Railway to the Grave

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Victor Leeming was in great discomfort. While Colbeck found the ride bracing, the sergeant was squirming in the saddle as he sought the position that would bring least agony. He was also sweating from every pore and struggling to keep the bay mare parallel with the other horse. They had left the track now and were making their way across an undulating plain towards the cottage on the hill.

‘Are you certain this is the place?’ asked Leeming.

‘It has to be, Victor. It’s the only dwelling for miles.’

‘Mr Tarleton might have deliberately sent us astray.’

‘Why should he do that?’

‘To get us out of the way so that he could make his escape.’

‘I’ve told you,’ said Colbeck. ‘He was not party to the murder. Had he been so, he’d have turned tail the moment that he realised that we knew he’d been in touch with Bruntcliffe.’

‘He must be involved in the murder somehow,’ argued Leeming. ‘What’s that Latin tag you’re always quoting at me?’

‘ Cui bono? Who stands to benefit?’

‘The answer is Adam Tarleton. He’ll certainly benefit.’

‘So will his sister but I’m not accusing Mrs Doel of killing their mother, am I? Forget them for the moment. The person of real interest to us is Bruntcliffe.’

As if on cue, a horseman suddenly emerged from the stable ahead of them, kicking his mount into a gallop and heading off in the opposite direction. Colbeck didn’t hesitate. Flicking the reins and digging in his heels, he set his own horse off at full speed. Leeming was terrified to coax a faster pace out of the mare so he settled for following the others at a gentle canter. Bruntcliffe was over a hundred yards ahead of the pursuing Colbeck, stinging the horse with his whip to keep it running at full pelt. Every so often, he tossed a worried glance over his shoulder. Colbeck was slowly gaining on him, riding hell for leather and ignoring the fact that his hat had blown off. In his experience, flight was usually a confession of guilt. If Bruntcliffe had been innocent, he would have stayed at the cottage to be interviewed by the detectives. That thought made Colbeck even more resolute. He recalled the appalling state of Miriam Tarleton’s body when it was unearthed in the woods. The man responsible for her death simply had to be caught, tried and hanged.

As Colbeck surged on with his frock coat flapping in the wind, Leeming was almost half a mile behind him. The gap between quarry and hunter slowly and inexorably closed. When it was down to forty yards, Bruntcliffe became desperate. Unable to outrun the pursuit, he opted for a different method of escape, wheeling his horse in a tight circle so that he headed straight at Colbeck. The inspector could see what the intention was. Bruntcliffe wanted to knock him from the saddle, take his horse by the reins and ride off with both animals. Slowing his mount with a sharp tug, Colbeck reacted instinctively. As the other man came at him with his whip raised, Colbeck slipped his feet from the stirrups and raised an arm to ward off the blow. The moment that Bruntcliffe struck, he was knocked from the saddle as Colbeck lunged across at him and tackled him around the waist. The two of them fell to the ground with a thud and rolled over on the grass, leaving the horses to run on without riders.

Both were dazed by the impact but Colbeck was the first to recover. Staggering to his feet, he took his captive by the collar and hauled him upright. Bruntcliffe was ready to fight. As his head cleared, he swung a fist drunkenly but it was easily parried. By way of retaliation, Colbeck punched him hard in the stomach then caught him with an uppercut on the chin. The resistance was over. Dazed by the blow, Bruntcliffe slumped to the ground. It gave Colbeck the time to examine the grass stains on his coat and trousers. As he hit the other man from the saddle, he’d also torn a sleeve open. That was irritating to a dandy like him. He was grateful that he’d collected a change of apparel during his short visit to London.

Bruntcliffe rubbed his bruised chin and looked up at him.

‘How did you know that it was me?’ he asked, sullenly.

‘You gave yourself away by bolting like that.’

‘What else was I supposed to do? Wait to be arrested? Adam told me that two detectives had come from London. When I saw the pair of you coming towards the cottage, I guessed who you might be.’

‘I am Inspector Colbeck,’ said the other, offering a hand and pulling him to his feet. ‘Michael Bruntcliffe, I’m placing you under arrest for the murder of Miriam Tarleton.’

Bruntcliffe was staggered. ‘What did you say?’

‘I think you heard me clearly, sir.’

‘I had nothing whatsoever to do with the murder. I’ve never even met Adam’s mother. Why should I want to kill her?’

‘It was in order to get your revenge on the colonel.’

‘Ah,’ said Bruntcliffe, sourly, ‘that’s a different matter.’

‘Is that why you were running away?’ asked Colbeck, thinking about the incident in the churchyard. ‘You pulled down that cross last night, didn’t you?’

‘It was only because that venomous old bastard put it there.’

‘Didn’t you think of the offence it would cause?’

‘What about the offence the colonel caused me?’ rejoined Bruntcliffe. ‘Do you know what it’s like being locked up in prison for something that was simply a joke?’

‘You deserved the sentence you got,’ said Colbeck. ‘Painting out public signs could put people in danger. If they can’t read a warning, they can’t exercise caution.’ He grabbed him by the throat and pulled him close. ‘What else did you do to get your revenge on the colonel?’

‘I did nothing at all.’

‘I think you did, Mr Bruntcliffe. I think you sent him some of those evil letters he received. You wanted to goad and taunt him. You wanted to make him suffer, didn’t you?’ He tightened his grip until the other man spluttered. ‘Didn’t you?’

‘Yes,’ admitted Bruntcliffe, baring his teeth. ‘That’s exactly what I did. I wanted to torment him.’

‘Those letters helped to push him towards suicide.’

‘Then I’m glad I sent some of them.’

‘Let’s see if you still feel the same when we take you to court.’

‘I confess that I sent the letters and pulled down that cross, Inspector,’ said Bruntcliffe with gabbled sincerity, ‘but I swear, in the name of God, that I didn’t murder Adam’s mother. On the day that it happened, I wasn’t even in the county. I was in Lincoln. That’s the truth.’

He broke off as Leeming arrived, riding one horse and towing another by the rein. He had also collected Colbeck’s hat and handed it to him as he dismounted.

‘Thank you, Victor,’ said Colbeck, releasing his prisoner.

‘I’m sorry that I couldn’t keep up with you, sir.’

‘I managed without you this time. I’ve got a use for those handcuffs now,’ he went on, turning to Bruntcliffe. ‘This is Sergeant Leeming and he’d like you to hold out your wrists.’

Glowering at both of them, Bruntcliffe obeyed. Leeming snapped the handcuffs into place then gave a triumphant grin.

‘We’ve finally solved the murder,’ he said, happily, ‘and stopped Mr Tallis descending on us tomorrow.’

‘Don’t celebrate too soon,’ warned Colbeck. ‘This gentleman has admitted freely that he committed certain crimes but murder is not one of them. I’m inclined to believe him.’

Leeming was shaken. ‘But he was seen getting his blood money from Adam Tarleton.’

‘What blood money?’ demanded Bruntcliffe.

‘You were out riding with him. When you got close to his house, he handed over your payment. We have a witness.’

‘Then he must be half-blind. The only time I had money from Adam was when I came out of prison, and he was repaying a loan I’d made to him in the past. He’s a good friend and the only one to stand by me when I was locked up.’

‘So what did he give you that day?’ asked Leeming.

‘He gave me something better than money,’ replied Bruntcliffe with a smirk. ‘He gave me a letter of introduction to the lady who owns the cottage where I spent the last two nights. Adam told me that I’d be sure of a warm welcome there and I’ve no complaints. It was where he used to stay when he came back to Yorkshire without telling his mother or his stepfather.’ He pointed in the direction of the cottage. ‘Ask the lady, if you don’t believe me.’

‘We will, sir,’ said Colbeck.

‘One thing I must stress. She didn’t know she was harbouring a petty criminal. She’s completely innocent.’

