The excursion train irc-2

by Edward Marston

  'Empty your mouth before you speak,' snapped Tallis.

  'Sorry, sir.'

  'Sergeant Lugg has been warned,' said Colbeck, 'but the person we need to contact is the barrister who led the prosecution team. He tore the case for the defence apart and made the guilty verdict inevitable.'

  'What's his name?'

  'Patrick Perivale, sir. I'm wondering if he received one of those death threats as well.'

  'Where are his chambers?'

  'In Canterbury. I'm sending Victor over there tomorrow.'

  Leeming was uneasy. 'Not by train, I hope.'

  'By any means you choose. Mr Perivale must be alerted.'

  'Very sensible,' said Tallis. 'We don't want another murder on our hands. You, I presume, will be remaining here, Inspector?'

  'Yes, sir,' replied Colbeck, 'but I require your assistance. The petition for the release of Nathan Hawkshaw was sent to the Home Secretary, who refused to grant a reprieve. I'd be grateful if you could get a copy of the names on that petition from the Home Office.'

  'Can't you ask for the names from that fellow who organised the campaign? What did you call him – Gregory Newland?'

  'Newman, and the answer is no. He knows why we're in the town and he's not going to betray one of his friends by volunteering his name. We'll have to dig it out for ourselves. The only place we can get the full list is from the Home Office.'

  'Use your influence, Superintendent,' said Leeming.

  'We'd be eternally grateful, sir.'

  Tallis was unconvinced. 'Will that really help to solve the murder of the prison chaplain?'

  'And that of Jacob Guttridge,' said Colbeck, firmly. 'Somewhere in that list of names is the man that we want and – in all probability – his female accomplice.'

  Winifred Hawkshaw was pleased to see her visitor. After a fruitless attempt to get her daughter to eat anything more than a slice of apple, she gave up and slumped in a chair. Emily retired to her room once more. Winifred could do nothing but brood on a malign fate. A once happy home was now a place of unrelieved misery. The arrival of Gregory Newman lifted her out of her gloom.

  'Hello,' she said, accepting a kiss on the cheek. 'Come in.'

  'I won't stay long,' he told her, removing his hat and going into the parlour ahead of her. 'I have to get back to Meg soon.'

  'Of course. Sit down for a moment, anyway.'

  'I will.'

  'Can I get you some tea?'

  'No, thank you.' Newman took a seat and Winifred sat opposite him. They exchanged a warm smile. 'I had a few words with Adam earlier on. He was in a peculiar mood.'

  'He's been strange all day, Gregory. But at least he was civil to us and we must be thankful for that. Since the execution, Adam's been like a bear with a sore head.'

  'I had some glad tidings for him.'

  'Oh?'

  'The prison chaplain was murdered on a train last night.'

  'Mr Jones?' She gave a cry of delight but was instantly penitent. 'God forgive me for rejoicing in the death of another!'

  'You're entitled to rejoice, Win.'

  'No, it's wrong. He was a man of the cloth.'

  'Are you forgetting what Nathan said about him?'

  'It makes no difference. This is awful news. How did he die?'

  'I don't know the details,' said Newman, disappointed by her response. 'Our foreman passed it on to me. All that he picked up was that the chaplain was found dead in a railway carriage at Maidstone.'

  'Did you tell this to Adam?'

  'Yes, and I thought that he'd be glad as well.'

  'Wasn't he?'

  'It was difficult to say, Win. There was hardly any reaction at all and that was surprising when you think of the way that he damned the chaplain at the execution. It's odd,' Newman went on, scratching his beard, 'but it was almost as if Adam already knew.'

  'How could he?'

  'I don't know and he didn't stay long enough for me to find out. He rushed off. Adam said that he had somewhere to go and, judging by the way he left, it must have been somewhere important.'

  'He told me that he didn't sleep at all last night.'

  Newman was puzzled. 'Then what is the lad up to?' He dismissed the subject and turned his attention to her. 'Let's put him aside for the moment, shall we? The person I'm really worried about is you, Win.'

  'Why?'

