‘There you are, Canon Smalley,’ she said. ‘I did tell you.’
He got up calmly. ‘I’ll be back,’ he said. ‘She obviously needs me.’
The diary was a revelation. It covered a period of almost two years and was rich in detail. When Colbeck examined it back in his room at the Acland Tavern, Leeming sat beside him. It took them a little time to decipher some of the abbreviations used. Once they’d done that, it was possible to read the diary like a novel, albeit one with a limited number of characters and a repetitive plot.
‘So much for the brother’s claim that he hardly ever saw Heygate,’ said Colbeck, looking at another entry. ‘This is the seventh time in a row that he called on the stationmaster. And instead of asking for money, he demanded it. And look,’ he went on, turning a page and tapping it with a finger, ‘here’s another reference. This time it’s his sister-in-law who comes in search of a loan.’
‘She’d have been put up to it by that snake of a husband.’
‘They really seem to have persecuted the stationmaster.’
Leeming was sarcastic. ‘It’s funny that they never mentioned that, isn’t it?’
‘They’re almost as dishonest as Bagsy Browne.’
‘I disagree, sir. They’re more dishonest. Browne doesn’t try to hide the fact that he’s a criminal. In fact he revels in it, whereas Heygate and his wife try to pass themselves off as decent people badly treated by someone who should have helped them. At least I caught them out telling one lie.’
‘Yes, they didn’t spend that night with friends but at the Crown Inn.’
‘You should have seen the expression on their faces when I challenged them about it,’ said Leeming with a chuckle. ‘They turned bright red.’
‘What was their explanation, Victor?’
‘Heygate claimed that the landlord of the inn was the friend they’d talked about and that he let them stay there for nothing.’
‘One lie follows another,’ said Colbeck. ‘Nevertheless, it will do no harm for you to go to the Crown Inn and test the claim. But that can wait. The diary takes priority. Most of the entries refer to birds. I hadn’t realised that there were so many different species in Devon. He’s listed dozens and dozens. Ah,’ he went on, ‘there’s a mention of Lawrence Woodford here.’
‘What sort of bird is he, sir?’
‘I think he’s some sort of vulture. No sooner was the stationmaster dead than he swooped down on the carcass.’
‘I dislike the man. What does it say about him?’
‘It just says “First warning to Woodford”, with no details of what the warning was about.’ Colbeck flipped over the pages. ‘He’s mentioned in dispatches again and this time we know why. “Second warning – bottle confiscated.” It looks as if the new stationmaster was caught drinking on duty.’
‘It’s no wonder Woodford didn’t like him.’
‘He should have been grateful, Victor. People have been dismissed for less. It’s only because Mr Heygate didn’t make an official complaint to the company that Woodford held on to his job.’
‘And now he’s strutting about like the cock of the walk.’
‘Yes, Victor. It’s because Joel Heygate is dead. Woodford is safe.’
‘So he had a very strong motive to murder him.’
Colbeck continued to flick through the diary. There were several mentions of Dorcas Hope by a man who clearly saw her as his closest friend. Agnes Rossiter, however, earned only one fleeting reference. Colbeck eventually reached the place where he’d first started and that was at the final entry. It was the day on which Heygate had been murdered. The entry was brief – ‘Visit owl.’ It meant nothing to the detectives. There were three earlier references to the bird but the only indication of its whereabouts was in the first one – ‘Barn owl near M.V.’ Colbeck was disappointed. The diary had taught them a lot about certain people but, on the most important point of all, it had let them down.
‘We must talk to Miss Hope,’ decided Colbeck.
‘Will she be able to help us, sir?’
‘She knows the city far better than we do, Victor. I’m sure she’ll be able to hazard a guess at what these initials stand for.’
‘It could be the name of a person rather than a place.’
‘That’s very true.’
‘I’ve just thought,’ said Leeming with a short laugh. ‘This diary really belongs to Michael Heygate. Do you think he’ll enjoy reading it?’
‘Not if it’s used against him in a court of law,’ said Colbeck.