‘I question that,’ said Leeming, shocked by what he’d heard. ‘If the lady can permit herself to be passed so easily from one man to another, then her innocence is in grave doubt.’

‘We’ll talk to her before we leave,’ decided Colbeck. ‘Meanwhile, there’s another job for you to do, Victor. Since you have such a talent for rounding up loose horses, perhaps you’d be so good as to catch that one.’

He indicated the horse that he’d been riding earlier. Having shed Colbeck, the animal had run on for a couple of minutes before jumping over a dry stone wall and slowing to a halt. It was now cropping the grass unconcernedly in the middle of a flock of sheep. Leeming studied them with misgiving.

‘Well, go on,’ urged Colbeck. ‘They won’t harm you. I’ve yet to hear of anyone being savaged by a wild ewe.’

About to move off, Leeming was stopped by a sudden thought.

‘There’s something that worries me, Inspector,’ he said.

‘What is it?’

‘Well, in the space of a morning we’ve lost our two chief suspects. If neither of them committed the murder, who did?’

Agnes Reader bided her time until they were about to leave. Having chosen the keepsake she’d been offered – a tiny silver brooch in the shape of a thistle – she said that she would replace the jewellery box.

‘No, no,’ said Eve, ‘let Mrs Withers do that.’

‘It won’t take me a second,’ Agnes told her.

She went out into the hall and glided up the stairs as swiftly as she could. Letting herself into Miriam Tarleton’s bedroom, she put the box back on the dressing table and crossed to the writing bureau in the corner. There was no housekeeper to interfere this time. Agnes lowered the lid of the desk and pulled out one of the little drawers. She put a hand into the space. Her fingers felt for a wooden lever and she eventually found it. When she pressed it down, a secret drawer popped out from the side of the bureau in the most unexpected place. Reaching into it, all she could find were several small keys. Relief coursed through her so strongly that she almost swooned.

‘Thank God!’ she murmured.

When they stopped at the cottage, it did not take Colbeck long to establish that its female owner was completely unaware of what Bruntcliffe had been doing in the name of revenge. He bade her farewell. The three men headed back towards Northallerton on horseback. Leeming was thankful that they moved at a more sedate pace and glad that they had a prisoner to show for their efforts. At the same time, he was depressed by the realisation that the killer was still at liberty and that they had very little evidence as to his identity. When they reached the town, they handed Bruntcliffe over to one of the constables and watched him being charged before he was shut away in the lock-up. Back in the saddle, Leeming passed on the fruits of his meditation.

‘It has to be Sergeant Hepworth,’ he concluded.

‘We shall certainly take a closer look at him,’ agreed Colbeck. ‘What better way to conceal your guilt than by joining in the search for a woman whom you actually murdered?’

‘No wonder he offered his services to us, Inspector.’

‘Yes, he wanted to know exactly how the investigation went. That way, he could always stay one step ahead of us.’

‘I think we should arrest him immediately,’ said Leeming.

‘We don’t want to make another mistake, Victor. Let’s be absolutely sure of our facts before we accuse him of anything.’

‘But we know he sent those letters. His son told us.’

‘Sam Hepworth would change his story the moment his father gave him a clip around the ear. No, we must proceed with caution. Hepworth is a railway policeman. He’s familiar with the way that suspects are questioned. We mustn’t show our hand too early.’

‘He’s our killer, sir. I know it.’

‘You felt the same about Adam Tarleton.’

‘What that man did was sinful,’ said Leeming, bristling, ‘and I was revolted that we should learn about it on the Lord’s Day. How could any man hand over a woman like that to a friend? Does he have no moral scruples?’

‘You didn’t speak to the lady in question,’ Colbeck told him, ‘but I did. Let me simply say that Bruntcliffe and Tarleton were, in my opinion, not the only guests to share her bed. Where young men are concerned, she appears to be very compliant.’

‘Then I’m glad I stayed outside.’

On the ride from Northallerton, they took the identical route used by Miriam Tarleton, going past the spot where they believed the murder had taken place. They paused for a while so that Colbeck could reconstruct the ambush in his mind. Dismounting from his horse, he went to inspect the wheel marks made in the ground. After looking in both directions, he climbed back into the saddle.

‘It has to be the place,’ he said. ‘They’d be screened from view at this point. Whoever intercepted her had to be someone she knew, someone whose presence wouldn’t alarm her in any way.’

‘Sergeant Hepworth.’

‘It’s possible.’

‘It’s probable, sir. Who could be less likely to alarm her than a policeman?’

Colbeck grinned. ‘I know a policeman who alarms you, Victor.’

‘I’m not talking about the superintendent. Mrs Tarleton must have known Hepworth. Everybody else does and he’s not a man to hide his light under a bushel. If she met him here,’ argued Leeming, ‘the lady would have been reassured by the sight of that uniform.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘I wonder if he ever takes it off.’

‘I fear that he may sleep in it,’ said Colbeck.

‘Hepworth must have known Mrs Tarleton would be walking that day on this particular route.’

‘Yet his name wasn’t on that list.’

‘What list?’

‘It was the one that Mr Reader gave us when he brought that card from the rector’s wife. It was compiled by Mrs Reader and contained the names of all those who were definitely aware of the routine followed by the colonel’s wife. Hepworth wasn’t on the list.’

‘That’s irrelevant. He’s a watcher, sir. If she’d been his target, he’d have kept her under observation for some time.’

‘Yes,’ conceded Colbeck, ‘I can imagine him doing that.’

They continued on their way to the village. Having returned the hired horses, they went back to the Black Bull. Colbeck first washed off the dirt he’d picked up during the fight then he changed his apparel. He asked the landlord where his least favourite customer lived and they were directed to a cottage on the outer fringe of South Otterington. It was a small, low residence for a tall, bulky man and they understood why there was no room for Sam Hepworth to play with his soldiers. They knocked on the door but there was no response. When Leeming peered through a dusty window, half-hidden by ivy, he could see nobody inside. Colbeck led the way around the side of the cottage and they saw that someone was at home, after all. A red-faced girl with a mop of brown curls was pegging out some washing on a line. There was an air of morose resentment about her as if the chore were a punishment inflicted by an unkind parent. Even though she saw them over the fence, she carried on with her job.

‘Are you Ginny Hepworth?’ asked Colbeck.

‘Could be,’ she returned, cheekily.

‘We know for a fact you are,’ said Leeming, annoyed by her rudeness. ‘We met your brother in the churchyard this morning.’

‘Our Sam’s always there.’

‘We’d really like to talk to your father.’

‘Our Dad’s not ’ere.’

‘Do you know where he is, Ginny?’

‘Out with our Mam, like – they goes walkin’ of a Sunday.’

‘And they’ve left you to do all the work, I see,’ said Colbeck. ‘That was very unfair of them. This should be a day of rest. When will they be back?’

‘No idea.’

‘Do you know who we are?’

‘Whole village knows.’

‘Then perhaps you’d tell your father that we’d like to speak to him at the Black Bull. You might also tell him,’ said Colbeck, adding the information by way of bait, ‘that we’ve made an arrest.’

‘I see,’ she said, pegging the last item on the line before folding her arms. ‘Who you got, then?’

‘We’ll tell your father.’

‘You used to work at the big house, didn’t you?’ said Leeming.

‘Aye – I were treated bad.’

‘How did you get on with the colonel?’

‘Colonel were the worst.’

‘So you didn’t like him?’

‘No, I were thrown out.’

‘But your father spoke up for you. He told us so.’

‘Aye, that’s right. Our Dad told colonel off, like.’

‘And he probably wrote to him, didn’t he?’ Her eyelids narrowed with suspicion. ‘Like any good father, he’d have wanted to defend his daughter. I’ll wager that he sent a letter of complaint. I admire him for doing so. From what he said, it seems to me that you were dealt with very shabbily.’

