Murder on the Brighton Express
Page 26
Knowing that he would call that evening, Madeleine Andrews had taken the trouble to put on her best dress. There was no danger that her father would interrupt them. Now that the Railway Detective had been vindicated, Andrews could go for a drink after work and lord it over those who had dared to criticise his friend. He would not be back for hours. Madeleine listened for the sound of a cab but it never came. Instead, she heard, in due course, an authoritative knock on the front door. When she opened it, Colbeck was beaming at her.
‘I thought you’d come by cab,’ she said, ushering him in.
‘I did,’ he replied, taking her in his arms to kiss her. ‘It dropped me off at the Round House. I wanted to take a look inside it before I came on here. I walked the rest of the way.’
‘Then you’ve come from one Round House to another. I finished my painting of it earlier today so you’ll be able to compare it with the real one.’
Colbeck crossed to the easel. One arm around her waist, he gazed intently at her work, admiring its colour and its completeness. A locomotive was in the process of being turned in the way he had just seen happen in real life. Madeleine’s painting had the accuracy of a photograph combined with an artistic vitality that was striking.
‘It’s remarkable,’ he said, seriously, ‘quite remarkable.’
‘Do you really mean that?’
‘You must have been inspired.’
‘I was, Robert,’ she replied. ‘I drew inspiration from the fact that it’s going to a very good home.’
‘Why – have you sold it already?’
‘It’s a gift to one of my patrons. I hope you enjoy looking at it.’
Colbeck gaped. ‘It’s for me?’ he said, laughing in delight. ‘Thank you so much, Madeleine. I’ll cherish the gift. It’s a pity that I didn’t have this turntable with me in Brighton. It might have prompted me to solve the case much sooner.’
‘I don’t see how.’
‘There’s no need why you should. All you need to know is that I’m thrilled with the painting. I’ve had so much pleasure looking at the picture of the Lord of the Isles you gave me. I see it every day.’ He gestured at her latest work. ‘This is another wonderful example of what you can do when you pick up a paint brush.’
‘There is one condition, Robert,’ she warned.
‘What sort of condition?’
‘You can have your turntable in the Round House if I can have an explanation of why you weren’t surprised that the Reverend Follis asked me to read a particular passage from the Bible.’ She crossed to the bookshelf. ‘Shall I find it for you?’
‘There’s no need Madeleine,’ he said. ‘Leave your Bible where it is. I know that chapter from Corinthians very well. “And now abideth faith, hope, charity, these three; but the greatest of these is charity.” Did I get it right?’
‘You quoted it word for word.’
‘That depends on the translation you use because one of those words is the key to the entire chapter. The word is “charity”. Change it to its true meaning of “love” and you’ll perhaps understand why Mr Follis wanted it read to him by a beautiful young woman.’
Madeleine was uneasy. ‘I’m not certain that I like that.’
‘Don’t worry,’ he said, ‘I’m sure that he had no impure thoughts inside his church. He reserved those for elsewhere. Instead of treating the word in its widest sense, embracing all forms of love, the rector saw only its more physical aspects. When I confronted him about his transgressions, he told me that they were crimes of passion.’
‘I’m surprised that you left me alone with the man.’
‘You were in no danger, Madeleine,’ he said, ‘especially when you were on consecrated ground. And at that point, of course, I was unaware of how unholy his private life actually was. I took you to Brighton to confirm my suspicion that Ezra Follis was far more interested in women than someone in his position ought to be.’
‘I wish you’d told me that beforehand, Robert.’
‘It was better if you had no preconceptions. That’s why I was so interested to see what your reaction to him was.’
‘Well,’ she said, ‘it’s taught me one lesson. I’ll be a lot more careful when somebody asks me to read from the Bible again.’
He smiled broadly. ‘Does that include me?’
‘You’re the exception, Robert,’ she said, kissing him softly. ‘I’ll read anything you ask me.’
‘I was hoping you’d say that,’ he told her, taking a gold-edged card from his inside pocket. ‘I’d like you to read this.’
She was amazed. ‘It’s an invitation to the opening of an exhibition at the National Gallery,’ she said, reading the card and gasping with joy. ‘I’ll be able to meet some famous artists.’
‘I’ll have the most accomplished one of all on my arm,’ said Colbeck, proudly. He lifted the painting off the easel. ‘How many of them could bring a steam locomotive to life like this? Precious few, I daresay.’ He regarded the painting with a fond smile. ‘Perhaps we should take it along with us to show them how it’s done.’
About the Author
EDWARD MARSTON was born and brought up in South Wales. A full-time writer for over thirty years, he has worked in radio, film, television and the theatre and is a former chairman of the Crime Writers’ Association. Prolific and highly successful, he is equally at home writing children’s books or literary criticism, plays or biographies.
www.edwardmarston.com
Available from
ALLISON & BUSBY
The Inspector Robert Colbeck series
The Railway Detective
The Excursion Train
The Railway Viaduct
The Iron Horse
Murder on the Brighton Express
The Silver Locomotive Mystery
Railway to the Grave
Blood on the Line
The Christopher Redmayne series
The King’s Evil
The Amorous Nightingale
The Repentant Rake
The Frost Fair
The Parliament House
The Painted Lady
The Captain Rawson series
Soldier of Fortune
Drums of War
Fire and Sword
Under Siege
Copyright
Allison & Busby Limited
13 Charlotte Mews
London W1T 4EJ
www.allisonandbusby.com
Copyright © 2008 by EDWARD MARSTON
First published in hardback by Allison & Busby Ltd in 2008.
Published in paperback by Allison & Busby Ltd in 2009.
This ebook edition first published in 2010.
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
All characters and events in this publication
other than those clearly in the public domain
are fictitious and any resemblance to actual persons,
living or dead, is purely coincidental.
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced,
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any means without the prior written permission of the publisher,
nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover
other than that in which it is published and without a similar
condition being imposed on the subsequent buyer.
A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from
the British Library.
ISBN 978-0-7490-0872-7
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