‘No, sir, the colonel didn’t. All I knew was the time when he was likely to return so that everything was ready for him. He only told me what I needed to know.’
‘So the mention of Doncaster was unusual?’
‘It was very unusual. I’d have been less surprised if he’d said he was going to York or somewhere like that. But, then, it wasn’t my place to question his movements.’
‘I suppose not,’ said Colbeck. ‘Does the name Michael Bruntcliffe mean anything to you?’
Her face clouded. ‘Yes, it does.’
‘Well?’
‘The colonel spoke harshly about him.’
‘Did you ever see Bruntcliffe here?’
‘Only the once, Inspector,’ she replied. ‘It was years ago when the colonel and Mrs Tarleton were in Sussex. Young Mr Tarleton was still here then. I kept out of their way.’
‘How would you describe Bruntcliffe?’ asked Leeming.
‘He seemed a personable young man,’ she said, trying to recall an image in her mind. ‘Some might call him handsome. He was tall and well dressed. Oh, and he had long, black hair that curled at the ends. That’s all I can say, really.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Withers,’ said Colbeck. ‘We’re really here to see young Mr Tarleton. I assume that he’s at home.’
‘He is now, Inspector. He was out riding all afternoon and came back a short while ago. I’ll take you to him now.’ She looked sheepish. ‘I had to give him the key, sir. He’s the master now.’
Expecting to be conducted to the drawing room or the library, the visitors were instead taken to the room where the firearms were kept. The housekeeper knocked, entered, then explained to Tarleton that the detectives wished to speak to him. She retreated before she was told to leave. Colbeck introduced Leeming, who was agog at the weaponry that had been amassed. Tarleton was holding the Purdey shotgun with his stepfather’s initials carved into the stock. He replaced it in the cabinet.
‘That was the colonel’s favourite,’ observed Colbeck. ‘Did you intend to go out shooting?’
‘No,’ said Tarleton. ‘I was just wondering how much money it would fetch. A tidy amount, I hope.’
‘Are you thinking of selling it, sir?’
‘Well, I can hardly keep everything here, can I? What use is it to me when I go back to London? I’ll have to get it valued.’
‘I think you should wait before you do that, sir,’ said Leeming, surprised that Tarleton was not in mourning apparel. ‘The will has to be read first. You have to be sure that these items are yours to sell.’
‘Well, they’d hardly be left to my sister, would they?’
‘The sergeant makes a valid point,’ said Colbeck. ‘Since your stepfather wouldn’t even let you handle the firearms, he might have left them to one of the friends who joined him on shooting parties.’
Tarleton scowled. ‘He might have done just that,’ he said, stung by the notion, ‘if only out of spite. If that’s the case, I’ll contest the will. All this is mine.’
‘Be that as it may, sir. Now, would you rather we had this conversation in the drawing room or are you happy to talk to us here?’
‘This is as good a place as any, Inspector.’
‘I don’t know about that,’ said Leeming under his breath, gazing at a pike and imagining the fearful wounds it could inflict. Aloud, he said, ‘You saw very little of your parents in recent times, I believe, sir.’
‘My mother was my only living parent,’ corrected Tarleton. ‘I could never accept the colonel as my father. As it was, I drifted apart from both of them in the end.’
‘So you loved your mother and resented your stepfather?’
‘It was rather more complicated than that, Sergeant, and I’ve no intention of explaining why.’
‘That’s your privilege, Mr Tarleton.’
‘If you loved your mother,’ said Colbeck, ‘why didn’t you join the search for her when she went missing?’
‘I had no idea that she’d gone astray,’ said Tarleton. ‘I told you. We’d lost touch. I was trying to make my own way in life.’
‘Had you lost touch with your sister as well?’
‘Not to the same extent.’
‘Didn’t she contact you about your mother’s disappearance?’
‘Eve wrote to my last known address but I’d moved twice since then. The first time I heard about Mother vanishing was when I read a newspaper report about my stepfather’s suicide.’
‘What did you do then, sir?’
