Timetable of Death

by Edward Marston

  ‘The superintendent’s brother is a pharmacist, sir,’ Leeming reminded him.

  ‘That’s an irrelevance.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Then you must learn to focus your mind, Sergeant.’

  Tallis went on to give a searching analysis of the evidence so far gathered and showed that he’d been listening very carefully. While conceding that Haygarth had to be a major suspect, his instinct was that a much younger man was involved.

  ‘Gerard Burns is the most likely killer,’ he concluded.

  ‘I thought that until I met him,’ said Colbeck.

  ‘What changed your mind?’

  ‘I tried to look at him from the point of view of his employers, sir. He was well paid and given an important job by Mr Quayle. Burns clearly did it very well. It was only when he strayed away from it that the trouble started.’

  ‘He suffered physical injury on Quayle’s orders. An urge for revenge must still burn inside him.’

  ‘It does, Superintendent, and he won’t gainsay that. But think of the man who indirectly pays his wages now. Every servant and gardener at Melbourne Hall would have been subjected to rigorous scrutiny before they were taken on. Rare as his visits to Derbyshire are, the prime minister would not want potential killers among his staff. In essence,’ said Colbeck, ‘Burns is an excellent gardener so committed to his trade that he doesn’t have the time or the inclination to avenge an old slight.’

  ‘It was much more than a slight,’ said Tallis. ‘My money is on him.’

  ‘We know that Burns was in Derby on the night of the murder,’ added Leeming. ‘Why won’t he tell you where he went?’

  ‘Perhaps I should have a word with him.’

  ‘No, no, sir,’ said Colbeck, hastily, ‘that would be unwise. If Gerard Burns is our man – and I’m not convinced of that – we should leave him alone and let him think he’s got away with it. If he really is the killer, we’ll amass the evidence that will put a noose around his neck. However, I still think him innocent.’

  ‘You prefer to see him in terms of his work,’ said Tallis, ‘and choose to forget the scandal he caused at the Quayle household. In my opinion, that’s a more accurate reflection of his character. He’s sly, deceitful and a practised libertine.’

  ‘What he was drawn into was a genuine romance, sir.’

  ‘Burns has no moral compass.’

  ‘Miss Quayle doesn’t believe that, sir,’ recalled Leeming. ‘She loved him for his good qualities. I told you how well she spoke of him.’

  ‘The fellow was bent on deflowering her.’

  An awkward pause ensured. When he realised that he was talking about a gardener, Tallis was embarrassed that he’d chosen that particular word. Colbeck and Leeming traded a glance but said nothing, all too conscious that romance had passed the superintendent by. Tallis neither understood nor approved of relations between the two sexes. If the subject came up, therefore, it was better to let him rehearse his prejudices without challenging them.

  ‘Where do we go from here?’ he asked.

  ‘There’s a rather tempting dessert menu in front of you,’ Colbeck pointed out.

  ‘I’m asking whom you will question tomorrow.’

  ‘Well, I’m going to see that pharmacist in Belper,’ said Leeming.

  ‘Save yourself the trouble. Colbeck?’

  ‘I plan to visit the Quayle family again, sir.’

  ‘Good,’ said Tallis. ‘I’ll come with you.’

  Colbeck sighed. ‘Oh, I wouldn’t impose on you, sir.’

  ‘Never spurn the assistance of your superior. Besides, a second opinion is always wise.’ He stroked his moustache. ‘Now pass that menu and I’ll see if it contains anything to tempt my palate.’

  Jed Hockaday was a different man in uniform. He looked bigger, broader and more upright. His swagger became more pronounced. Having finished work at his shop, he’d closed it up, eaten a frugal meal then stepped out into the streets of Spondon as a police constable. His footsteps took him in the direction of the railway station. Long before he reached it, he heard the train that he was supposed to meet arriving with its customary pandemonium. The cobbler soon saw a uniformed figure leaving the station amid a knot of other passengers. He waited until Elijah Wigg reached him.

  ‘I expected you on the station platform,’ said Wigg.

  ‘I’m sorry, sir. I was late closing up.’

