’ve done is to antagonise him further.’

‘I simply put him in his place,’ said Tarleton through a mouthful of food. ‘Trust me, Eve. When we go to church tomorrow, he’ll be ready to accede to our wishes.’

‘I think that’s highly unlikely,’ she said. ‘Besides, it would be very unwise of you to attend the service. It would be like red rag to a bull.’

‘You can’t go to church on your own.’

‘I won’t have to, Adam. Mrs Withers will come with me. There’s even a chance that my husband will join us. Lawrence is due back in England today. When he realises what’s been happening while he was abroad, he’ll catch the first train here.’

‘I need to be there as well,’ said Tarleton, ‘to discuss the details of the funerals with the rector.’

‘There’s no point. He won’t budge. After the way you confronted him, he’ll be even more determined to prevent our stepfather’s body from being buried in the churchyard. Inspector Colbeck made the best suggestion. We must appeal to the archbishop.’

‘That could take time.’

‘Not if you write a letter and deliver it by hand today.’

‘I’ll do it my way, Eve,’ he insisted. ‘I showed the rector that we won’t be pushed about by him. He’s bound to capitulate.’

Eve was about to reply but she saw Lottie hovering at the door, waiting to clear away the breakfast things. She beckoned the servant over and the girl entered hastily, gathering up the plates with a clatter then backing out with a string of mumbled apologies.

‘Where on earth did they find that useless creature?’ complained Tarleton. ‘Why couldn’t they hire someone more efficient?’

‘Lottie is cheap.’

‘She’s a liability. I’ve never seen anyone so nervous.’

‘That’s because of you, Adam. You scare her. She’s terrified to make a mistake in case you punish her.’

‘Well, she made a mistake yesterday. I heard Mrs Withers scolding her in the kitchen. The girl was sent to get two dozen eggs from Rock Farm. She managed to break three of them on her way back here. She’s a ditherer and I can’t tolerate that.’

‘Coming back to tomorrow,’ she said, ‘I don’t think it would be wise for you to go to church.’

‘Of course I’ll go,’ he asserted. ‘It will be expected of me.’

‘I find that ironic. When we lived here, the one thing we could expect was that you wouldn’t go to church. You did everything you could to get out of it.’

‘The services were so tedious. Once he gets into that pulpit, the rector can spout for hours. It was like purgatory sometimes,’ he recalled. ‘Tomorrow is different. People will want to commiserate with us. Family friends will be there.’

‘That’s why I don’t want any unpleasantness.’

‘I’ll be as good as gold, Eve.’

‘The rector is bound to talk about the tragedies we’ve had to endure. He’ll ask everyone to pray for us. What if he refuses in public to accept one of the bodies for burial?’

‘In that case,’ said Tarleton, grinding his teeth, ‘he’ll get a lot more than mere unpleasantness. I can vouch for that.’

Madeleine couldn’t believe her good fortune. After doing some chores in the house, she’d intended to visit a friend in Highgate. Instead of that, Colbeck had arrived out of nowhere, told her to change into her best dress, then helped her into a cab that took them to King’s Cross. The two of them now had a first-class carriage to themselves in a train that was thundering north. She was still dizzied by the turn of events.

‘What am I to tell Father?’ she asked.

‘Tell him that you were abducted by a handsome stranger.’

‘He’ll worry about me, Robert.’

‘You’ll be safely back home long before he finishes work,’ said Colbeck. ‘I’m only taking you as far as Peterborough. You can catch the next train back to London from there.’ He indicated the book she’d brought. ‘You can finish Cranford on the return journey.’

‘Father will hate the fact that I travelled on the Great Northern Railway. You know how much he complained when you took me on the GWR. He called that an act of treason. According to him,’ she said, ‘the only company who should be allowed to take passengers is the London and North Western.’

