Railway to the Grave

by Edward Marston

  ‘There are some who think the colonel was far from blameless.’

  ‘Are you one of them, Mr Everett?’

  ‘Heavens, no!’ exclaimed the other, hastily. ‘I take no sides in the matter.’

  ‘Well, you should, sir. As Colonel Tarleton’s lawyer, you should be protecting him from some of the vile accusations that are flying around. He paid you well for your services. Earn your keep.’

  ‘What am I supposed to do?’

  ‘To begin with, you can take legal action against those who are whispering vicious lies into the ears of journalists. Libel and slander are abroad, Mr Everett. Strike them down and show no quarter.’

  ‘Where am I to start, Superintendent? What you call slander is the general opinion. Go into any public house and you’ll find dozens of people convinced that the colonel murdered his wife. It’s the same elsewhere. How am I to take action against such overwhelming odds?’

  ‘By making an example of the worst offenders,’ said Tallis.

  ‘I can do nothing until the inquest is over tomorrow.’

  ‘Why should that delay you?’

  ‘Because it may throw more light on what actually happened,’ said Everett, raising his voice to hide the sound of subterranean gurgles from his stomach. ‘Evidence of all kinds will be introduced. After his body was discovered on the railway line, certain items were taken from the colonel’s house. They may not only tell us about his state of mind when he set out that day, they may also give us a fuller understanding of why his wife disappeared.’

  Tallis was livid. ‘What are you expecting – a signed confession?’

  ‘It’s not beyond the bounds of possibility.’

  ‘You should be ashamed even to entertain such thoughts. Do you have no respect for the concept of loyalty to your clients?’

  ‘Of course I do,’ said Everett, indignantly.

  ‘When did you last see the colonel?’

  ‘It was about a week ago.’

  ‘And what brought him here?’

  ‘I’m not at liberty to divulge that, Superintendent. All that I can tell you is that our meeting had an elegiac feel to it.’

  ‘Are you saying that he was…taking his leave of you?’

  ‘That was how it felt.’

  ‘Given the way you’ve deserted him,’ said Tallis, hotly, ‘he should have taken his leave of you a lot earlier.’

  Everett was on his feet. ‘I won’t have you casting aspersions on my professional competence,’ he said. ‘I served the colonel to the best of my ability for many years and I regret his passing. As a lawyer, I’m in an invidious position because I have his last will and testament in my safe. I promised to fulfil his wishes to the letter but I can hardly do that if the inquest rules that his goods and chattels are forfeit to the Crown. So you see, I have enough on my plate without your coming in here and insulting me.’

  Tallis gave a gruff apology and Everett sat down again, only partially mollified. Prompted by Tallis, he gave an account of his dealings with the colonel in recent times and he spoke well of the dead man’s character. Since he also acted for Mrs Tarleton, he was able to talk about her occasional visits to his office in the preceding months.

  ‘Did they ever come here together?’ asked Tallis.

  ‘Once or twice,’ answered Everett. ‘Actually, I preferred it when it was a joint visit. The colonel could be a trifle short-tempered. You and he have that in common, Superintendent. When Mrs Tarleton was with him, he was always on his best behaviour.’

  After brooding for a while, Tallis rose from his chair.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Everett,’ he said. ‘I’ll impose on you no longer.’

  ‘I’m always available to an officer of the law.’

  ‘Why do you think that Miriam Tarleton went missing?’

  ‘I prefer to reserve my judgement, sir.’

  ‘You mean that you’d rather sit on the fence.’

  ‘Fences are too precarious. I’d rather lurk in the shadows.’

  ‘It’s the best place for you,’ said Tallis, pointedly, and headed for the door.

  ‘One moment, Superintendent,’ called the other, opening a drawer in his desk and taking something out. ‘You may find this interesting.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘I’m afraid that it’s a fairly accurate reflection of what the people of Northallerton – and still more of South Otterington – are thinking and feeling. It’s a broadside entitled Railway to the Grave.’

  Tallis wrinkled his nose. ‘What a revolting title!’

