11 - Ticket to Oblivion

by Edward Marston

  ‘Don’t blame Marcus. This dire news about Imogen has hit him hard.’

  ‘What about you? You’re her mother. It’s hit you even harder because Marcus is in better health to withstand the blow. Have there been any developments?’

  ‘Two detectives came but I was not allowed to see them.’

  ‘It was your right to do so, Paulina.’

  ‘I lacked the strength to enforce that right.’

  ‘Well, I can tell you that Inspector Colbeck visited us as well. We were struck by his acumen and by his confidence. Mr Tunnadine happened to be there at the time, making a nuisance of himself.’

  Paulina sat up anxiously. ‘How is dear Clive?’

  ‘You’d not have spoken of him so solicitously had you been there. He was both offensive and insulting. I’d not let a bully like that marry my daughter,’ said Cassandra. ‘I was grateful when Inspector Colbeck put him in his place.’

  ‘Was the inspector able to raise your hopes?’

  ‘Yes, he was – to some extent.’

  ‘It’s so maddening to be stuck up here in bed,’ whined Paulina. ‘Nobody tells me a thing. I’m left here alone with my fears.’

  ‘That will change now that I’m here.’

  ‘What are you going to do, Cassandra?’

  ‘I’m going to adopt the policy I use with Dominic,’ said the other. ‘I’m going to state my demands to your husband and keep repeating them until he succumbs. Something must have happened since yesterday.’

  ‘I daresay that it has.’

  ‘Then we’re entitled to hear about it.’

  ‘Please don’t upset Marcus. He’s feeling very sensitive at the moment.’

  ‘He’s not as sensitive as I felt when I stood on that station yesterday and realised that Imogen was not on the train. It was mortifying. That’s why I took steps to confirm that she’d left Worcester at the time agreed. Imogen definitely got on that train to Oxford.’

  ‘No, Cassandra,’ said her sister, mournfully. ‘She had a ticket to oblivion.’

  ‘That’s nonsense!’ protested Cassandra, ‘and if you’d met Inspector Colbeck, you’d have banished such thoughts.’ She pulled the bed sheet over Paulina’s arms. ‘Try to get some rest while I have a frank talk with my brother-in-law.’

  Before Paulina could stop her, she bustled out of the room and went along the landing before descending the stairs with purposeful steps. When the butler came into the hall, she summoned him over to her.

  ‘I wish to see Sir Marcus,’ she said.

  ‘That won’t be possible, I fear,’ he replied.

  ‘I’ll make it possible. He won’t be allowed to hide from me. Where is he?’

  ‘Sir Marcus left some time ago, Mrs Vaughan.’

  Cassandra was deflated. ‘Where did he go?’

  ‘He went to London as a matter of urgency.’

  ‘Did he say why?’

  ‘No,’ returned the butler, ‘he merely said that he had to get to Scotland Yard.’

  As soon as he reached London, Colbeck took a cab to his house to acquaint his wife with what had happened while he was away. Madeleine was fascinated by the case and wished that he had time to give her the full details but she knew that he had to report to the superintendent.

  ‘Father kept me company yesterday evening,’ she said.

  ‘What did he have to say?’

  ‘Nothing to the credit of the OWWR – he derided it.’

  ‘Some of his derision was merited,’ said Colbeck, kissing her before putting on his top hat. ‘I’ll tell you more anon.’

  ‘When shall I expect you?’

  ‘It’s impossible to say.’

  She opened the front door and waved him off. In less than a minute, he’d hailed a cab and climbed inside. Madeleine retreated into the house with a smile of resignation, accepting that there would be some investigations when fleeting moments with him were all that she could enjoy.

  Colbeck, meanwhile, was sitting in the cab and rehearsing what he was going to say to Tallis. Since the whereabouts of the two women remained unknown, he knew that he was in for severe criticism from his superior but hoped that he could convince him of the theory that had now hardened into fact in his mind. The cab dropped him off at the Lamb and Flag, the public house close to Scotland Yard. He’d arranged to meet Leeming there so that they could trade information before they were pounced on by Edward Tallis. The sergeant was in a corner, nursing a tankard of beer. He leapt up at the sight of Colbeck.