  'You looked so drawn and harassed when I saw you this morning. So desperately tired. To be honest, I thought you were sickening for something.'

  'Don't fret about me, Gregory.'

  'But I do.'

  'I'm worn down, that's all,' she explained. 'This whole business has dragged on for so long. Nathan's arrest was such a shock to me and the trial was unbearable. As for the execution…'

  'You shouldn't have been there. I did try to stop you.'

  'He was my husband. I had to be there.'

  'It was too much to ask of any wife, Win. It was foolish to put yourself through all that suffering outside Maidstone prison.'

  'Nathan wanted me, Gregory. I gave him my word.'

  She looked down at her hands as unpleasant memories surged back to make her temples pound. He could see her struggling to compose herself. Newman gave her time to recover. When she eventually glanced up, she manufactured a smile.

  'I'm sorry. I try not to think about it or the pain floods back.'

  'I know.'

  'At least Emily was spared the sight. It would have been cruel to make her go with us. She adored Nathan – he could talk to her somehow. Emily always turned to him for help, not me.'

  'He was a good father to her.'

  'She trusted him.'

  He looked upwards. 'She spends all her time in her room?'

  'Yes, it's so worrying. She won't eat and she won't speak to me.'

  'Would you like me to talk to her?'

  'You?'

  'Yes,' said Newman, persuasively. 'Emily and I always got on very well. She adored horses so she'd spend hours watching me at work in the forge. She talked all the time then. If a horse was well behaved, I'd let her hold the bridle sometimes. Emily liked that.'

  'Nathan always talked about buying her a pony of her own.'

  'Let me see if I can draw her out.'

  Win was hesitant. 'I'm not sure that it would do any good.'

  'It will certainly do no harm. Bring her down.'

  'Well…'

  'And leave us alone for five minutes,' he suggested.

  Winifred considered the request for some time before she agreed to it. At length she went upstairs and Newman could hear a muted discussion with her daughter. Emily's voice then rose in protest but it was instantly silenced by her mother's rebuke. After another minute, tentative footsteps came down the stairs and the girl entered the room.

  Newman stood up and gave her a welcoming smile.

  'Hello, Emily,' he said.

  'Hello.'

  'I haven't seen you for a while. Come and sit down so that I can have a proper look at you.' She glanced nervously around the room then perched on the edge of an upright chair near the door. 'That's better,' he said, resuming his own seat. 'I was just talking to your mother about the way that you used to hold the horses for me at the forge.'

  'Yes.'

  'You enjoyed that, didn't you?' Emily nodded. 'I don't work as a blacksmith any more but I've still got my own horse and cart. If ever you want to come for a ride, you only have to ask. You can take the reins.'

  'Thank you.'

  'It's important to get out. You mustn't lock yourself away in your room like a hermit. We all miss Nathan terribly,' he went on, lowering his voice to a soothing whisper. 'When I take my wife to church on Sundays, the first prayer I say is for your father. Do you pray for him as well?'

  'All the time.'

  'But we haven't seen you in church for weeks. You mustn't be afraid of what other people may say,' he told her. 'You've just as much right as anyone to go to St Mary's. There are one or two narrow-minded busybodies who may turn up thei
r noses when they see anyone from this family but you've nothing at all to be embarrassed about, Emily. Your father was innocent.'

  'I know,' she said, 'that's what makes it so hard to bear.'

  'You loved him dearly, didn't you?' said Newman. 'Nathan was so proud of you. He was always talking about his lovely daughter. That's how he thought of you, Emily – as his own child. And you looked on him as your real father, didn't you?'

  'I tried.'

  'You were a proper family, all four of you.'

  She shifted on her seat. 'Can I go now, Mr Newman?'

  'Am I upsetting you in some way?'

  'No, no.'

  'Because we both want the same thing, Emily, you know that, don't you? I'll strain every bone in my body to prove that your father did not commit that crime. That's why I got that petition together,' he said, 'and you saw how many people signed that.'

  'You did so much for us, Mr Newman.'

