Blood on the Line

by Edward Marston

  Victor Leeming was so enthralled at the prospect of hearing the full story that he forgot all about his dislike of rail transport. He was a stocky man with the kind of unsightly features designed to unsettle rather than reassure anyone meeting him for the first time. Colbeck knew his true worth and – even though they differed markedly in appearance, manner and intelligence – they were a formidable team. The two of them had boarded a train at Euston and shared an empty carriage as it steamed off. Colbeck, an elegant dandy, was known for his aplomb yet he was now very animated.

  ‘It has to be Jeremy Oxley,’ he said, slapping his knee. ‘It’s too great a coincidence.’

  ‘Who is this man?’ asked Leeming.

  ‘He’s the reason I joined the police force.’

  ‘Yet you always say that you gave up your other work as a barrister because you only came along after a crime was committed. What you wanted to do was to prevent it happening in the first place.’

  ‘That’s true, Victor. When I was called to the bar, I had grandiose notions of making wonderful speeches about the need for justice as the bedrock of our society. I was soon robbed of that delusion. Being a barrister was not as lofty a profession as I’d imagined. To be frank, there were times when I felt as if I was taking part in a comic opera.’

  ‘How did you come across Oxley?’

  ‘He broke into a jewellery shop and collected quite a haul,’ said Colbeck. ‘When the owner of the premises chased him, Oxley shot the man dead in cold blood.’

  ‘Were there any witnesses?’

  ‘There were several.’

  ‘That was helpful.’

  ‘Alas, it was not. They lost their nerve when they received death threats from Oxley’s accomplice. Only one of them had the courage to identify him as the man who’d fired the fatal shot.’

  ‘Was he convicted on the strength of the evidence?’

  ‘Unfortunately, no – the case never came to court.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘He escaped from custody.’

  Leeming sighed. ‘He’s an old hand at doing that, then.’

  ‘There was worse to come, Victor,’ said Colbeck, jaw tightening. ‘He hunted down the witness who was prepared to identify him and showed no mercy.’

  ‘He killed the man?’

  ‘The victim was a woman – Helen Millington.’

  Colbeck spoke her name with a sorrow tinged with something more than mere affection. For a moment, his attention drifted and a distant look came into his eye. Old and very painful memories flitted across his mind. Leeming waited patiently until his friend was ready to continue.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ said Colbeck, making an effort to concentrate. ‘It’s just that it made a deep impression on me at the time. I was only a junior counsel in the case but it fell to me to persuade Miss Millington to come forward. In doing so,’ he added, biting his lip, ‘I inadvertently caused her death.’

  ‘You weren’t to know that Oxley would murder her, sir.’

  ‘Death threats had been sent.’

  ‘Yes, but that sort of thing happens all the time. Criminals will often try to scare a witness or a jury by issuing dire warnings. It doesn’t mean that they’ll actually carry out their threats.’

  ‘That’s what I keep telling myself but the guilt remains. I felt so helpless, Victor. She was a beautiful young woman in the prime of life. She didn’t deserve such a fate. I was desperate to avenge her death in some way, but what could I do as a barrister except make eloquent speeches in court?’ He took a deep breath and composed himself before continuing. ‘It was then I decided to join the fight against crime instead of simply dealing with its consequences.’

  ‘That was very brave of you, sir.’

  ‘The real bravery was shown by Helen Millington.’

  ‘What I meant was that you must have given up a good income to work for a lot less money.’

  ‘There are other kinds of rewards, Victor.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Leeming with a grin, ‘there’s nothing to touch the satisfaction of arresting a real villain and watching him get his punishment in court. You can’t buy something like that.’

  ‘It’s just as well. I don’t think we could afford it on police pay.’

