A Christmas Railway Mystery

by Edward Marston

  ‘It wasn’t the first time. They don’t like each other.’

  ‘The landlord at the Queen’s Tap tells a different story. He claims that it wasn’t the kind of argument that led to blows. In fact, after you’d left the pub, the two of them shook hands and had a drink together.’

  ‘That means nothing. Llewellyn is two-faced.’

  ‘Are you telling me that he’s a likely suspect?’

  ‘I’m not picking anyone out just yet, Sergeant,’ said Alford, choosing his words carefully. ‘But I’ve done a lot of thinking about it and … well, you may be looking in the wrong direction.’

  ‘If you know the right direction,’ said Leeming, ‘we’d be eternally grateful if you could point us that way.’

  ‘You’re after someone who hates Frank.’

  ‘He did have a habit of upsetting people. You conceded that.’

  ‘Yes, but he might have upset someone in a way you haven’t considered.’

  ‘And in what way was that, sir?’

  Alford fell silent as if changing his mind at the last moment. He seemed to be wrestling with his thoughts. Leeming prompted him.

  ‘What way was that?’

  ‘He married Betty Marklew.’

  Leeming was baffled. ‘I’m none the wiser, sir.’

  ‘In her younger days,’ explained Alford, ‘Betty was a beautiful woman. She still is, in some ways. Frank wasn’t the only man trying to court her. He had rivals and they weren’t happy when she chose him instead of them.’

  ‘How long were they married?’

  ‘It must be seven years or more.’

  ‘Could someone nurse a grudge that long?’

  ‘Oh, yes, there’s no doubt about that. I might be wrong,’ Alford continued, raising both palms. ‘I’m no detective. I’m just saying that the killer could be someone who hated Frank because he stole Betty from him.’

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Howard Law was as good as his word. After spending an hour or more consoling Betty Rodman, he went across to the Works and was in time to catch the manager before he left. They knew each other well. Although he found the vicar a trifle locquacious at times, Stinson invited him into his office and listened patiently to his plea. His answer was evasive.

  ‘It’s too soon to set a date for the family’s departure,’ he said.

  ‘Let’s call it what it is, shall we?’ said Law, evenly. ‘We’re talking about the summary eviction of a woman in dire straits. She’s been left with three children and meagre resources.’

  ‘Her husband is no longer one of our employees.’

  ‘That’s a rather cruel euphemism, I must say.’

  ‘I’m just being practical.’

  ‘The man was murdered on your premises. You make it sound as if he simply reached the end of his employment contract with you.’

  ‘In effect, he has,’ said Stinson, caught on the raw by the criticism. ‘Unlike you, I don’t have the luxury of viewing the situation in emotional terms. When someone goes – for whatever reason – I have to make a judgement about replacing him or leaving a vacancy. It’s a simple business procedure.’

  ‘Is that how you describe the expulsion of a family in distress?’

  ‘We can’t leave them in the house indefinitely.’

  ‘That’s not what I’m asking, Mr Stinson,’ said the other. ‘All I need from you is an idea of how long Mrs Rodman and her children can stay there without fearing a knock on the door.’

  ‘We do have a waiting list for accommodation,’ said the manager.

  ‘You still haven’t given me a date.’

  ‘The family will be informed in due course.’

  Law was becoming exasperated. He’d assured Betty Rodman that the manager would be compassionate, only to discover that Stinson was not as amenable as he’d assumed. It would be highly embarrassing for him to return to her with bad news. He therefore tried a different tack.

  ‘I’m appealing to you as the good Christian I know that you are.’

  ‘Don’t patronise me, Vicar. I’ve been a churchgoer for more years than you.’

  ‘Granted.’

  ‘And before you start accusing us of hard-hearted behaviour,’ Stinson went on, ‘let me remind you that it was the directors of the GWR who felt it important to have a church, school and parsonage built for this village. That’s why you’re able to deliver your sermons every Sunday in St Mark’s.’

  ‘I’m very grateful for that.’

  ‘When this village was created, religious observance was felt to be one of its cornerstones. For that reason, a church capable of holding a congregation of 800 people was constructed. You and the other members of the clergy at St Mark’s are the beneficiaries of the foresight of the GWR.’

  ‘I willingly acknowledge it.’

  ‘We don’t interfere with your sphere of activity. Why interfere in ours?’