  ‘Thank heaven you’re back!’ he said, laughing in gratitude. ‘I’d hate to face him alone again. The superintendent roasted me on a spit yesterday evening.’

  ‘Leave him to me, Victor.’

  ‘He’s all yours, sir.’

  Colbeck bought himself a drink then joined him at his table.

  ‘I want to hear what you discovered when you spoke to George Vaughan.’

  Leeming winced. ‘I discovered more than I wanted to, sir.’

  ‘That sounds ominous’

  ‘An artist’s life would not suit me, sir.’

  ‘It’s not so daunting, Victor. Ask my wife and she will tell you that it’s a rewarding occupation. Madeleine revels in it.’

  ‘That’s because she paints locomotives, sir. Mrs Colbeck doesn’t share a room with any of them. Mr Vaughan lives with his model in an attic and she’s … unclothed when he works on his portrait of her.’

  ‘There’s a long and noble tradition of nude portraiture,’ said Colbeck. ‘Look at the sculpture of the Greeks and the Romans. The human body is celebrated in all its glory.’

  ‘If it was made out of marble, I might celebrate it. In this case, however, the body was made out of flesh and blood and it was right there in front of me. The young woman had no shame. She actually smiled at me.’ Colbeck laughed. ‘It’s no joke, sir. I daren’t tell my wife about it.’

  ‘Why not? I’m sure that Estelle would be pleased to know that her husband could not be led astray by a naked woman. But do go on,’ urged Colbeck. ‘Tell me exactly what happened.’

  Leeming gave an account of his meeting with George Vaughan, trying his best to keep disapproval out of his voice. He described the artist’s reaction to the news about his cousin and mentioned his attempt to spirit her away on his own accord. Colbeck was not surprised to hear how constrained Imogen felt at Burnhope Manor, believing that it was a critical factor in her disappearance. He was interested to hear that the artist had told the sergeant to look closely at Percy Vaughan.

  ‘What sort of person was he?’ asked Leeming.

  ‘He and his brother are opposites, by the sound of it,’ said Colbeck. ‘One is an artist who follows his Muse while the other is committed to God. Each has found his natural habitat. Percy Vaughan is a serious, reserved, somewhat enigmatic young man. He’s a true Christian but not wholly immune to the desires and passions that animate most people. George Vaughan seems to have had a warm friendship with his cousin but it was his brother who cared for her the most. Not to put too fine a point on it, he’s pining for her.’

  They discussed the case in detail until they’d finished their drinks, then they crossed the road and entered Scotland Yard. Leeming was delighted when Colbeck went off to confront Tallis on his own. The superintendent was waiting for him. The moment that Colbeck came through the door, Tallis was on his feet with his teeth bared like a guard dog growling at an intruder.

  ‘Well,’ he began, ‘what have you to say to me?’

  ‘The sergeant and I have looked more deeply into the state of relations within the family and we’ve come to the conclusion that the missing women were complicit in their own disappearance.’

  ‘Talk sense, man.’

  ‘Imogen Burnhope and her maid were running away.’

  ‘Ah, I see,’ said Tallis, mordantly, ‘we are back in that fairyland known as your sixth sense, are we?’

  ‘We are reading the facts as they’re presented to us, sir.’

  ‘Then you are readin
g them incorrectly.’

  ‘Do you have a different version of events to offer, Superintendent?’

  ‘I don’t – but Sir Marcus Burnhope does.’

  ‘Has he sent another telegraph?’

  ‘No,’ said Tallis, ‘he took the trouble to come here in person. To put it mildly, he was not happy with your handling of the case. He felt that you and Leeming were not only dragging your feet but looking in the wrong direction altogether.’

  ‘The evidence points to the fact that his daughter wanted to escape from her family and lead a new life elsewhere.’

  ‘Balderdash!’

  ‘Sir Marcus, I regret to say, is part of the reason that she fled.’

  ‘And what part did the maid, Rhoda Wills, play in this fantasy?’

  ‘She was also ready to leave Burnhope Manor forever.’

  Tallis picked up the hat that stood on his desk behind a pile of documents.

