Railway to the Grave

by Edward Marston

  ‘I know that, man.’

  ‘Then you must also know that the law permits the deceased some leeway. If it can be shown that someone committed suicide while the balance of his mind was disturbed, then he will be considered to have been insane and therefore not responsible for his actions. That being the case, nothing will be surrendered to the Crown. Don’t you see, sir?’ asked Colbeck. ‘That may well be the outcome here.’

  Tallis was outraged. ‘Aubrey Tarleton was not insane.’

  ‘Look at the facts, Superintendent.’

  ‘The only fact that interests me is that I knew this man for almost thirty years. As a soldier and as a friend, he was above reproach. He was the sanest man I ever met in my whole life.’

  ‘That may have been so,’ said Colbeck, ‘but I ask you to gaze around this room. A man could choose dozens of different weapons with which to kill himself here, yet Colonel Tarleton preferred to walk along a railway line in the path of an oncoming train. Does that sound like the action of someone in full possession of his faculties?’

  ‘How dare you even suggest it?’ howled Tallis, caught on the raw. ‘You’re talking about someone you never met.’ He reached into his pocket for an envelope. ‘You read the letter he sent me. Did that sound like the ravings of a lunatic?’

  ‘No, Superintendent, it was a sad but rather dignified letter.’

  ‘You heard the housekeeper. She noticed nothing unusual in her employer’s behaviour. Even under the intense stress of losing his wife, he bore up well and showed the resilience that I’d seen him display on the field of combat. He was a man of iron self-control. Frankly,’ said Tallis, ‘I deplore what he did but he conceived and followed a definite plan. That was the action of a sane man.’

  ‘Then I must beg to differ.’

  ‘You can do what you like, Colbeck. But don’t you dare have the audacity to say in my hearing that Colonel Tarleton was of unsound mind. That’s a slur on his character that I simply won’t permit.’

  Tallis spent most of his life in a state of permanent ire but his fury had reached a new and more dangerous pitch. Colbeck was tactful. He tried to reduce the intensity of the superintendent’s rage.

  ‘I defer to your superior knowledge of the gentleman,’ he said with a note of apology. ‘It’s not my place to form a judgement of him. That must be left to the inquest. I’d rather turn my attention to the event that provoked his suicide. Foul play must be suspected and that leaves us with one question – what happened to his wife?’

  It fell to Victor Leeming to be the first to make the acquaintance of Eric Hepworth. Entering the Black Bull in search of his colleagues, Leeming was immediately confronted by the imposing figure of the railway policeman. Sergeant Hepworth was in uniform, his long black coat patently worn with pride, his boots gleaming. The low ceiling had obliged him to remove his top hat, revealing a large head that was rapidly balding. As if to counter the dramatic loss of hair, he’d grown a thick, dark beard out of which came a deep, accusatory voice.

  ‘Are you one of the people trying to take over my duties?’ he challenged. ‘You got no right to do that.’

  ‘You must be Sergeant Hepworth,’ said the newcomer.

  ‘That’s right.’

  ‘I’m Detective Sergeant Leeming of Scotland Yard.’

  ‘I don’t care if you’re the Emperor of China. Nobody pushes me aside.’

  ‘That’s not what we’re trying to do.’

  Leeming took a step towards him and promptly lost his hat as it collided with a beam. Showing quick reactions, he managed to catch it. Hepworth laughed derisively.

  ‘A fine bleeding detective you are,’ he said. ‘You couldn’t even detect a beam above your head.’

  ‘Maybe not,’ riposted Leeming, squaring up to him, ‘but I can detect hostility when I find it. If you value your position, Sergeant, you’d better learn to show some respect.’

  ‘You have no jurisdiction over this stretch of line. It’s my patch and I look after it well.’

  ‘Then you should patrol it more effectively so that people don’t get killed by a train.’

  Hepworth was indignant. ‘That wasn’t my doing!’ he bellowed. ‘If someone is stupid enough to walk on the track, that’s his funeral. My job is to clear up the mess afterwards. I won’t listen to threats. You have no authority over me.’

  ‘Inspector Colbeck does.’

