The Stationmaster's farewell irc-9

by Edward Marston

  ‘A canary is not going to be able to help us, sir.’

  ‘You never know,’ said Colbeck. ‘Stranger things have happened.’

  To the delight of Dorcas Hope and her mother, Peter hopped about in his cage and chirped happily. He was clearly contented in his new home and had provided a lot of comfort for Maud during the long stretches when she was alone. There had been only one scare. When Dorcas had opened the cage door so that she could reach in and clean the base of droppings, the canary had escaped and flown around the room. But it was only a tour of inspection. Once he’d taken his bearings, Peter flew back down and went back to his perch in the cage. It meant that it was safe to let him fly around in the house. There was no danger of losing him.

  Dorcas loved Sundays. It was her one day away from the hurly-burly of the refreshment room. After going to church, she could spend precious time with her family, now enlarged to include a canary. While she missed the manageress, she’d quickly grown to like Mrs Rossiter’s deputy. Timothy Vesey was much less critical of her and more ready to praise her work. Passengers who recognised him from his long stint at Newton Abbot station were all pleased to see him. A day in Vesey’s company was much less tiring than one under the erstwhile manageress.

  ‘I tried to read one of those books on canaries,’ said Maud. ‘All that detail was a bit confusing. I didn’t realise that canaries were a type of finch.’ She peered into the cage beside her. ‘And to think you’ve come all the way from the Canaries.’

  ‘Actually,’ corrected Dorcas, ‘that’s not true. I remember Mr Heygate telling me that Peter came from Madeira.’

  ‘Isn’t that one of the Canary Islands?’

  ‘I don’t think so, Mother.’

  ‘I never was much good at geography.’

  ‘I’d so love to visit Madeira, but there’s no hope of that happening. The farthest I’ve ever been in my life was to Cornwall with you and Father.’

  Maud was resigned. ‘Travelling abroad is not for the likes of us.’ When there was a knock on the front door, she sat up. ‘Who can that be?’

  ‘I’ll go and see.’

  Dorcas left the parlour and opened the front door. Maud could hear a man’s voice. After a short discussion, Dorcas came back with Colbeck and Leeming. Maud felt a little intimidated to have two detectives in the small confines of the parlour. She apologised for not getting up but her hip was causing her pain if she moved. The visitors sat down and Leeming stared at the canary.

  ‘He’s a colourful little chap, isn’t he?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Dorcas. ‘He’s given us so much pleasure.’

  ‘Mr Heygate obviously cared for him,’ said Colbeck. ‘That cage is far bigger than it needs to be for such a small bird. He has plenty of room to fly around.’ He became serious. ‘We’re really here to talk about Mrs Rossiter.’

  ‘How is she, Inspector?’

  ‘She’s not at all well, Miss Hope. In fact, for reasons we needn’t go into now, she’s been taken to the County Asylum.’ The women were horrified. ‘It was on the advice of Dr Swift.’

  Dorcas gasped. ‘Does that mean that Mrs Rossiter is … insane?’

  ‘It means that she’s in need of some help.’

  ‘How long will she be in there?’

  ‘Nobody can say, Miss Hope.’

  ‘This is terrible news,’ said Maud. ‘In some ways, the asylum is worse than going to prison. Even if they let her out, you’d never look at her the same way again. Mental patients are so …’

  ‘I think that the word you’re after is “unpredictable”, Mrs Hope,’ said Colbeck as he saw her struggling. ‘But some conditions are curable and patients go on to lead perfectly ordinary lives. However,’ he went on, ‘we really came to talk about Mrs Rossiter’s sister. As you can imagine, the news will have shocked her deeply. Unlike your colleague in the refreshment room, she’s not the most robust lady.’

  ‘No,’ said Dorcas. ‘Miss Impey is a very shy and private person.’

  ‘I wondered if you might find time to visit her.’

  ‘Yes, yes, I’ll be glad to, Inspector.’

  ‘At a time like this, she needs a friend.’

  ‘I’ll make a point of going there later today.’

  ‘Thank you, Miss Hope.’