  ‘When I arrived this morning, this was on sale in the street.’

  ‘I’m surprised you’d bother with anything so tasteless.’

  ‘I wanted to see what the general mood was.’ He handed it over. ‘Read it for yourself. The poet will never rival Mr Tennyson but he has an earthy directness about his style.’

  Gritting his teeth, Tallis read the opening stanzas.

  Now here’s a murd’rous tale of woe,

  See a hero misbehave.

  For it shows a valiant soldier go

  By railway to the grave.

  What drives a man to take his life

  Upon the iron rails?

  Is it to do with the death of a wife

  And the guilt that then prevails?

  Suicide is a fearful crime,

  Of darkest deeds, none chiller.

  When he lay crushed upon that line

  Had he simply killed a killer?

  Tallis had seen enough. Spluttering with fury, he screwed the paper up and hurled it to the floor with disgust.

  ‘If I find the man who’s selling this detestable slime,’ he yelled, ‘I’ll tear him limb from limb!’

  Agnes Reader’s account of the fateful day was protracted because she kept breaking down to sob. Colbeck and Leeming listened without ever daring to interrupt. She was a slight woman in her early forties with an attractive face distorted by pain and awash with tears. Having relived a harrowing experience, she ended on a pleading note.

  ‘Should I have done more?’ she asked. ‘After waiting and waiting for hours on end, should I have gone out to search for her there and then? Had I done so, would I perchance have saved Miriam’s life? Tell me, please, that I did all that I should have done.’

  ‘You’ve nothing to reproach yourself with, Mrs Reader,’ said Colbeck. ‘The likelihood is that Mrs Tarleton was killed shortly after she parted company with the colonel. Someone must have trailed them and – the moment he saw her unaccompanied – he struck.’

  ‘I have nightmares when I think about it.’

  ‘Your husband told us how fond you were of them both.’

  Agnes gave a hopeless shrug. ‘They were our best friends.’

  It was a sizeable house on the edge of the town with views of the fields over which anyone coming from South Otterington would have walked. The detectives were in the drawing room, seated opposite the vision of sadness that was Agnes Reader. Dressed in black out of respect, she had a black-edged lace handkerchief to wipe away her tears.

  ‘Mrs Reader,’ said Colbeck, gently, ‘I’m given to understand that Mrs Tarleton always took the same route here from the village.’

  ‘That’s true, Inspector,’ she replied. ‘It’s a well-worn path and the one that my husband and I have often taken when we’ve walked over there on a summer afternoon. When it’s too cold or rain is in the air, we travelled in the trap.’

  ‘Could you please show us the precise route?’

  Colbeck had brought an ordnance survey map of the area and he unfolded it on a low table, smoothing it out with the flat of his hand. Agnes leant over to peer at it.

  ‘Here,’ she said, pointing at a spot beyond South Otterington. ‘This is the house. They would have left there and followed the track to the village. After that, they’d come this way.’ Her finger traced the journey. ‘When they reached this point here, Miriam would have parted from Aubrey – from the colonel – and kept to a path that zigzags its way b
efore eventually straightening out.’

  ‘It’s not all open countryside,’ noted Leeming, interpreting the symbols. ‘There’s a wood marked here and I daresay there are odd copses dotted about.’

  ‘That’s quite right, Sergeant,’ she agreed.

  ‘In addition to that,’ said Colbeck, ‘there’d be bushes and trees along the margins of the fields and perhaps a hollow or two. There are probably several places where someone could ambush a passer-by. Did Mrs Tarleton have no fear of walking here alone?’

  ‘None whatsoever,’ said Agnes, ‘and the same goes for me. I’ve done that walk on my own many times and so had she. Neither of us had the slightest fear. This is a law-abiding part of the county. We can come and go in complete safety.’

  ‘That’s good to hear,’ said Leeming. ‘You couldn’t say that about some of the districts we visit in London. You take your life in your hands when you walk down some streets.’

  ‘The situation here is very different, Sergeant,’ said Colbeck. ‘The murder – if indeed that’s what it was – is all the more shocking for being such an unusual event. Mrs Tarleton was caught off guard.’