‘I were – by the colonel and Mrs Withers, at any rate.’

‘Did your father get a reply to his letters?’

‘No, he didn’t.’

‘How many did he send, Ginny?’

‘Three.’ She brought a hand to her mouth but it was far too late to stop the word popping out. Her cheeks went crimson. ‘It were not my fault. I did as I were told.’

‘We’re not blaming you for anything,’ Colbeck reassured her. ‘And there’s no need to mention this to your father. It’s not something we’re bothered about. It’s just that he’s given us some help so he deserves to know that we’ve got a man in custody.’

Ginny relaxed. ‘When will ’e be ’anged?’

‘Oh, there’s a long way to go before any execution.’

‘Our Dad took me to Northallerton once to see a man being ’anged there. There were a big crowd, like. We all cheered.’

‘Your father should have known better,’ said Leeming. ‘It’s not suitable entertainment for a girl of your age. In fact, it shouldn’t be entertainment at all. Did your brother go as well?’

‘Our Sam stayed ’ere.’

‘I’m glad to hear it.’

‘Right,’ said Colbeck, ‘we won’t hold you up, Ginny. Just pass on the message, please, and say nothing about those letters. Now that the colonel is dead, they’re meaningless.’

She gave a lopsided grin and nodded her head in agreement.

In order to get everything ready in the event of guests returning to the house from church, Mrs Withers and Lottie had got up an hour earlier than usual. They had toiled away before and after the service and were unable to rest until the four visitors had finally departed. Eve and Lawrence Doel had eaten the refreshments in lieu of luncheon, leaving Adam Tarleton to have a full meal on his own in the dining room. While his sister and her husband stayed in the drawing room, he went off to the library to read for an hour. The servants were able to contemplate a short period when they, too, could rest. Lottie chose to sit on a chair and put her aching feet up on a stool. Mrs Withers preferred to withdraw to her room.

Once inside, she locked the door and crossed to the bed. Lifting up the mattress, she felt under it for something she’d hidden there earlier. It was the first chance she’d had to scrutinise it. She sat in the chair by the window so that she caught the best of the light then she undid the pink ribbon around the little bundle. Unfolding the first letter, she began to read it. The housekeeper did not get far. Within the first paragraph there were enough surprises to make her heart beat at a furious rate and to make her whole body burn with embarrassment. Unable to read on, she clutched the letter to her chest and began to sob. Mrs Withers wished that she’d never seen such disturbing words. They pressed down on her brain like so many hot bricks, making her feel as if her head was about to burst into flames. After all the years of devoted service she’d given, she now felt utterly betrayed. It was unnerving. The concept of loyalty suddenly took on a whole new meaning for her.

For their meeting with Hepworth, the detectives withdrew to a private room at the rear of the Black Bull. Colbeck placed pen, ink and paper on the table. Leeming was puzzled.

‘What are they for, Inspector?’

‘I want to give Hepworth a fright.’

‘How will you do that?’

‘I’ll ask him to write something for us so that we can compare it with the letters received by the colonel.’

‘But we don’t have any letters.’

‘ You know that,’ said Colbeck, ‘but the sergeant doesn’t.’

Leeming was surprised. ‘Are you going to lie to him?’

‘I’m going to use a little fiction to establish some facts. Without any of those letters he wrote, we could never secure a conviction in court. What we can do, however, is to unsettle him so much that he’ll lower his defence when we ask about the murder.’

‘Mr Tallis might not approve of your methods,’ said Leeming.

‘Mr Tallis wants results,’ said Colbeck, blithely. ‘With a man like Hepworth, this may be the only way to achieve them.’

They didn’t have to wait long. Only half an hour after their visit to his cottage, the railway policeman entered the pub with his usual swagger. When the landlord pointed to the other room, Hepworth banged on the door before pushing it open.

‘Good afternoon, gentlemen,’ he said, closing the door behind him. ‘You sent for me, I hear.’

‘Come and sit down, Sergeant,’ invited Colbeck.

‘Thank you, sir.’

He lowered himself into the chair opposite them, grinning broadly like a new confederate admitted to a conspiracy. Rubbing his hands, he waited to be let in on the secret.

‘Your daughter can obviously deliver a message,’ said Leeming.

‘Ginny is a clever girl.’

‘What about your lad?’

‘She had most of the brains. Sam had what little was left.’

‘We’ve made an arrest,’ Colbeck told him.

Hepworth cocked an ear. ‘Was it Michael Bruntcliffe?’

‘Yes, it was.’

‘I thought it would be. Where did you find him?’

‘He was staying in a cottage the other side of Bedale. He made a complete confession. He’s locked up in Northallerton now.’

‘So the murder is solved now, is it, Inspector?’

‘Oh, no, we’re still hunting the killer.’

‘But you’ve just arrested Bruntcliffe,’ said Hepworth, confused.

‘That was on two lesser charges,’ said Colbeck. ‘In the course of last night, he slipped into the churchyard and, with the assistance of his horse, he toppled that large stone cross paid for by the colonel. Luckily, we got there early enough this morning to put it back into place with the help of a farmer.’

‘It was like a ton weight,’ recalled Leeming.

‘Most of the congregation were unaware of what had happened. I had a quiet word with the curate afterwards and he promised to get a mason to secure the cross at its base. Incidentally,’ said Colbeck, ‘we met your son in the churchyard. He was playing with toy soldiers.’

‘Except that they were actually cartridges,’ said Leeming with a meaningful glance at Hepworth. ‘Sam told us he collects them.’

‘That’s right,’ admitted Hepworth, warily. ‘It keeps him occupied. He wants to join the army one day but I doubt if they’d take him.’ When he leant forward, his beard touched the table. ‘Is that all you charged Bruntcliffe with?’

‘Causing damage to church property is a serious offence,’ said Colbeck. ‘He’s bought himself a ticket straight back to prison. His sentence will be lengthened when he pleads guilty to a second offence.’

‘What’s that, Inspector?’

‘Sending anonymous letters to the colonel, full of libellous material and designed to cause him distress. In short, helping to unbalance his mind and drive him to take his own life.’

‘I thought you’d already arrested someone for that.’

‘We have,’ said Colbeck, ‘but he wasn’t the only correspondent. There were a number of evil-minded people who got pleasure from kicking Colonel Tarleton when he was down, as it were. What’s your opinion of such individuals, Sergeant Hepworth?’

‘They’re despicable,’ insisted Leeming, ‘and they should be prosecuted with the full rigour of the law.’

‘I agree,’ said Hepworth, half-heartedly, drawing back in his seat. ‘It’s a spiteful thing to do.’

‘It’s spiteful and it’s cowardly,’ Colbeck went on. ‘If someone had an accusation to hurl at the colonel, they should have done so to his face. Well, that’s what you did when he dismissed your daughter.’

‘I did, Inspector. He deserved it. I didn’t beat about the bush. When I had that argument with him, I came straight to the point.’

‘And you did the same in your letters to him, didn’t you?’

Hepworth tensed. ‘What letters?’

‘The letters you never signed.’

‘It’s an arrant lie!’ yelled the other. ‘I didn’t send any letters.’

‘Then the girl must have been mistaken,’ said Colbeck, making it up as he went along. ‘Lottie Pearl sleeps in an attic room at the top of the house. She swears that she saw your daughter, Ginny, sneak up to the house at night and post a letter through the door.’

‘Lottie was seeing things.’

‘Then we’ll have to rely on the testimony of Mrs Withers. She knows that secret path from the village to the house. According to her, Ginny emerged from it one night with something in her hand.’

Hepworth snarled. ‘How could they see anything in the dark?’