  Leeming was still eyeing the canary. ‘If only he could talk,’ he said. ‘He must know where that missing diary is.’ Peter chirped at him. ‘I think he’s trying to tell us.’

  ‘The diary is not in the house,’ said Colbeck, ‘we know that.’

  ‘That’s what I told Mr Woodford,’ said Dorcas. ‘It was after you explained that you’d seen no trace of it when you searched the house.’

  ‘Yet he claimed to know nothing about the diary.’

  ‘I certainly mentioned it to him, Inspector.’

  ‘I’m obliged to you for the information.’

  ‘By the way, the house is no longer guarded by a policeman.’

  ‘That was my doing,’ explained Colbeck. ‘In case the killer knew of that diary’s existence and came looking for it, I wanted the house protected. Since there’s been no sign of anyone on the prowl, we decided to bring guard duty to an end. A policeman is a valuable asset. There’s no point in keeping one at the railway station when he can be far more use in the city.’

  Dorcas blushed. ‘While we’re talking about the house,’ she said, guiltily, ‘there’s something I must confess.’

  ‘Go on,’ urged her mother. ‘Tell the truth. Nobody will blame you.’

  ‘The thing is that I still have a spare key to the house. Mr Heygate gave it to me so that I could feed Peter when he was away. There were two other keys — his and the one belonging to his cleaner, Mrs Penhallurick.’ She opened a drawer in the sideboard and took a key out. ‘This is the third one,’ she continued, handing it over to Colbeck. ‘I didn’t mean to keep it so long.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he said, ‘but there’s no call for worry. It’s a tribute to you that Mr Heygate entrusted the key to you — as well as his canary, of course. His own key was not on the body when it was found under the bonfire, so the police had to gain access by using the one belonging to his cleaner. I’ll pass this on to Superintendent Steel. Let me ask you once again,’ he added. ‘Are you quite certain you told Mr Woodford about the diary?’

  ‘Yes, Inspector,’ replied Dorcas. ‘He was very interested in the news.’

  Lawrence Woodford waited until there was a lull in activity then he strolled nonchalantly along the platform to the stationmaster’s house. The key had been put into the safe and it had been easy for him to get access to it. Making sure that nobody was watching, he let himself into the house and looked around with the air of the commander of a besieging army that finally brings the walls of a city down. This was his new domain. He was in at last. Woodford shook off his feeling of triumph and got to work. Convinced that the diary was there somewhere, he began a frantic search.

  Being locked up always brought out an aggressive streak in Adeline Goss. When a policeman brought her food, she was combative.

  ‘You can’t keep me locked up,’ she asserted.

  ‘We can do as we wish.’

  ‘You’ve got no reason to hold me.’

  ‘Yes, we have, Adeline,’ he said. ‘You were seen with Bagsy.’

  ‘In the course of a week,’ she argued, ‘I could be seen by a number of men. It doesn’t mean that I’m hiding them. When they’ve had their money’s worth, most of them are only too glad to run straight home to their wives.’

  ‘Bagsy Browne is more than a friend of yours.’

  ‘So — is friendship against the law now?’

  ‘You’ve been harbouring a killer.’

  ‘I don’t harbour anyone. I simply give them an hour’s pleasure.’

  ‘And you take money for it,’ he pointed out. ‘That’s illegal.’

  ‘It’s also common sense. I put a price on my womanhood.’

  ‘Eat your food and shut your mouth.’

&
nbsp; ‘I can’t eat this pigswill!’ she yelled.

  ‘Then save it for Bagsy.’

  He locked the door of her cell and walked away. Adeline sat down on the bare wooden board that served as a bed. It was attached to the wall by two chains and could be lifted up to give her marginally more room in the cell. Using a wooden spoon, she tasted a first morsel of the stew she’d been handed. It made her retch. Spitting it out, she threw the bowl at the door. Needing reassurance, she took out the coin tossed into the cell by Bagsy. It was a message. He’d not forgotten her or the service she’d rendered him. Somehow — sooner or later — he’d come for her.

  She lay on her back on the bed and let out a full-blooded laugh.

