The Railway Detective Collection: The Railway Detective, the Excursion Train, the Railway Viaduct (The Railway Detective Series)

by Edward Marston

  ‘Ashamed?’

  ‘She feels responsible for it somehow.’

  ‘That’s absurd.’

  ‘She’s only a young girl, after all. In her eyes, none of this would have happened if she hadn’t been attacked in that lane. She ran home in tears to Nathan and he swore that he’d make Joe Dykes pay. Can you see it from Emily’s point of view, Inspector?’

  ‘Yes – she gave her stepfather a motive.’

  ‘It helped to put him on that scaffold.’

  ‘Was Emily at the fair that day?’

  ‘Yes, she went with Adam.’

  ‘Did they stay together?’

  Newman chuckled. ‘I can see that you don’t know much about country fairs,’ he said. ‘It’s a big event for us. We don’t just go there to buy and sell. There are games, dances, races, competitions and they even put on a little play this year. Emily and Adam would have split up and enjoyed the fair in their own way.’

  ‘Did either of them witness the argument with Dykes?’

  ‘I can’t honestly say.’

  ‘You were the one who stopped Hawkshaw from going into the Red Lion after Dykes. You persuaded him to go home, didn’t you?’

  ‘That’s right, Inspector.’

  ‘Then why didn’t either of the children go as well?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. I was back in my cousin’s forge by then.’

  ‘I find it surprising that Emily, in particular, didn’t go with him.’

  ‘He was in no real state for company, Inspector. He stalked off.’

  ‘But I’m told he was very protective towards his stepdaughter.’

  ‘He was, believe me.’ He caught sight of someone out of the corner of his eye. ‘Ah,’ said Newman, grimacing, ‘the foreman has come out to see why I’m not earning my pay. I’ll have to go, Inspector.’

  ‘Of course. Thank you for your help.’

  ‘If you want to talk to me again, come to my house in Turton Street. Number 10. You’ll find me sitting with my wife most evenings,’ he said, walking away. ‘I don’t go far from Meg.’

  ‘I’ll bear that in mind,’ said Colbeck.

  There were several moments when Madeleine Andrews regretted the impulse that had taken her to Hoxton again, but she felt obscurely that her visit might be of some help to Robert Colbeck and that made her stay. Never having been in a Roman Catholic church before, she felt like an intruder and, since she was wearing black, the charge of impostor could be levelled at her as well. The morning newspaper had printed the bare details of Jacob Guttridge’s funeral. Madeleine was one of a pitifully small congregation. The widow and the other mourners occupied the front row of seats while she remained at the rear of the church.

  Even from that distance, she found the service profoundly moving, conducted by Father Cleary in a high-pitched voice that reached every corner of the building without effort. The burial was even more affecting and, though she only watched it from behind one of the statues in the graveyard, Madeleine felt as if she were actually part of the event. Louise Guttridge tossed a handful of earth on to the coffin then turned away. The rest of the mourners took their leave of Father Cleary and dispersed.

  To Madeleine’s horror, the widow walked slowly in her direction. The interloper had been seen. Madeleine feared the worst, expecting to be castigated for daring to trespass on private grief, for attending the funeral of a man she had never known and could not possibly admire. Pursing her lips, she braced herself for deserved censure. Louise Guttridge stopped a few yards from her and beckoned with a finger.

  ‘Come on out, please,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, Mrs Guttridge,’ agreed Madeleine, emerging from her refuge.

  ‘I thought it was you, Miss Andrews.’

  ‘I didn’t mean to upset you in any way.’

  ‘I’m sure that you didn’t. You came out of the goodness of your heart, didn’t you?’ She looked around. ‘That’s more than I can say for my son. Michael and his wife could not even bother to turn up today. You, a complete stranger, have more sympathy in you than our only child.’

  ‘It was perhaps as well that he did stay away, Mrs Guttridge.’

  ‘Yes, you may be right.’

  ‘At a time like this, you don’t want old wounds to be opened.’

  ‘That’s true, Miss Andrews.’

  ‘Your son has his own life now.’

  ‘Rebecca is welcome to him!’

