As their eyes eventually became accustomed to the gloom, he stopped to kiss her for the first time. Stirred by passion, they laughed gleefully and ran on until they skirted the woods. He led the way, looking for a grassy spot where they could lie beside each other. They went into the trees until they came to a suitable place. When they sank down on the soft grass, it was too dark for them to notice the low mound of earth beside them. The time alone together for which they’d both longed had at last come and they relished it. He rolled her onto her back and began to caress her body but she suddenly stiffened in fear. Something protruding from the mound had just brushed against her face. It was a human hand.
Her scream was heard a mile away.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Word of mouth travelled swiftly. Almost everyone in the North Riding seemed to know that detectives from Scotland Yard had arrived. Wilf Moxey, the young farm labourer, had caught wind of the news in the local pub. There was a dead body in the wood. The detectives had to be told. His first task, however, was to comfort his sweetheart, Lorna Begg, who was close to hysterics after the discovery. As he walked her back to the farm with his arm around her shoulders, he could feel her shivering with fear. They agreed that they’d say nothing about their nocturnal tryst. It would not only preserve the secrecy of their love, it would save Lorna from having to recount the heart-stopping moment when she was touched by a corpse.
They parted near the farm with a kiss. Lorna crept back to her loft above the stables, musing that she would have to be up in a couple of hours to milk the cows. Moxey, meanwhile, was running at a steady pace in the direction of South Otterington, downcast that his rendezvous with Lorna had been such a disaster and hoping that it was not a bad omen. When he finally reached the Black Bull, he was lathered with sweat and panting for breath.
‘Where exactly did you find it?’ asked Colbeck.
‘In the wood, sir,’ said Moxey, ‘just beyond Thornton.’
‘Would that be Thornton-le-Moor?’
‘No, sir – Thornton-le-Beans. I work on a farm nearby.’
‘And did you see if the corpse was that of a female?’
‘I daren’t look that close, sir. It gave me such a shock.’
Colbeck didn’t mind in the least being roused from his slumbers and he thanked Moxey for coming to alert him. Leeming was less happy about being dragged away from dreams of his wife and family. By the time he clambered onto the cart hired from the blacksmith, the sergeant was still not fully awake. Colbeck drove with Moxey beside him. Leeming sat disconsolately behind them on some sacks. Colbeck questioned the labourer gently.
‘What were you doing out at that time of night?’ he wondered.
‘I went for a walk, sir.’
‘And were you alone?’
‘Oh, yes,’ replied Moxey, hurriedly. ‘I was looking for rabbits. I’d set a few snares some nights ago. That’s the only time I get to slip away from the farm, sir.’
Colbeck knew that he was lying but that didn’t concern him. He had no wish to pry into the other’s private life. All that mattered was that a body had been found and that it was possibly that of Miriam Tarleton. Moxey was nervous, intimidated by someone as important as a detective inspector from London and terrified that he might somehow be under suspicion. He was already regretting his decision to run to the Black Bull. Sensing his unease, Colbeck spent the journey trying to make him relax.
‘What do you do at the farm?’
‘Just about everything, sir,’ said Moxey.
‘This must be a busy time of the year for you.’
‘It’s always busy.’
‘What – even in winter?’
‘We’ve sheep and dairy cows to look after. Then there are fences to mend, walls to rebuild, timber to cut and a hundred other chores. Farm work never ends.’
‘All the more surprising, then,’ observed Colbeck, ‘that you can find time to go out after rabbits at night. I’d have thought you’d be exhausted at the end of the day.’ Moxey said nothing. ‘How many of you are employed at the farm?’
‘Five of us, sir,’ said the other, ‘though that’s not counting Mr Higginbottom’s sons – he’s the farmer. They look after the stock. There’s three of us work the land and we’ve got two milkmaids.’
There was something about the way his voice lingered on the word ‘milkmaids’ that gave Colbeck a clue as to who had been his companion in the wood. He didn’t express the thought. The further they went in the jolting cart, the less tense Moxey became. Colbeck had no wish to unsettle him.
