‘There you are, Howard,’ she gasped. ‘Thank God!’
‘What’s the trouble, my dear?’
‘I have some terrible news.’
‘Well, at least get your breath back before you tell me what it is,’ he said, taking her by the shoulders and easing her down on to a chair. ‘You look as if you’ve been running.’
‘I came as fast as I could.’
‘Why – what’s happened?’
‘When I went into the shop, everyone was talking about it.’
‘Talking about what?’
‘There’s been a murder. A dead body was found in the Works.’
‘Heavens!’ he exclaimed.
‘You’ll be shocked when you hear who the victim is.’
‘Why?’
‘It’s Frank Rodman.’
He was stunned. ‘Are you sure?’ he asked at length.
‘There’s no question about it. I thought you ought to know at once.’
‘I’m very grateful that you told me, Jenny,’ he said, ‘though I wish you hadn’t forced yourself to race back here. It wasn’t good for you. Frank Rodman, was it?’ he went on, still trying to absorb the news. ‘Who could possibly have had a reason to kill him?’
‘We’re going to miss him, Howard.’
‘Now, now, my dear, we mustn’t put our needs first. Frank was the mainstay of the choir and will be a great loss. His death is … highly inconvenient, to say the least. But we should be thinking of his wife, poor woman. She’s the one who’s really suffering. Betty Rodman’s been left with three children to care for.’
‘My heart goes out to her.’
‘I must get over there at once to offer what solace I can. Before that, however,’ he said, ‘we must pray for his wife and family.’
Lowering himself to the floor in front of her, he knelt on the cold paving stone with her hands clasped in his. Eyes closed and voice low, he sent up a fervent prayer to the Almighty.
‘Do you remember that hatbox in Crewe?’ asked Leeming.
‘I remember it very clearly, Victor.’
‘In that case, we had a head but no body. This time, we’ve got a body without a head. Do you think it will ever turn up?’
‘I’m certain that it will reappear,’ said Colbeck, ‘when we least expect it.’
‘How do you know?’
‘The killer loves to cause a shock.’
It was the first time the two of them had been alone since they’d arrived in Swindon and they had a lot of information to exchange. They were in a small, cold, nondescript office at the Works made available to them by the manager. Privacy was in short supply in the bar of the Queen’s Tap so they were grateful for a lair into which they could withdraw. Stinson had even arranged for light refreshments to be served to them. Colbeck talked about his discovery of the blood spots, his inspection of the corpse and his chat with the manager. When he recounted his visit to Betty Rodman, his face clouded.
‘The woman is in utter despair.’
‘Alford told me that his wife was looking after her.’
‘Thankfully, Mrs Alford is offering her real comfort. She’s a redoubtable woman. Without a close friend like that beside her, Rodman’s wife would have collapsed completely.’
‘What about her children?’
‘The neighbours are taking care of them. The two boys should be at school but they’re being held back today and, wisely, they haven’t yet been told what happened to their father.’
‘They’ll be distraught when they finally find out,’ said Leeming. ‘My sons would be, in their position. How do you explain to young lads that they’ll never see their father again?’
Having heard Colbeck’s news, he gave his own, recalling his help from Edgar Fellowes, his interview with Fred Alford and his visit to the pub. When he’d secured two rooms at the Queen’s Tap, he’d retrieved their luggage from the station and left it with the landlord, Hiram Wells.
‘He’s larger than life,’ said Leeming, approvingly.
‘Like Superintendent Tallis, you mean?’
The sergeant groaned. ‘Not that large, sir.’
‘So which of them do you believe?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Well, you’ve given me opposing views of Mr Rodman. According to the pub landlord, he was no trouble last night and hadn’t been on the verge of a fight with anyone. That railway policeman, Fellowes, takes a different view. He thinks that, in effect, Rodman was his own worst enemy. If he was challenged by anyone, he wouldn’t back down. He’d settle every argument with his fists.’
‘I’d rely on Fellowes. He knew Rodman better than the landlord.’