  ‘Punctuality matters. It’s a mark of respect.’

  ‘It won’t happen again, Superintendent.’

  Wigg fell in beside him and they walked back towards the village.

  ‘What do you have to report?’

  ‘They’ve found nothing.’

  ‘Are they still burrowing away?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Hockaday, ‘but it won’t do them any good.’

  ‘I hope that’s the case, Constable.’

  ‘It is, sir. What I don’t see with my own eyes, other people tell me about. They’ve both been here – Inspector Colbeck and the sergeant – but they don’t know where to look.’

  ‘That’s good to hear.’

  ‘The real nuisance is that reporter from the Mercury.’

  ‘Do you mean Conway?’

  ‘That’s him,’ said Hockaday with a malevolent smile. ‘He’s too clever for his own good. Ever since it happened, he’s been here like a bloodhound in search of a scent. And he’s more likely to find one than the detectives.’

  ‘Has Conway been bothering you?’

  ‘Yes, sir – do you know him?’

  ‘I make it my business to know all the staff on the Mercury. Most of them are well-intentioned bumblers but Conway sticks out. Young men with ambitions are always dangerous.’

  ‘He and Sergeant Leeming are becoming good friends.’

  ‘I’m not sure I like the sound of that,’ said Wigg, caressing both of his side whiskers simultaneously. ‘We don’t want them to get too close.’

  ‘No,’ said the other, ‘Conway is enough of a nuisance as it is.’

  ‘I’ll see what I can do. Perhaps I’ll have a word with the editor and see if he can move Conway away from Spondon.’

  ‘I tried to frighten him off, Superintendent.’

  ‘Did it work?’

  ‘That’s the trouble. I’m not sure.’

  They were almost late for their train. As the cab was about to set off, Madeleine Colbeck remembered something she’d forgotten and rushed back into the house. During the long minutes her friend was away, Lydia Quayle was fretting, afraid that their train would go without them and that they’d be forced to wait for a later one. As it was, Madeleine came out with a flurry of apologies, clambered into the cab and asked the driver to take them to King’s Cross. In spite of heavy traffic, they got there with plenty of time to spare. Since they shared a first-class compartment with other travellers, the two women found it impossible to have a proper conversation. It was only when their companions got off at Bedford that they were able to talk properly.

  ‘You look uneasy,’ said Madeleine.

  ‘I’m very nervous,’ admitted Lydia.

  ‘That’s understandable.’

  ‘I don’t know what sort of a reception I’ll get.’

  ‘You know that your younger brother will welcome you and your mother is sure to be pleased that you’ve come home.’

  ‘It’s not my home any longer, Madeleine. I’m going there to make a gesture and not to move in again. That’s out of the question.’ She smiled gratefully. ‘I couldn’t do this without you. It’s so kind of you to come all the way to Nottingham with me. It would have been much easier for you to stay on this train to Derby where you’d have a chance of seeing your husband.’

  ‘I can do that afterwards, Lydia. We’ll change at Kettering and catch the train to Nottingham. It’s the least I can do.’

  Madeleine was not just prompted by sympathy. At their first encounter, Lydia had given her a privileged insight into the Quayle family and, after her visit home,
might be able to furnish other details that had a bearing on the investigation. While acting as a friend, therefore, Madeleine had not entirely shed her role as a detective.

  ‘How long will you stay?’ she asked.

  ‘They may not wish me to stay.’

  ‘It’s your home, Lydia. They’ll insist on it.’

  ‘Stanley won’t, that’s certain, and I don’t know how Agnes will react.’

  ‘Blood is thicker than water. You’ll all be drawn together.’

  Lydia was dubious. ‘Will we?’

  They were passing through open countryside and they took time off to admire the landscape that was speeding past. The rural serenity was a sharp contrast to the tumult of the capital with its urban sprawl and constant smoke. Lydia had grown up in such surroundings but Madeleine could only yearn for them.

  ‘What will you do afterwards?’ she asked.

  ‘Well, I hope to see you at some stage, Madeleine.’

  ‘I’ll be staying at the Royal Hotel – if my husband permits that, of course.’

