‘Jake Harnett is dead?’ she gulped. ‘He can’t be.’
‘When did you last see him?’
‘It was yesterday morning when I put our churns on the milk train.’ She heaved a sigh. ‘I can’t believe it. Who would want to …?’ She broke off as a thought struck her. ‘Someone’s been gossiping, haven’t they? That’s why you’re here. Someone told you about Tom.’
‘Your husband was mentioned,’ admitted Leeming.
‘Well, he didn’t do it,’ said Lizzie with a touch of belligerence. ‘I can swear to that. Tom works all hours during the day so he needs every ounce of sleep he can get. He was snoring beside me all night.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Are you married, Sergeant?’
‘Yes, I am, as a matter of fact.’
‘You’d know if your wife wasn’t beside you in bed wouldn’t you? Tom and me are two of a pair. We work till we drop then sleep like logs. Don’t take my word for it,’ she went on. ‘Tom will say the same.’
When she hauled her husband out of the milk parlour, he ambled towards the detectives. Gilkes was a tall, rangy man in his late forties with a beard.
‘What’s this about Harnett?’ he asked. ‘Is it true?’
‘I’m afraid that it is, Mr Gilkes,’ said Colbeck.
‘Then find the killer for me. I’d like to shake his hand.’
‘Don’t speak ill of the dead, sir,’ said Leeming, reproachfully.
‘You didn’t know Harnett.’
‘Did he bother your wife?’
‘No, he didn’t,’ she said, sharply.
‘But he bothered my sister-in-law, Rose,’ said Gilkes. ‘He cornered her one day and I had to rescue her. I gave the little bastard a flea in his ear. Edgar did the same – that’s Rose’s husband.’
‘We’ve met Mr Brennan,’ explained Colbeck. ‘We had the feeling that he would not be sending a wreath to the funeral.’ Gilkes gave a harsh laugh. ‘It’s not a laughing matter, sir. You are, after all, a suspect.’
‘It was nothing to do with me!’ protested Gilkes.
‘I told you that, Inspector,’ said Lizzie, hotly.
‘Nevertheless,’ said Colbeck, ‘we’re bound to take the threat made to Mr Harnett seriously. Your husband is like Mr Brennan. My guess is that neither of them minced their words.’
‘You’re quite right there,’ agreed Gilkes. ‘I told that slimy porter to …’
He was silenced when his wife put a hand on his arm. She took over.
‘I can see how it looks to you, Inspector,’ she said with a conciliatory nod, ‘and I don’t blame you. Tom and Edgar had to speak to Jake Harnett but that’s all they did. Edgar is no killer and I’d swear on my mother’s grave that Tom didn’t murder Harnett. Yes, it’s only fair that they’re suspects, I suppose, but you’ll have to look elsewhere for the person you want.’
‘I accept that,’ said Colbeck, graciously. ‘One last question, if I may. Why did your sister marry a much older man?’
‘Edgar’s first wife died,’ said Gilkes, sadly. ‘She was trampled to death when she tried to stop a runaway horse. She was with child at the time. It was a tragedy.’
‘That’s why my sister did it,’ said Lizzie. ‘She took pity on him.’
May Tranter was a plump, grey-haired woman in her fifties with a local accent. When she heard that her lodger had been murdered, she was so overwhelmed with horror that she collapsed into Leeming’s arms. He eased her into a chair. It was minutes before she was able to speak.
‘What was Mr Harnett like?’ prompted Colbeck.
‘Oh, he was a delight to have around the house,’ she said. ‘We treated him like the son we never had. He always had a smile on his face.’
‘Did he have any enemies, Mrs Tranter?’
‘Dear me! No, he didn’t! Who could dislike Jake?’
‘Someone obviously did,’ murmured Leeming.
‘They teased him at the station but that was only because he was so handsome. I think they were all jealous. Jake was a good, kind, hard-working man. He was always ready to help us. My husband was a platelayer till someone was careless with his pickaxe,’ she told them. ‘He’s never been able to walk proper since. Jake used to do the things that Eric just couldn’t do any more.’
‘He sounds like an ideal lodger,’ said Colbeck.