‘Mr Wells sounds like a shrewd man to me. You have to be, in that trade. A sixth sense with regard to trouble is vital and the landlord didn’t think it was brewing between Rodman and that Welshman.’
‘His name was Gareth Llewellyn, sir.’
‘Then I fancy that we can eliminate him as a suspect.’
‘He was seen having a row with Rodman.’
‘Yes, but it was a good-humoured row, apparently.’
‘That was only the landlord’s opinion. Fellowes said that there was nothing good-humoured about Rodman. Even his friend, Alford, more or less admitted that. Put together the testimony from Fellowes and Alford and it outweighs everything the landlord told me.’
‘So you believe that Rodman was killed by a Welshman?’
‘I do, and we know his name – Gareth Llewellyn. To be honest, sir, I can’t understand why you dismiss him as a suspect.’
‘It’s because I don’t think that Llewellyn would be quite so stupid. If he had designs on someone’s life, the last thing he’d do is to be seen threatening him in public. Suspicion would fall on him immediately.’
‘He’d been drinking heavily, sir.’
‘That does release a man from his inhibitions, I grant you.’
‘They might have seemed jolly enough inside the pub but, when they got outside,’ Leeming contended, ‘the argument could’ve turned nasty. When men are drunk, they lose all reason. My guess is that Rodman and the Welshman went for each other tooth and nail. The murder happened on the spur of the moment.’
‘That’s where you’re quite wrong, Victor. Seconds ago, you said that drunken men lose all reason. I agree. But you’d need a great deal of reason to get into the Works without being seen and to kill someone there before beheading him and melting into the night. You’d need iron control. The killer was no inebriated Welshman. He was as sober as you or me.’
‘I still say that we should talk to Llewellyn.’
‘That’s vital. He may have been the last person to see Rodman alive – apart from the killer, that is.’
‘Fellowes was adamant. One of the Welshmen is to blame.’
‘You may be right on that score, Victor, but the villain was definitely not Gareth Llewellyn. More to the point, Rodman wasn’t killed on the spur of the moment.’ He took the twine from his pocket and held it out on his palm. ‘Do you know what these are?’
‘They’re pieces of string, sir.’
‘This is the twine that was cut from Rodman’s wrists and ankles. In my view, it’s compelling evidence that the crime was premeditated,’ said Colbeck. ‘The killer not only bided his time, he knew exactly how he intended to leave his victim. So he took the twine along with him. Nothing like this is used at the Works. I checked up on that. It was brought for a specific purpose. There was no drunken brawl,’ he concluded, slipping the twine back into his pocket. ‘It was a clinical execution.’
Helen Rose Colbeck was in her element, giggling in her crib and kicking her little legs in the air as her mother and her honorary aunt gazed at her in adoration. The child loved attention and responded to it readily. Her facial expressions were so eloquent that they knew exactly what she was thinking. The two women stood there until their necks began to ache and until the baby started to yawn. Withdrawing to the sofa at the far end of the room, they picked up their
earlier conversation.
‘It was a kind invitation,’ said Lydia, ‘but I couldn’t possibly accept it. When I told you that Christmas was a difficult time for me, I wasn’t dropping a hint that I’d like to join you all here.’
‘We’d be delighted to have you.’
‘You need to be alone with your family, Madeleine.’
‘What family? Apart from Father, all I have are a couple of aunts and two cousins and they’ll have their own Christmas dinners. If Robert is unable to get away from Swindon, there’ll just be the two of us and the baby.’
‘It will be a magical time for Helen.’
‘Do you think she’s old enough to appreciate it?’ asked Madeleine.
‘I’m certain that she is. Helen is so aware.’
‘We think she’s the most beautiful little child in the world but I suppose that all parents feel that about their first-born. It’s only natural. Father believes that Helen takes after him but Robert insists that she’s just a younger version of me.’
‘Your husband is the better judge.’ Lydia looked around the room. ‘Oh, it’s lovely to be able to come here,’ she said. ‘It’s such a happy place.’