  ‘He’s hardly likely to turn you away,’ said Lydia with a laugh. ‘Judging by what you’ve told me about him, I’d say that he’d be thrilled to see you.’

  ‘And your family will be equally thrilled to see you.’

  Lydia grimaced. ‘I’ve no illusions on that score.’

  ‘You reached out to them – that’s the main thing.’

  ‘I could only do that when I knew that my father was dead.’

  Madeleine wanted to ask her about her plans for the future but felt that it would be too intrusive. Lydia was in a fragile state. While she was prepared to talk about her family, she’d said almost nothing about the woman with whom she’d been living. Madeleine recalled how Beatrice Myler had done her best to send her and Victor Leeming on their way when they called, and how resentful she’d been when they were invited into the house by Lydia. There must have been tension in the wake of their departure. Madeleine wondered if and how it had been resolved.

  It was almost as if Lydia could hear the question that her friend was posing.

  ‘The answer is that I don’t know, Madeleine,’ she said.

  ‘You don’t know what?’

  ‘The situation in London became increasingly difficult. I had to leave.’

  ‘But you haven’t left for good, surely?’

  ‘I may have done.’

  ‘I thought you’d be going back eventually to Miss Myler’s house.’

  ‘Beatrice may not want me there.’

  ‘Oh, I’m sorry …’

  ‘I’m an orphan,’ said Lydia. ‘I’m travelling between two homes that each may rebuff me in turn. My family may well find that what I did in walking out was unforgivable and Beatrice is entitled to feel the same. I’m just a poor orphan, Madeleine. I don’t belong anywhere.’

  Robert Colbeck opted for the lesser of two evils. Determined to keep Edward Tallis away from the Quayle family, he agreed that the superintendent could instead confront Gerard Burns. It would keep him out of the way and give him the feeling that he was helping in the investigation. It might also make him less certain that Burns was the killer. Had he accompanied Colbeck, he would have been a real hindrance. Tallis had intervened before and not always with beneficial effect. In the previous year, he’d insisted on being involved in a case of abduction and got in Colbeck’s way. On another occasion, he’d thrust himself into a murder investigation in Exeter and been injured in the process. His most troublesome intervention had been in a case involving the death of an old army friend in Yorkshire. Because his emotions had got the better of him, Tallis had been a severe handicap and it was only when he’d been persuaded to return to London that Colbeck and Leeming had been able to solve what turned out to be a complex crime.

  Arriving on his own at the Quayle residence, Colbeck was able to have a free hand. For the first time, he met the brothers together. Lucas was pleased to see him but Stanley was more reserved. After an exchange of niceties, Colbeck gave them a brief account of the progress of the investigation.

  ‘When will you make an arrest?’ demanded Stanley.

  ‘When we have sufficient evidence, sir,’ replied Colbeck.

  ‘You must have some idea who the villain is.’

  ‘As the sergeant explained to you, we have more than one suspect.’

  ‘Haygarth is behind it somehow,’ decided Lucas.

  ‘It’s either him or Burns,’ said his brother. ‘Have you considered that the two of them may have been acting together, Inspector?’

  ‘We’ve considered every permutation, sir,’ replied Colbeck. ‘The one you’ve suggested is the least likely. The only connection between the two individuals is that Mr Haygarth once tried to coax Mr Burns away from you.’

  ‘They’re two of a kind.’

  ‘I fail to see any likeness. They come from the opposing worlds of masters and servants. Mr Haygarth is an entrepreneur with soaring aspirations while the other man has secured what is for him the perfect post.’

  ‘Except that he can’t play cricket for this county any more,’ said Lucas, sadly.

  ‘He’s bound to regret that.’

  Stanley was irritated. ‘Let’s not talk about that despicable man,’ he said, peevishly. ‘We’re well rid of him. I want to know why it is taking you so infernally long to gather evidence.’

  ‘The killer left no discernible trail, sir.’

  ‘Have you come all the way from Derby to tell us that?’

  ‘No,’ said Colbeck, ‘I came to ask you a favour.’

  ‘If we can be of any assistance,’ said Lucas, helpfully, ‘we will.’