  Louise Guttridge’s face glowed with anger for a second then she went off into a reverie. It lasted for minutes. All that Madeleine could do was to stand there and wait. She felt highly embarrassed. When she saw that Father Cleary was heading their way, Madeleine squirmed and wished that she had never dared to go to Hoxton that morning. She began to move slowly away.

  ‘Perhaps I should go, Mrs Guttridge,’ she said.

  ‘No, no. Wait here.’

  ‘I sense that I’m in the way.’

  ‘Not at all,’ said the other woman, taking her by the wrist. ‘Stay here while I speak with Father Cleary. I need to talk to you alone afterwards.’ She gave a semblance of a smile. ‘And don’t worry about me, Miss Andrews. Jacob has been laid to rest now and I’m at peace with myself. God has provided.’

  Edward Tallis was feared for the strong discipline he enforced but he was also respected for his effectiveness. As soon as he reached London, he drafted a letter to the Home Office in response to Colbeck’s request. Sent by hand, it prompted an instant response and he was able to dispatch the document to Ashford. It arrived by courier that afternoon as Robert Colbeck and Victor Leeming sat down to a late luncheon at the Saracen’s Head. The Inspector took the long sheet of paper out of the envelope with a flourish.

  ‘Here it is, Victor,’ he said, unfolding it. ‘The petition I wanted.’

  ‘Well done, Mr Tallis!’

  ‘I knew that he wouldn’t let us down.’

  ‘I never believed that the Home Secretary would bother to keep this sort of thing,’ said Leeming. ‘I imagined that he’d tear it into strips and use them to light his cigars.’

  ‘You’re being unfair to Mr Walpole. His duty is to consider every appeal made on behalf of a condemned man. In this case, he did not see any grounds for a reprieve.’

  ‘They wanted more than a reprieve, sir.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Colbeck as he read the preamble at the top of the petition. ‘It’s an uncompromising demand for Nathan Hawkshaw’s freedom, neatly written and well worded.’

  ‘How many names in all?’

  ‘Dozens. Fifty or sixty, at least.’

  Leeming sighed. ‘Will we have to speak to them all?’

  ‘No, Victor. My guess is that the man we’re after will be somewhere in the first column of names. Those are the ones they collected first, the ones they knew they could count on.’

  ‘Who’s at the top, sir – Hawkshaw’s wife?’

  ‘Yes,’ replied Colbeck, ‘followed by his son. At least, I take it to be Adam Hawkshaw’s signature. It’s very shaky. Then we have Gregory Newman, Timothy Lodge, Horace Fillimore, Peter Stelling and so on. The one name we don’t seem to have,’ he said, running his eye down the parallel columns, ‘is that of Emily Hawkshaw. Now, why wouldn’t the girl sign a petition on behalf of her stepfather?’

  ‘You’ll have to ask her, Inspector.’

  ‘I will, I promise you.’

  ‘Are there any women on the list – apart from the wife, that is?’

  ‘Quite a few, Victor. By the look of it, most of the names are beside those of their husbands but there are one or two on their own.’

  ‘Perhaps she’s one of them.’

  ‘She?’

  ‘The female accomplice you believe is implicated.’

  ‘I think that there’s a good chance of that. However,’ said Colbeck, setting the petition aside, ‘let’s order our meal and exchange our news. I long to hear how you got on. Was your visit to Canterbury productive?’

  ‘Far more productive than the journey there and back, si
r.’

  ‘Constable Butterkiss?’

  ‘He keeps on treating me as if I’m a recruiting sergeant for the Metropolitan Police,’ grumbled Leeming. ‘I had to listen to his life story and it was not the most gripping adventure I’ve heard. Thank heavens I never became a tailor. I’d hate to be so servile.’

  ‘He’ll learn, I’m sure. He’s raw and inexperienced but I sense that he has the makings of a good policeman. Bear with him, Victor. Apart from anything else, he can help us to identify the people on this list.’

  The waiter took their order and went off to the kitchen. Leeming was able to describe his jarring encounter with Patrick Perivale. He quoted some of the barrister’s remarks verbatim.

  ‘He was exactly the sort of man you said he’d be, Inspector.’

  ‘The egotistical type that never admit they can make a mistake. I’ve met too many of those in the courtroom,’ said Colbeck. ‘Winning is everything to them. It doesn’t matter if a human life is at stake. All that concerns them is their standing as an advocate.’