  Law bridled slightly. ‘I’ve never heard the worship of God being described as a sphere of activity before,’ he said, disapprovingly, ‘but I’ll let it pass. I didn’t come here for a theological debate.’

  ‘No, you came – in good faith – on behalf of a family in grave difficulties.’

  ‘They need help, Mr Stinson.’

  ‘Nobody is denying that.’

  ‘Then why can’t you tell me how long they can stay?’

  The manager looked him in the eye. ‘At most, it will be a matter of weeks.’

  ‘And at least …?’ Getting no reply, Law pressed on. ‘Do you have a policy with regard to this situation?’

  ‘We’ve never had an employee murdered before.’

  ‘You’ve had deaths on-site and a number of accidents that left people crippled and unable to work. Apart from eyeing up their houses,’ said the vicar, pointedly, ‘do you have any means of offering some relief?’

  ‘As you well know, the Sick Fund was set up to provide assistance during illness and for the payment of funeral expenses. It was a pioneering scheme, as was our Medical Fund, which exists specifically for the benefit of all employees and their families. Among other things, it’s helped to rid the town of most of the insanitary conditions that made it vulnerable to epidemics of diseases like typhus and cholera. Please bear these initiatives in mind,’ stressed Stinson. ‘They prove that the GWR looks after its employees.’

  ‘What I was hoping for was an additional fund for the provision of financial aid in special cases. Mrs Rodman’s case, I venture to suggest, is a very special one.’

  ‘I agree with you.’

  ‘So is there money available to her?’

  ‘I fear not,’ said Stinson with genuine regret. ‘As you’ll recall, way back in 1847, there was a dramatic fall in the demand for locomotives and repair work. We had to reduce our Swindon staff by two-thirds and that meant laying off twelve hundred men. It caused widespread suffering. Three years ago we had another recession and were forced to resort to short-time working and the closure of the entire operation over the weekend. Rodman was one of the lucky ones who kept his job.’

  ‘In essence, then, there’s no fund for emergencies.’

  ‘Let me put it more bluntly – we have to watch every penny.’

  ‘I understand.’

  Law abandoned his attack and wished that he hadn’t been quite so outspoken. When all was said and done, Stinson and his wife were regular members of his congregation even though they didn’t live in the village. He shook hands with them every Sunday as they left the church. Accustomed to winning arguments by means of his charm and eloquence, Law had to accept that he’d lost this particular one. He switched to another topic.

  ‘I’m told that you’ve summoned detectives from Scotland Yard.’

  ‘We asked for Inspector Colbeck himself,’ said Stinson. ‘Nobody else could compare with him.’

  ‘He won’t have tackled anything quite like this before.’

  ‘I can see that you don’t follow his career. His name often appears in the national newspapers. Some years ago,
a severed head was found on Crewe Station. Inspector Colbeck tracked down the missing body and, as a result, investigated a crime that related to the running of the Derby. Trust him, Vicar. There’s very little he hasn’t done before.’

  ‘Betty Rodman was impressed by him.’

  ‘So was I. Expenses will be incurred, of course. We’ll have to pay for his accommodation and any meals he and his sergeant require. Careful as we are with any expenditure, we’re happy to take care of any bills. Do you object to that?’

  ‘Not in the slightest,’ said Law.

  ‘So, in that sense,’ argued the manager, ‘we are treating Rodman’s death as a special case. Because we’re investing money in the investigation, his widow will, in due course, have the satisfaction of seeing her husband’s killer caught, convicted and sent to the gallows.’

  When he came to the end of a punishing shift in the rolling mill, all that Gareth Llewellyn wanted to do was to go home to his family and enjoy a meal with them. He was irritated, therefore, when his foreman told him that he had to speak to someone before being allowed out of the Works. The Welshman was even more annoyed by the fact that he was given no details. All the way to the temporary office occupied by the detectives, he complained bitterly to the foreman. When he actually met Colbeck and realised that he was being treated as a murder suspect, he was enraged.

  ‘It’s a rotten lie!’ he yelled.

  ‘Calm down, sir.’

  ‘Some bastard is trying to get me into trouble. Who was it?’

  ‘Your name was mentioned, that’s all,’ said Colbeck. ‘It doesn’t matter by whom. We felt it was our duty to speak to you.’

  ‘Right, you’ve done that. Now let me have my turn. I’ll swear on the Holy Book that I had nothing at all to do with Frank’s murder. Diu! I was drinking with the man last night.’