‘I admire his loyalty to the LNWR,’ said Colbeck with a grin, ‘but it’s not as faultless as he thinks. Captain Huish, the general manager, has stooped to all kinds of machinations to keep rivals at bay. Take this very line, for instance. Huish had wanted to preserve the LNWR’s monopoly between London and Edinburgh. He did all he could to starve this eastern route of traffic. Every company touched by the Great Northern was coerced into the so-called Euston Confederacy whose sole aim was to undermine the GNR. I’m pleased to say that his skulduggery failed,’ he went on. ‘Four years ago, Huish got a royal slap in the face when Her Majesty abandoned his company’s route to Scotland and went to Balmoral by means of the GNR instead.’

‘I wouldn’t dare say that to Father. He idolises Captain Huish.’

‘Then he’s worshipping a false god, Madeleine.’ He squeezed her arm and pulled her closer. ‘But why are we talking about railways when we have so many other things to discuss?’

‘You haven’t even mentioned the investigation yet.’

‘I was enjoying this short-lived break from it.’

‘How much longer will you be away, Robert?’

‘Ideally, the murder will be solved by Monday.’

‘That’s wonderful!’ she cried, nestling closer. ‘Are you so near to making an arrest?’

‘The truth is that I don’t know, Madeleine. Ideally, everything will become clear in the next two days. If it doesn’t, Superintendent Tallis will resume control and that will slow the whole process down.’ He pulled a face. ‘I want to avoid that at all costs.’

‘Is he really the ogre that Sergeant Leeming says he is?’

‘No, he’s a dedicated man with a firm belief in the importance of law and order. Everything else in his life is subordinate to his work.’

‘Is that why he disapproves of marriage?’

‘I’d rather not go into that now, Madeleine.’

‘You haven’t told him, have you?’

He took a deep breath. ‘No, I haven’t.’

‘It’s not like you to be afraid, Robert.’

‘It’s a question of being diplomatic. At the moment, he’s so caught up in the horrors of this case that he can think about nothing else. I have to take matters slowly.’

She searched his eyes. ‘Is that the real explanation?’

‘What other explanation is there?’

‘Some people might say that you’re too ashamed of me to tell the superintendent that we’re engaged to be married.’

‘That’s absurd!’ he said, enfolding her in his arms. ‘And you must never think that, Madeleine. I love you and I’m proud of you. When you accepted my proposal, I couldn’t wait to put details of the engagement in the newspapers. Had it been left to me, it would have been in headlines on the front pages.’ She laughed with gratitude. ‘How could I be ashamed of you when you’re the most wonderful thing that ever happened to me?’

‘Is that what you’re going to tell the superintendent?’

‘Well…maybe not in exactly the same words.’

‘Why didn’t you mention it to him this morning?’

‘It would have been the worst possible time.’

‘You mean that he’s too distracted?’

‘No, Madeleine,’ he said, ‘that’s only part of the reason. The one marriage that Mr Tallis admired was that between the colonel and his wife. When he was with them, he really understood the true value of holy matrimony. Without warning, he’s confronted with the fact that their marriage might not have been as happy as he’d assumed. One of them is murdered and the other commits suicide. All sorts of secrets are being unearthed and that’s shaken him.’

‘I can see why you’d rather wait now, Robert.’

‘When this business is over, I’ll tell him immediately.’

‘Thank you. I’ll say no more on the subject.’ He kissed her then pulled her close. It was minutes before she spoke again. ‘You said that secrets are being unearthed.’

‘That’s right, Madeleine.’

‘What sort of secrets?’

‘Well,’ he said, ‘one of them concerns Doncaster.’

‘What happened there?’

‘That’s the trouble – we don’t know. I’m hoping that Victor will be able to find out. I told him to go there today.’

He was wrong. Because it was a flourishing railway town, Leeming had assumed that it would be covered in industrial grime and that, in fact, was the aspect that first presented itself to him. Alighting at the station, he found it swarming with passengers, waiting to go on the main line north or south or on the branch line to Sheffield. A goods train carrying coal went past on the through line. Other wagons were being loaded with coal in a siding. A strong breeze whipped up the coal dust and sent it flying through the air in clouds, mingling with the dense smoke from departing locomotives. The din was continual, its volume increased by the turmoil from the railway works nearby.