‘That’s a fair point, Sergeant, so it would be wrong to accuse you on the basis of what they claim. Besides, it’s not necessary. We still have the letters in question. All we have to do,’ he went on, indicating the writing materials, ‘is to ask you to pen a few lines that we can compare with the handwriting on those particular letters.’ He turned to Leeming. ‘How many were there, Victor?’

‘Three, sir.’

‘Of the people who wrote, this anonymous author was the only one who charged the colonel with having improper conduct with his housekeeper.’ He smiled at Hepworth. ‘Wasn’t that the very claim you made in our hearing, Sergeant?’ He pushed the inkwell in front of him. ‘Write something for us, please.’

‘You can’t make me do this,’ said Hepworth, defiantly.

‘It’s true – we can’t force you. But, then, we don’t need to.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘We simply have to speak to your employers,’ said Colbeck. ‘You no doubt send in regular reports so there’ll be plenty of examples of your handwriting. When you are sentenced in court, the judge will take into consideration the fact that you refused to cooperate once your subterfuge had been exposed.’

‘You didn’t even have the courage to deliver the letters yourself,’ said Leeming with derision. ‘You implicated your own child.’

‘Ginny offered,’ said Hepworth, reeling back in horror at his unintended confession. ‘Look,’ he went on with a nervous laugh, ‘why don’t I buy you a drink and we can forget all about this? The colonel is dead. Nothing that anyone wrote about him can hurt him now.’

‘It can hurt his children,’ Colbeck pointed out. ‘It can disgust his friends, Superintendent Tallis among them. Let’s have the truth, Sergeant Hepworth, or it will be the worse for you. You’ve more or less admitted that you wrote those three letters, didn’t you? That’s what you can write on the paper.’ He put a sheet in front of him. ‘If we have a confession, it will save a great deal of time in court and spare you from further humiliation.’ He held out the pen. ‘Take it. Write something that you’re actually brave enough to sign.’

Hepworth was in a panic. ‘Don’t take me to court,’ he begged. ‘I’ve got a wife and children to support. Ginny can’t find work and, if you’ve met Sam, you’ll have seen that he’s something of a halfwit. Yes, I confess that I did dash off a few lines to the colonel but only because I was still angry at him. We all write things on impulse that we regret afterwards.’

‘Not three times in a row,’ said Leeming.

‘I’m a policeman – one of your own.’

‘You’d never get into the Metropolitan Police Force.’

‘I’ve got a position here,’ said Hepworth. ‘I’m respected.’

‘Not by me, Sergeant.’

‘Nor by me,’ said Colbeck. ‘Someone who sends poison-pen letters to a bereaved husband doesn’t deserve respect. You’re a disgrace to that uniform.’

‘I’m sorry,’ bleated Hepworth. ‘I didn’t mean to do it.’

‘Think of the searing pain your letters gave to the colonel.’

‘It was wrong of me, Inspector. I feel so guilty about it.’

‘I haven’t seen any signs of guilt.’

‘Give me a chance, I implore you.’

‘You’ll have a lot to do to redeem yourself.’

‘I’ll do anything you say,’ promised Hepworth, ‘only please don’t ruin me. I couldn’t bear it if you sent me to prison.’

‘Your brother’s a warder there, isn’t he?’ said Leeming, enjoying the man’s discomfort. ‘You’ll be able to see him more often.’

‘Think of my wife – think of my children.’

‘You should have done that, Sergeant.’

‘I never imagined anyone would find out,’ howled Hepworth with his head in his hands. ‘I thought it was safe.’

Having got him thoroughly rattled, Colbeck turned to the subject he really wanted to discuss. He stood up and pointed.

‘What were you doing on the day Miriam Tarleton was killed?’ he demanded. ‘Where were you at the time of the murder?’

Hepworth raised his head in alarm and started to gibber.

Sunday afternoon tea with her aunt and uncle was always a pleasant occasion for Madeleine Andrews, even more so when her father was there. He often spent the Sabbath at work but not this time. He’d been able to put on his suit, attend church with her and forget all about driving a locomotive. Andrews enjoyed changing out of his working clothes and shedding the abiding smell of the railway. As he and Madeleine strolled back home through Camden, there was a spring in his step and his hat was set at a rakish angle. He was reminded of many long-lost Sunday afternoons when his wife had been on his arm. Nostalgia swelled up inside him.

‘I wish your mother was here,’ he said, involuntarily.

‘So do I, Father.’

‘Your aunt looks so much like her.’

‘She ought to,’ said Madeleine. ‘They were sisters.’

He chuckled. ‘I’ll let you into a secret,’ he confided. ‘She never liked me when I was courting your mother. She thought I was too forward. But I won her over in the end. I charmed her, Maddy.’

‘I’m not sure that I believe that.’

‘I could do it in those days. I was young once, you know. I wasn’t always so crotchety.’

‘I know that, Father.’

He tipped his hat to a passing woman. ‘She’d have been so proud of you,’ he went on. ‘Your mother, I mean. Who’d have thought that we had a budding artist in the family? The only thing I could ever draw was a fire. You’ve got a talent.’

‘Only because Robert encouraged me to develop it,’ she said.

‘Your mother would have been impressed by that as well. We both thought you’d marry a railwayman like me, but you’ve done so much better for yourself with Inspector Colbeck. He’s a proper gentleman.’

‘I’d be happy with Robert whatever he did. He enjoys his work but the person he envies is you.’

‘Me?’ he asked with a laugh.

‘Part of him had always wanted to be an engine driver.’

‘Then he can thank the Lord above he never became one. He’d have had to put up with hard work, long hours and being out in all weathers. I’m not sure that he’d be able to stand it.’

‘He stands it already,’ she pointed out. ‘He works hard, has long hours and is out in wind, rain, fog, snow and ice. I know there are accidents on the railway, but Robert faces far greater danger when he comes up against desperate criminals. So does Sergeant Leeming, for that matter – he’s been badly beaten more than once.’

‘He lived to tell the tale,’ said Andrews with feeling. ‘When I was attacked, I very nearly died. I was in a coma for a long time.’

‘You don’t need to tell me that. I was sitting beside you.’

‘My suffering was your gain, Maddy.’

‘I wouldn’t put it that way.’

‘I would,’ he said. ‘If the train hadn’t been robbed that day, and if I hadn’t been knocked unconscious, you might never have met Inspector Colbeck. Something good came out of it all.’

‘The best thing was that you survived, Father.’

‘Well, someone has to give you away at the wedding.’

She laughed. ‘You sound as if you want to get rid of me.’

‘To be honest, I do,’ he said, cheerily. ‘You obviously didn’t see the way that Mrs Hodgkin was smiling at me in church this morning. She’s been widowed for three years now. I knew her husband when he worked for the LNWR. He was always boasting what a wonderful cook his wife was. And she’s still a fine-looking woman.’

Madeleine didn’t know if he was serious or merely joking. She was also uncertain about her own feelings on the subject. Her father had been so distraught at the death of his wife that Madeleine never thought he’d recover. It had never occurred to her that he might one day think of a second marriage. Yet he’d raised the possibility a number of times recently and she found it oddly worrying. It was almost as if she wasn’t ready to part with him to another woman. Madeleine had looked after him for so long now, she had become possessive. She tried to fight against such emotions. Since she would be starting a new life when she married, there was no reason why her father shouldn’t be allowed to do the same. In fact, on reflection, she felt that it might be a good thing for him. Because he wouldn’t be an easy man to live with, she knew that the secret lay in choosing an understanding wife.

‘Do you really mean it, Father?’ she asked.

‘Mean what?’

‘That remark you made about Mrs Hodgkin. One minute you tell me that you intend to get married, and the next you laugh at the idea. Are you simply teasing me?’