  ‘I could see how Mr Perivale had built his reputation.’

  ‘Why – did he hector you?’

  ‘He tried to,’ said Leeming, ‘but I put him in his place by telling him that you’d been a barrister in London.’

  ‘No word of thanks for warning him, then?’

  ‘He was insulted that we’d even dared to do so.’

  ‘Outwardly, perhaps,’ decided Colbeck, ‘but it was all bravado. I can’t believe that even he will ignore the fact that two murders have already been committed as a result of that trial.’

  ‘I agree, sir. I reckon that he loaded that pistol of his as soon as I left. At one point,’ said Leeming with a laugh, ‘I thought he’d fire the thing at me. I got under his skin somehow.’

  ‘You were right to do so, Victor, or you’d have learnt nothing.’

  ‘What worried me was that detail about the missing coat.’

  ‘Yes, that disturbs me as well.’

  ‘Hawkshaw was unable to explain its disappearance.’

  ‘I can see why the prosecution drew blood on that point,’ said Colbeck, thoughtfully. ‘It further undermined Hawkshaw’s defence. Nothing you’ve told me about him has been very flattering or, for that matter, endearing, but Mr Perivale must be an able man or he’d not have been retained in the first place. Unlike us, he saw all the evidence and made a judgement accordingly. I’m beginning to wonder if my own assumptions have been wrong.’

  ‘You think that Hawkshaw was guilty?’

  ‘It’s a possibility that we have to entertain, Victor.’

  ‘Then why are so many people certain of his innocence?’ asked Leeming, touching the petition. ‘They must have good cause.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Colbeck, ‘they must. But thank you for making the journey to Canterbury. It’s thrown up some valuable information.’

  ‘What about you, sir?’

  ‘Oh, I, too, have made a number of discoveries.’

  Colbeck went on to describe what he had gleaned from the various people to whom he had talked that morning. In the middle of his account, the first course arrived and they were able to start their meal while the Inspector continued. Leeming seized on one detail.

  ‘Adam Hawkshaw went to Paddock Wood that night?’ he said.

  ‘Someone resembling him did.’

  ‘Can’t you get the stationmaster to make a positive identification? All we have to do is to take Hawkshaw along to the station.’

  ‘Even if it was him on that train from Ashford, it doesn’t mean that he was implicated in the murder. Adam Hawkshaw can barely write. How could someone that illiterate be able to pick out a verse in the Bible to serve his purpose?’

  ‘Was he travelling alone?’

  ‘Yes, Victor, and that’s another point in his favour. He had no female companion. Given his surly manner,’ said Colbeck, ‘I doubt if he ever will have one. I’m certain that he lied to me about being at home that evening but I don’t think he’s a suspect for the chaplain’s murder.’

  ‘Who else travelled from Ashford to Paddock Wood on that train?’

  ‘Several people. Some of the men from the railway works live there and use the line regularly. The only reason that Adam Hawkshaw – or the person who looked like him – stayed in the stationmaster’s mind was that he was so irascible.’

  ‘I still think that Hawkshaw needs watching.’

  ‘He’ll stay under observation, Victor. Have no fear.’

  ‘What about this other character?’ asked Leeming, spooning the last of his soup into his mouth. ‘This gypsy that they’re looking for?’

  ‘His name is Angel, apparently.’

  ‘He could turn out to be an Angel of Death.’

  ‘If he really exists.’

  ‘Is there any doubt about that, Inspector?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Colbeck, sprinkling more salt on his food. ‘I’m not entirely sure how I feel about Gregory Newman. He’s very plausible but he’s obviously keeping certain things from me. This story about someone called Angel being the potential killer of Dykes might just be a way of misleading us.’

  ‘Why would Newman want to do that?’

  ‘We’re policemen, Victor. We represent the law that sent his best friend to the gallows. He could be trying to confuse us out of spite.’

  ‘I’m confused enough already,’ admitted Leeming.

  ‘We can soon find out if Newman was telling the truth. You simply have to ask your assistant if he’s even heard of this man, Angel.’

  ‘My assistant?’