‘Have you always worked there?’ he asked.
‘No, sir, I started out with my father.’
‘Does he have a farm?’
‘It’s only a smallholding and there’s not enough work there for me and my brother. So I moved away.’
‘And where is this smallholding?’
‘Leeming,’ said Moxey.
The sergeant’s ears pricked up. ‘Did I hear my name?’
‘It’s a place, Victor,’ said Colbeck.
‘Yes,’ explained Moxey. ‘It’s a village further west, sir, over towards Bedale. I was born and brought up there.’
‘Is that so?’ said Leeming with a chuckle. ‘I didn’t know they’d named a village after me. I must go over there some time.’
Dawn was making its first gesture when they reached the wood and they could see the trees silhouetted against the sky. Not wanting the cartwheels to destroy any potential evidence, Colbeck brought the horse to a halt well short of the place indicated by Moxey. The three of them dismounted and moved forward in a line. Colbeck was carrying the oil lamp that he’d just lit. Approaching with great trepidation, Moxey took them to the place he’d visited earlier with Lorna Begg. When they got near to the mound of earth, the labourer came to a halt and let them go on together.
The lamp illumined both the protruding hand and parts of the body. After carefully scooping back the earth with his hands, Colbeck exposed the face of a woman, her hair matted with filth, her features hideously distorted by the work of insects. He then examined the area around the shallow grave. Leeming had brought a spade with him.
‘Shall I dig her up, sir?’ he asked.
‘By the look of it,’ said Colbeck, ‘animals have already started to do that. Hold on a minute, Victor. I want to see if he’s left us anything by mistake.’ He moved the lamp so that the pool of light shifted to some ruts in the earth. ‘Now that’s interesting.’
‘What have you found, Inspector?’
‘A cart of some description was here.’
‘What’s so unusual about that?’
‘It’s well off the beaten track. The cart – or trap, most likely – would have had to pick its way through the trees. It would be completely hidden in here. Think back to yesterday evening,’ said Colbeck. ‘Do you remember that walk we had along the road to Northallerton as we traced Mrs Tarleton’s footsteps?’
‘I do,’ sighed Leeming. ‘My legs are still aching.’
‘Near one of the places we thought suitable for an ambush, we found ruts very similar to these. They were concealed in a place where nobody would have thought of driving a trap.’
‘I see what you mean, Inspector. Someone may have killed her there, put the body in the trap and brought it here to bury it. No,’ he went on, thinking it through. ‘That can’t be right. Shots were heard. If Mrs Tarleton had been shot at close quarters, there’d have been blood near the place we’re talking about yet there was none. And those search parties found no blood anywhere along that route.’
‘That was only because the killer made sure that none was left behind.’
‘How could he do that, Inspector?’
‘Why don’t we find out?’ said Colbeck, putting the lamp down.
Removing his hat and coat, he hung them on a bush then took out a handkerchief to hold over his mouth. He held the spade while Leeming took off his hat and coat. The sergeant also produced a handkerchief. Both of them had unearthed decompos
ing remains before and they knew that the reek could be powerful. A handkerchief over the nose and mouth helped to ward off some of the stench. Moxey looked on in amazement as Leeming used the spade to dig up the makeshift grave with almost reverential care. In the course of his work, the labourer had had to slaughter animals and he had no qualms about handling their carcases. A human body was a different matter altogether and he made sure that he didn’t get too close.
When the body came fully into view, so did an item that Colbeck picked up and brushed off before holding it close to the lamp. It was a bloodstained sack.
‘There’s the answer,’ he said, using a hand to tilt the corpse’s head to the left and seeing the gaping wound. ‘Mrs Tarleton was shot in the back of the head. My guess is that this sack was put over her first so that it would absorb any blood. Look,’ he went on, ‘there are holes in the sack.’
‘So she was shot through it,’ said Leeming.
‘It’s a strong possibility. Come on, Victor. We must bring the cart as close as we can. We’ll put her onto the sack and lift her up that way. She deserves to be handled very gently.’