  They shared a laugh. Colbeck glanced through the window and realised that they were just passing Leighton Buzzard station. They were not far from the spot where Caleb Andrews had been tricked into stopping his train so that it could be boarded and robbed of the gold coin it was carrying. As a result of the robbery, during which Andrews had been wounded, Colbeck had first met Madeleine, the driver’s anguished daughter. What had started as a chance meeting had slowly matured into a friendship that had grown in intensity until it became a love match. He and Madeleine were now engaged to be married. Colbeck at last felt that his private world was complete. Thinking fondly of their future together, he let his thoughts dwell on her for a few luxurious minutes. As he pictured her face, however, and longed to see it again in the flesh, it was suddenly replaced in his mind’s eye by that of the equally lovely Helen Millington. Taken aback, Colbeck gave an involuntary start.

  Leeming was worried. ‘Is something wrong, Inspector?’

  ‘No, no. I’m fine.’

  ‘You seemed to be miles away.’

  ‘Then I apologise. It was rude of me to ignore you.’

  ‘Tell me more about this Jeremy Oxley.’

  ‘His friends call him “Jerry” and he has a long criminal record. He’s a thief, confidence trickster and ruthless killer. Most of his victims have fallen for his charm. Oxley is very plausible.’

  ‘Let’s see how plausible he is at the end of a rope.’

  ‘We have to find him first, and that,’ conceded Colbeck, ‘will not be easy. He’s as slippery as an eel.’

  ‘So it seems. How would you describe him?’

  ‘He’s rather different from the villains we normally pursue. In fact, you wouldn’t take him for a criminal at all. Oxley, by all accounts, is good-looking, personable and educated. He has the talent to succeed in most professions. The tragedy is that he chose to make his living on the wrong side of the law.’

  Leeming regarded him shrewdly. ‘Catching him means a lot to you, doesn’t it, sir?’

  ‘Yes, it does,’ admitted Colbeck. ‘I’ve been after him for years and this is the first time he’s crossed my path again. I’m going to make sure that it’s the last time as well. It’s a debt I have to pay to Helen Millington. This is not just another investigation to me, Victor,’ he stressed. ‘It’s a mission. I won’t rest until we have this devil in custody.’

  It was several hours later but Irene’s hands were still shaking slightly. Oxley enfolded them in his own palms and held them tight.

  ‘You’re still trembling,’ he observed.

  ‘I can’t help it, Jerry. When I shot that policeman, I felt as cool as a cucumber. It was only afterwards that I realised what I’d done.’

  ‘Yes – you rescued me from disaster.’

  ‘I killed a man,’ she said with a shudder. ‘I never thought I’d be able to do that. I hoped that they’d release you when I pulled out the gun. It never crossed my mind that I’d have to pull the trigger.’

  ‘But you did, Irene,’ he said, kissing her on the forehead. ‘I knew that you wouldn’t let me down.’

  She gave a shrug. ‘I love you. That’s why I did it.’

  ‘And because you did it – I love you.’

  He squeezed her hands then sat back in his chair. They were in a public house in Stafford, sitting in a quiet corner where they could talk freely. Oxley had already changed his appearance so that any description of him would be misleading. He’d shaved off his neat moustache, combed his hair in a different way and put on a pair of spectacles with clear glass in them. He looked quite different. In the interests of evading suspicion, Irene had also made adjustments to her hair and to her clothing. Witnesses who saw her diving onto the train in Wolverhampton would not recognise her now. After cal
mly leaving the train at Birmingham, they had bought tickets to Stafford and travelled there in separate carriages. Nobody on the same journey would have connected them.

  While Oxley was in a state of euphoria after his escape, she remained anxious and preoccupied. She took out a handkerchief and blew her nose. Looking up at him, her eyes were moist.

  ‘Was it like this for you, Jerry?’ she asked, nervously.

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘The first time you killed someone. Did you have this terrible feeling in the pit of your stomach? Did your hands shake? Were you haunted by remorse?’

  ‘Not in the slightest,’ he said, coldly.

  ‘You must have had some regrets.’

  ‘I put them out of my mind.’

  ‘I can’t do that somehow. I keep seeing his face at the moment I actually shot him.’ She shook her head. ‘I just can’t believe I did that.’

  ‘Would you rather have seen me put on remand?’

  ‘No, no – I’d have hated that.’

  ‘Then you did the right thing.’