Madeleine laughed. ‘You haven’t been here when Helen is howling like a she-wolf because she wants to be fed.’
‘You can’t expect a baby to be patient.’
‘That’s what my father said.’
‘How is Mr Andrews?’
‘He’s still fuming because Robert is working for the GWR.’
‘From what you told me, he had no choice.’
‘It’s the same for everyone, Lydia, from inspectors such as Robert down to constables like Alan Hinton.’
Madeleine saw the slight colouring in Lydia’s cheeks at the mention of Hinton and hoped that she hadn’t embarrassed her friend. There’d been a mutual attraction between Lydia and the young detective. Madeleine had hoped that it might develop into a romance but, it seemed, it had not. Detective Constable Hinton had come into Lydia’s life when she was distressed by the attentions of a stalker. In addition to following her from place to place, the man had actually stolen one of her dresses from her hotel room. Lydia had been so anxious that she’d moved into the Colbeck home for safety. When the persecution continued, Colbeck had confronted the superintendent and insisted that it was a case worthy of the attention of the Detective Department. Hinton had been given the task of finding the stalker and, in time, had arrested him. Lydia could relax at last. She was deeply grateful.
‘I haven’t seen him for a while,’ she said, almost dejectedly.
‘He has to work very long hours, Lydia.’
‘I know that.’
‘He may not even be here in London.’
‘That’s true.’
‘I’m sure he hasn’t forgotten you.’
‘No,’ said Lydia, brightening slightly, ‘he did take the trouble of calling on me to explain what had happened to that awful man. Constable Hinton told me that he’d gone to prison for twelve months.’
‘Courtney’s sentence won’t end there,’ Madeleine told her. ‘He’s brought shame on the family. His father will be livid and won’t ever give him the same freedom again. Courtney won’t be anywhere near London. His father will want him back in Nottingham where he can keep an eye on him. Well, you know what wealthy businessmen are like because you come from that world.’
‘Reputation is everything,’ said Lydia. ‘That’s what my father used to say. Because of what he did, Courtney tarnished the company name.’
‘You have Constable Hinton to thank for arresting him.’
‘I’ll never forget that, Madeleine. He set me free again.’
‘Oh, I think the case meant a great deal to him as well. That’s why I’m certain that he’ll be in touch again. Christmas is a time when we remember our friends. Alan Hinton is certain to remember you.’
A smile flitted across Lydia’s face.
Betty Rodman was so touched that the vicar had come to see her that she let out a cry of relief. Having the utmost faith in him, she looked upon him as the father she’d never known. Her manner was therefore at once familial and deferential.
‘Thank you so much for coming,’ she said.
Liza Alford smiled. ‘I told you he would, Betty.’
‘I’ve come to offer what help I can,’ said Law, a hand on Betty’s shoulder. ‘My wife and I are appalled at what happened. The first thing I did when I heard the news was to offer up a prayer on Frank’s behalf and, before I leave, I’ll pray with you as well. What I really want to do, however, is to offer practical help. Just tell me what you need and I’ll provide it.’
‘What I want to do first,’ said Betty, pathetically, ‘is to find out who killed my husband and why he did it.’
‘That’s the one thing I can’t tell you, I’m afraid.’
‘Inspector Colbeck will catch him,’ said Liza, firmly. ‘He’s come all the way from London to take charge of the chase.’
‘Then I’ll make it my business to speak to him. He needs to understand the role that Frank played at church. It was such a joy to see him bringing you and the children every Sunday before singing so beautifully in the choir. It’s a consolation to me that he lived to see Martha christened.’ He glanced around. ‘Where is the baby, incidentally?’
‘She’s next door with Mrs Hankin,’ replied Betty, ‘and so are the boys.’
‘Do they know what …?’
‘No, Father, we haven’t told them. Davy knows that Frank didn’t come home last night but that’s all. I was hoping …’ She bit her lip. ‘I was hoping that, in time, you could speak to him.’