  ‘That depends what you want,’ added Stanley. ‘We can’t have you poking around here at a time like this. I’m sure you understand that.’

  ‘I do, sir.’

  ‘So what is it that you’re after?’

  ‘I need permission to speak to your coachman.’ The brothers were baffled. ‘I assume that he used to drive your father to and from the station on a regular basis. Who, therefore, is in a better position to tell me about his movements?’

  ‘Cleary can’t help you,’ said Stanley.

  ‘You never know,’ argued Lucas.

  ‘I’ve spoken to him myself. He has no idea where Father was going on the day of the murder. Talking to him would be pointless.’

  ‘Nevertheless,’ said Colbeck, ‘I’d value a word with him.’

  ‘I have no objection,’ said Lucas. ‘Stanley?’

  ‘Is it really necessary?’ asked his brother.

  ‘It’s what brought me here, sir. You’re welcome to be present, of course, and that goes for both of you. Well?’ asked Colbeck. ‘Do I have your permission?’

  Leeming’s rooted dislike of train journeys was intensified by the fact that he had to share a compartment with a garrulous farmer whose clothing gave off such powerful agricultural vapours that the sergeant had a fit of coughing. Fortunately, the man gave him no opportunity to speak and that was a blessing because Leeming found his broad Derbyshire dialect almost impenetrable. What he did gather was that the major landowners were the Strutt family, who owned the local cotton mills, and that they’d complained about the projected railway line so strongly that its direction was radically altered. Leeming could see through the window that the construction must have been a highly expensive process because the train passed through a long, deep cutting and passed no less than eleven bridges within a mile. The Strutt family, he suspected, would not have been popular with the North Midland Railway, as it was at the time.

  Glad to escape the stench of the soil and the interminable lecture in a foreign language, Leeming made his way towards the centre of Belper. It didn’t take him long to find the shop owned by Reuben Wigg. When he stepped into it, he was greeted by a blend of bewitching aromas. Superintendent Wigg and his brother bore little resemblance to each other. While the policeman was hirsute, the pharmacist was singularly lacking in hair. Bald-headed and clean-shaven, Reuben Wigg wore
a white coat and an expression of severe disapproval. His brother had patently monopolised all of the arrogance allotted to the family and left a residue of umbrage for the pharmacist.

  Before Leeming could speak, a customer came into the shop and was served first. After his departure, the sergeant was able to introduce himself and state his business, only to be interrupted by two more customers. When it happened for a third time, he asked if he could speak to Wigg in private. The pharmacist reluctantly called his assistant into the shop before taking his visitor into a back room with an even more pleasing pungency. Leeming asked the question that had brought him there.

  ‘Have you ever sold poison to your brother?’

  ‘No, I haven’t.’

  ‘Is that the truth?’

  ‘I haven’t sold anything to Elijah,’ said the other, ‘for one simple reason. He doesn’t think he’d have to pay. Because I’m his brother, he expects to get everything free. You can’t run a business like that.’

  ‘How often do you see him?’

  ‘We see precious little of him.’

  ‘I have the feeling that you’re rather glad about that.’

  ‘Elijah and I are not the best of friends, Sergeant.’

  ‘Why is that?’

  ‘It’s a personal matter.’

  ‘Has he ever asked you for advice about poisons?’

  ‘Why should he? There are pharmacists in Derby.’

  ‘Yes, but you’re his brother.’

  ‘Only in name,’ said Wigg, sourly. ‘In answer to your question, I’ve never sold Elijah any poison but there have been many times when I’ve been tempted to administer some to him.’ The bell tinkled as someone else came into the shop. ‘I’ll have to go, Sergeant. My customers rely on me.’

  Leeming was deflated. All that he’d gained from his visit was the news that the Wigg brothers were hostile to each other. Trudging back towards the railway station, he hoped that Colbeck and Tallis would have more productive encounters.

  John Cleary was cleaning some harnesses when Lucas Quayle arrived with Colbeck in tow. After introducing the two men to each other, Lucas left them alone. Cleary put the harness aside and wiped his hands on a cloth.