Murder on the Cathedral Express (The Ralph Chalmers Mysteries Book 9)

by P. J. Thurbin

  Ralph still struggled come up with an approach let alone a title for that book that Pradeep had cajoled him into writing. He thought that a few days at Cambridge would be refreshing and perhaps the conference might spark off a few new ideas for his book. The week at Kingston had gone well. As he packed up for the weekend, he wondered if Peter or Lance would be up for a drink in the staff bar. He was just about to pick up the phone and give them a call when it rang. It was Inspector Linham.

  “I’m glad I caught you, Professor Chalmers. I thought you should know of a new development. One of the judges from the Turner panel is over from New York. It’s a Mr Dmitri Parnov. He has police protection, of course. He’s been in London for a few days attending exhibitions and showings, but next week he’s off to Cambridge to chair a conference at your old college, or so I’m told.”

  Ralph was great believer in coincidence.

  “I was reading about that conference earlier this week, Inspector.”

  “Well I just thought I’d keep you in the loop, Professor. We have everything covered as far as is possible, but I think our killer has gone to ground. The few leads we had have all but dried up.”

  “So I gather I’m no longer a suspect, Inspector?”

  “At least not for the moment, Professor Chalmers.” He heard Linham chuckle. ”Have a good weekend; and stay in touch.”

  “You too, Inspector.”

  Ralph wanted to tell Linham about his talk with Leon Riggs and what he had found out in Prague, but decided it could wait. It seemed that Linham had everything covered. He had begun to agree with Katie that he should concentrate more on what they would do at their cottage in Devon and leave policing to the professionals. He also wanted to check out the logistics involved in bringing Gypsy Lady around to the marina at Brighton so he could go sailing at weekends. It would mean only an hour’s drive rather than having to slog all the way down to Devon if he wanted to take her out.

  He scribbled a note for Janice to let her know that he might be at a conference in Cambridge the following week.

  “Off for the weekend, Ralph?” Peter stood in the doorway.

  “I had thought of going up to Cambridge for a few days. There’s a conference there on Art and History that sounds interesting.”

  “It doesn’t sound like much fun to me, old sport. Is the Katie going with you or is this an excuse to get the little black book out and look up a few old girlfriends?” He nudged Ralph in the ribs.

  “Of course not. You know me better than that. For a start, I don’t have a ‘little black book’, as you say, and if I did, any old girlfriends in it would probably be grand-mothers by now.”

  “Boy you do need a holiday, old son. Or a drink. I’ve got an hour before Marcia comes to pick me up.”

  They were not surprised to find the staff refectory deserted. The student manning the bar told them that they were expecting a group in who were attending a weekend course on Health and Safety.

  “Best put those matches away or they’ll probably want to close the ruddy place down,” Peter laughed.

  Ralph felt better. He had made up his mind. He would definitely go to Cambridge. Katie was in Liverpool. She had been invited to talk at a government educational standards workshop and he knew he would be at loose ends. Besides, he wanted to see what this Dmitri Parnov was like. He wondered if he might be the sort who would be open to a bribe. Ralph knew that Lombroso’s notion of a ‘criminal type’ had been proved scientifically wrong, but he still felt that you could tell a lot about a person by their appearance. It was view that he kept to himself.

  Marcia arrived to collect Peter and after a few exchanges of pleasantries, he was on his own. Some of the people who were there to attend the weekend Health and Safety course wandered in, and as they chatted and laughed, Ralph decided to head home and get in a run before supper. Spring evenings were great for a long run through the park, and it would give him time to think about who he might want to look up next week. Some of his college pals had become Fellows at Cambridge and he looked forward to indulging himself in the memories of his youth. He would give Katie a ring later and tell her his plans.

  The conference proved enjoyable but hectic. He attended one or two presentations and had dinner in college with old friends. In some ways he envied the ordered life that they led, especially the college ethos that encouraged individual thought and expression. It had changed little over the years. Some students still donned tie and tails and strutted around the town in the evenings and tutors walked around with gowns flapping like large black crows.

  The cafes were full of young people whose parents had either mortgaged their house to the hilt or sold the family silver to provide their offspring an opportunity to get that first foot on the career ladder. With warmer spring weather, punting on the river became more popular. Although he did notice that manners had dropped from what it had been in his day. He observed students treating shop staff in the town as though they were their servants. It was something that was not done in his day.

  Ralph had been favourably impressed with Dmitri Parnov. He was a typically polite and well-educated American. Everyone warmed to his big-hearted approach to what could have been an argumentative conference. The academics and art critics were out in force, but Dmitri held the line. It was a Master Class in chairmanship and good manners. He felt that some of the students might do worse than to take a page out of his book. Ralph felt it had been a rewarding experience, but now he was more than ready to head home.