‘I got in touch with my sister, of course. When I heard that Eve’s husband was abroad,’ said Tarleton, donning the mantle of a caring brother, ‘I went to her house to comfort her then brought her here.’ He became protective. ‘If you’re hoping to speak to her, you’re out of luck. I’m afraid that I can’t allow it. She needs time to mourn.’
‘You don’t seem to share that need, sir,’ said Leeming.
‘Each of us is dealing with the catastrophe in our own way.’
‘Yours involved going for a ride, we’re told.’
Tarleton was angry. ‘Is there any law against that, Sergeant?’ he asked. ‘If you must know, I went to the rectory to make our views known with regard to the two funerals. The rector is trying to stop my stepfather from being buried in the churchyard.’
‘Yes,’ said Colbeck. ‘I had an argument with him over that.’
‘I wasn’t prepared to argue. I simply stated our demand.’
‘There may be wrangling ahead, sir. The rector has an obsession about death by suicide. My advice is to go over his head and appeal to the archbishop. You’ll surely get his support.’
‘I want the bodies buried as soon as the second inquest is over. It’s frustrating to have an obstacle like this thrown in our way by Mr Skelton. Where’s his Christian forgiveness? He knows the verdict reached at the inquest. Our stepfather’s mind was unbalanced. Why can’t the rector accept that and show some compassion?’
‘Because he has another reservation,’ said Colbeck. ‘In the short time that I spent with the reverend gentleman, one thing became crystal clear. He’s convinced that the colonel killed your mother. It’s a secondary reason for denying him a place in the churchyard. When we catch the real killer, of course, that excuse will disappear.’
‘Do you have any suspects?’
‘We do, as a matter of fact. One of them is an old friend of yours, as it happens – Michael Bruntcliffe.’
‘Michael is no killer,’ snapped Tarleton.
‘He was furious when your stepfather sent him to prison.’
‘That doesn’t mean he’d commit murder. He does have a vengeful streak, I grant you, but it would express itself in very different ways.’
‘Can you give us an example, sir?’
‘Well, there was the business with that farmer years ago. When he prosecuted Michael for trespass, there was a hefty fine to pay. That irked Michael. He got his revenge by opening a gate at night and letting the farmer’s sheep wander off.’
‘Was he ever taken to court for that?’ asked Leeming.
‘No – they had no proof. But you take my point. If Michael wanted to get back at someone, there was always a touch of humour in what he did.’
‘I don’t find letting sheep out very amusing, sir.’
‘Neither do I,’ said Colbeck. ‘Some of them could have been attacked by dogs or even rustled. Mr Bruntcliffe could have cost the farmer a lot of money.’
‘Michael had the last laugh,’ said Tarleton. ‘It’s all that mattered to him. The farmer kept out of his way after that.’
‘When did you last see your friend, sir?’
‘Oh, it was years ago.’
‘So you didn’t keep in touch at all?’
‘Not really, Inspector.’
‘But you seem to have been good friends.’
‘We were for a time.’
‘Why did the friendship fall off?’
‘I left here and forged a new life for myself in London.’<
br />
‘Do you have any idea where Mr Bruntcliffe is?’
‘No,’ said Tarleton, ‘and I don’t care. Michael is part of my past. With the inquest pending and the funerals to organise, I’ve got enough to keep me fully occupied. I just don’t have time for old friends. To be absolutely candid, I want to forget all about the North Riding. I can’t wait to get away from here for good.’
While she was waiting for her father to come home, Madeleine was not idle. After preparing his supper, she read another chapter of Cranford then took out Colbeck’s letter once more and pored over it. Simply holding it in her hand gave her a thrill and its sentiments warmed her to the core. The village of South Otterington was clearly very different from the one in Cheshire evoked in such detail by Mrs Gaskell. Violent death did not disturb the even rhythm of life in Cranford. Colbeck had said little about the events in Yorkshire but she’d gathered something of what had been happening there from the newspaper reports. The description of the suicide had been horrific and she’d felt sick at the thought of Colbeck having to exhume a rotting body in the wood. He took such events in his stride and Madeleine wondered if the time would ever come when she could cultivate the same indifference to morbid tasks. When they were married, she felt sure, she’d learn a great deal from him and, in turn, teach Colbeck certain things.
