The Stationmaster's farewell irc-9

by Edward Marston

  He searched the man’s pockets, took what money he could find and fled. Wyatt was left groaning in agony and regretting his decision to accost the former prisoner. Browne, meanwhile, made his way back to Rockfield Place and ran up the stairs to Adeline’s room. When he opened the door, she was sitting in front of the mirror as she applied powder to her cheeks.

  ‘There you are,’ he said, tossing the stolen money on to the bed, ‘I’ve brought you another gift, Ad.’

  She was more concerned by his appearance. ‘There’s blood on your coat,’ she said, ‘and a bruise on your face. Have you been fighting?’

  He sniggered. ‘No — I was just teaching someone a lesson.’

  The unwelcome arrival of Edward Tallis had astounded Colbeck and sown instant terror into the heart of Leeming. They had been discussing the case over a drink in the bar at the Acland Tavern when the superintendent popped up like a jack-in-the-box. Charging across to them, he leant menacingly over their table.

  ‘I was told that I’d find you here,’ he snarled.

  ‘Good evening, sir,’ said Colbeck, recovering his poise. ‘You must have had a long and tiring journey. May we offer you a drink?’

  ‘No, Inspector, but you can offer me an explanation.’

  ‘For what, dare I ask?’

  ‘For this,’ said Tallis, taking a letter from his pocket and flinging it down on the table. ‘Read it.’

  Colbeck picked it up. ‘It appears to be from the Bishop of Exeter.’

  ‘Indeed, it is, and he’s a very angry bishop. He’s demanding that I remove you and Leeming from this investigation and take you back to London.’

  ‘That would suit me, sir,’ Leeming piped up.

  ‘Your wishes are irrelevant.’

  ‘We don’t want to outstay our welcome.’

  ‘You’ll obey orders and do as you’re told. To begin with, the pair of you can offer an abject apology to the bishop.’

  ‘Why should we do that, sir?’ asked Colbeck, finishing the letter. ‘He has a colourful turn of phrase, I grant you, but I see nothing here that would make me behave any differently towards him. He’s been rude, high-handed and extremely unhelpful. The sergeant will bear me out on that score.’

  ‘I will,’ said Leeming. ‘What does the letter say?’

  Colbeck handed it to him. ‘I think you should read it, Victor.’

  ‘Yes,’ added Tallis, lowering himself into an empty chair. ‘And while you’re doing so, remind yourself of the position that the bishop occupies here. He has far more power than the mayor and more influence than anyone in the county. Crucially, Bishop Phillpotts has the ear of Archbishop Sumner. Do you want to bring the wrath of Lambeth Palace down upon us? Is that the intention — to provoke the Archbishop of Canterbury?’

  ‘The only provocation of which I’m aware is in that letter, sir.’

  Leeming was shocked by what he’d read. ‘I never knew that a man of the cloth could be so harsh,’ he said, returning the letter to Tallis. ‘I’m surprised he didn’t write that in blood rather than ink. Did you see what he called you, Inspector?’

  Colbeck smiled. ‘Yes, I did. Apparently, I’m a boorish disrespectful oaf.’ He looked at Tallis. ‘You’ve called me far worse than that in the past, sir.’

  ‘This situation has got to be retrieved,’ asserted Tallis.

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Leeming. ‘We make our apology and go home.’

  ‘Be silent, man! We need no inane interjections.’

  ‘Nobody wants us here, sir.’

  ‘Especially the killer,’ said Colbeck, ‘but I’m not going to oblige him by quitting the field. As for the bishop’s letter, sir, I’m sorry that it aroused your ire so much that you came all the way to Devon. Had you met Bishop Phillpotts, you might not have been quite so eager to enter his fiefdom. I advise you to reserve judgement until you’ve come eye to eye with the right reverend gentleman.’

  Tallis eyed him malevolently. ‘Do I detect a note of sarcasm?’

  ‘Nothing could be further from the truth, sir.’

  ‘You must consider how to make amends for your behaviour.’

  ‘The best way to do that is to solve the crime,’ argued Colbeck, ‘and we’ve more chance of doing that if Bishop Phillpotts is kept on a leash.’