  ‘Constable Butterkiss,’ said Colbeck, ‘and while you’re at it, show him this petition and ask him where we could find the first ten people on that list, excluding Newman and the Hawkshaw family.’

  ‘Why must I always be landed with George Butterkiss?’

  ‘The two of you clearly have an affinity, Victor.’

  ‘Is that what it’s called?’ Leeming was disconsolate. ‘I can think of a very different word for it, sir.’ He sat back while the waiter cleared the plates away. ‘What will you be doing this afternoon?’

  ‘Trying to speak to Emily Hawkshaw. There’s something about her behaviour that troubles me. I want to find out what it is.’

  Emily lay on her bed and stared up at the ceiling. She was so preoccupied that she did not hear the tap on the door. When her mother came into the room, the girl sat up guiltily.

  ‘You startled me,’ she said.

  ‘I didn’t mean to do that, Emily. I just came to warn you.’

  ‘About what?’

  ‘Inspector Colbeck just called again,’ said Winifred Hawkshaw. ‘He’s very anxious to talk to you.’

  Emily was alarmed. ‘Me?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It’s nothing to be afraid of, dear,’ said her mother, sitting on the bed beside her. ‘He needs to ask you a few questions, that’s all.’

  ‘Is he still here?’

  ‘No, I thought you’d need fair warning so I told him that you were asleep. The Inspector will be back later.’

  ‘What do I say to him?’

  ‘The truth, Emily. He’s trying to help us.’

  ‘None of the other policemen did that.’

  ‘Their minds were already made up. They’d decided that your father was guilty and that was that. Inspector Colbeck is different. You’ll have to speak to him, dear. He won’t go away.’

  ‘What does he want to know?’

  ‘You’ll find out when he comes back.’

  ‘Didn’t he say?’

  ‘He did wonder why you didn’t sign that petition for your father’s release,’ said her mother, ‘and I told him it was because you were too young, but he still felt your name should have been there. So do I, really.’ She touched the girl’s arm. ‘Why wasn’t it?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Gregory asked you to sign but you refused.’

  ‘I had too many things on
my mind,’ whimpered the girl. ‘I just couldn’t bring myself to do it somehow. As soon as I saw that list of names, I lost heart. I knew that it would do no good.’

  ‘It showed everyone what we felt, Emily.’

  ‘I felt the same.’

  ‘Then you should have been part of it.’

  Emily stifled a cry then began to convulse wildly. Putting her arms around the girl, her mother tried to control the spasms but to no avail. Emily seemed to be in the grip of a seizure.

  ‘What’s wrong with you?’ asked Winifred, tightening her hold on her daughter. ‘Emily, what’s wrong?’

  Robert Colbeck had been in the town for over twenty-four hours without really exploring it properly. While he waited to speak to Emily Hawkshaw, therefore, he decided to stroll around Ashford and take the measure of the place. It also gave him an opportunity to reflect on what he had learnt earlier and to sift through the evidence that Leeming had obtained from his visit to Canterbury. The solution to the two murders aboard trains, he felt, still lay buried in the case of Nathan Hawkshaw. Until he could unearth the truth about the first killing, he was convinced that he would never catch those responsible for the other crimes. Deep in thought, he ambled gently along.

  Industry was encroaching fast but Ashford was still largely a pleasant market town with a paved high street at its heart and an ancient grammar school that, for well over two hundred years, had educated privileged pupils and turned them into useful citizens. Shops dominated the centre of the town. It was in the sidestreets that houses, tenements and artisans’ villas abounded. Having stopped to admire the soaring church tower of St Mary’s, Colbeck read some of the inscriptions on the gravestones surrounding it, sobered by the thought that Nathan Hawkshaw had been deprived of his right to a last resting place there.

  Continuing his walk, he went in a loop around the town so that he could see every aspect of it, his striking appearance causing much interest among the townspeople and more than a few comments. When he finally returned to the high street, he elected to call once more on Emily Hawkshaw but, before he could turn into Middle Row, he saw what at first he took to be some kind of mirage. Walking towards him with purposeful strides was an attractive young woman in a dress that he had seen once before. Colbeck rubbed his eyes to make sure that they were not deceiving him. At that moment, the woman saw him and quickened her step at once. Colbeck was astonished and excited to see her.