  ‘Colbeck?’ The name jolted him. ‘Are you talking about the Railway Detective?’

  ‘That’s the man. His reputation goes before him. The inspector has solved crimes for most of the railway companies in this country and they’ve been extremely grateful. He will doubtless have influence with your employers and won’t hesitate to use it. If, that is,’ Leeming went on, ‘he meets with the same boneheaded resistance that I did.’

  ‘Who are you calling boneheaded?’

  Hepworth took a combative stance but soon thought better of actually exchanging blows. Leeming stood his ground fearlessly. He was a solid man with the powerful fists and battered face of someone who’d survived many brawls. Ten years younger than Hepworth, he also looked much fitter. Realising that he’d met his match, the railway policeman resorted to a companionable chuckle. He patted Leeming’s shoulder.

  ‘There’s no call for us to fall out,’ he said, genially. ‘After all, we’re in the same business, really. If you’ve come all this way, Sergeant, you must have built up a thirst. What can I get you?’

  Leeming asked for a pint of beer and the two of them were able to have a conversation instead of an argument. It was not long before Colbeck came into the bar, doffing his hat as he did so.

  ‘There,’ said Hepworth, approvingly. ‘That’s what I call a real detective. He spotted that beam at once.’

  Leeming introduced the two men and they shook hands. The debonair Colbeck looked rather incongruous in the rough-and-ready surroundings of a rural pub but he was completely at ease. Having heard of his reputation, Hepworth regarded him with wonder.

  ‘You actually saw the body, then,’ said Colbeck.

  ‘I saw what was left of it, Inspector,’ replied Hepworth. ‘It was a sorry sight. His own mother wouldn’t have recognised him. I had the remains taken to an undertaker in Northallerton.’

  ‘Mrs Withers told us that. Superintendent Tallis is on his way there right now by train. He wants to see the body for himself.’

  ‘That’s more than I’d want to do,’ said Leeming.

  ‘He’s acting out of a sense of duty.’

  ‘Then he’s in for a nasty shock,’ warned Hepworth. ‘That train broke almost every bone in his body.’

  ‘The superintendent was in the army. He must have seen some hideous things on the battlefield. He won’t blench.’

  ‘I would,’ confessed Leeming. ‘I felt sick when our cat was crushed to death under the wheel of a coal haulier’s cart.’

  Hepworth insisted on buying Colbeck a pint of beer, then the three of them moved to sit down at one of the tables. The railway policeman took a long sip from his tankard.

  ‘This is my first suicide,’ he said. ‘I don’t count the sheep and cows that wandered onto the line and got themselves smashed to smithereens. That’s not suicide – it was plain stupidity.’

  ‘It’s the duty of farmers to keep their stock fenced in,’ said Colbeck. ‘When there are accidents, it’s not only the animal that suffers. Locomotives have sometimes been derailed by the impact.’

  ‘Fences cost money, Inspector, and there are farmers who resent having track across their land. They defy railways.’

  ‘They stand to profit by it. They can move their stock to market far quicker by rail than by driving them there overland.’

  ‘This is Yorkshire. Old ways die hard.’

  ‘I’ve no complaints about the beer here,’ said Leeming, quaffing his pint then licking his lips. ‘I like it.’ He glanced at Hepworth. ‘The sergeant is afraid that we want to do his job for him.’

  ‘Not at all,’ sooth
ed Colbeck. ‘The most needful thing has already been done and that was to clear the remains from the track. The colonel is dead. Our interest shifts to his wife and we may be forced to tread on a few toes there. I take it that the search was conducted by police from Northallerton.’

  ‘What few there are,’ said Hepworth. ‘Most of those who went out were villagers recruited by the colonel. I was glad to help myself when I was off duty, and not only because we were paid.’

  ‘How far afield did you search?’

  ‘We went for miles, Inspector. We combed every inch between here and Northallerton because that’s where Mrs Tarleton was going when she disappeared.’ He hunched his shoulders. ‘There was no trace of her.’

  ‘Do you know whom she was going to see in the town?’