  ‘Kept on a leash?’ howled Tallis, close to apoplexy. ‘We’re talking about a senior figure in the Anglican Church. He’s entitled to deference. You can’t operate freely in Exeter without his blessing.’

  Colbeck indicated the letter. ‘He seems more inclined to curse than bless.’

  ‘We’ll make an appointment to see him tomorrow — both of us.’

  ‘I’ll be happy to accompany you to the bishop’s palace. While we’re doing that, the sergeant can take the train to Dawlish.’

  ‘Why should I do that, sir?’ asked Leeming.

  ‘I want you to interview Michael Heygate and his wife. He’s the brother of the deceased,’ he explained to Tallis, ‘and he may turn out to be a suspect as well.’

  ‘Then why not arrest him so that he can be interrogated?’

  ‘We lack the evidence to do that, sir. If he knows that we harbour suspicions about him, he’ll become defensive and uncooperative. Victor will sound him out.’

  ‘Do you have any other suspects?’

  ‘We have two at the moment,’ said Colbeck, ‘but Superintendent Steel favours one over the other. He’s a local villain named Browne and he’s made threats about killing the stationmaster in the past.’

  ‘Is the fellow in custody?’

  ‘He’s managed to evade us so far. But he’s still in Exeter.’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘We were at the police station earlier when a prison warder staggered in, covered in blood. He recognised Browne as having served sentences in prison and sought to apprehend him. He got a broken nose and a lot of bruises for his pains. Bagsy Browne is still here somewhere,’ said Colbeck, ‘and he won’t be taken easily.’

  ‘Hasn’t a search for this individual been launched?’

  ‘Of course, sir, but the police force has limited numbers.’

  ‘What manner of man is their superintendent?’

  ‘He’s a fine policeman, hampered by lack of resources. He objected to our presence at first, but I think he’s come to accept that we could be useful.’

  ‘Yes,’ muttered Leeming, ‘even if all we do is to serve tea in the station refreshment room.’ He raised his voice. ‘Superintendent Steel ought to see that letter, sir. I gather that he’s had a lot of difficulty with the bishop over the years.’

  ‘Yet he’s held his own,’ said Colbeck. ‘I admire him for doing that.’

  ‘Where exactly was the murder committed?’ asked Tallis.

  ‘We’re not entirely certain, sir, but a missing diary may give us a clue.’

  ‘To whose diary are you referring?’

  ‘The stationmaster’s, sir,’ replied Colbeck. ‘It transpires that Joel Heygate had a passion for birds.’

  Peter had brought some welcome pleasure into the household. He not only cheered Maud Hope up, he acted as a distraction. There were times when she was able to forget that she was in pain. The canary was a tuneful companion but she didn’t mind that. He filled the room with sweetness and song. However, not even Peter was able to divert her now. As she sat beside his cage in the armchair, she didn’t even notice that he was there. Dorcas was late coming home. That disturbed her. Her daughter was a sensitive young woman who’d been profoundly rocked by the death of her one real friend at the railway station. Maud had told her to stay away from work until she felt better but Dorcas was driven by a keen sense of loyalty. Against her parent’s wishes, therefore, she’d gone to the refreshment room that morning and should have returned an hour ago. Since her husband was also late, Maud was left alone to fear for her daughter’s safety.

  When she finally heard the front door being unlocked, she almost swooned with relief. If it was Nathaniel Hope, at least he’d be
able to comfort her and go out in search of Dorcas. Maud would not have to suffer alone. She made an effort to get to her feet but the arthritis bit sharply into her hip and forced her to sit back down again. The pain made her head swim. Her hip was still throbbing when Dorcas came into the room. Maud let out a cry of gratitude.

  ‘Thank heavens!’ she exclaimed.

  ‘Are you all right, Mother?’ asked Dorcas, going to her.

  ‘I was frightened that something had happened to you.’

  ‘Mr Woodford made me work late because I was in charge of the refreshment room. I had to count up all the money and put it away in the safe.’

  Maud was impressed. ‘You were in charge?’

  ‘Yes, I never thought I’d cope but I did somehow.’

  ‘What about Mrs Rossiter?’

  Dorcas sighed. ‘She had to go home, Mother. She was … unwell.’