It took time. The cart was too big to go all the way up to the grave, though there would have been just enough room for a trap to get through the trees. Moxey held the horse and tried to make it back up. The animal protested and had to be coaxed. Eventually, the cart got within a dozen yards of the remains of Miriam Tarleton. He then watched as the detectives lifted her onto the sack then used it like a stretcher to transfer her to the cart. Once there, she was covered by the sacks they’d brought with them. While the detectives retrieved their hats and coats, Moxey eyed the corpse, not relishing the idea of travelling on a cart with such a cargo aboard.
‘Thank you, my friend,’ said Colbeck, coming to his rescue. ‘You did us a great service in finding the body. We’ve no need to detain you any longer. Get back to the farm and tell Mr Higginbottom that I have nothing but praise for you.’
‘Will you need to speak to me again, Inspector?’
‘No – but you’ll be called upon to give evidence at the inquest.’ Moxey’s face fell. ‘All you have to do is to say how you discovered the body,’ Colbeck told him. ‘In doing so, you’ve taken the first vital step in a murder investigation. You should be proud of yourself.’
Moxey smiled inanely. ‘Should I?’
‘You’re a hero,’ said Leeming. ‘You’ve saved us weeks of looking for the lady. We can now start to search for the villain who brought her here. The family will be very grateful to you.’
‘Oh, well, that’s all right, then.’ He shuffled his feet. ‘In that case, Sergeant, I’ll be off.’
‘Before you go, I’ve got a question for you.’
‘What’s that, sir?’
‘Where exactly is this village called Leeming?’
Colbeck didn’t hear the exchange between the two men. He’d already returned to the grave and was using the spade to sift through the earth, aided by the fact that more light was now beginning to poke its way through the fretwork of branches. His search was thorough and it eventually bore fruit. Something clinked against the end of the spade. Kneeling on the ground, he felt with his hands until his fingers closed around something. He brushed off the dirt and examined what he’d found. In his palm were two spent cartridges.
The letter was addressed to Adam Tarleton and delivered by a messenger sent from Northallerton. His sister was with him when Colbeck’s missive was opened.
‘They’ve found the body,’ said Tarleton.
Eve brought both hands up to her face. ‘Oh, my God!’ she exclaimed. ‘Mother was killed, after all. I dreaded this moment. I knew in my heart that she must be dead.’ Using a handkerchief to dab at moist eyes, she made an effort to control herself. ‘Where was she found?’
‘Over towards Thornton-le-Beans.’
‘What on earth was the body doing there?’
‘I’ve no idea.’ He handed the letter to her. ‘Mother’s been taken to Northallerton. They want a member of the family to make a positive identification.’
‘I’ll go,’ said Eve, impetuously.
‘No, this is no job for a woman. It would be too distressing. After all this time, it won’t be a pretty sight.’
‘She’s my mother. I’ve a right to be there.’
‘You’d get too upset, Eve,’ he argued. ‘Look how harrowing the inquest was for you. Leave this to me. Mother would never have wanted you to see her in that state.’
She read the letter. ‘Who is Inspector Colbeck?’
‘He’s one of the detectives Mrs Withers told us about.’
‘How did he manage to find the body?’
‘We’ll have to ask him that.’
‘In one sense, I’m pleased,’ she said, biting her lip, ‘because we now know the truth of what happened to her. But in another sense, of course, I’m terribly upset. This news is devastating. I’d hoped against hope that Mother might still somehow be alive. Yet she isn’t. Someone murdered her.’
As she spoke the words, she felt their full impact and it was like a blow from a sledgehammer. Eve shuddered, dropped the letter then slumped to the carpet in a heap. Her brother bent over her in concern.
‘Mrs Withers!’ he shouted. ‘Mrs Withers!’
‘I’m coming, sir,’ said the housekeeper, hurrying along the passageway and into the drawing room. She saw Eve. ‘Goodness! What’s happened?’
‘Fetch some water.’
‘Is Mrs Doel ill?’
‘She fainted when she heard that the body’s been found.’
Mrs Withers was curious. ‘It has? Where was it, sir?’