  Superintendent Steel had seen enough of Tallis to realise that he could never work under him. Colbeck and Leeming carried their authority lightly but Tallis thrust it at people. Even in a casual conversation, he had to exert control. Steel was reminded of the man’s status with every syllable he spoke. It was dusk and Tallis had called at the superintendent’s office. After discussing the case in exhaustive detail with his detectives, he wanted to see the report of the post-mortem on Finbar Mulleady and be kept abreast of the very latest news. It was an effort for Steel to remain polite.

  ‘I can add nothing to what Inspector Colbeck will have told you, sir,’ he said.

  Tallis finished reading the report. ‘This must have come as a relief to you.’

  ‘As a matter of fact, it came as something of a setback.’

  ‘I fail to see why.’

  ‘I’d made the elementary mistake of solving a crime without having all the details at my fingertips. Browne is on the run. Mulleady sees him with Adeline Goss and reports to us. We arrest her but not Browne. Mulleady is killed by Browne in an act of revenge. It was too cut and dried,’ he said. ‘I should have known better.’

  ‘In your place, I’d be glad.’

  ‘I don’t see any reason for gladness.’

  ‘Did you really want a second murder in the area?’

  ‘No, sir, it’s the one crime that’s thankfully rare.’

  ‘Think what would have happened,’ said Tallis, handing over the report. ‘If you’d had two unsolved murders on your hands, the press would have been baying at your heels and the Watch Committee would be calling you in to explain yourself.’

  ‘I’ve had plenty of trouble from both quarters, believe me.’

  ‘People will expect instant solutions. It’s unrealistic.’

  On his feet, Tallis seemed to fill the room. It was like having both Colbeck and Leeming there together. While he couldn’t wait for his visitor to go, Steel was unable to think of a way to get rid of him.

  ‘What’s your opinion of Michael Heygate?’ asked Tallis.

  ‘He’s involved in this whole business somehow — and I don’t just mean as beneficiary. I still can’t understand why he and his wife spent the night of November 4th in Exeter. Incidentally, they stayed at the Crown Inn,’ said Steel. ‘Further to your suggestion, my men checked all the hotels.’

  ‘Is the Crown Inn an expensive hostelry?’

  ‘It’s reasonably expensive, sir.’

  ‘How could they afford it when they are manifestly short of money?’ asked Tallis. ‘And why did they tell me they stayed with friends? I don’t like being lied to.’

  ‘Then you shouldn’t have joined the police force, sir. We must hear more lies than anyone else in creation.’ Tallis actually grinned. ‘However, I’m holding you up. I’m sure that you have much more important things to do.’

  ‘Nothing is more important than solving this case,’ said Tallis, settling into a chair. ‘Let’s review the evidence so far. Colbeck insists that something is missing and he’s almost invariably right. Let’s see if — between us — we can’t tease out some new evidence about this fellow Browne. Where do you suppose he could be?’

  Wearing his disguise as an old man, Bagsy Browne bided his time. He stayed close enough to the building to keep it under surveillance but far enough away not to arouse suspicion. Light was slowly seeping out of a sullen sky. No policemen were on patrol nearby and few people were walking past. Since Adeline would not be able to outrun any pursuit, he’d taken the precaution of stealing a horse and cart. They waited in an alleyway at the rear of the police station. When he judged the time ripe, Browne hobbled off with the aid of his stout walking stick. Once inside the building, he was confronted by the duty sergeant, a middle-aged man with side whiskers.

  ‘Can I help you, sir?’ asked the policeman.

  ‘I’ve come to report a crime.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Two lads have just robbed a woman in the street.’

  ‘Was she hurt?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Browne. ‘She’s lying on the pavement. I tried to stop them but I’m too old to fight any more. Come with me and I’ll show you where the woman is.’

  Browne stood back so that the sergeant could pass him. As soon as the man had his back to him, Browne struck him hard across the back of his head, sending him to the floor, then administered two more crushing blows to knock him unconscious. Grabbing a bunch of keys from their peg, Browne quickly opened a door that led to a passageway and a second one that led to the cells. He then ran along to the cell at the end and tried various keys in the lock.