  She told Maud about the way in which the manageress had dressed and behaved that morning and how Woodford had refused to let her continue serving refreshments. Dorcas also explained that Inspector Colbeck had questioned both her and Mrs Rossiter.

  ‘Why did he want to talk to you?’ asked Maud, anxiously.

  ‘He thought that I might be able to help.’

  ‘But you know nothing whatsoever about the murder.’

  ‘I knew Mr Heygate. In fact, I think I knew him better than anybody at the station. That’s why he trusted Peter with me. How is he?’ she went on, crouching down to peer into the cage. ‘Hello, Peter, have you missed me?’ The bird chirped a reply. ‘There you are — he understands what I said.’

  ‘He’s been good company for me all day.’

  ‘Did you feed him and change his water?’

  ‘Yes, yes,’ said Maud. ‘I spoilt him good and proper.’

  Dorcas took off her hat and coat. ‘Thank you, Mother.’ She went into the passageway to hang them up on a peg. ‘I feel so weary,’ she said, coming back into the parlour. ‘I’ve been on my feet all day.’

  ‘What about tomorrow?’

  ‘What about it?’

  ‘Will you be the manageress again or will Mrs Rossiter be back?’

  ‘Oh, I don’t think there’s any chance of seeing her for a while. She’s not very well at all. According to Mr Woodford, the inspector wants her to see a doctor. He said that he’d look into it.’

  ‘What business is it of the inspector’s?’

  ‘He took pity on her,’ said Dorcas. ‘Inspector Colbeck is a very kind man and not at all like the policemen on duty in the streets. Because he could see how nervous I was, he treated me very gently. I’m sure that he was gentle with Mrs Rossiter as well.’ She flopped into a chair. ‘I wish I could say the same about Mr Woodford.’

  ‘Was he unkind to her?’

  ‘Yes, he spoke very harshly to Mrs Rossiter. He seemed to forget all the good service she’d given over the years and threatened to dismiss her on the spot.’

  ‘That’s dreadful!’ exclaimed Maud.

  ‘Luckily, Inspector Colbeck came to her rescue. Afterwards, he persuaded her to go home and took her there in a cab.’

  ‘It sounds to me as if Agnes Rossiter is really ill.’

  ‘She is, Mother, but it’s not like an ordinary disease.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘I heard the inspector discussing it with Sergeant Leeming. He said that Mrs Rossiter was so overcome by grief that it had affected her mind.’

  Illumined by dozens of candles, the cathedral was at its most beautiful and imposing, its ancient walls and soaring columns acting as an echo chamber for the choir. When she let herself in that evening, the rehearsal was at its height, well-trained voices merging in perfect harmony and rising up to heaven with mellifluous adoration. Agnes Rossiter was in no mood to join in the praise of a God who’d signally failed her. The loss of her first husband had been a shattering experience but the death of Joel Heygate was somehow even more devastating. She’d known happiness with her husband and could look back on years of pleasure. Fond memories could console her. Such memories of Heygate didn’t exist. What the stationmaster had represented was the promise of a better life for her, an enrichment of her world, a redemption. Instead of sharing a dull and arid existence with her sister, she would have been a married woman again with all the position and sense of fulfilment that it brought. Yet it was not to be. Her last chance of true happiness had been snatched away. She felt utterly betrayed.

  She might be in God’s house but she no longer felt either welcome or respectful there. Indeed, the whole edifice seemed to her to be a huge architectural mistake, dedicated to a supreme being who didn’t exist or, if he did, had a brutal streak. She had felt the full impact of that brutality, a helpless victim who’d had all hope and ambition squeezed out of her life by a malign act. It was infuriating. As her rage mounted inside her, she suddenly gathered up the skirts of her black dress and ran down the nave, screaming at the top of her voice. The choir were still singing as she raced past them, ran up the altar steps and made for the crucifix, snatching it up and brandishing it like the standard of a defeated army.

  It was minutes before they could overpower her.