‘Only up to a point, Maddy,’ he said. ‘When I first mentioned it, I suppose that I was teasing you a little, but I’m starting to like the idea. The house will be very empty when you’ve gone. Maybe it’s time for me to find another wife before I lose my good looks.’ They laughed together, then he became quite solemn. ‘It’s not the same for you and the inspector. You’re young and have a whole lifetime ahead of you. I don’t, Maddy. But, even at my age, I can still love and be loved.’

‘Of course,’ she said, squeezing his arm.

‘It will be a different kind of love, that’s all.’

Colbeck’s interrogation was so unremitting that he almost reduced Eric Hepworth to tears. Gone was the overweening arrogance of the railway policeman. In its place was a whimpering submission. For all that, the detectives had not caught a murderer. Hepworth had been working on the day that Miriam Tarleton had been killed and could call on several witnesses to prove it. Having decided that Hepworth was the killer, Leeming was depressed. Colbeck was less dismayed because he’d kept an open mind. In his view, the meeting had been of positive value. It had eliminated a suspect. It had also had such a sobering effect on Hepworth that he would behave with more humility in future. There was one flash of his old self.

‘If I’d wanted to kill anyone,’ he’d said, rearing up in his chair, ‘then I’d have shot the colonel not his wife. I’d have blown his head off.’ He calmed down and shrugged an apology. ‘That’s all in the past now. I’d rather forget it.’

‘Then we’ll forget the impulse that made you write those letters,’ said Colbeck. ‘Guard against such wicked feelings next time.’

‘Oh, I will, I will, Inspector.’

‘Go to church and cleanse your mind,’ advised Leeming.

‘Yes, yes, I’ll do that as well.’

Overcome with gratitude at being – as he perceived it – let off the hook, Hepworth rose to his feet and shook hands with each of them. Then he snatched up his hat and left the room swiftly. Leeming was dejected.

‘I felt certain it was him,’ he said. ‘It would have given me such pleasure to arrest that buffoon.’

Colbeck was more philosophical. ‘We exposed him as the author of those wounding letters,’ he said, ‘even though we had no evidence beyond the words of his children. That will have shaken him up. I think that our interview with Sergeant Hepworth may have done the whole village a good turn.’

‘But it’s left us chasing shadows, Inspector.’

‘We made a mistake, that’s all. We’ve been looking for a man who killed Mrs Tarleton in order to get revenge against her husband. What we really needed to search for was someone who had a motive to kill the colonel’s wife. Yes,’ he added as Leeming was about to speak, ‘I know that she was, by common report, such a harmless and likeable woman but even the nicest human beings can sometimes excite hatred.’

‘We’ve lost three suspects in a row,’ complained Leeming.

‘And we may lose a few more before we’re done, Victor.’

‘Superintendent Tallis will have some harsh words when he sees how little we’ve achieved.’

‘That’s unjust,’ said Colbeck. ‘We helped to put a stone cross up in the churchyard. We arrested the man who pulled it over in the first place and who had an additional crime to his name. We extracted a confession from Hepworth with regard to those letters he wrote, and we’ve sent him out of here a reformed man. I don’t think that’s a bad record for a Sunday.’

‘We still haven’t caught the man we’re after, sir.’

‘Then we must look at the other potential suspects.’

‘There are none,’ said Leeming.

‘What about the list that Mr Reader gave us?’ asked Colbeck, taking it from his pocket and laying it on the table. ‘Since his wife went to the trouble of drawing it up for us, we ought to use it.’ He tapped the piece of paper. ‘Everyone on here knew that Mrs Tarleton would be walking to Northallerton that day. The chances are that the killer’s name is right under our noses.’

‘Well, it certainly isn’t Mrs Reader herself, yet her name is at the top of the list. In fact,’ Leeming went on, ‘I’d cross off the names of all the women on that list.’

‘Some women are capable of firing a shotgun, Victor.’

The sergeant gasped. ‘You think the killer was female?’

‘I think that we should rule nothing out.’

‘I still fancy that Adam Tarleton is involved somehow. Why don’t we go and talk to him again?’

‘There’s no point,’ said Colbeck, getting up. ‘Besides, it would be wrong to disturb a house of sorrow. It was very brave of Mrs Doel to attend church this morning but I could see that it was a strain for her. She and the rest of the family should be left alone.’

Leeming rose to his feet, ‘Very well, sir.’

Picking up the list, Colbeck took a last look at it before slipping it into his pocket. He then opened the door and went out. Seconds after he did so, Mrs Withers entered the bar. She was panting hard and her face was lined with anxiety. When she saw Colbeck, she lurched gratefully towards him.

‘Could I speak to you in private, please?’ she begged.

‘Yes, of course,’ he replied. ‘Step in here, Mrs Withers.’

As she went past him into the empty room, he could see that she was in a state of considerable distress. He gestured to Leeming who gave an understanding nod. Colbeck went into the room after her and helped her to a chair. Beneath her black hat, he noticed the perspiration on her brow.

‘Get your breath back first,’ he advised.

‘I ran part of the way,’ she gasped.

‘Then it must be important. The sergeant is getting something for you so there’s no hurry now. You can relax.’

‘I don’t think I’ll ever be able to do that again, Inspector.’

She produced a handkerchief and dabbed at her face. Her shoulders were heaving and there was a look of desperation in her eyes. Leeming had ordered a glass of brandy in the bar. When it was handed to him, Colbeck closed the door and crossed over to his visitor.

‘Take a sip of this, Mrs Withers,’ he said. ‘It may help.’

‘I need something,’ she admitted.

‘It’s brandy. Drink it slowly.’

She took a first sip and it seemed to steady her nerves. Though her panting slowly eased, she was afraid to meet Colbeck’s eyes. He sat opposite her and waited. After a second nip of brandy, she found the courage to speak.

‘Mrs Tarleton trusted me,’ she began. ‘She said that she’d never manage without me.’

‘That’s praise, indeed.’

‘It’s how I came to know about the bureau, you see.’

‘What bureau is that, Mrs Withers?’ he asked.

‘It was in her bedroom. She used it to write letters and to store things in. When it first arrived, she showed me that it had a secret compartment. You’d never guess that there was one there.’

‘Actually, I might,’ said Colbeck. ‘My father was a cabinetmaker and so was my grandfather. They showed me all the tricks of the trade. But do go on,’ he said. ‘What was in this secret compartment?’

‘Mrs Tarleton told me she kept her keys in there – the keys to the wardrobe, the chest of drawers and various other places.’

‘That sounds like a sensible idea.’

‘I had no need to look into the compartment until today…’ Her voice cracked and she used the handkerchief to stem some tears. He put the glass to her lips and she took another sip. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I just wasn’t prepared for such a shock. I still haven’t got used to it.’ She took a deep breath. ‘It all started when Mrs Reader went upstairs. I saw her go into the bedroom and nobody was allowed in there when Mrs Tarleton was alive. When I went in after her, she was standing beside the bureau. Mrs Reader said that she’d been told she could have a keepsake from the jewellery box but that was on the other side of the room. I gave it to her and told her to take it downstairs so that she could choose something while Mrs Doel was there.’

‘That seems reasonable.’

‘It worried me, Inspector,’ she said. ‘It worried me that she was going to open the bureau. I wondered if she knew about that secret compartment and was after the keys. So, after she’d gone…’ The tears had to be kept at bay again. ‘Oh, I know that I shouldn’t have done what I did. It wasn’t my place to do it but I felt that Mrs Tarleton’s privacy was being invaded. I felt responsible.’

‘You were right to do so,’ he told her, trying to spare her the ordeal of giving a full explanation. ‘I think that you wisely decided to check that the keys were still in the secret compartment. Is that what happened?’ She nodded. ‘And were they there?’

She nodded again then dissolved into tears of shame. He got up to put a consoling arm around her and to coax her into taking another sip of brandy. When she’d finally dried her eyes, he spoke again.