Yet when he went into the town itself, Leeming realised that it was a charming place with a pleasant situation on the River Don. Many of the vestiges of its time as a coaching town still remained. Its long, wide high street was an impressive thoroughfare, lined with houses, shops, inns, eating houses, banks and business premises. As he explored the town, Leeming found much to admire. Doncaster had a mansion house, a town hall, fine churches, a theatre, schools, a hospital, almshouses and other institutions for promoting the welfare of its inhabitants. New terraced housing had been built by the railway company for its employees but the serried ranks didn’t detract from the weathered graciousness of the older buildings.

Leeming’s problem was that he didn’t know where to begin. In a town with a population of several thousand, he could hardly knock on every door in search of anyone who’d known Colonel Tarleton. By the time he’d finished his initial stroll around the town, he could think of several reasons why the colonel had visited it. Many of the larger residences might have been the home of friends from the same social class. Leeming sought out one of the town constables for advice.

Claude Forrester knew exactly who the colonel was.

‘It was him what was took mad,’ he said, darkly. ‘Him what threw himself in front of that train. It were in the newspaper.’

‘That’s right,’ said Leeming. ‘Are you aware that he used to come to Doncaster quite often at one time?’

‘Lots of people do that, Sergeant.’

‘But they’re not all as distinctive as the colonel.’

‘He’d be lost in the crowd. Know your trouble? You’re searching for a grain of sand on Blackpool beach.’

Forrester was a lugubrious individual in his forties whose days in uniform had convinced him of the existence of criminal tendencies in most human beings. As they talked, his eyes flicked suspiciously at every passer-by.

‘There’s two reasons why the colonel came,’ he said.

‘He could have had friends here.’

‘That’s a third reason but I think there’s two main ones.’

‘What are they?’ asked Leeming.

‘I can see you’ve never been to Doncaster before,’ said Forrester, mentally frisking an old woman who waddled past. ‘We have one of the finest racecourses in the country on Town Moor. Come here in September when the St Leger is run and you’ll find the world and his wife in this part of Yorkshire. I know,’ he added, ‘because I’m always on duty there. Last year, almost a quarter of a million people came to Doncaster during the week of the St Leger.’

‘That’s only once a year, Constable.’

‘There’s plenty of other race meetings as well.’

‘Yes,’ said Leeming, ‘but there’s nothing to suggest that the colonel was a betting man. Besides, if he’d simply been here for the races, he’d have brought his wife. There’d be no need to be so secretive about it.’

‘Ah, now, if it’s secrecy we’re talking about,’ said the constable, ‘then I come to my second main reason.’ He tapped the side of his nose. ‘He was paying a visit, sir.’

Leeming was impatient. ‘I said that at the very start.’

‘He was paying a visit to a certain place.’

‘What I need to find out is where that certain place was.’

‘I could take you there, if you wish.’

‘You know where it is?’

‘I know everything about this town,’ boasted the other. ‘This particular house is where rich men go to spend their money.’

‘It’s a gambling den?’

‘They take a gamble of sorts, I suppose. They gamble that their wives won’t ever find out. I’m talking about harlotry. You should see some of our ladies of easy virtue, Sergeant. They’re quite a sight.’

‘No, thank you,’ said Leeming. ‘When I was a young constable, I raided enough brothels in London to last me a lifetime. The colonel wasn’t here for the delights of the flesh. He was a faithful husband.’

‘No? Then I can’t help you.’

‘Do you know anyone who could?’

‘No,’ said Forrester, rubbing his chin. ‘Unless you talk to Ned Staddle – but I daresay you’ve already done that.’

‘Who’s Ned Staddle?’