‘There’s no real evidence there to convict him, sir. Besides, we already know who the killer was. He’s in custody and his name is Bagsy Browne. Did you send that telegraph to Superintendent Tallis?’
‘It would have reached Scotland Yard this afternoon. I know that Mr Tallis was advised to rest but he’ll have gone straight to his office and carried on working.’
‘He’ll be pleased that we finally caught the culprit.’
‘He’ll be pleased that we caught the man who stabbed him,’ said Colbeck, ‘but I’m still not sure that we’re holding the one who murdered the stationmaster.’
Leeming was incredulous. ‘It has to be Bagsy Browne, sir.’
‘Does it?’
‘He has a record of violence.’
‘Yet he’s always stopped short of murder in the past.’
‘He and that woman were in this together.’
‘Then why does he refuse to tell us where he was on the fateful night and why does Adeline Goss swear that he wasn’t with her? Browne has raised untruthfulness to the level of an art and he practises it like a master. There’s no doubt that he’s guilty of several crimes,’ said Colbeck, ‘but I maintain that the murder is not one of them.’
Leeming was bewildered. ‘If it wasn’t Browne who killed the stationmaster, then who on earth did?’
Colbeck tapped the diary.
‘The answer lies somewhere in here, Victor.’
Ivy Young watched from a vantage point further along the street. She had a good view of the house and was impressed by its size and state of repair. Caleb Andrews obviously knew how to look after a property. It was almost an hour before the front door opened and she realised that her vigil was about to deliver what she’d hoped. Madeleine emerged with a basket over her arm and headed in the direction of the market. Evidently, she’d be gone for some time. Ivy didn’t waste a second of it. Scampering across the street, she walked up to the house and knocked on the front door. After a few seconds, it was opened by Andrews. His jaw dropped.
‘Hello, Caleb,’ she said, sweetly. ‘May I call you that? I feel that we’re on first-name terms now. Forgive me for surprising you like this but I’ve got something important to tell you.’
‘What is it?’ he gulped.
‘I can’t possibly talk on the doorstep. May I come in?’
‘I was just about to go out, Mrs Young.’
‘You can call me Ivy.’ She glanced down at his feet. ‘And I don’t think you can be going out when you still have your slippers on. Let me in. I won’t stay long.’
Andrews was helpless. Before he could prevent her, she’d eased him aside and stepped into the house. When he closed the front door, she was looking around the parlour. She crossed to the easel and reached for the cloth covering the painting.
‘No,’ he said, rushing across to intercept her. ‘Don’t touch that. My daughter hates anyone to see her work before it’s finished. Maddy would be livid.’
‘There’s no need why she should ever know. Let me take a peek.’
‘I’m afraid that I can’t, Mrs Young.’
She beamed at him. ‘I do have a Christian name, you know.’
Andrews was nonplussed. She was so different from the woman he’d met earlier. Instead of the beaky and inquisitive sister, he was now looking at a handsome woman in her finery who was speaking in a low and confiding manner. The warm smile never left her face.
‘We need to talk,’ she said, sitt
ing down.
‘Do we?’
‘I came about Binnie.’
‘Oh, I see.’
He sat down opposite her, embarrassed to be caught in his slippers and grateful that he was wearing a collar and tie. Andrews felt invaded.
‘I know how much you like Binnie,’ said her sister. ‘She’s very fond of you and I can see why. You’re a fine upstanding man, Caleb. What you need to know about Binnie is that she can be headstrong. She makes up her mind too quickly and that always leads to tears in the end. It’s happened before, you see.’
‘What has, Mrs Young? … Ivy, that is.’
‘I’m talking about her sudden passion for a gentleman. It flares up at the start but it soon burns itself out. The one before you lasted only three weeks.’
‘I didn’t realise that.’
‘There are lots of things you don’t realise, I’m afraid. Take your visit to her the other afternoon. What did you think of the food?’
‘It was delicious. Binnie is a good cook.’
‘That’s what she’d like you to believe,’ said Ivy, ‘but, in fact, she hates cooking and has never baked a cake in her life. Everything you ate at the house was my doing. I made it all for her.’
‘Why did you do that?’
‘My sister wanted to impress you.’