  Adeline was overjoyed. ‘Bagsy!’

  ‘We have to move fast.’

  ‘I knew you wouldn’t let me down.’

  ‘One good turn deserves another.’ He found the right key and the door opened. ‘Off we go, Ad. I’ve got transport waiting for you.’

  They rushed down the corridor and out of the cell block. But the escape plan suddenly faltered. Having finished his discussion upstairs, Tallis had come down and found the duty sergeant on the floor. Realising that there was an escape bid, Tallis stood up and filled the doorway.

  ‘Out of the way!’ ordered Browne, brandishing his stick.

  ‘Give that to me,’ retorted Tallis.

  ‘I did warn you.’

  He began to belabour Tallis who stood there bravely and took most of the blows on his arms. Eventually, he managed to grab the stick and wrench it from Browne’s grasp. The latter was infuriated. Pulling out his dagger, he threatened Tallis with it but the superintendent stayed his ground. The commotion had brought Steel out of his office and roused a policeman in the back room. Both came to investigate. Desperate to get away, Browne dived at Tallis and thrust the dagger into his arm. All resistance vanished. With a cry of pain, Tallis clutched the wound, allowing Browne to push him out of the way so that he and Adeline could step over the body of the duty sergeant and run out of the building. The policeman went after them but he was too slow. Before he could get close to them, they’d clambered on to the cart and driven away at speed through the streets of Exeter.

  Steel, meanwhile, tried to revive the fallen man and was relieved when the duty sergeant began to regain consciousness. Turning his attention to Tallis, he helped him to stem the bleeding from the wound. Steel was penitent. He’d set a trap for Browne but had failed to catch him. He’d not only lost a prisoner and had one of his men knocked out in the process, he’d contrived to have the Scotland Yard detective in charge of the investigation stabbed.

  ‘Damn you, Bagsy Browne!’ he swore. ‘I’ll get you for this.’

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Frances Impey was close to despair. She’d lived alone before and was quite capable of looking after herself but the situation was very different now. Her sister had been incarcerated in the County Asylum. It was humiliating. When Agnes Rossiter had scandalised everyone in the cathedral by her antics at the altar, Frances hadn’t been there to witness it and was therefore unaware of the full horror of the spectacle. Her sister’s second act of madness had occurred when Frances was standing beside her. One moment they were walking serenely through the city, the next her sister was smashing a window with a stone and climbing through it. All that Frances could remember was passing out on the cobb
les. When the smelling salts brought her round again, her sister was howling piteously in the grip of two policemen. Such memories would haunt Frances for ever. It had been a shock to see her beloved sister taken off to Exminster but, in truth, Frances knew that she could never look after her at home.

  She was far too afraid to venture out to church that morning. While she wanted to pray for her sister’s recovery, she feared the pointed fingers and the murmured comments from other members of the congregation. There was no hiding the disgrace. Everyone would know by now. Even those who offered sympathy would be treating her with more caution, as if she might somehow infect them with her sister’s mental disorder. Limited as it had been, her social life was virtually extinct. Frances would henceforth be the source of whisperers.

  As she sat in the kitchen with a cup of tea untouched beside her, she brooded on the future. Though dismayed at the dramatic change in her own life, her thoughts were largely centred on her sister. How long would she be detained? Would she ever be let out? If so, what sort of condition would she be in? In the past, Agnes Rossiter had been the wage-earner and the more forceful character. She would be neither if she was released from the asylum. Who would even consider employing a woman with her medical history? What sort of life would the two sisters lead? The problem was that the madness had a public dimension. Its effects had been seen in the cathedral and outside the undertaker’s. It was the stuff of general discussion now. Frances could see only one mode of survival. If her sister was finally discharged, they would have to move out of Exeter. But the asylum cast a very long shadow.

  Would they ever be able to outrun it?

  Frances was still deep in thought when there was a knock on the door. It startled her. Who could possibly want to visit a house of shame? At first, she tried to ignore the caller, but a second and third knock showed that the person knew she was inside. Plucking up her courage, she went to the front door, opened it a few inches and peered nervously through the gap.