  ‘Oh, yes, it was Mrs Reader. She’s the wife of a banker and was very friendly with Mrs Tarleton. They often visited each other’s houses. So did their husbands. The four of them played cards together.’

  ‘We’ll need to speak to Mr and Mrs Reader,’ said Colbeck.

  ‘He’s easy to find. His bank is in the High Street.’

  ‘Thank you for telling me.’

  ‘I’m always available, if you need help, sir,’ said Hepworth. ‘Policemen are few and far between in the North Riding. It would be a feather in my cap if I could assist the famous Railway Detective.’

  ‘The best way to assist me is to tell me what your own opinion is, Sergeant. Some unpleasant rumours are circulating, I hear.’

  ‘Not only in South Otterington,’ Leeming put in. ‘When I spoke to Hal Woodman in Northallerton, he claimed that everyone there knew for a fact that the colonel had murdered his wife.’

  ‘What evidence did he put forward, Victor?’

  ‘None at all, really – he seemed to think it was so obvious.’

  ‘You can tell me later about your visit to him. What about you, Sergeant?’ asked Colbeck, looking into Hepworth’s eyes. ‘Do you subscribe to the notion that it’s so obvious?’

  ‘No, sir, I don’t,’ replied Hepworth, seeing a chance to impress. ‘I’m a policeman. I like to study all the facts before I make any decision. On the other hand,’ he said, thoughtfully, ‘the suicide could have been some kind of repentance for a heinous crime.’

  ‘It could equally well have been the action of a loving husband, driven to desperation by the disappearance of his wife.’

  ‘You’ll not find many people around here who agree with that.’

  ‘Why is that?’

  ‘Colonel Tarleton was a peppery character. He was the sort of man who has to have his own way no matter how much offence that might cause. Everyone here respected him but few of us liked him. Fewer still would have called him a loving husband.’

  ‘How would you describe him?’

  ‘He was a crusty old stick. He did some good things – giving to charity and suchlike – and I admire him for that. But I resented the way that he threw his weight around.’

  ‘So you think he’s a murderer, do you?’ said Leeming.

  ‘The honest answer is that I don’t know.’

  ‘What’s your guess?’

  ‘Oh, it’s a bit more than a guess,’ confided Hepworth, checking that nobody else was within earshot. ‘I have this theory, you see.’

  ‘Well?’

  ‘I don’t think that Mrs Tarleton is dead.’

  ‘Then where is she?’

  ‘Who knows? She’s a long way away, probably.’

  ‘That’s an interesting theory,’ said Colbeck. ‘Why did you take part in the search for a woman you thought had simply left the area?’

  ‘It was because of the way that the search was conducted by the colonel that I began to think. He made us go over and over the same ground as if he was trying to convince himself that she was there when, in his heart, he knew that she’d simply run away from him. That’s what played on his mind and drove him to suicide. He was too proud to admit that Mrs Tarleton had deserted him.’

  ‘Was he such a dreadful husband?’

  ‘All I can tell you is that he was difficult to live with.’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘My daughter used to work at the big house.’

  ‘Ah, I see.’

  ‘Ginny was shocked when she first went there,’ said Hepworth. ‘The colonel and his wife had separate bedrooms. Ginny thought that was unnatural. It’s something my wife and I would never dream of doing. Married people should sleep together.’

  ‘That’s what I believe,’ said Leeming, stoutly.

  Hepworth confided an intimate detail. ‘I wouldn’t get a wink of sleep without my wife beside me. I need to feel her there’

  ‘Separate bedrooms are not that unusual in some marriages,’ Colbeck pointed out, ‘and the arrangement may suit both partners. If one of them snores all night, for instance, I can imagine them sleeping apart, and there are lots of other innocent reasons why they might not wish to share a bed.’

  Hepworth leant forward. ‘Ginny still thought it was odd.’

  ‘It’s downright peculiar,’ muttered Leeming.

  ‘What else did your daughter think was a little odd, Sergeant Hepworth?’ asked Colbeck.

  ‘Lots of things,’ said the other. ‘One of them was that the colonel and his wife didn’t seem to spend much time together. He was always out shooting, sitting on the bench in Northallerton or going off somewhere by train. And Mrs Tarleton was always visiting friends.’