‘She certainly did that.’
‘Binnie said that you liked your food.’
‘I do. I’ve been spoilt. Maddy – my daughter – is a wonderful cook.’
‘I’m sure, she is,’ said Ivy, letting her gaze travel around the room before alighting on the easel. ‘She’s a wonderful cook, a gifted artist and she’s going to marry a detective whose name is always in the newspapers. You must be very proud of her, Caleb.’
‘Oh, I am. I couldn’t wish for a better daughter.’
‘The house will be terribly empty when she’s gone.’
‘She’s promised to visit whenever she can.’
‘It’s not the same as having someone to share your life with,’ she said, moving her gaze back to him. ‘Companionship is so important to people of our age. I daresay you thought that Binnie would give it to you, but her interest would soon flag. She’s not like me, Caleb. Once I make my choice, I stand by it.’
His collar suddenly felt very tight and sweat broke out under his armpits. He was in his own home and yet he felt obscurely under threat. Andrews didn’t know how much of what she was saying was true or why she felt obliged to say it. In her earlier hawkish mood, Ivy Young was intimidating. Now that she’d gone to the other extreme, she was even more overwhelming.
‘Were you thinking of inviting Binnie here to have tea?’ she asked.
‘Yes, I was,’ he admitted.
‘Don’t do it, Caleb. The closer you get to my sister, the more upset you’ll be when she lets you down. Leave her be for a while.’
‘But she’ll think it’s very rude of me to neglect her.’
‘Put yourself first. She’ll soon move on to the next one.’
He was dejected. ‘How many others have there been?’
‘You’d be too distressed to know,’ she said, getting up. ‘I must leave you in peace. I just wanted to pass on a friendly warning.’
‘Thank you – thank you, Ivy.’
‘Ease yourself gently away from my sister.’
He got to his feet. ‘I’ll do as you say.’
‘I knew that you would.’ Broadening her smile into a grin, she placed a hand on his arm and put her face close to his. ‘Just because the friendship between you and Binnie is more or less finished,’ she went on, taking a slip of paper from her pocket and handing it to him, ‘there’s no reason why you and I shouldn’t keep in touch, is there? That’s my address. Let’s meet again very soon, shall we?’
Andrews showed her out. When he shut the door, he not only locked and bolted it, he moved a chair up against it to bolster his defence. Then he went swiftly upstairs and put on a pair of shoes.
‘I’m sorry,’ said Steel, ‘but I can’t help you, Inspector.’
‘Can’t you even hazard a guess?’ asked Colbeck.
‘No, I can’t. I don’t know the name of every property in Exeter and, in any case, this may not even be a property.’
‘I thought it might be someone’s name,’ said Leeming.
‘That, too, is possible.’
Their first call that morning had been on Superintendent Steel. They told him about the money concealed in the birdcage and showed him the stationmaster’s diary. He was intrigued by the information about Michael Heygate and Lawrence Woodford. However, Steel was less taken with Colbeck’s claim that Bagsy Browne might not have been the killer, after all.
‘With all due respect, Inspector,’ he said, ‘you are profoundly wrong.’
‘Victor agrees with you,’ said Colbeck. ‘He believes I should have my head examined by Dr Swift.’
‘I wouldn’t go that far, sir,’ said Leeming. ‘I just think we’ve got the right man. Why bother to look for someone else? Michael Heygate may have been a rotten brother and Woodford may have been drinking on duty but that doesn’t make them capable of battering a man to death. Browne is our man. I’d bet on it.’
‘I wouldn’t want to relieve you of your money.’
‘I’ll be happy to relieve you of more of yours, Inspector,’ said Steel with a grin. ‘Are you ready to wager another sovereign that Bagsy Browne is innocent of the murder?’
‘No,’ said Colbeck. ‘I’m ready to wager five whole pounds.’
‘In that case, I accept the bet.’
‘And I’m the witness,’ said Leeming.
Colbeck looked at Steel. ‘How did Browne spend the night?’
‘He never stopped protesting his innocence,’ said Steel. ‘We’re taking him before a magistrate this morning so that we can get him remanded in prison. I want him where he can’t possibly escape or collude with Adeline Goss.’