  ‘What could have been the motive, Inspector?’

  ‘We can’t hazard a guess until we find the body. Presumably, she’d have been carrying a handbag and wearing jewellery of some description. If all that is missing, then theft might be the motive.’

  ‘I don’t want to hear any other suggestions,’ said Agnes, hands to her ears. ‘I just pray that she was not molested in any way. I couldn’t bear that thought. My husband says that I must try to put it out of my mind the way that he does when he’s at work. But I find it impossible to do that. A few weeks ago we had two wonderful friends. One of them has disappeared and the other was mangled by a train. How can I put such horrors out of my mind?’

  ‘You can’t, Mrs Reader. You have too many emotional ties to the victims. It’s only right and proper that you should dwell on their deaths. I know that your husband feels the loss deeply as well. His position at the bank requires him to put on a brave face,’ said Colbeck, ‘but we could see that he was suffering inside.’

  ‘Bertram has been my salvation,’ she confided. ‘I don’t know how I would have borne up without him. He’s had to find the strength to keep both of us from sinking into absolute despair. And yes, he has suffered. He loved them as much as I did. He’s just better at hiding his feelings than I am.’

  ‘He told us that, on the day in question, he got back here to find you in great distress.’

  ‘He was late home that evening because he’d been to see a client in Darlington. By that time, I was sick with worry. Bertram wanted to ride over to the house to make sure that all was well and to put my mind at rest. For some reason,’ she admitted, ‘I wouldn’t let him. I convinced myself that, if anything unpleasant had happened to Miriam, her husband would have sent word. Oh dear!’ she wailed, a hand to her mouth. ‘I’ll have to go through it all again at the inquest tomorrow. I’m not sure that I’ll be able to manage it.’

  ‘I’m sure that you will, Mrs Reader,’ said Leeming.

  ‘And so am I,’ added Colbeck. ‘You’ve done splendidly here with us and you’ll do the same in public.’ He folded up his map. ‘We’ll intrude on your grief no longer.’

  ‘The pain is all the more searing because we don’t know what befell Miriam that day. Until the truth comes out, I’ll never be able to mourn her properly.’ She turned moist eyes upon Colbeck. ‘We’ve been everywhere but the search has so far been in vain. Is there any hope at all that you can find her, Inspector? Is there any hope that we’ll finally know the truth?’

  Touched by her plight and by the ravaged beauty of her face, Colbeck weighed up the evidence he had already gathered.

  ‘I think that I can guarantee it,’ he said.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  It had been a full day for Madeleine Andrews. After sending her father off to work, she’d cleared away the breakfast things and checked what was in the larder before making her shopping list. She then let in the woman who came to clean the house and dressed to go out, taking a large basket with her as she walked towards the market. Buying the week’s rations never seemed like a chore to Madeleine because she always met friends with whom she could chat and she invariably called in on her aunt. Afternoon was given over to her work and she spent a long time at her easel, bringing another vivid railway scene painstakingly to life on the canvas. Only when the light began to fade a little did she abandon her art, turning instead to the latest novel borrowed from Robert Colbeck.

  Mrs Gaskell’s Cranford diverted her for an hour or so with its charming portrayal of events in a quiet Cheshire village, describing, as it did, a leisurely existence that had great appeal to her. It certainly bore no relation to the more hectic metropolitan world in which she lived. Madeleine was still engrossed in the book when she heard familiar footsteps on the pavement outside. Caleb Andrews had returned from Euston after his usual stop at a public house frequented by fellow railwaymen. He was in an affable mood when she let him in, taking off his cap and coat before slipping into the kitchen to wash off some of the day’s grime.

  ‘Supper will be ready soon,’ she told him.

  ‘It can wait until you’ve read the article.’

  ‘What article is that?’

  ‘The one about Inspector Colbeck, of course,’ he said, popping his head around the door. ‘Well, it’s not exactly about him but he’s mentioned in it.’

  ‘Where?’ she asked, seizing the rolled-up newspaper from the pocket of his coat. ‘What page is it on?’