‘Fetch the water, woman. And tell the gardener to saddle the horse for me. I have to ride over to Northallerton. Well, go on,’ he ordered as the housekeeper continued to stare at Eve, ‘my sister is not dead. She’ll be as right as rain in a minute.’
The body of Miriam Tarleton had been taken to the undertaker in Northallerton and was in the same dank room as that of her husband. While the colonel’s coffin had now been nailed down in readiness for his funeral, the remains of his wife were under a shroud on a table. Colbeck had been there during the doctor’s examination and he passed on the findings to Leeming in a pub nearby. After the horror of the exhumation, they both felt the need for a restorative drink.
‘When the body had been washed,’ said Colbeck, ‘the doctor found bruising on the neck consistent with her being strangled. Mrs Tarleton was first overpowered so that the sack could be slipped over her head. Then she was shot twice.’
‘God rest her soul!’ said Leeming before sipping his beer.
‘I’ve sent word to the house so it’s only a question of time before her son comes to identify the body. I’ll wait for him.’
‘Superintendent Tallis needs to be informed as well.’
‘That’s your job, Victor.’
‘Do you want me to write to him, sir?’
‘No,’ said Colbeck. ‘He’ll want the full details. You must catch the next train to London and present a full report.’
Leeming was delighted. ‘I can go home?’
‘Only for one day. That’s all the time I can spare. You can deliver your report then reacquaint yourself with your wife and children for a night. However,’ he added, ‘please don’t discuss the case with Estelle. She wants to enjoy her husband’s company, not to hear any unpleasant details about two corpses.’
‘Thank you, Inspector,’ said Leeming. ‘This is a treat for me.’
‘Let’s call it compassionate leave, shall we?’
‘Call it what you will – it’s an unexpected blessing.’
‘There is one other duty for you, Victor.’
‘Just tell me what it is.’
‘I want you to deliver this,’ said Colbeck, slipping a hand into his pocket to take out a letter. ‘I think you know how to find a certain house in Camden.’
‘It’s for Miss Andrews, I presume.’
Colbeck grinned. ‘Your de
tective skills are improving.’
‘I’ll deliver this first,’ said Leeming, taking the letter from him, ‘then I’ll go straight to Scotland Yard. When am I to return, sir?’
‘On the earliest possible train,’ replied Colbeck. ‘And remember that I have my copy of Bradshaw with me so I’ll know the precise time when you’re due to arrive.’
Clifford Everett was a valued customer at the bank. Whenever he came to make a deposit or to seek financial advice, he was shown straight into the manager’s office. On this occasion, he was there to pass on the tidings to Bertram Reader.
‘They’ve found the body at last,’ he said.
‘Where?’ asked Reader with keen interest.
‘It was over towards Thornton-le-Beans. Someone from a nearby farm stumbled on it in a wood. He ran miles to South Otterington to raise the alarm. It was Inspector Colbeck and his sergeant who brought the corpse here.’
‘And it’s definitely Miriam Tarleton?’
‘There’s no doubt about that, Bertram. Besides, who else’s could it be? I’m pleased to say that murder is not exactly an everyday event in the North Riding. I have it on good authority that it’s her.’
‘How did you get the news?’
‘The undertaker is a client of mine. Since I’m the family solicitor for the Tarletons, he felt that I should know at once. By the same token, I thought that you’d appreciate being told.’
‘Oh, I do,’ said Reader. ‘Thank you, Clifford. Most of the work that needs to be done falls within your remit, but there are some financial matters that will need my attention.’ He pursed his lips. ‘I do hope the children are not expecting vast sums to be on deposit here because, as you well know, that’s not the case at all.’
‘I did warn the colonel,’ said the lawyer, virtuously.
‘So did I but there was no holding him back.’
‘He lived to regret his bad decisions.’
‘I was deeply saddened when he took his own life,’ said Reader, ‘and I still quake when I recall the manner of his suicide. But at least he’s been spared the ordeal of having to identify Miriam’s corpse. He loved her to distraction. It would have broken him.’
Railway to the Grave Page 9