Caleb Andrews returned slightly earlier than usual, having trotted much of the way to escape the rain that started to fall. He let himself into the house, kissed his daughter then took off his coat and hat. Before he could stop her, Madeleine had taken the newspaper from his pocket.
‘It’s on the back page,’ he told her. ‘Everybody up there thinks that the colonel shot his wife.’
‘Robert doesn’t think that. Sergeant Leeming told me.’
‘The local people knew the colonel, Maddy. They could turn out to be right. For once in his career, the inspector may have made a big mistake – apart from travelling on the Great Northern Railway.’
Madeleine laughed. ‘How else could he get there?’ she said. ‘In any case, he didn’t go all the way on the GNR. The stretch between York and Darlington is operated by the Great North of England Railway. Robert mentioned that in his letter.’
‘What about your letter to him?’ asked Andrews. ‘Did you manage to deliver it to Sergeant Leeming?’
‘Yes, I met him at King’s Cross.’
‘Does that mean you’ll be here for breakfast tomorrow?’
‘I’ll be here,’ she said, still reading the newspaper. ‘According to this article, the investigation is faltering. That’s not true.’
Andrews went into the kitchen to wash his hands. Madeleine followed him in so that they could eat their supper together.
He was in a teasing mood. ‘Did you do what I suggested?’
‘And what was that, Father?’
‘When you wrote your letter, I wanted you to tell him to get a move on with the wedding arrangements. I may be making some arrangements of my own in the near future.’ He wiped his hands dry. ‘I hope that you mentioned that to the inspector.’
‘You know quite well that I didn’t.’
‘Then you can put it in your next letter, Maddy, and there’s something you can add about that book he loaned you.’
‘Cranford?’
‘That’s the one.’
‘I didn’t know that you’d read it.’
‘I’ve been reading a chapter a night after you’ve gone to bed.’
‘It’s so interesting, isn’t it?’
‘I thought it was boring.’
‘But it shows you the pleasures of life in a country village.’
‘If that’s all the pleasure you get, I’ll stay here in Camden.’
‘Well, I love the book,’ she said, levelly.
‘That’s because you’re a woman, Maddy,’ he told her, sitting at the table. ‘There’s nothing in it for a man. Tell the inspector you’d like something by Dickens next time, something with murder in it to add a little spice. That’s what I like to read late at night.’
It was dark by the time they reached South Otterington. After returning the horse and trap to the place from which they’d hired it, the detectives strolled towards the Black Bull. Colbeck savoured the sense of tranquillity. He inhaled deeply.
‘The air is so much cleaner here than in London,’ he noted.
‘That makes no difference, sir,’ said Leeming. ‘I could never settle here. There are too many things I couldn’t stand.’
‘Give me an instance.’
‘Take the way they speak. They all sound funny to me.’
Colbeck smiled. ‘We probably sound funny to them, Victor. What you hear is the genuine Yorkshire accent. I find it very pleasant.’
‘Well, I don’t, Inspector. It grates on my ears. Some of them are not too bad – Mr and Mrs Reader, say, or young Mr Tarleton – but the rest talk in a sort of foreign language. Sergeant Hepworth is the worst. I couldn’t listen to that voice, day in and day out.’
‘His wife has no choice. My guess is that his is the only voice you can hear when he’s at home. He loves to hold forth.’
‘I hope we don’t find him in the bar again this evening.’
‘So does the landlord. Hepworth is bad for business.’
As they approached the pub, Colbeck noticed someone lurking in the shadows nearby. At first, he thought it was someone waiting to ambush them and he got ready to repel any attack. In fact, when they got closer, the figure withdrew completely. Saying nothing to Leeming, the inspector followed him into the bar, handed him his top hat then walked straight through the rooms at the rear of the building and let himself out into the yard. He unlocked the door in the high stone wall and let himself out as quietly as he could. Creeping along, he reached the corner and peeped carefully around it. Colbeck could just make out the shape of someone, crouched furtively against the wall as if waiting to pounce on a passer-by.