‘He’s the stationmaster. Got a keen eye and a good memory, for all that he’s long in the tooth. Talk to Ned and mention my name. He’s a friend.’

Leeming was glad to part from the cheerless constable. Yet the man had a useful suggestion. On his way back to the station, Leeming rebuked himself for not thinking of questioning people there when he first arrived. Since the colonel had been such a regular visitor – and since his name had been given prominence by the suicide – a member of the staff might well recall him. The sergeant soon learnt that talking to the stationmaster required a long wait. Ned Staddle was too busy controlling the traffic in and out of the different platforms to spare him a moment. Tall, skinny and with silver hair hidden beneath his hat, Staddle seemed to be in constant motion. It was only when he took his morning break that he was able to find time for Leeming.

‘Aye, I know who the colonel was,’ said the stationmaster. ‘Used to see quite a bit of him at one time.’

‘Constable Forrester said that you had a good memory.’

‘You been talking to that miserable old devil?’

‘He claimed to be a friend of yours.’

Staddle laughed. ‘He doesn’t have a friend within a hundred miles of here,’ he said. ‘If this was a village, Claude Forrester would be its idiot. Looking like that, he should have been a gravedigger.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Leeming, ‘chatting to him was a bit like attending a funeral. Putting the constable aside, can you tell me why the colonel used to come to Doncaster?’

‘It wasn’t to see Forrester, I know that much. Let me think.’ Staddle put a hand to his forehead as he ransacked his memory for details. At length, he gave a sigh of regret. ‘I’m sorry, Sergeant. I did speak to the colonel whenever he came but we never really talked. The only person who might be able to help you is Mr Kinchin.’

‘Who’s he?’

‘Mr Kinchin retired a few years ago. He used to work for the Great Northern as a manager. I seem to remember that he was here to meet the colonel sometimes.’

‘Does this gentleman live in Doncaster?’

‘Aye,’ said Staddle, ‘but you won’t find him at home. He caught the early train to Sheffield. He always goes to see his mother on the first Saturday of the month. She’s in her eighties.’

‘Will he be returning here today?’

‘Oh, aye, he’ll be back in Doncaster this evening.’

‘I take it that you’ll still be on duty, Mr Staddle.’

The stationmaster chortled. ‘I’m always on duty, sir.’

‘Then perhaps you’ll give a message to this gentleman. I’ll write it down, if you wish.’

‘There’s no need. Constable Forrester was right about one thing, but then even a fool says a wise thing sometimes. I do have a good memory. I’ll pass on any message word for word.’

‘Thank you,’ said Leeming, feeling that he was at last getting close to the answer he sought. ‘Impress upon him that he may have some information that will help to further a murder investigation. Tell him to catch the next train to South Otterington and to ask for me or for Inspector Colbeck at the Black Bull.’ He paused to give Staddle time to absorb everything. ‘Can you remember all that?’

‘He’s to come to the Black Bull at South Otterington.’

‘We’ll pay his rail fare. No matter how late it is, it’s vital that he comes. If I had the time, I’d wait here until he returned but I’ve lots of other enquiries to make so I must go back.’

‘I understand.’

‘What sort of person is Mr Kinchin?’

‘He was a manager – the kind you tip your hat to.’

‘Do you know much about him?’

‘Not really, Sergeant Leeming.’

‘Had he ever been in the army?’

‘You’ll have to ask him at the Black Bull in South Otterington,’ said Staddle with another chuckle. ‘See? I did remember. He’s to speak to you or to Inspector Colbeck.’

Having had the pleasure of Madeleine’s company all the way to Peterborough, Colbeck spent the rest of his journey addressing his mind to the investigation. It was a paradox. Though certain that a man committed the murder, he somehow felt that they needed the help of a woman to solve the crime. Their names popped into his head in order of importance – Eve Doel, Agnes Reader, Mrs Withers, Lottie Pearl and Dorcas Skelton. He hadn’t forgotten Ginny Hepworth, the daughter of the railway policeman. Then there was the anonymous female who’d been there when the body of Miriam Tarleton had been discovered. Colbeck began to wish that he’d taken Madeleine all the way with him. In the past, her instincts about other women had always been acute and reliable.