‘He was, Inspector – in every way.’
‘Was there a young lady in his life?’
‘There must have been. A man with such good looks is bound to make hearts flutter.’ She gave a girlish laugh. ‘I know that mine did. Not in an improper way,’ she added, quickly. ‘I just felt … motherly towards him.’
‘Did he go out often?’
‘Yes, he went for a walk most evenings.’
‘Are you sure that it was only a walk?’
She frowned. ‘It wasn’t my place to pry, Inspector.’
‘What time did he go out yesterday evening?’ asked Leeming.
‘It was quite late, Sergeant. Eric and I were just about to go to bed.’
‘Did he tell you where he was going?’
‘He was off on one of his walks. Jake looked so smart, especially when he was wearing his uniform at work. He always took pains with his appearance.’ She grabbed Colbeck’s shoulder to plead with him. ‘You will catch the man who did this to him, won’t you?’
‘The killer will soon be arrested, Mrs Tranter,’ said Colbeck, confidently. ‘I can guarantee it.’
‘Where are we going?’ asked Leeming as they headed for the railway station.
‘We’re going to retrace Harnett’s footsteps.’
‘Are we off to the coal stage, then?’
‘No,’ said Colbeck, ‘because that isn’t where he went.’
‘How do you know?’
‘Put yourself in his position, Victor. You’re a young man on his way to an assignation. When you’re wearing your best clothes, you’d never go anywhere near dirt and dust. I’ve been to the coal stage,’ Colbeck reminded him, ‘and it is markedly deficient in romance. It would cool any man’s ardour.’
‘So where did Harnett go?’
‘It was somewhere not too far away, I suspect.’
‘Ah,’ said Leeming, reading his mind. ‘I realise what you mean now, sir. Harnett arranged a rendezvous with a young lady but her husband found out about it and came in her stead – or he simply followed her. Whichever way it happened, he killed Harnett and carried his body to that truck.’
‘That’s why it can’t have been too far away.’
‘Why not leave the body where it fell?’
‘I think that someone resented that handsome face and that smart suit. They wanted to besmirch the immaculate porter. Squeezing him into a small tub was a final humiliation for him.’
When they reached the coal stage, Colbeck looked in all directions. His gaze settled on a stand of trees nearby. They’d offer protection from the wind and a degree of privacy. Leeming, meanwhile, was studying the bunker.
‘Does the fireman have to shovel all that coal into the tubs?’
‘Yes, Victor, it’s dirty work. Would it interest you?’
‘No job on the railways interests me, sir.’
Colbeck laughed. ‘Not even being a detective?’
He walked towards the trees with Leeming at his heels. They split up to look for clues that might indicate a struggle had taken place. Colbeck searched for the place most suitable for an assignation. He found it at the very heart of the copse. It was a clearing overhung with branches that made it feel enclosed and secretive. Colbeck was certain that he’d found Jake Harnett’s lair. Working systematically, he went from tree to tree, examining the ground beside each of them with care. It was slow, painstaking work but he was rewarded with the thrill of discovery.
‘Victor!’ he called out.
‘I’m coming,’ said the other, blundering through the undergrowth and into the clearing. Seeing what Colbeck held up, he was disappointed. ‘It’s only a piec
e of cloth.’
‘Oh, I think it may turn out to be a useful clue.’
Leeming was baffled. ‘Why are you grinning like that?’
They were not the only visitors to Greenacres Farm. Edgar and Rose Brennan had got there before them. They were in the parlour with Tom Gilkes. At the sight of the two detectives, the farmers became combative. Brennan took a step towards them.
‘How many times must I tell you?’ he demanded. ‘I did not kill Harnett.’
‘Neither did I,’ said Gilkes, arms akimbo.
‘Stop pestering us, Inspector.’
‘Jake Harnett was a menace to women. He deserved what he got.’
Leeming wagged a finger. ‘That’s a very cruel thing to say.’
‘Don’t ask for an apology,’ warned Brennan.
‘What about you, Mrs Brennan?’ asked Colbeck, turning to her. ‘Do you take the same view as your husband and your brother-in-law?’
‘No, I don’t,’ she whispered, lowering her head.