The inspector sensed trouble and sought to nip it in the bud. Easing his way around the corner, he moved on tiptoe until he got within reach of the man, then he dived forward, gripped him tightly and pinioned him to the wall.
‘What are you doing here?’ asked Colbeck.
The man struggled to get away. ‘Nothing, sir – let me go.’
‘You’re up to no good.’
‘Is that you, Inspector?’ said the other, respectfully.
Colbeck recognised the voice. ‘Moxey?’ He let his prisoner go. ‘I didn’t realise it was you.’
‘That’s all right, sir.’ The labourer turned to look at him with obvious unease. ‘I’m sorry to cause you any bother, sir. I’ll have to get back to the farm.’
‘No, no, stay here. You came to see me, didn’t you?’
‘It was a mistake,’ said Moxey. ‘I changed my mind.’
‘Well, I’m not letting you go now that you’re here,’ said Colbeck. ‘The first thing I insist on doing is to buy you a drink. You brought us vital information and that deserves a reward.’
The labourer smiled. ‘Oh, I see.’
‘Come on, let’s go inside.’
Before Moxey could resist, Colbeck put an arm around his shoulders and shepherded him into the bar. Leeming was already seated at a table with drinks for himself and Colbeck. The inspector ordered a pint of beer for their visitor then took him across to the table. He knew that Moxey had come to see him and lost his nerve at the last moment. The first task, therefore, was to make the labourer relax. It wasn’t easy. Moxey was overawed. He’d never shared a drink with two gentlemen from London before and couldn’t believe they were so friendly to him. His awkwardness slowly faded. Colbeck let him get halfway through the pint before questioning him.
‘You came about the inquest, didn’t you?’ he asked.
Moxey looked hunted. ‘How did you know?’
‘I couldn’t think of any other reason for you to be here.’
‘It’s nothing to worry about,’ said Leeming. ‘You’ll only be questioned for a few min
utes then you’ll be free to go. The inspector and I will then have to take our turn.’
‘Do I have to be there?’ asked Moxey.
‘Yes – you found the body.’
‘What will I be asked?’
‘How you came to be there and how you stumbled on it.’
‘Can’t you write that down and show it to the coroner? That would save me going. Mr Higginbottom’s not happy about me taking time off. Write it down,’ said Moxey with enthusiasm as the idea took hold on him. ‘I’d do it myself but I never learnt writing and such.’
‘I think I see the problem here,’ said Colbeck. ‘When you went out after rabbits that night, you might not have been on your own.’
‘But I was, I was alone, Inspector.’
‘I’m sure that you were, Wilf, but let’s assume – for the sake of argument – that you did have a friend with you. And let’s assume that you have a very good reason for keeping that friend’s name out of it altogether.’ He gave an understanding smile. ‘Do you follow me?’
‘I do, sir.’
‘In that case, there’s a simple solution.’
Moxey went blank. ‘Is there?’
‘Yes,’ said Colbeck. ‘The coroner isn’t really interested in what you were doing in that wood in the middle of the night. The point is that you discovered the body. Until you did that, Sergeant Leeming and I had been floundering.’
‘We didn’t know if the lady was alive or dead,’ said Leeming. ‘All we knew was that she was missing.’
‘You solved the mystery for us, Wilf.’
‘Yes,’ said Moxey with a slow smile, ‘I did, didn’t I?’
‘The coroner will realise that and take it into account.’
‘Will he, sir?’
‘He will, if I speak to him beforehand,’ explained Colbeck. ‘Even on a short acquaintance, I can see that you’re an honest man. It would upset you to lie on oath, wouldn’t it? You’re afraid you’d be committing perjury.’ Moxey lowered his head to his chest. ‘Then the coroner will simply say that he believes you were out walking that night and found the grave by accident. He won’t try to interrogate you about why you went to that particular place.’ Moxey’s head was raised hopefully. ‘How does that sound?’
Railway to the Grave Page 16