  When they were shown into the library at the bishop’s palace next morning, Colbeck was surprised how timid Edward Tallis appeared. Ordinarily, he was fearless, having seen action during his army career and having confronted armed criminals many times. Yet here he was, looking round tentatively like a small child who has stumbled into a strange room. Colbeck knew that the superintendent was a devout man but had never expected him to be quite so reverential in the presence of a bishop. He suspected that Tallis’s attitude might change when he actually met Henry Phillpotts. He also suspected that they were deliberately being kept waiting. It gave Colbeck the opportunity to take a closer look at the bookshelves, filled to capacity with leather-bound tomes and a veritable treasure trove of smaller volumes. He was interested to see so many collections of poetry tucked away among the endless religious studies. Milton occupied pride of place on one shelf.

  Without warning, the door opened and the bishop sailed in with his secretary trotting at his heels. Phillpotts made for the chair behind his desk.

  ‘I’m sorry for the delay,’ he said without a trace of apology in his voice, ‘but I had to speak to the choirmaster. Apparently, we had a madwoman in the cathedral yesterday, daring to grab the crucifix from the altar. The police had to be called to remove her. For an act of such wanton sacrilege, she needs locking up in perpetuity.’

  ‘I beg to differ, Bishop,’ said Colbeck. ‘As it happens, I know the lady and was told about the incident by Superintendent Steel. Her name is Mrs Agnes Rossiter and she deserves compassion rather than condemnation. When you’re apprised of the full details, you may reach the same conclusion. However,’ he went on, indicating his companion, ‘you haven’t met Superintendent Tallis yet, have you?’

  Introductions were made and they all sat down. Tallis perched on the edge of his chair, wishing that he could have a cigar to settle his nerves. Colbeck was completely at ease. Ralph Barnes sat at the side of the desk, interested to view the encounter. The bishop pretended to peruse a document in front of him before setting it aside and looking up. He gave Tallis a thin-lipped smile of disdain.

  ‘I take it that you’ve come to rid us of Inspector Colbeck and his assistant,’ he said. ‘Please make your apology then take the pair of them away from Exeter.’

  ‘If one of my detectives has inadvertently upset you, Bishop,’ said Tallis with deference, ‘then I apologise on his behalf. What I will not do, however, is to withdraw him from the investigation.’

  Phillpotts bridled. ‘Didn’t you read my letter?’

  ‘I read it several times.’

  ‘Then why is there any prevarication?’

  ‘My detectives were engaged by the South Devon Railway and it only lies within the power of Mr Quinnell to dispense with their services.’

  ‘Quinnell doesn’t understand the impl
ications of this crime,’ said the bishop, fussily. ‘It was committed as a direct affront to me by a man who has already behaved atrociously by fouling my lawn in broad daylight.’

  ‘The bishop is alluding to Bagsy Browne,’ explained Colbeck.

  Phillpotts glowered. ‘Browne is an incorrigible heathen.’

  ‘From what I hear,’ said Tallis, ‘he’s a very violent man. When a prison warder tried to arrest him last night, Browne beat the fellow to a pulp.’

  ‘He must be caught, tried and hanged.’

  ‘I accept that he must be caught and tried,’ said Colbeck, ‘but he should only face execution if he turns out to be the stationmaster’s killer.’

  ‘We know he’s the killer. Isn’t it blindingly obvious?’

  ‘Not to me, Bishop.’

  ‘I, too, would need more evidence,’ said Tallis. ‘When we heard about the attack on the warder last evening, the inspector made an interesting point.’

  ‘It made me look at Browne in a slightly different way,’ said Colbeck, taking his cue. ‘If he really was a ruthless killer, why didn’t he murder the prison warder? After all, he had every reason to loathe the man. Yet he let him off with a beating. It may be that Browne is not the wild animal you portray him as, Bishop.’

  ‘He’s been a thorn in my flesh for years,’ said Phillpotts, scowling. ‘Isn’t that true, Ralph?’

  ‘Yes,’ replied the secretary, dutifully.

  ‘List a few of his outrages.’

  Barnes winced. ‘There are so many,’ he said, ‘that I don’t know where to start. I suppose one of the worst examples of his loutish behaviour was during the procession held through the streets last Christmas when there was snow on the ground. Browne dislodged the bishop’s mitre with a snowball. Then there was wilful damage to church property in Teignmouth,’ he went on, ‘and — most reprehensible of all in my opinion — he was caught half-naked with a loose woman on consecrated ground. They had to be prised apart.’