‘Yes, you do, Rose,’ scolded her husband.
‘You were the one he pestered most,’ said Gilkes.
Rose looked up. ‘What happened to him was … very wrong.’
She burst into tears. Revealingly, it was Tom Gilkes who put a consoling arm around her. Edgar Brennan looked distantly embarrassed. Colbeck felt that he would take his wife to task when they were alone together. Leeming was eyeing the two men, trying to work out which of them had put an end to the porter’s life. Colbeck’s interest, however, had shifted to an entirely new suspect.
‘Where’s Mrs Gilkes?’ he asked.
‘She’s feeding the chickens,’ said Gilkes. ‘Why do you need to bother her?’
‘I just want to confirm something she said earlier, sir.’
‘Haven’t you asked her enough questions?’
‘I won’t keep her long.’ As Gilkes moved towards the door, Colbeck raised a hand. ‘Don’t bother, sir. I’ll find her.’
He went out, leaving Victor Leeming to face the hostile glares of the men.
Lizzie Gilkes had just finished feeding the chickens when Colbeck strode towards her. There was truculence in her tone.
‘What are you doing here, Inspector?’
‘I came to discuss your husband’s sleeping habits.’
‘I’m busy. I can’t talk now.’
‘And there’s another reason I came,’ said Colbeck, holding up the piece of cloth. ‘I came to return this. It came off the dress you were wearing last night.’
She bridled. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’
‘I’m talking about the rendezvous you had with Jake Harnett in that stand of trees near the coal stage. It’s where I found the piece of cloth that he must have torn off your dress as you stabbed him in the chest.’ Her face blanched. ‘You were far too cool when we spoke earlier, Mrs Gilkes. You’d rehearsed what to say. But I saw you wielding that stick when you rounded up the cows. You’re a strong and determined woman. You could easily drag the body of a slight man like Harnett to the coal stage from that clearing.’
‘I was asleep all night behind my husband,’ she said, voice rising.
‘He was asleep but you were awake. When you were certain that he’d slumber for hours, you slipped out and made for the station. It’s only ten minutes away. The sergeant and I timed the walk. You met Harnett, killed him, put the body in that truck, covered it with coal then came back here – all in well under half an hour.’
Lizzie backed slowly away towards the barn. Colbeck followed her.
‘You and Mr Harnett were close friends, weren’t you?’
‘No,’ she snarled. ‘I despised him.’
‘Then why did you agree to an assignation?’
‘I didn’t, Inspector. Jake wasn’t expecting me. He never looked twice at me when Rose was around.’ She was rancorous. ‘I’ve had to put up with years of seeing my sister get all the praise and attention. I’m the plain one, she’s the beauty. Jake took it too far.’
‘Mrs Brennan was fond of him, wasn’t she?’
‘She liked him a lot more than she liked that oaf of a husband. Rose let him write to her. When she replied, she begged me to deliver the letter. Can you imagine how painful that was for me?’ she wailed. ‘I was just a go-between. It was all I was good for and Jake rubbed it in. So I lied to him.’
‘Yes,’ said Colbeck, recreating the scene, ‘you told him that your sister would meet him last night but you went there instead. In the dark, he couldn’t tell the difference between you – until it was too late.’
‘I was doing it to save Rose,’ she said with passion. ‘Edgar would have beaten her black and blue if he’d realised what she was up to.’
‘That’s arrant nonsense. Don’t pretend that you thought of anyone else but yourself. You were jealous, Mrs Gilkes, jealous of your sister to the point where you couldn’t bear to see her enjoying a romance with a man nearer her age.’ He moved towards her. ‘Because you wanted Jake Harnett, you made sure that your sister would never have him.’ He beckoned her. ‘I shall have to place you under arrest.’
Lizzie was like a hunted animal, looking for a means of escape. Snatching up a hayfork leaning against the barn, she jabbed it at him. He stepped out of reach.
‘You’re ready to fight for your life,’ said Colbeck with feigned admiration. ‘I take my hat off to you, Mrs Gilkes.’