‘Of course I will.’
‘It might be better coming from you. Davy loves it when you teach them at school and so does Leonard. They respect you.’
‘We all do,’ added Liza.
‘That’s kind of you to say so, Mrs Alford. You’ve been a wonderful friend to the Rodman family,’ he went on. ‘In her hour of need, we knew that you’d be here to comfort Betty.’
‘I’d have been helpless without her,’ said Betty, turning to her friend with a grateful smile. ‘Liza’s been here since the moment she heard the news. And the neighbours have been kind to me as well.’
‘That makes a change,’ muttered Liza under her breath.
‘In times of adversity,’ he said, ‘people come together and show their best sides. When they see someone in pain, they want to alleviate it. But let’s go back to what I said about practical help. There must be something I can do.’
‘I don’t suppose you could speak to Mr Stinson, could you?’ asked Betty, nervously. ‘I know we’ll have to leave this house but I don’t want to be turned out immediately.’
‘That’s very unlikely to happen,’ he said, soothingly. ‘But, yes, I’ll certainly have a word with Mr Stinson. These are unusual circumstances. I’m sure he’ll be compassionate. However, if you are required to quit this place, Betty, you mustn’t worry. You and the children will be more than welcome to stay with us at the parsonage.’
She was overawed. ‘Would you really take us in, Father?’
‘It’s the least we can do and, I suspect, it’s what Frank would have wanted. Don’t hesitate to call on us, Betty. My wife and I will be delighted to have you and the children.’
Since he’d interviewed Fred Alford before, it fell to Victor Leeming to intercept him at the end of his shift in order to take him off to the police morgue. Alford had agreed to identify the body of Frank Rodman but he was clearly not looking forward to the task. Having seen so many murder victims laid out on a cold slab, Leeming was hardened against the horrors that could be inflicted on the human body. Because Alford was not, he was likely to be deeply upset at the sight of his former friend. On the way, therefore, the sergeant did his best to prepare his companion, emphasising that a glance was all that was needed if he was certain of the victim’s identity. Though he’d been forewarned, Alford was still badly shaken by what he saw when the shrou
d was pulled back. Repelled as he was, he nevertheless kept staring at the corpse as if unable to look away. It was only when Leeming gave the signal to the police doctor that Frank Rodman was covered up again.
Rooted to the spot, Alford continued to stare at the outline of his former friend. Leeming had to take him by the arm to get him out of there, leading him straight to the main door. Alford was grateful to be able to breathe fresh air again.
‘Thank you, Sergeant,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry if I—’
‘Don’t apologise, sir. It was a natural reaction. I did tell you that a glance would be enough for you to confirm that it was Mr Rodman.’
‘Oh, there’s no question about that.’
‘Did you recognise him by his tattoos?’
‘I hardly noticed those. As soon as I saw him, I knew it was Frank. We used to swim together in the canal, especially in the summer. I’d know that body anywhere. When you spend all day in the Foundry, you long for a dip in cold water.’
‘I’m grateful to you, Mr Alford. I know that Edgar Fellowes was the first to identify him but he wasn’t as close to the deceased as you were. You may not be a family member but you’re the next best thing.’
‘I’d do anything to keep Betty from seeing what I just did,’ said Alford with sudden passion. ‘She’s suffered enough already.’
‘Have you had time to think about the crime?’
‘I’ve thought about nothing else.’
‘What I’m asking,’ said Leeming, ‘is if you can put a name to the killer now that you’ve had time to mull it over. Also, of course, I’d like your opinion of what could drive a man to butcher someone like that.’ Seeing that Alford was momentarily tongue-tied, he pressed on. ‘Since you can’t provide a name, let me suggest one to you. It was put forward by Fellowes.’
‘Who is it?’
‘Gareth Llewellyn.’
Alford was pensive. ‘Well …’
‘He was the man you saw arguing with Mr Rodman last night.’
A Christmas Railway Mystery Page 5