Instead of getting off the train at South Otterington, he stayed on until it reached Northallerton so that he could call on Clifford Everett. Even on a Saturday, the lawyer was at his office. Colbeck tripped up the stairs and was soon settling into a chair opposite Everett. After exchanging a few niceties with him, Colbeck came to the point.

‘I understand that you’re quite a marksman, sir,’ he said.

‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that,’ replied Everett with a self-deprecating smirk. ‘I just seem to be lucky with a shotgun in my hands.’

‘I think you’re being too modest.’

‘I will admit to having some success – much to the chagrin of our cook, I may say. Whenever I bring home pheasants or other game birds, she hates having to pick the shot out of them.’

‘What about the colonel?’

‘He was the best of us all – until his eyesight began to fade.’

‘I’m told that you and he often went out together.’

‘It was my one indulgence, Inspector,’ said Everett. ‘My wife is very tolerant because she knows that it could be far worse. Other husbands turn to drink or gambling to while away their free time.’

‘How often did you and the colonel go shooting?’

‘We went whenever we could. If there was a shooting party at the weekend, we always joined in. Office work is very sedentary. It’s important to get some exercise.’

Colbeck gave a nod of agreement even though the lawyer didn’t look like a man who got much exercise. He couldn’t imagine Everett with a shotgun in his hands but knew that appearances could be deceptive. He saw the perspiration forming on the other man’s upper lip and wondered if he was making him nervous.

‘One of the things that puzzles me,’ admitted Colbeck, ‘is how the killer knew that Mrs Tarleton would be walking here that day.’

‘There’s no mystery there, Inspector. It was the day of the week when she always visited Agnes Reader. Miriam Tarleton was as methodical as her husband. She had a day for this, a day for that and so on. Everyone in her circle knew her routine,’ said Everett. ‘On a Saturday morning, for instance, you’d always find her at St Andrew’s, arranging the flowers. She had a real knack for it.’

‘Did Mrs Reader visit her on a particular day?’

‘Oh, yes. You could probably set your watch by it. What did fall by the wayside a little were the occasions when the four of them played cards together. If they met at the colonel’s house, it would mean feeding the guests and savings had to be made. Bertram Reader was very understanding about that.’

‘Yes,’ said Colbeck, ‘he seems a very understanding man.’

‘You have to be if you’re a banker. Bertram gets to see even more human misery in his office than I do. Money troubles can destroy whole families.’ He sat back and regarded Colbeck for a few moments. ‘If you’ve come to see me again, Inspector, I suspect that you’ve made very little progress.’

‘That’s not true, sir. We’ve already made some connections.’

‘Between whom, may I ask?’

‘Between Adam Tarleton and Michael Bruntcliffe, for example,’ said Colbeck. ‘It seems that they’ve been in touch quite recently.’ Everett was startled. ‘Young Mr Tarleton visited his friend in prison.’

‘Then why didn’t he tell his parents he was in the area?’

‘I doubt if he wanted them to know.’

‘What are those two up to, I wonder?’

‘That’s what I intend to find out. Even as we speak, Sergeant Leeming is conducting a search for Bruntcliffe. I’m hoping that he may have made another connection for us as well – the link between the colonel and Doncaster.’

‘Yes, I’d be interested to know that.’

‘The sergeant spent the morning in the town.’

‘Do you have any theories about what he might have found, Inspector?’

‘There’s a connection with the railways somehow,’ said Colbeck. ‘I felt that from the start. It’s worth bearing one thing in mind. When he committed suicide that day, the colonel was walking in the direction of Doncaster.’