  ‘I can’t see anything odd in that, Sergeant,’ said Colbeck. ‘You’ve just described a lot of marriages. Some couples prefer to rub along amiably instead of living in each other’s pockets. What I haven’t heard so far is any motive for desertion. When I was at the house earlier, the housekeeper was at pains to tell us that the colonel and his wife were devoted to each other.’

  Hepworth curled a lip. ‘Mrs Withers would say that.’

  ‘You dispute the fact?’

  ‘My daughter does. Ginny heard them arguing more than once. She saw Mrs Tarleton run off to her room in tears one evening.’

  ‘Did she know why?’

  ‘She thinks so.’

  ‘What did she tell you?’

  ‘Ginny believes the argument was over Mrs Withers. My daughter was only a slip of a girl when she was there but she’s got sharp eyes and she senses things.’

  ‘And what did she sense?’

  ‘That something was going on between Mrs Withers and Colonel Tarleton. It was nothing she could put her finger on but it was sort of in the air, if you know what I mean.’

  ‘So there’s no actual proof of any attachment between them?’

  ‘There is now, Inspector.’

  ‘Well, I certainly don’t see it,’ said Leeming, scratching his head. ‘All you’ve told us so far is that your daughter senses things.’

  ‘She worked beside Mrs Withers every day.’

  ‘Did she actually catch the two of them together?’

  ‘No,’ conceded Hepworth, ‘not exactly.’

  ‘Then where is the evidence?’ pressed Colbeck.

  ‘It’s in the suicide, Inspector. That’s what gave him away. My belief is this. The colonel and Mrs Withers started carrying on together and his wife found out about it. When she could stand it no longer,’ said Hepworth, developing his theory, ‘Mrs Tarleton ran away and is probably living somewhere under an assumed name. To cover his shame, the colonel organised that long search for her when, all the time, he knew what had really happened. To a man of his standing, it must have come as a thunderbolt. Think of the scandal he’d have faced. Knowing that the truth was bound to come out one day,’ he concluded, ‘the colonel took his own life in order to escape the humiliation.’ Hepworth grinned and sat back as if expecting applause. ‘You see? I’ve solved the case for you. I can always work things out when I put my mind to it.’

  The undertaker lived over the premises. He was annoyed when someone called so late that evening but was soon mollified by the information that his
visitor was a senior detective from London. He conducted Tallis to the room where the coffin was resting on trestles. The lid was on it but had not yet been nailed down.

  ‘Do you really want to put yourself through this?’ he asked.

  Tallis nodded. ‘He was my dear friend.’

  ‘Then you have my sympathy, sir.’

  The undertaker removed the lid so that the corpse could be viewed. Even though herbs had been used to sweeten the atmosphere, the stench of death rose swiftly up into Tallis’s nostrils and made him retch. He gaped in horror. The shroud failed to conceal the broken limbs and the ugly distortions of the body, but it was the head that really shocked him. Colonel Tarleton’s face had been smashed to a pulp and the bare skull cracked apart. What dismayed Tallis, however, was something else. Head and body were quite separate. When the locomotive struck him with such force, his friend had been decapitated.

  Closing his eyes to shut out the pain, Tallis began to pray.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Sergeant Hepworth was a mine of information about the area but his comments about those who lived there were liberally salted with spite and prejudice. The inhabitants of the village and its neighbouring communities were either his friends or his enemies. There seemed to be no intermediate ground between the two groups. While they were grateful to learn so much from him, Colbeck and Leeming found his loquaciousness wearing and his pomposity irritating. When it was time for the railway policeman to leave, therefore, neither of them tried to detain him. They were glad to be left alone so that they could compare notes about what each of them had so far discovered. They were still deep in discussion when Tallis came in. He took only a few halting steps into the room then stood there with a look of utter bewilderment on his face as if he had no idea where he was. Colbeck beckoned him over.

  ‘Come and join us, Superintendent,’ he said, rising to his feet. ‘You look as if you might need a stiff drink, sir.’