As he whisked the top hat from his head, he flung it in her face and distracted her long enough to duck under the fork and grapple with her. Colbeck twisted her wrist until she dropped her weapon then he tried to overpower her. But years of manual work had toughened her and she fought back hard, yelling obscenities and trying to bite him. It was no time for gentlemanly politeness. Lifting her bodily in one swift move, Colbeck carried her to the horse trough and dropped her into the water with a splash. Before she could begin to get out, he had the handcuffs on her.
When they caught the train back to Paddington, Lizzie Gilkes had been left in custody and her family had been left in a state of utter confusion. Victor Leeming was amazed that a woman had committed the murder and equally astounded at the way Colbeck had dropped her in the horse trough.
‘It’s not the sort of thing I’d expect you to do, sir,’ he said.
‘It worked, Victor. That’s all that matters.’
‘You should have called for me to help you.’
‘I managed on my own,’ said Colbeck. ‘Lizzie Gilkes was a desperate woman with a fire blazing inside her. I put it out by wetting the coal.’
RAIN, STEAM AND SPEED
Light rain was falling as the train clanked into Berkhamsted station and came to a halt in a cloud of smoke and steam. Anxious to set off again, the locomotive seemed to be throbbing with irritation. No passengers alighted from any of the carriages but two sturdy figures stepped out of the brake van and waited until the guard passed them an object that was only inches in depth but a yard in height and some four feet wide. It was wrapped up well. Although it was quite heavy, one man carried it without much difficulty. His companion walked beside him.
When they left the station, they saw the carriage waiting for them as arranged. A short, stout, middle-aged man with his hat pulled down over his face was standing beside the vehicle, beckoning them over. The couriers went across to him and eased their precious cargo into the carriage. The short man climbed in after it and shut the door behind him.
One of the couriers banged hard on the door.
‘Our orders are to see it delivered,’ he protested.
‘You’ve just done that,’ said the passenger, brusquely.
‘We must hand it over to Lord Stennard in person.’
‘Your work is finished.’
To emphasise the point, he produced a revolver and aimed it at each man in turn. They backed away in alarm. The driver cracked the whip and the two horses surged into action. Before the couriers could even move, the carriage gathered speed and disappeared around a bend. Somewhere behind
them, the train was also on the move, belching smoke and spitting steam as it left the station in its wake. The couriers looked at each other in dismay. There would be awkward questions to answer.
Just when Colbeck thought that he knew everything there was to know about Edward Tallis, the superintendent surprised him by revealing himself as an unlikely art lover. Seated behind his desk, Tallis told the inspector about the daring theft.
‘We must get that painting back,’ he insisted.
‘I didn’t realise that you were one of Turner’s admirers, sir.’
‘What I admire is British genius and Turner certainly had his share of that. I’ve no time for the fanciful daubing of foreign painters – especially those purveyors of French decadence – but I do enjoy looking at the work of our home-grown artists.’
‘I appreciate good art from whatever country it comes,’ said Colbeck.
‘Then you need to be both more discriminating and more patriotic. However,’ Tallis went on, ‘we are wasting valuable time. Lord Stennard wants that stolen painting retrieved as soon as possible. Question the couriers.’
‘Do you have an address for them, sir?’
‘They’re right here at Scotland Yard.’
‘Good.’
‘When you and the sergeant have interviewed them, make your way to Berkhamsted and try to pacify Lord Stennard.’
‘We’ll do our best.’
‘A word of warning,’ said Tallis.
‘What is it, sir?’
‘I’ve met the august gentleman. He’s a peppery individual at the best of times, impatient, demanding and unpredictable. Handle him with great care or he’s likely to explode in your face.’
Without realising it, Tallis had just described himself with great accuracy, so Colbeck had to suppress a smile. After long years of coping with the superintendent’s hot temper, he felt that he was qualified to handle anybody. About to leave, he remembered something.
‘It’s rather ironic, isn’t it, sir?’
‘What is?’
‘Rain, Steam and Speed was stolen outside one of the stations on the London and North Western Railway. Yet the painting depicts a train crossing the Thames by means of the bridge at Maidenhead and that’s on the Great Western Railway. It would have been more appropriate if the crime had taken place on the GWR.’
Inspector Colbeck's Casebook Page 2