Though the bank was closed, Bertram Reader was not off duty. He visited one client in Cowton that morning then had luncheon with another in Thirsk. It was mid afternoon when he finally returned home and was able to anticipate a period of rest. His wife gave him a sympathetic smile as he came into the drawing room.

‘You shouldn’t have to work on a Saturday,’ she said. ‘People ask too much of you. They should visit you during banking hours.’

‘Most of my clients do that Agnes,’ he told her, ‘but there are exceptions. When someone asks for a loan to extend their house or to increase the size of their herd – which is exactly what today’s clients wanted to do – I like to take a close look at their premises to make sure that everything is as it should be. I always ask to see their account books as well. My predecessor lost his job because he advanced loans without due care. One of the clients absconded with two thousand pounds that was never repaid.’

‘You’re back home now, that’s the important thing.’

‘What have you been doing?’

‘I’ve been thinking about this and that.’

‘Have you been brooding again?’ he asked, taking her by the shoulders. ‘You mustn’t keep blaming yourself.’

‘But if Miriam hadn’t been coming here…’

‘How many times must I say it? You did nothing wrong.’

‘Then why do I feel so guilty?’

‘It’s because you’re a dear, lovely, caring woman. I have my share of guilt, you know. If I hadn’t been with a client that day, you could have summoned me from my office to begin the search. I let you down and, indirectly, I let Miriam down.’

‘You weren’t to know, Bertram.’

‘Exactly,’ he said, taking his hands away. ‘I wasn’t to know any more than you were. We can’t be held responsible for what happened. It was a terrible tragedy but it can’t be laid at our door.’

‘You’re right.’

‘Then remember that I’m right,’ he said with mock sternness.

When they moved to the sofa and sat down, he noticed a piece of paper on the table beside her. Seeing his interest, she picked it up and passed it over to him. Reader studied the long list of names his wife had compiled.

‘I didn’t spend all my time brooding,’ she said.

‘Who are all these people?’

‘They’re murder suspects.’

He was offended. ‘Do you mind?’ he said with mild outrage. ‘My name is down here.’

‘And so is mine, Bertram.’

‘What do we have to do – confess?’

‘Don’t be silly,’ she scolded. ‘I’ve tried to be useful. Every person on that list knew that Miriam would be coming to see me that day. They could have planned an ambush.’

‘You’ve got well over twenty names here,’ he said.

‘That’s the trouble. There were so many of us. Clifford Everett is one of them, though I ought to exclude him because he’s the least likely person to have committed a murder.’

He examined the list. ‘There’s something you’ve forgotten, Agnes. Anyone on this list could inadvertently have mentioned that Miriam came to Northallerton on a particular day. Sharp ears might have picked up the information. Or there’s something else we ought to consider,’ he went on. ‘The culprit may simply have watched Miriam for weeks beforehand and seen a pattern emerge. Inspector Colbeck said that calculation was involved.’

‘Are you telling me that my list is useless?’

‘No, no – simply that it’s not comprehensive.’

‘Oh dear!’ she said, forlornly. ‘I wasted my time.’

‘Don’t think that,’ he urged. ‘It was a very useful exercise and the villain may well be hidden somewhere in that list. I think that I should show it to the inspector.’

‘Very well, Bertram – please do that.’

He looked at her fondly. Though she was still in mourning attire, he was glad to see that she was not as pale and distraught as she had been. There were no visible signs of another bout of sustained weeping. Agnes was composed and dignified. He was reassured. As he let his gaze drift to the mantelpiece, he noticed a card that hadn’t been there before. He got up from the sofa.

‘What’s that?’ he asked.

‘It came this morning,’ she replied.

‘Who sent it?’

The question was answered when he saw the name at the bottom of the message inscribed inside the card. As he read it, his body tensed and his face hardened.

‘Is something wrong?’ she asked, noting the sudden change in his demeanour.

‘It is, my dear,’ he said, moving to the door. ‘You’ll have to excuse me. I have to find Inspector Colbeck as soon as I can.’