‘You found something else in there, didn’t you?’

‘I wish to God that I hadn’t!’ she cried. ‘If I had my time over again, I’d never go near that bureau. I shouldn’t have found out what I did, Inspector. I shouldn’t know.’

She opened her bag and took out a bundle of letters written on pink stationery. Handing the bundle to Colbeck, she lowered her head in embarrassment. Colbeck undid the ribbon and opened the first letter. Like all the others, it had been written in a graceful hand by Agnes Reader. He read it through without comment then looked at each of the others in turn. He tied the ribbon around the bundle once again.

‘May I keep hold of these, please?’ he asked.

‘Oh, yes!’ she said. ‘I never want to see them again.’

‘I can understand that, Mrs Withers, but you mustn’t blame yourself. In finding these, you’ve done Mrs Tarleton a great service because you’ve provided me with a clue that will almost certainly lead to the arrest of her killer.’

‘I’ve never heard of such a thing, Inspector. I keep thinking of the poor colonel. Do you believe that he could have known?’

‘I hope that he didn’t,’ said Colbeck, softly. ‘Have you told anyone else about this?’

‘I’d be too ashamed to do that, sir.’

‘Please keep it to yourself for the time being. When you’ve finished that brandy, I’ll get Sergeant Leeming to see you back to the house.’ She was still profoundly disturbed by her discovery and in need of reassurance. ‘You did the right thing, Mrs Withers. One day, you’ll come to appreciate that.’

Agnes Reader was so overcome with sadness when they returned home that she took to her bed. Unable to sleep, she lay there brooding for a few hours. When her husband looked in on her, she was still wide awake. He was attentive.

‘Is there anything I can get you, my dear?’

‘No, thank you.’

‘Shall I have a pot of tea sent up?’

‘I’d just like to be left alone, Bertram,’ she said.

‘Then you shall be,’ he told her, backing away. The doorbell rang down below. ‘We’re not expecting anyone, are we?’

‘No…and whoever it is, I don’t want to see them.’

‘You won’t be disturbed, Agnes, I promise.’

Reader left the room and padded downstairs. He was taken aback to see the maid showing Colbeck into the drawing room. After dismissing her with a wave, he went in to meet his visitor.

‘Good afternoon, Inspector,’ he said.

‘I’m sorry to intrude on you again, Mr Reader,’ said Colbeck, ‘but I really need to speak to Mrs Reader.’

‘She’s not available at the moment, I’m afraid.’

‘Then I’ll have to wait until she is available, however long it takes. Perhaps you could convey that message to her.’

‘My wife is asleep.’

‘I’ll still be here when she wakes up.’

Colbeck was polite but purposeful. The banker could see that he wouldn’t leave the house until he’d spoken to Agnes.

‘May I know what this is all about, Inspector?’ he asked.

‘That’s a decision only your wife can make.’

‘I don’t like mysteries.’

‘I love them, sir,’ said Colbeck. ‘Solving them always gives me a sense of deep satisfaction.’

‘Couldn’t this wait until tomorrow?’

‘No, Mr Reader. It needs to be resolved before the inquest.’

The banker stared at him and there was a silent battle of wills. Determined not to bother his wife, Reader was at the same time curious to know why Colbeck was there. For his part, the inspector was inscrutable. His non-committal smile gave nothing away, except the fact that he intended to stay indefinitely. In the end, Reader weakened and edged towards the door.

‘I’ll see if my wife has woken up yet,’ he said.

‘Thank you, sir. I’d be most grateful.’

Reader went out and was absent for a long time. Colbeck was able to take a good look at the room. Its paintings and ornaments had dazzled Leeming but Colbeck was more interested in the furniture. Coming from a family of cabinetmakers, he had an eye for superior craftsmanship. He was admiring a Jacobean court cupboard when Reader finally reappeared with his wife. Agnes was composed.

‘I believe you wish to speak to me,’ she said.

‘That’s right, Mrs Reader. It’s on a private matter. You may or may not wish your husband to remain.’

‘My wife has no secrets from me, Inspector,’ said Reader.

Agnes studied the visitor’s face. ‘In this instance,’ she said, sensing what might have brought Colbeck there, ‘I think I would like you to leave us, Bertram.’ He was clearly hurt. ‘I’ll tell you everything that passes between us.’

‘If that’s what you wish, my dear, that’s how it will be. But I won’t be far away. Should you need me,’ he went on, tossing a glance at Colbeck, ‘you only have to call.’

Crossing to the double doors on the other side of the room, he opened them wide and stepped through into the library. Colbeck waited until he heard the doors click shut once more. Agnes pointed to the sofa and he sat down. Eyes never leaving his face, she chose an armchair. She looked calm and poised.

‘Certain letters have come into my possession,’ he said, quietly.

‘You had no right to read them,’ she protested. ‘That was a private correspondence.’

‘It also happens to be evidence in a murder investigation, Mrs Reader. That being the case, I had every right to examine them.’

‘It was that bitch of a housekeeper, wasn’t it?’

‘That’s immaterial,’ said Colbeck. ‘The fact is that I read the letters and they were able to fill in a number of blank spaces for me. When I heard that Mrs Tarleton used to visit Edinburgh to see her cousin, I assumed that she stayed at the cousin’s home. That was not always so, was it? On at least three occasions, you and she shared a room at a particular hotel.’

‘There’s no need to repeat it,’ she snapped. ‘And if you expect me to feel guilty about it, you’ll be disappointed. Miriam and I had a very special friendship. Talking about it the way you do only serves to cheapen it.’

‘I make no moral judgement, Mrs Reader, and I think you’ll find that you can rely on my discretion. I came here for two reasons. First, I wanted to see if you’d resort to denial.’

‘That would be an insult to both of us, Inspector. Why deny something that was so beautiful?’

‘I respect that.’

‘You said that there were two reasons.’

‘The second one is perhaps more important. Who else knew about your friendship with Mrs Tarleton?’

She was firm. ‘Nobody knew,’ she said. ‘We were extremely careful. The colonel was too bound up in his own affairs and my husband allows me complete freedom.’

‘Presumably, Mrs Tarleton wrote you letters?’

‘You’re not going to see those, Inspector.’

‘I don’t wish to do so.’

‘They’re very precious to me. Nobody else will ever see them.’

‘I’ve brought your letters with me,’ he said, patting his pocket. ‘You’re welcome to have them back with my assurance that I’m the only person to have read them.’

‘What about Mrs Withers?’

‘She was too shocked to see more than half a page.’

Agnes weighed him up with a shrewd glance, wondering how much she could trust him. She was thankful that he’d come alone and not brought the sergeant with him. Discussing the matter with one man was a trial. To have had the two of them there would have been insufferable. Colbeck had spoken gently and without comment. She felt that he understood her position.

‘Could I please ask you to destroy those letters?’ she asked.

‘I’ll burn them as soon as I leave here.’

‘Thank you, Inspector.’

‘You might like to know that I haven’t shown them to Sergeant Leeming nor confided anything of their contents.’ He looked towards the library. ‘The question now arises as to what you tell your husband when I go.’

‘Leave that to me,’ she said, complacently. ‘I’m used to making up stories for Bertram. He believes everything I tell him.’

‘That’s not true!’ yelled Reader, flinging open the double doors and standing there with a pistol in his hand. ‘I stopped believing you months ago, Agnes.’

‘Bertram!’ she cried, jumping up. ‘Have you been listening?’

‘I heard every word.’

‘Put that pistol down, sir,’ said Colbeck, rising slowly to his feet. ‘We don’t want to have an unfortunate accident.’