  ‘Do you know what this is, Colbeck?’ he said. ‘It’s a hat belonging to the aforesaid maid. It was found yesterday evening in the Mickleton tunnel. If this Rhoda Wills was running away, don’t you think she’d have needed some headgear? Sir Marcus brought it here and it’s not the only thing that disproves your fanciful theory. Earlier today, this was delivered to Burnhope Manor.’

  Putting the hat aside, he snatched up a letter and brandished it in the air.

  ‘What is it, sir?’ asked Colbeck, taking it from him.

  ‘It’s a ransom demand,’ said Tallis. ‘Unless the money is paid, Sir Marcus will never see his daughter alive again. It could not be more explicit.’

  Colbeck read the letter with a blend of interest and profound discomfort. His theory about a flight to freedom had been completely exploded. Imogen Burnhope had been kidnapped and her life was in danger.

  ‘Sir Marcus is at his club,’ explained Tallis, ‘awaiting our advice.’

  ‘I’ll go to him at once, sir.’

  ‘We’ll go together.’

  ‘There’s no need, Superintendent.’

  ‘Yes, there is. You’ve bungled this investigation, Colbeck. You’ve bungled it badly. From now on, I’m taking charge of it.’

  Colbeck was dismayed. He would not only be admonished by Sir Marcus, he’d have to work henceforth with the heavy burden of Tallis on his back. It would make a satisfactory outcome far more difficult to achieve. Handing back the ransom demand, he manufactured a submissive smile and spoke with apparent sincerity.

  ‘It will be a pleasure to serve beside you, sir,’ he said.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  In spite of all the years he’d spent at the college, Dominic Vaughan still found its architecture inspiring, its history uplifting and its atmosphere conducive to study and contemplation. As he walked briskly across the Radcliffe Quadrangle that afternoon, however, he was in no mood to admire the beauty of its Dutch gables or to reflect on the beneficence of John Radcliffe after whom it was named. The small statue of the former royal physician that stood over the gate tower went for once unnoticed. While detectives were searching for his niece and her maid, the Master of University College was engaged in a frantic hunt for his own daughter. Without warning, Emma had unaccountably vanished. Ordinarily, Vaughan would have left the task of finding her to his wife but Cassandra had gone off to Burnhope Manor, so the task fell to him. He was on his second circuit of the college. As he came into the main quadrangle, he stopped and looked around, wondering if there was anywhere he’d missed in his earlier search.

  Emma was such a dutiful girl that she always told her parents if she was venturing outside the college. In view of what had happened to her cousin, she was now too nervous even to walk up the High Street alone. It meant that she had to be in the college somewhere. Turning left, her father approached the south range with its looming facade of chapel and hall. There was no reason why Emma should have entered the hall but he nevertheless went inside to make sure that she was not there, even peering under the long oak tables. Framed portraits of former college luminaries looked down unhelpfully from the panelled walls. When he left, he went straight across to the chapel, opening the heavy door to reveal an interior that was shadowed without ever being gloomy. As before, Vaughan could see no sign of his daughter. He walked halfway down the aisle but the place seemed cold and categorically empty. Turning on his heel, he headed for the door until a noise halted him in his tracks. It sounded like the rustle of a dress.

  ‘Emma!’ he called out. ‘Are you in here, Emma?’

  ‘Yes,’ she replied, faintly.

  Then, to his amazement, she sat up in the pew where she’d been asleep.

  He hurried towards her. ‘What are you doing in here?’

  ‘I came to pray for Imogen – and for Rhoda as well. But I was very tired because I was awake all night wondering what had happened to them. I must have dozed off.’ She rubbed her back. ‘This pew is very uncomfortable.’

  ‘You frightened the life out of me,’ he said, sitting down beside her. ‘Your mother made me promise to keep an eye on you but, the first time I looked up from my work, you’d disappeared.’

  ‘I’ve been here for hours. It’s so peaceful in the chapel.’

  ‘You always liked to come in here.’

  It was true. Even as a child, Emma had been fascinated by the stained-glass windows, her favourite being the one that told the story of Jonah, with the college flag – a feature absent from the Biblical version – fluttering on the ship from which he was thrown. For her younger brother, however, a visit to the chapel was an imposition and a source of continuous boredom. While George had always found the college chaplain sanctimonious, Percy sought him as a mentor. He was so devoted to his theological studies that his decision to take holy orders was a foregone conclusion.