  As daylight faded and a cold brisk wind picked up, people hurried into the comparative comfort of Cambridge railway station. The modern façade that had been given to the original Victorian building and rows of ticket vending machines, with their flickering lights, suggested that it was part shopping mall and part gaming arcade. A place to relax, drink some coffee and perhaps indulge in a slice of pizza. The reality was that unstoppable tons of metal and fuel moving at 70 miles an hour passed within 3 feet of where people waited for their trains. As Ralph stood on the windy and crowded platform, he was glad that he had decided to wear his overcoat. His companions were mostly students from the University either on their way to London, some 45 minutes away, or waiting to greet friends. They seemed impervious to the cold wind, and laughed and joked with their companions as the station announcer tried to impart information about the latest arrivals and departures.

  Looking up at the announcement board, he saw that the Glasgow Central to London Kings Cross was delayed by 30 minutes. ‘Now due 18.00.’ It provided no further explanation. He walked to the edge of the platform and peered up the track. He could see a stationery Inter-City train about a quarter of a mile away. Ralph was not long on patience.

  “Any idea what’s going on?” He enquired of a man in an orange jacket with a day glow stripe.

  “Sorry, sir. Best to just listen to the announcements. Some sort of incident down the line.” The railwayman walked on.

  Ralph saw a notice above a grill on the side of the building. PASSENGER ENQUIRIES – PRESS FOR HELP. After spending 5 minutes trying to communicate with the disembodied voice through the metal grill, he gave up.

  “Not enough information when you want it and too much when you don’t,” Ralph said in the general direction of two youths who stood and looked up at the constantly changing board.

  “Our pal’s stuck at Royston, sir. He just sent us a text. The steam train that left about 30 minutes ago stopped there. He said some poor chap on it had a heart attack.”

  Ralph’s mind raced ahead. This was simply too much of a coincidence.

  “Did the train stop here?”

  They looked at him as though trying to decide if he was from the University. Perhaps he was one of the tutors who might cross their paths in the future or some old duffer they could fob off? Ralph recognised all the signs.

  “Wednesdays around 5. It’s the excursion train from Norwich to Victoria. But it only stops here for 10 minutes. Just long enough for the anorak brigade to take some shot
s.”

  “Thanks,” said Ralph and went over to the kiosk to get some coffee.

  Surely it couldn’t be Dmitiri Parnov; but that was the first thought that came to mind. Linham had said that Parnov had police protection. They would have been on the train with him, that is, presuming he was on the train at all. He could hear Katie telling him that he was being paranoid. Would the police actually get on a steam train with someone they were guarding? The seats would all be booked weeks in advance. No. They would have reserved seats on the regular Inter-City train which would get them to London in half the time. The idea of the police authorities accepting an expense chitty from officers who had indulged in Dover Sole and Chablis while on duty was ridiculous.

  The Inter City pulled smoothly into the station. Ralph grabbed his bag and hunted for car B – Seat 41. The doors opened with a hiss of the hydraulics as the announcer apologised for the delay which he said was due to an incident on the down-line at Royston. Ralph found his reserved seat and settled down in the warmth of the heated carriage.

  The train had just begun to move when a lady with two small children asked if he could help stow her bag in the overhead rack. He grunted to himself as he eyed the rather boisterous looking kids, but he smiled and put the bag and a collection of toys and coats away as she had asked.

  He removed his overcoat and put it on the empty seat next to him and speed dialled Katie’s number.

  ***

  Feeling refreshed from his two days in Cambridge, Ralph had gone into college early. It was a good time to get some work done. The administrative staff did not get ‘Reading Week’ off so he knew Janice would be at her desk.

  “There was a call from a Miss Molly Riley for you, Professor Chalmers.” Janice put his tea on the side table and placed some photo-copying on his desk. “I asked her what it was in connection with and she said that it was personal and to do with a Mr. James Riggs. I told her that you could not be contacted as you were away from college until next week.” She went on before he could ask for the number.

  “You probably saw the report in this morning’s paper about that American who was found dead on the train from Cambridge? It must have been when you were on your way back from the Conference.”

  He tried to keep calm.

  “Did they say who it was?”

  “An art dealer from New York. I can get you the paper from the student shop, if they’re open?”

  “No, that’s fine, Janice. Did Miss Riley leave a number?”

  “It’s on your desk.” He sensed by her response that she was not in the best of spirits, a rare occurrence.

  He idled with the Molly Riley’s number that Janice had put on his desk. She would probably not be in. And he had to call Inspector Linham. He would have to explain why he happened to be in Cambridge, and how close he had been to the incident at Royston. It was not going to be an easy conversation, he mused. Best to talk face to face with the Inspector. He made the call to Linham. The Inspector suggested that they meet at the police station at 2.

  Inspector Linham paced up and down behind his desk. “What a mess. You’ve presumably seen what a field day the press and media are having with this one.” Ralph knew it was not a question. “The papers say it’s likely to be another case of cyanide poisoning, the third. It’s already a headline story. The superintendent wants to know how this was allowed to happen. He’s asking a lot of questions and I don’t have the answers. And what really riles me is that we haven’t even had a confirmation from the autopsy people yet, although the police doctor at the scene says it’s almost certain to be the same method of poisoning as the others.”

  Sergeant Wilson stood as far away from his boss as possible. Ralph did not look forward to the Inspector’s reaction when he told him that he had been in Cambridge at the time.