  ‘Where else would it be but the front one?’

  She saw the headline. ‘Is it this one about suicide in Yorkshire?’

  His head vanished. ‘That’s it, Maddy.’

  She recoiled with dismay when she read the article because it went into unabashed detail about the injuries sustained by Colonel Tarleton. While she was pleased to see a word of praise for Colbeck’s record of solving crimes relating to railways, she was sorry that he was involved with such a grisly event. It was a long article and she read it through twice. Face and hands now scrubbed, Andrews came out of the kitchen.

  ‘It’s something we all fear, Maddy,’ he said. ‘We’re all afraid that some fool will step out in front of us one day when we’re driving along at top speed. It could happen to any of us.’

  ‘The colonel was no fool, Father. He was an educated man and, according to this, he had a distinguished military career. It seems that he took his life because his wife was missing, presumed dead.’

  Andrews nodded. ‘He has my sympathy. I know what losing a wife can do to you.’ He put a grateful arm around her. ‘This fellow didn’t have a daughter like you to help him through it.’

  ‘He has a daughter and a son. They must be horrified.’

  ‘Don’t forget the driver. He’s probably suffering badly as well.’

  ‘What made the colonel choose that way to die?’

  ‘Madness – it’s the only explanation. Why didn’t he shoot himself if he couldn’t carry on? Or why didn’t he drown himself in a river? That’s what I thought of doing.’

  ‘Father!’ she scolded.

  ‘It was only on the day of the funeral, Maddy,’ he said, holding up an apologetic palm. ‘It was when I realised that I’d never see your mother again that I had a moment of weakness. Luckily,’ he went on, brightening, ‘I had you to make me see sense and I’ve found a new life – for a while, anyway.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, it’s not going to last, is it? Sooner or later, you’re going to marry Inspector Colbeck and live in his house.’

  ‘You’ll be very welcome to visit us any time you wish,’ she said, putting the newspaper aside. ‘Robert has told you that himself.’

  ‘Newly married couples like their privacy.’

  She gave a dry laugh. ‘I’m not sure that we’ll have much of a private life. Robert works long and irregular hours. He�
�s ever likely to charge off to a different part of the country at a moment’s notice.’

  ‘I don’t mind that – as long as he has the sense to travel on one of our trains.’

  ‘Don’t be silly!’

  He gave her an affectionate squeeze. ‘Are you pining?’

  ‘I always miss him.’

  ‘And I daresay that he misses you. He’d better. I want my daughter missed good and proper. I don’t want a son-in-law who forgets you the moment you’re out of his sight.’

  ‘He’d never do that, Father.’

  ‘Good,’ he said. ‘No matter what I was doing, your mother was never far from my mind when she was alive. You and her were what kept me going through hard winters and long shifts. As for the inspector, he should be on his way back to London soon. The inquest is tomorrow. Once that’s over, he can catch the next train.’

  ‘You didn’t read the article properly, Father.’

  ‘Yes, I did.’

  ‘Then you should have realised that Robert would never leave a place where there was unfinished business. A woman is missing and feared dead. He’ll want to find her and arrest someone for the murder. It could keep him in Yorkshire for some time.’

  Andrews frowned. ‘I don’t like the sound of that.’

  ‘It’s something we have to accept.’

  ‘I don’t mean him staying there,’ he explained. ‘It’s the danger he might be in. Now that he’s going to be one of the family, I’ve started to worry about him. Investigating a suicide is harmless enough but he’s also looking for a missing person.’

  ‘Robert has a way of finding people he’s after.’

  ‘Someone may decide to stop him doing that.’

  ‘I don’t understand,’ she said.

  ‘I’m talking about the killer, Maddy.’

  She swallowed hard. ‘Oh, I see.’

  ‘He’s not going to give himself up without a fight,’ said Andrews. ‘When a man has already committed one murder, he won’t be slow to commit another. Can you hear what I’m saying to you? If he finds that missing woman, Inspector Colbeck could put himself in jeopardy.’