  ‘I wish that Percy was here,’ said Emma.

  ‘Why is that?’

  ‘He always knows the right words to say.’

  ‘Prayer is always valid if it comes from the heart, Emma. It doesn’t have to be couched in a special language.’

  ‘Percy is a curate. His prayers are more likely to be heard.’

  ‘I don’t think God makes petty distinctions like that.’

  She grabbed his arm. ‘Are they still alive, Father?’ she asked.

  ‘I believe so. More to the point, so does Inspector Colbeck.’

  ‘But it’s been well over twenty-four hours now. Where did Imogen and Rhoda spend the night? Who’s looking after them? How and what are they eating? Why have we had no word whatsoever from them?’

  He shrugged. ‘I have no answers to those questions.’

  ‘I’ve been racking my brains, trying to think of a way to help.’

  ‘You’ve done all you can do by coming in here, Emma.’

  ‘George will be upset when he hears what’s happened,’ she said. ‘Sergeant Leeming was going to call on him today. I do wish George was here now. He always cheers me up.’

  ‘I wish that he did the same for me,’ sighed her father, ‘but he tends to bring more chaos than cheer into my world. His escapades are the talk of the Senior Common Room and the rumour that he lives a decadent life in Chelsea has caused justifiable outrage. In a sense,’ he admitted, ‘I’m glad that he’s no longer here to set tongues wagging.’

  ‘But he’d know what to do, Father. George was always so practical.’

  ‘Your uncle has already taken the appropriate steps, Emma. He’s called in detectives from Scotland Yard. Mr Tunnadine might sneer at them but they imbued me with confidence. I put my trust in Inspector Colbeck.’

  They met in a private room at Sir Marcus’s club in Pall Mall. Edward Tallis chose the larger of the two unoccupied armchairs, leaving Colbeck to perch on the edge of a much smaller one. Sir Marcus, reclining on a button-backed leather sofa, lifted a questioning eyebrow.

  ‘I’ve shown the ransom demand to the inspector, Sir Marcus,’ said Tallis.

  ‘Yes,’ added Colbeck, ‘and I believe it to be genuine.’

  ‘How c
an you be sure?’ asked Sir Marcus.

  ‘Only the person who abducted your daughter and her maid would be able to make such specific demands. It’s an educated hand. The calligraphy is neat and there are enough details to convince me that the person who wrote that letter is holding the two of them.’

  ‘What should we do, Inspector?’

  ‘Comply with his wishes.’

  ‘But he’s asking for a huge sum.’

  ‘Your daughter’s life is worth far more than that, Sir Marcus. Besides, you have to signal agreement or we’ll never be able to draw him out into the open. Once we do that,’ said Colbeck, ‘we will have a chance to rescue both ladies and have some idea of who kidnapped them in the first place.’

  ‘Is there any way of getting the money back?’

  ‘I believe so. But we need it to act as a lure. I take it that you can have that amount in cash ready in the time specified?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Sir Marcus, indignantly. ‘I’ve already spoken to my banker.’

  ‘Then all we need to do,’ said Tallis, taking over, ‘is to devise a plan of action. The letter demands that you hand it over in person but that would expose you to unnecessary danger. Since it’s unlikely that this anonymous kidnapper has ever set eyes on you, I propose to go in your stead.’

  ‘That would put you at risk, sir,’ Colbeck pointed out.

  Tallis straightened his shoulders. ‘I’m an army man. I thrive on risk.’

  ‘You may have done so in your younger days, Superintendent, but you are not as sprightly as you were then. There are three things to remember about the person we are up against. First,’ said Colbeck, ‘I believe that he is or was a soldier. Second, I am certain that he’ll be armed.’

  ‘Let me take issue with you on the first point,’ said Sir Marcus. ‘How do you know that he is a soldier?’

  ‘A man in uniform was seen waiting on the platform at Oxford when the train arrived. The one convincing explanation for your daughter’s disappearance is that he cleverly smuggled her away with her maid before her aunt or her cousin could even see them.’