  ‘Did you feel that you did the right thing when you killed a man for the first time?’

  ‘Of course – he was foolish enough to chase me when I robbed his jewellery shop. It was the right thing to kill him and the right thing to kill her as well.’

  She was shocked. ‘You killed a woman?’

  ‘She was going to bear witness against me.’

  ‘When was this – and how did you do it?’

  ‘That doesn’t matter,’ he said, dismissively. ‘It was a long time ago and I’ve put it all behind me. That’s what you must do. All I can tell you is that I felt proud.’

  ‘Proud?’ she echoed. ‘How can you be proud of taking a life?’

  ‘It showed I had the courage to do so. Most people don’t have that courage. They never know that sense of power you get. That’s what I had, Irene, and – when you get over the initial shock – you’ll enjoy remembering that same thrill as well.’

  She was unconvinced. ‘I doubt that, Jerry.’

  ‘There’s nothing quite like it.’

  They had been together almost a year now and it had been a very fruitful partnership. Her air of innocence and wholesomeness belied the fact that she was an accomplished thief and had long since abandoned any claim to respectability. Oxley had used her time and again to distract people while he stole things from their premises. As the more experienced criminal, he was able to teach her the tricks of the trade. Drawn ever closer to him, Irene became so besotted that she did not realise that Oxley was manipulating her emotions. She was utterly devoted to him. When his luck finally ran out and he was captured, all that she could think about was setting him free. Her audacious plan had worked. It had involved killing one man and helping to hurl a second one to his death, but her lover was back with her again. Irene just wished that she could relish his company instead of being assailed by regrets over what she’d done.

  Taking her hands again, he looked deep into her eyes.

  ‘Are you happy, Irene?’

  ‘Of course I’m happy,’ she said, forcing a smile.

  ‘You don’t have to do this, you know. You’re under no compulsion. If you’d rather go your own way, we can part here and now. You’re not at my beck and call.’

  ‘But I want to be, Jerry.’

  ‘I sense that you’re getting cold feet.’

  ‘That’s not true,’ she asserted, sitting up straight. ‘I was a little troubled about it, that’s all. It’s past now. I feel much better, honestly. The only thing I want is to be with you.’

  ‘Then we have something in common,’ he said, leaning forward to whisper in her ear, ‘because the only thing I want is to be with you. Let’s find somewhere to spend the night, then I can tell you why.’

  ‘I thought we were going to Manchester.’

  ‘That can wait until tomorrow. Given what we did today, I think we’re entitled to celebrate.’

  ‘Yes, we are!’

  ‘Are you ready to be my wife for another night?’

  Irene laughed. ‘I’m ready tonight and every night.’

  They got up from their table and headed for the door. As they came out of the pub, they were elated. With Irene on his arm, Oxley strode purposefully along, distributing smiles to everyone he passed and making the most of his freedom. He then pulled Irene gently into an alleyway so that he could confide something to her.

  ‘Remember this, my love,’ he told her. ‘You didn’t shoot a human being on that train this morning.’

  ‘But I did, Jerry,’ she said, earnestly. ‘You saw me.’

  ‘All you killed was a policeman.’

  ‘So?’

  Oxley beamed. ‘They don’t count.’

  CHAPTER THREE

  As soon as they arrived in the town, they hired a cab to take them to Garrick Street, home of the Wolverhampton Borough Police Force. Roland Riggs, the duty sergeant, was a big, beetle-browed man with an instinctive dislike of anyone who tried to take over an investigation he felt should be carried out by his own men. Colbeck and Leeming were given a frosty welcome. Accustomed to such treatment, they asserted their authority and drew all the relevant information out of Riggs. They learnt the names of the two murdered policemen and heard how the both of them had been hit by a train coming in the opposite direction. What Riggs could not explain was how two of his best officers had been unable to stop the prisoner from escaping.

  ‘Jeremy Oxley didn’t look like a dangerous man,’ he argued.

  ‘I knew it was him,’ said Colbeck.