  'Then let me do a little more,' he offered, spreading his arms. 'Let me help you through this period of mourning. Share your grief, Emily. Talk to your mother about it. Come to church with us and show the town that you can bear this loss because you know in your heart that your father was not a killer. Stand up and be seen.'

  'I can't, Mr Newman,' she said, shaking her head.

  'Why not?'

  'Don't ask me that.'

  'But we're entitled to know. Your father was the best friend I ever had, Emily,' he said, soulfully, 'and I stood by him until the end. I'll not give up on him now. Nathan may be dead but he still needs us to speak up for him, to show everyone how hard we'll fight to protect his good name. You care, don't you?'

  'Yes,' she said, tearfully. 'I care more than anyone.'

  'Then why can't you open your heart to us?'

  She stood up. 'Let me go,' she bleated, taking out a handkerchief.

  'Wait,' he said, getting up to cross over to her. 'Just tell me one thing, Emily. Why are you pushing away the people who love you? Mourn for your father with the rest of us.'

  'No, Mr Newman!'

  'It's the right and proper way.'

  'I'm sorry but I can't do it.'

  'Why ever not?'

  'You wouldn't understand.'

  'Why not?' he pressed.

  She looked him in the eyes. 'Because I feel too ashamed.'

  CHAPTER NINE

  After a hearty breakfast and a discussion as to how the investigation would proceed, Superintendent Edward Tallis was driven in a trap to Ashford Station to catch a train back to London. Both detectives were pleased to see him go but it was Victor Leeming who really savoured his departure. Slapping his thigh, he let out a controlled whoop of delight.

  'He's gone at last!' he cried.

  'He was only here for about twelve hours,' Colbeck pointed out.

  'It seemed much longer somehow. If I have to spend a night away from my wife, I'd rather not do it under the same roof as Mr Tallis. It unsettled me, knowing that His Lordship was only a few doors away. I took ages to get off and I expect that you did as well.'

  'No, I slept extremely well.'

  'Well, I didn't. It's not the same without Estelle,' said Leeming. 'I missed her, Inspector.'

  'And I'm sure that she missed you just as much, Victor. The sooner we solve these crimes, the sooner you can get back to her.'

  Having bidden farewell to their superior, they were still under the portico outside the Saracen's Head. It was relatively early but the town was already busy. People were bustling around the streets, shops were getting ready to open and the pandemonium from the railway works showed that the first shift of the day had begun. Across the road from them, an ironmonger was going slowly through his morning routine of displaying his wares outside his shop. He heaved out a long tin bath.

  'That's what I could do with,' said Leeming, covetously. 'A bath.'

  'Take one back to your wife as a present.'

  'I meant that I'd like to soak in warm water for half an hour.'

  'I was only teasing you,' said Colbeck, smiling. 'There's no time for either of us to relax, I fear. You need to be on your way to Canterbury.'

  'How will I find this Mr Perivale?'

  'His chambers are in Watling Street. Get his address from there.'

  'What if he doesn't live in the city?'

  'Then go out to where he does live,' instructed Colbeck. 'The man could be unaware of the danger that he's in. But that's not the only reason you must speak to him, Victor. He was a key figure in the trial of Nathan Hawkshaw. I've several questions I'd like you to put to him,' he said, extracting a folded sheet of paper from his pocket and handing it over. 'I've written them down for you. Peruse them carefully.'

  'Wouldn't it be better if you put them to him in person?'

  'Ideally, yes.'

  'You were a barrister. You talk the same language as this man.'

  'Unfortunately, I can't be in two places at once.'

  'Where will you be, sir?'

  'Here in Ashford, for the most part,' replied Colbeck. 'I want to make some inquiries at the station, then I need to have a longer talk with Winifred Hawkshaw and with Gregory Newman. To mount the sort of campaign that they did was a formidable challenge to anyone yet they brought if off somehow.'

  'It failed all the same.'

  'That's irrelevant. When I paid my first visit to Maidstone, I saw some of the leaflets calling for Hawkshaw's release, and Sergeant Lugg showed me the advertisements placed in the local newspapers. They were all well written and must have cost money to produce. Who penned that literature and how could they afford to have it printed?'