  His only saving grace was that he had not been on the train when Dmitri Parnov had died. Of course he had no one to vouch for it. It hadn’t even occurred to him to get the names of the two youths on the platform. He was over reacting and he knew it.

  “I told you that Parnov would be at that conference at Cambridge, Professor. He had full police protection from the moment he landed at Heathrow. The Met boys had him covered in London and handed him over to the local police when he arrived in Cambridge. They played it by the book.” He grimaced. “Then those silly buggers let him out of their sights. They said they were waiting for the Met boys to collect him on the train. They even went through the ruddy barrier at Cambridge with him. The officer even went to get him a coffee. God knows why; we’re not servants.” Ralph watched as Wilson looked intently at his notebook. “We don’t fetch tea and coffee, do we Wilson?” The irony was lost on the two policemen as Ralph stifled a grin.

  “So what happened?” Asked Ralph, although he knew that somehow Parnov had got on that steam train.

  “He got on the damned Cathedral Express instead of the Inter-City. It’s become a bloody Nemesis.”

  Ralph could see where this was going. It provided an opening to tell Linham that he had been in Cambridge when it all transpired.

  “Surely he couldn’t just hop on the Cathedral Express like he might on an ordinary commuter train,” He interjected. “Wouldn’t he have needed a reservation and a ticket?”

  The Inspector slowed down his pacing.

  “My point exactly, Professor. It had all been planned to a T. The Met boys had booked First Class seats for themselves and Parnov on the Inter-City. They had arranged for a police car to ferry Parnov to Heathrow where he was to be escorted to his plane back to New York. None of that happened.. Read the Met report to Professor Chalmers, Wilson.”

  Wilson took the folder from the top of Linham’s desk. As Wilson began to speak, his boss walked to the grimy window and starred out onto the cobbled courtyard and listened as he thought about how to proceed.

  “The guard on the Cathedral Express saw a man who he thought was a steward from the train escorting a passenger. He later identified the dead man as Dmitri Parnov from a photo he was later shown. The man he had observed escorting Dmitri Parnov was approximately 25 years old and wearing a white jacket with gold epaulets. He also wore white gloves. That is the uniform that is worn by the stewards who are employed by Steam Dreams. He thought it was a bit unusual, but assumed that a passenger had wanted to get something from one of the shops at the station and the steward had been helping him back on to the train. The man was carrying what looked like a shoulder bag, and the steward was, he thought, holding a cup of coffee. The Metropolitan police had just completed a search of the station premises where they had been looking for Doctor Parnov when they heard that the Cathedral Express had stopped at Royston station, the next stop down the line, and that a passenger on that train had been found dead. The passenger was later identified as Dmitri Parnov.”

  “That’s how they got him on the train,” Linham interrupted. “They knew the steam train got in just before the Inter-City and were waiting for him on the platform. It was a well thought out plan. We’re up against some determined people here, I’m afraid, Professor.”

  “What happened at Royston?” Ralph asked.

  “Go on, Wilson. Read the rest,” Linham almost growled.

  “A passenger on the Cathedral Express said that a steward brought a man into their compartment and said that he was looking for a seat by the window. The man sat down and said something about it being a wonderful experience to ride on an old English steam train. They said that the steward put a cup of coffee on the table. The man had sipped his coffee and then sat and looked out of the window; a few minutes later he fell across the table. They looked for the steward, but he was not around. They pulled the emergency chord and the train stopped. Once the guard realised that the man was ill, the train proceeded to the next station and the ambulance crew came aboard. They removed the man from the train and took him to Cambridge hospital where he was pronounced dead on arrival. The police took statements from all the passengers in the carriage before the train continued
on to London.”

  “I looks like our killer dumped his jacket in a bin somewhere and got off at Royston,” said Linham. “It was getting dark, and in the confusion he made his escape. Royston’s a small place. It would have been easy to have a car waiting or even to get on a local bus. Or, he could have hidden on the train somewhere and got off when it reached London.”

  “I can see how an American would be happy to take a ride on a steam train,” said Ralph.

  “Especially if the steward told him that it had it had all been arranged, including supper on the train,” interjected Wilson. The Inspector just grunted.

  “Did the police manage to find the coffee cup?” Asked Ralph.

  “Fortunately, yes. The guard had cleared up the mess it made when Parnov dropped it, but he had put it in a bin with some newspapers,” said Wilson. “A test showed that it contained traces of cyanide.”

  “It must have been the same steward, or someone posing as a steward, that poisoned that journalist on the Canterbury train, Inspector,” said Ralph. “Now I come to think of it, there was one chap who acted a bit surly. I might recognise him if you had a photo. The company must have photos of their staff in their records.”

  The Inspector pointed out that they had already checked all the company’s staff, and that there were no matches. They had shown the photos to the guard who had seen the man at Cambridge, and to the passengers in his carriage on the train. It had drawn a blank. He asked Wilson to get copies so that Ralph could look over them to see if he recognised anyone that he might have seen on the Canterbury train.