‘It won’t be an accident, Inspector. It’s something I should have done long ago.’ A pleading note dominated. ‘I tried so hard, Agnes. I hoped that when Miriam died, we could start afresh and put all this behind us, but that’s never going to happen, is it? Alive or dead, she’ll always be there between us.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, watching the pistol with alarm. ‘You weren’t supposed to know. I wanted to spare you that pain.’

‘You gave me more than enough pain as it was,’ he said, waving the weapon at her. ‘Is it too much to ask of a woman I marry that we live as husband and wife? Is it too much to ask of someone for whom I’ve done everything that she’s mine and nobody else’s?’

‘Please, sir,’ said Colbeck, going towards him with an extended hand, ‘let me have the pistol.’

‘Stand back or I’ll shoot,’ warned Reader, turning the weapon on him. Colbeck came to a halt. ‘I had a feeling that you’d catch me in the end. You’re like a dog with a bone. You never stop. Well, now you know the hideous truth.’

‘It isn’t hideous,’ cried Agnes. ‘I was proud of what I did.’

‘How do you think that makes me feel? When I paid a private detective to follow you to Edinburgh, I couldn’t believe what it said in his report. There had to be a mistake. Surely, no wife of mine would ever betray me in that unspeakable fashion.’

Agnes was indignant. ‘You spied on me?’ she said, vehemently. ‘How dare you do something so awful!’ She rocked back on her heels as she finally realised the truth. ‘It was you, wasn’t it? You weren’t in Darlington that day, after all. That was just an excuse. You killed Miriam! You killed the only person I ever truly loved.’

‘Yes,’ he confessed. ‘I did and I enjoyed doing it. I thought that, if I could remove the woman who’d poisoned our marriage, you’d come back to me. But you haven’t and you never will. I made an error,’ he went on, levelling the pistol at her. ‘I shot the wrong woman. Instead of killing Miriam, I should have killed you.’

Colbeck flung himself in front of Agnes and held out his arms to screen her. He could hear her sobbing and feel her shivering against his body. Reader took a step closer so that he was only six feet away.

‘You’ll have to shoot me first, Mr Reader,’ he said.

‘Get out of the way, Inspector!’

‘It won’t be so easy this time, sir. I’m not a docile woman who’ll turn her back on you unsuspectingly so that you can put that sacking over her head. I’m looking you in the eye,’ he continued, ‘and I can see the doubts swirling about in your mind. Even from that distance, you’re not sure of killing me, are you? You’re not a marksman like the colonel or Mr Everett. You’re a banker with no real interest in firearms. Look, your hand is shaking. You could miss altogether, couldn’t you? Have you considered that?’ He offered his hand. ‘Now give the pistol to me, please. It’s all over, Mr Reader. An intelligent man like you must know that. It’s all over.’

Reader’s hand was trembling so much that he was in danger of dropping the pistol. Colbeck watched him carefully, waiting for a moment when he could dive forward and wrest the weapon from him. Agnes, meanwhile, was cowering behind the inspector’s back, praying that he wouldn’t be shot dead by her husband. Seeing the hesitation in the banker’s eyes, Colbeck tried to reason with him.

‘What will be achieved by killing someone else, sir?’ he asked. ‘You already have two deaths on your conscience.’

‘ One death,’ said Reader, ‘and it’s not on my conscience.’

‘The murder of Mrs Tarleton may not trouble you but, when you killed her, you also killed her husband. He loved his wife so much that he couldn’t live without her. Doesn’t that fact prey on your mind?’ he went on. ‘Do you feel no guilt at having sent a close friend on that fatal walk along a railway track?’

‘I wasn’t to know that that would happen.’

‘But it did, sir, and you were responsible.’

‘Be quiet!’

‘Can’t you bear to hear the truth?’

‘I simply wanted that woman out of our lives.’

‘Murder is never simple,’ said Colbeck, one eye on the pistol. ‘There are always unseen consequences. Because of the way you killed Mrs Tarleton, you subjected her husband to the most unendurable torment. Those vicious letters he received were only a component of the misery that drove him to take his own life. That’s what you did to the colonel, sir. You put him through agony.’

‘And what about my agony?’ wailed Reader.

Colbeck’s reply came in the form of a sudden leap. Diving forward, he grabbed the wrist of the hand holding the pistol and twisted it away. As he grappled with the banker, Agnes took cover behind the sofa and put her hands over her ears to block out the expletives that her husband began to hurl at her. Reader was soon silenced. In the course of the struggle, the pistol went off and the bullet shattered a glass cabinet, sending shards flying everywhere. Dropping the pistol to the floor, Reader used both hands in a vain attempt to push the detective away. Colbeck was too fast for him, sticking out a foot to trip him up and shoving him hard in the chest.

As the banker tumbled to the carpet, Colbeck snatched up the pistol and used the butt to knock him unconscious with one strike. By the time that Reader eventually came to, he found that his wrists had been handcuffed behind his back.

The inquest into the death of Miriam Tarleton was able to record a verdict that named her killer. Sitting through it with his detectives, Edward Tallis had the satisfaction of seeing the murder solved and the reputation of his old army comrade restored. Colbeck had spoken to the coroner beforehand with regard to Wilf Moxey’s evidence. The farm labourer was relieved that he was not pressed to account for his presence in the wood during the night. After its interruption, his romance with Lorna Begg could now continue. Eve Doel, her husband and her brother sat through the proceedings in a daze, stunned by the revelation that a trusted family friend had been the killer. Agnes Reader did not appear at the inquest, having already fled to stay with friends in Norfolk. Mrs Withers was also missing. Still trying to cope with the enormity of what she’d discovered, she was now looking forward to quitting a house that had held such a dark secret. Lottie Pearl was blissfully unaware of the true facts of the case.

Tallis remained in Yorkshire to attend the funerals, allowing Colbeck and Leeming to return to London. On the train journey back, they were fortunate enough to have a carriage to themselves. It enabled the sergeant to express his full horror.

‘How can any woman do such things?’ he asked, incredulously. ‘It’s against nature.’

‘Yet it’s not against the law.’

‘In my opinion, it should be.’

‘It’s not for us to question what they did,’ said Colbeck, tolerantly. ‘The two ladies in question found in each other the love that was lacking in their respective marriages. The tragedy is that it led to the brutal death of one of them.’

‘Mrs Tarleton is the one who surprises me, sir. I mean, she bore children. She did what women are put on this earth to do. It’s what the Bible teaches us.’

‘Agnes Reader had an alternative theology. She married to disguise her inclinations and had no intention of having a family. At first, Mrs Tarleton and she were just friends. Without realising it, the colonel drove them into each other’s arms.’

‘How did he do that, Inspector?’

‘By making a disastrous investment in the railways,’ said Colbeck. ‘His lawyer advised him against it – so did his banker – but the colonel had the single-minded approach we’ve seen in Mr Tallis. Nothing could hold him back. The prospect of earning a fortune was too enticing. He not only lost most of his own money,’ he concluded, ‘he persuaded his wife to venture her wealth as well. Thanks to Stuart Leybourne, they were defrauded out of every penny.’

‘Any wife would have been embittered by that,’ said Leeming.

‘It’s my belief that Mrs Tarleton turned to her friend for comfort. I’m sure that Mrs Reader was extremely sympathetic. One thing led to another with the result that we now know.’

‘It makes my blood run cold, sir. It’s so abnormal.’

‘You should read some ancient history, Victor.’

‘Oh, I know what those Greek women are supposed to have done but that was a long time ago. You don’t expect that kind of thing to happen in this day and age – least of all in Yorkshire.’

Colbeck laughed. ‘What’s so special about Yorkshire?’

‘People there seem so straightforward and down to earth.’

‘Sergeant Hepworth wasn’t very straightforward.’

‘He was the exception to the rule.’

‘And so was Michael Bruntcliffe, not to mention the rector.’