‘But she’s in a separate cell,’ said Leeming.
‘Bagsy would have found a way to communicate with her. We arrested him and another man some years ago and put them in cells that were fifteen yards apart. They sent messages to each other by tapping on the pipe that ran through all of the cells. It’s the reason I had it lagged.’ He turned to Colbeck. ‘What about Adeline? Do you think she was Bagsy’s accomplice?’
‘She couldn’t have been his accomplice in a murder he didn’t commit,’ said Colbeck, wryly. ‘And if it turns out that he is guilty of it, I still don’t think Miss Goss was involved. She loves Browne. The only way she could do that is to turn a blind eye to the things he does. She’d never condone murder.’
‘I’m inclined to agree with you there.’
‘What happens now, Inspector?’ asked Leeming.
‘We’ll need to pay a visit to Joel Heygate’s solicitor. I believe that his name is Mr Lyman of Lyman, Cole & Harmer. The money found in the birdcage must be handed over to him. So should the diary, by rights,’ Colbeck said, ‘but we need to hang on to that because it contains crucial evidence.’
‘It doesn’t absolve Bagsy of the murder,’ said Steel.
‘And it doesn’t implicate him in it either.’
‘What about Michael Heygate and Woodford? If Bagsy is innocent – and I don’t accept that for a second – should we bring them in for questioning?’
‘No, Superintendent, there’s no need. The arrest of Browne will give them the feeling that the case is solved. If one of them was somehow involved in the death, they’ll think they’re quite safe now. They’ll be off guard. Come on, Victor,’ said Colbeck, ‘we need to hand over this money. You can then pay a visit to the Crown Inn and find out just how friendly the landlord was with Mr Heygate’s brother. Meanwhile, I’ll have a chat with our unpaid assistant.’
‘Who is that, sir?’
‘A helpful young lady named Dorcas Hope.’
She knew that he’d be waiting for her to renew his pressure on her. Before she got anywhere near the refreshment
room, Woodford descended on her. The difference this time was that he was actually pleasant to Dorcas.
‘Good morning, Miss Hope,’ he said.
‘Good morning, Mr Woodford.’
‘It’s good to see you so punctual.’
‘Mr Heygate taught me that,’ she said.
‘Is there any news of Mrs Rossiter?’
‘I’ve heard none – though I did speak to Miss Impey, her sister. She’s very distressed, as you can imagine. She thinks everyone is talking about her.’
‘Well, she’s quite wrong there,’ said Woodford. ‘Bagsy Browne is the person who’s keeping all the tongues wagging and not Mrs Rossiter. She’s been forgotten. All that people are talking about is the hanging.’
‘I’m not talking about it, I assure you. I can’t bear the thought of it.’
‘It’s what that devil deserves, Miss Hope.’
‘Why can’t they just lock him away for good?’
He broke off to answer a question from a passenger. It gave Dorcas a momentary break and allowed her to wonder why the stationmaster’s manner towards her had changed so radically. Having bullied her before, he was making an effort to be kind to her. She could not understand why.
‘I’m sorry about that,’ he said as the passenger walked away. ‘The reason I asked about Mrs Rossiter is this. Much as I sympathise with her plight, I can’t see a time when she’d ever be ready to return to her old job here. The passengers wouldn’t like it. They’ve all heard the tales about her. In other words,’ he went on, ‘we may be looking for a new manager or even a manageress.’ He smiled knowingly at her. ‘Mr Vesey has agreed to stay on until the end of the year but he’s not getting any younger and will have to be replaced. He feels that you may be ready to take over.’
She was thrilled. ‘That’s so kind of him!’
‘You suffer from the opposite handicap, of course,’ he said. ‘While he’s rather old, you’re rather young. Without Mrs Rossiter to look after you, there could be some harassment from certain quarters. The way to obviate that is to have a man working under you as a waiter. His presence will offer you protection against any unwanted attentions.’ He smiled again. ‘I take it that you’d be interested in the post.’
The Stationmaster's Farewell Page 26