  'Are they likely to tell you?'

  'It depends how I ask.'

  'I'd better go and find Constable Butterkiss,' said Leeming. 'He's promised to drive me to Canterbury in a trap. If he keeps on at me about the Metropolitan Police, it's going to be a very long journey. Oh, I do hope that I can get back home soon!' he went on, earnestly. 'I miss everything about London. And so do you, I daresay, sir.'

  'My place is here in Kent at the moment.'

  'Even you must have regrets.'

  'Regrets?'

  'Yes,' said Leeming, broaching a topic he had never touched on before. 'You must be sorry to be apart from Miss Andrews. I know that you like to spend time with her occasionally.'

  'I'll certainly look forward to seeing her again,' admitted Colbeck, smiling to himself at the unexpected mention of her name, 'but Madeleine understands that my work always takes precedence.'

  'That won't stop the lady missing you, sir.'

  Madeleine Andrews scanned the newspaper report with a combination of interest and horror. Her father was eating his breakfast before going off to work. She indicated the paper.

  'Have you seen this?' she asked.

  'I read it on the way back from the shop, Maddy. When I saw that Inspector Colbeck was on the front page again, I knew you'd want to see it for yourself.'

  'A prison chaplain has been murdered.'

  'Yes.'

  'What kind of monster could want to kill a priest?'

  'Oh, I can think of one or two priests I'd like to have met in a dark alley,' said Andrews with a grim chuckle.

  'Father!' she said, reproachfully.

  'I'm only being honest, Maddy. When I was a boy, there was a Canon Howells at St Saviour's who could make a sermon last a whole afternoon, and he'd give you such a clout if you dozed off in the middle. I should know. I had a clip around my ear from him more than once.'

  'This is not something to joke about.'

  'It's no joke. I'm serious. Canon Howells was a holy terror and his deacon, Father Morris, was even worse.' He swallowed the last of his porridge. 'But I don't think you have to look very far to find the man who killed that Reverend Jones.'

  'What do you mean?'

  'It was obviously someone who'd been in Maidstone prison.'

  'That's not what Robert thinks,' said Madeleine, pointing to the article on the front page. 'He's certain that the murderer was
the same man who killed the public hangman in that excursion train.'

  'Yes, a former prisoner with a grudge.'

  'Robert is the detective. You keep to driving trains.'

  'I'm entitled to my opinion, aren't I?' he asked, combatively.

  'You'd give it in any case,' she said, fondly, 'whether you're entitled to or not. You've got an opinion on everything, Father. Nobody can silence Caleb Andrews – even when he's wrong.'

  'I'm not wrong, Maddy.'

  'You don't know all the facts of the case.'

  'I know enough to make a comment.'

  'I'd sooner trust Robert's judgement.'

  'Well, he does have an eye for picking things out,' he said, wryly, 'I have to admit that. After all, he picked you out, didn't he?'

  'Please don't start all that again,' she warned. 'You should be off.'

  'Let me finish this cup of tea first.'

  'Which train are you driving today?'

  'London to Birmingham.'

  'You must know that route by heart.'

  'I could drive it with my eyes closed,' he boasted, draining his cup and getting up from the table. 'Thanks for the breakfast, Maddy.'

  'You need a good meal inside you at the start of the day.'

  'You sound like your mother.'

  'What time will I expect you?'

  'Not too late.'

  'Will you be going for a drink first?'

  'Probably,' he replied, taking his hat from the peg behind the front door. 'I'll call in for a beer or two and tell them all what I think about this latest murder. They listen to me.'

  'Do you give them any choice?'

  'I've got this instinct, Maddy. Whenever there's a serious crime, I always have this strange feeling about who committed it. Look at this case of the dead chaplain.'

  'It's shocking.'

  'The person who done him in just has to be someone who was locked up in that prison and took against the Reverend Jones. It was the same with that hangman,' he went on, putting on his hat and opening the front door. 'All prisoners hate Jack Ketch because he could be coming for them with his noose one day.'

  'Yes,' she said, immersed in the paper again.

  'That's enough to make anyone want revenge.'