  ‘The inspector has had a brush with Oxley before,’ explained Leeming. ‘That’s why he was so eager to take on the case.’

  ‘By rights, it falls within our jurisdiction,’ insisted Riggs. ‘Bob Hungerford and Arthur Wakeley were good friends of mine. It’s the reason I volunteered to tell their wives what had happened. You can imagine how I felt doing that.’

  ‘You have my sympathy, Sergeant,’ said Colbeck. ‘It must have been a harrowing assignment. The only consolation is that they heard the appalling news from an experienced officer who knew how to soften their grief. They’re not the kind of tidings you want a young and unschooled policeman blurting out on the doorstep.’

  Riggs was solemn. ‘I’d agree with you there.’

  ‘Where was the prisoner being taken?’ wondered Leeming.

  ‘It was only as far as Birmingham. We had information that a man fitting his description had robbed a pawnshop there at gunpoint. The way that Oxley resisted arrest was a confession in itself. Our colleagues in Birmingham were delighted to hear that we had him in custody.’

  ‘They must have been surprised to hear of his escape.’

  Riggs rubbed his chin. ‘I’d still like to know how the bugger managed that.’

  ‘I think there’s only one logical explanation,’ said Colbeck. ‘He must have had an accomplice. I feel sure that you’d never have let him leave here until he’d been thoroughly searched. He would not have been carrying a concealed weapon.’

  ‘We know our job, Inspector.’

  ‘Then another person was involved.’

  ‘That’s an obvious assumption,’ said Riggs, gruffly, ‘yet the only passenger who got into the same compartment was a young woman. A number of witnesses recalled her, jumping on the train at the very last moment.’

  ‘There’s your accomplice,’ concluded Colbeck.

  Riggs was dubious. ‘Could someone like that shoot one policeman and help to overpower another? I think not, Inspector.’

  ‘Then you don’t know Jerry Oxley. He has a strange power over women and can get them to do almost anything for him. Believe me, I’ve had dealings with this fellow. His accomplice then was the woman with whom he’d been living. The likelihood is that the one in question this time is his latest mistress.’

  ‘So he’s corrupted her,’ said Leeming with disapproval.

  ‘Oh, I suspect that she was not entirely without corrupt
ion beforehand, Victor. How else could she meet him in the first place without frequenting the sorts of places he tends to visit? All that he did was to draw her deeper into the criminal fraternity.’

  ‘Where could she have got hold of a gun?’

  ‘She and Oxley would travel with a weapon all the time.’

  ‘He was carrying a pistol when we arrested him,’ noted Riggs.

  ‘Then his accomplice could have bought a second one. It’s not difficult if you have enough money, and they’d just committed a robbery in Birmingham, remember. No,’ Colbeck went on, ‘I don’t think we should waste time speculating on how she acquired the weapon. The first thing we must do is to unmask the second accomplice.’

  Riggs blinked. ‘There were two of them?’

  ‘Yes, Sergeant, and I’m afraid to tell you that one of them wears a police uniform. Oxley’s mistress had help from one of your men.’

  ‘That’s a disgraceful allegation!’ shouted Riggs, banging his desk. ‘I can vouch for every one of my constables. None of them would dream of being party to a plot to murder two of their fellow officers.’

  ‘I’m sure that’s true,’ said Colbeck, ‘but, then, the man I’m after would have had no idea that such dread consequences would ensue. It probably never occurred to him that he was aiding and abetting the escape of a desperate criminal.’

  Riggs folded his arms. ‘Explain yourself, Inspector.’

  ‘Very few people must have known when Oxley was being transferred from here to Birmingham. Is that agreed?’

  ‘Yes – only a handful of us had the details.’

  ‘I need the name of every man who knew the exact train on which the prisoner would be taken this morning. You, presumably, are one of them.’

  ‘Are you accusing me?’ howled Riggs, reddening.

  ‘Of course not,’ said Colbeck with a soothing smile. ‘You are evidently far too sensible to let such vital information slip. It must have been someone else. How many people knew?’

  ‘And where can we get in touch with them?’ added Leeming.