‘You know what I mean, sir,’ said Leeming with exasperation. ‘Country folk are more open. That’s what I found, anyway. I suppose that’s what makes this all the more revolting.’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t know how I can tell my wife about it.’

‘Do you always confide details of our cases in Estelle?’

‘I do most of the time.’

‘Did you tell her about some of the brothels you raided when you were in uniform? Or what a corpse looks like when it’s been in the Thames for three weeks? Or what that peer of the realm we arrested had been up to with his valet?’

‘Oh, no,’ replied Leeming. ‘That would only upset her.’

‘I think it would have upset you even more,’ said Colbeck with an avuncular smile. ‘Why not spare your wife the distress and save yourself the embarrassment?’

‘I think I might do just that, Inspector. What about you?’

‘Me?’

‘Are you going to tell Miss Andrews about those two women?’

‘Only if Madeleine asks me,’ said Colbeck, ‘and I have a strong suspicion that she will.’

Thrilled to have him back in London again, Madeleine had pressed for details of the investigation. She saw it as both an insurance against the future and a form of education. If she was to be the wife of a detective inspector, she wanted a forewarning about the kind of life she would be sharing. At the same time, she found it instructive to learn about the criminal underworld in which Colbeck spent most of his time. Madeleine had been actively involved in some investigations but was completely detached from this one. When he told her about the relationship between Agnes Reader and Miriam Tarleton, her first reaction was to blush. Having met neither of the women involved, she just couldn’t comprehend the strength of feeling between them. It was something entirely outside her experience.

Though she didn’t flinch from any of the details, she was glad when Colbeck had moved on to discuss their own relationship. He admitted that he had prevaricated for too long and he promised her that, when the superintendent returned, he would tell him about the engagement at the earliest opportunity. It was a final hurdle that needed to be cleared. As she prepared breakfast that morning, she glanced up at the clock on the mantelpiece and felt a glow of pleasure at the thought that Colbeck would be breaking the news to Tallis later that same day. Having heard so much about the superintendent and his hostile attitude to marriage among his detectives, Madeleine was alive to the irony of the situation. While she knew that he’d never accept her with any enthusiasm, it was only when he’d been told about her existence that she’d feel wholly accepted by Colbeck. She would be a recognised feature in his life and not something that had to be kept hidden from his superior.

When Tallis came back to work that morning, Colbeck was waiting for him. He noticed how uncharacteristically subdued the superintendent was and put it down to grief. It made him think twice about the promise he’d made to Madeleine and he wondered if he should postpone his declaration until another time. After consideration, however, Colbeck decided that he couldn’t let her down again. It was time to grasp the nettle and explain his situation.

‘There’s something I must tell you, sir,’ he said.

‘I don’t wish to know any more,’ warned Tallis. ‘Whatever you read in the dreadful letters from that woman is no concern of mine. I’ll simply cherish the memory of two wonderful friends. They were buried side by side, you know.’

‘I hoped that they would be, sir.’

‘The funerals took place after nine o’clock in the evening. It was a very moving occasion. Miriam was accorded the rites of a Christian burial while her husband was denied them. But they were together,’ he emphasised, ‘and that was what the colonel would have wanted.’ He took a cigar from the box and rolled it gently between his palms. ‘We have you to thank for that, Inspector. If you hadn’t exposed the rector for the villainous hypocrite he was, we’d still be arguing about when and where the funerals would actually take place. I’m sorry to have missed seeing the rector and his wife in court. I’m grateful to you for putting them there.’

‘Mr Reader deserves some of the credit, sir.’

‘Don’t mention that man’s name,’ said Tallis, sharply, ‘and, whatever you do, don’t bring his wife into the conversation.’

‘I understand,’ said Colbeck. ‘Did you have the opportunity to speak to Mrs Doel and her brother about their plans?’

‘I found it more useful to talk to Mr Everett. He knows what the children are set to inherit. He hinted to me that Eve will receive the bulk of the estate while Adam will have only a token sum of money.’

‘That will upset him.’

‘It’s no more than he deserves,’ said Tallis. A fond smile then lit up his face. ‘Mr Everett was kind enough to inform me that I’d been remembered in the colonel’s will. I was very touched.’

He went off into a reverie and Colbeck saw his chance. He waited until the superintendent came out of his daydream then he plunged straight in.

‘There’s a personal matter I wish to discuss, sir,’ he said.

‘Is there?’

‘I haven’t had the opportunity to tell you this before but now, I feel, is the right moment to do so.’

Tallis was worried. ‘You’re not going to resign, are you?’

‘No, no, it’s nothing like that.’

‘Good – you’re the best man I have, Colbeck.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ said the other, not stopping to savour the compliment. ‘The fact is, Superintendent, that I recently became engaged to be married.’

‘Yes, I know.’

Colbeck was astonished. ‘You know?’

‘For obvious reasons, I don’t read that sort of thing in the newspapers but the commissioner does. He saw the announcement and mentioned it to me. He sends his congratulations, by the way.’

‘Thank you, sir.’

‘Is that all you have to say?’

‘Yes,’ said Colbeck, amazed that he’d escaped the lecture and the condemnation he’d feared. Overcome with relief, he reached for the tinderbox on the desk. ‘Let me light your cigar for you, sir.’

‘This is not my cigar, man – it’s for you.’

Colbeck took it from him. ‘That’s very kind of you.’

‘It’s in lieu of the congratulations I’m unable to extend. There’s no need to explain why,’ said Tallis, taking a second cigar from the box. ‘For a man like you, marriage will be an unmitigated disaster. It will weaken your resolve, slow your responses, impede your readiness to work away from London, divide your loyalty and act as a permanent distraction. Well, you only have to look back over the last week to realise the damage that ensues when you take a woman into your life. Not that my strictures will have an effect,’ he went on, creating a spark to light his cigar. ‘Marriage is madness.’ He puffed hard until there was a glow at the end of the cigar then he beamed at Colbeck.

‘I want you to do me a favour, Inspector.’

‘What’s that, sir?’

‘Prove me wrong.’

It was a long time since Madeleine had been able to spend a whole evening in Colbeck’s company and she was determined to make the most of it. Since he was taking her to the theatre, she spent much longer than usual in front of the mirror on her dressing table. He arrived in a cab to pick her up and marvelled at her appearance. Only one thing was on Madeleine’s mind. As soon as they settled into the cab, she turned to Colbeck.

‘Did you tell him, Robert?’ she asked.

‘Tell who?’

‘This is serious. Did you speak to the superintendent today?’

‘I spoke to him several times.’

‘Don’t tease me,’ she said. ‘Did you or did you not tell him?’

‘I suppose the truthful answer is that I didn’t,’ said Colbeck.

‘Robert…you promised!’

‘I know and I did my best but it was totally unnecessary. He already knew. Mr Tallis had been told by the commissioner.’

She was angry. ‘Have I been suffering all this time without really needing to?’ she asked. ‘Why didn’t the superintendent tell you that he already knew about the engagement?’

‘That’s the sort of person he is, Madeleine.’

‘You mean that he deliberately made no comment?’

‘I mean that this kind of behaviour is in the nature of the beast.’

‘That’s one way to describe him,’ she said with a laugh. ‘Are we going to invite him to the wedding?’ She saw the look of absolute horror that he shot her. ‘I thought not.’

‘Mr Tallis knows and disapproves yet he nevertheless gave me one of his cigars by way of celebration. That’s all we need to say on the subject,’ decreed Colbeck. ‘We’re going to put my work completely out of our minds and enjoy an evening at the theatre. Is that agreed?’

‘Yes, Robert. What are we going to see?’

‘It’s a play called Money by Edward Bulwer-Lytton. I’ve seen it before and I think you’ll find it very amusing.’

‘What’s it about?’

‘Something that both of us will endorse,’ he said, pulling her close. ‘It’s about getting married for the right reasons.’