  ‘Yes, you were drinking and engaging in a heated debate.’

  Llewellyn laughed. ‘You call that heated?’

  ‘I hear that you also caused a scene at the Mechanics’ Institution.’

  ‘A man is allowed to stand up for his country, isn’t he?’

  ‘There’s a time and place for patriotism, sir.’

  ‘You weren’t even there,’ snarled Llewellyn. ‘Who are you to tell me what I should and shouldn’t do? I’m Welsh and proud of it.’

  Colbeck could see that it was going to be an arduous conversation. The other man was big and brawny with a huge, bristly chin, a broken nose and two fiery eyes. Tufts of dark, curly hair stuck out from beneath his hat. His stance was challenging, his manner truculent. Llewellyn had little respect for authority.

  ‘I’ve got my rights,’ he said in a deep, lilting voice. ‘If someone is accusing me of murder, I’m entitled to know his name.’

  ‘Nobody is accusing you, sir,’ said Colbeck, gently. ‘But it seems that you were one of the last people seen with Mr Rodman.’

  ‘There were others in that bar. Are they suspects as well?’

  ‘I can’t say.’

  ‘So why have you picked me out?’

  ‘You do seem to have got yourself noticed, Mr Llewellyn. Having met you face-to-face, I can see why. You have a strong personality.’

  ‘I like to stand up for myself, that’s all.’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with that as long as self-assertion is kept within reasonable limits. I’m not sure if that was the case at the Mechanics’ Institution.’

  ‘I made a polite enquiry, that’s all,’ insisted the other. ‘If we have to listen to their national anthem, they should have the grace to listen to ours. Apart from anything else, it’s much better than that dreadful dirge about saving the Queen. Ours at least has some life in it and a proper melody.’

  ‘I didn’t know that there was a Welsh national anthem.’

  ‘It’s only quite recent but none the worse for that.’

  ‘Technically, Wales is part of Great Britain so it’s perfectly normal for you to sing “God Save the Queen”.’

  ‘We prefer our own anthem.’

  ‘Does that justify interrupting a concert?’

  ‘Yes, it does.’

  Colbeck weighed him up. He’d met people like Llewellyn before, combative individuals who could not be cowed by intense questioning. Any accusations would be shrugged off. The Welshman seemed to embody aggression. He’d admit nothing and justify everything. To prise information out of him, another approach was needed.

  ‘Do you like working here?’ he asked, pleasantly.

  ‘I’d rather be in Wales.’

  ‘Why aren’t you?’

  ‘There were no jobs in the steelworks there so we were sent here.’

  ‘I sense a lot of resentment in your voice.’

  ‘We were happy where we were.’

  ‘But this is a very fine Locomotive Works,’ said Colbeck. ‘And I speak as someone who’s been to Derby, Crewe, Wolverton, Doncaster and Ashford, Kent – all of them, railway towns. Swindon can compete with any of them.’

  ‘It happens to be the wrong side of the Welsh border.’

  ‘It’s given you a job. Aren’t you grateful?’

  ‘We take what we can get.’

  ‘Your foreman told me that you’re all hard workers.’

  ‘It’s a matter of pride with us.’

  ‘You sound as if you’re the spokesman for your countrymen.’

  ‘Someone has to be.’

  ‘There are tales of friction between the Welsh and the local community.’

  ‘Don’t believe a bleeding word of them.’

  ‘It seems to be an established fact.’

  ‘You’ve only listened to one side of the story.’ He yawned extravagantly. ‘Can I go now? My wife is expecting me home.’

  ‘One last question, sir – what did you feel when you first heard the news about Mr Rodman’s death? Were you upset?’

  ‘A bit of me was. I came close to liking Frank. Another bit of me was glad.’

  Colbeck was shocked. ‘You were glad that someone was murdered?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Llewellyn, grinning. ‘I might have the chance of replacing him at the next concert. My solo will be in Welsh, of course, then people will realise what a wonderful language it is.’

  While most of his colleagues found Inspector Martin Grosvenor an unprepossessing character, they all admired his efficiency and commitment. Nobody liked working under him because he routinely took all of the credit for a successful investigation, submitting reports that rarely mentioned other officers involved. Yet even the most aggrieved detectives accepted that he’d earned the rank of inspector. When they learnt that he was about to be the acting superintendent, however, they were on their guard. Grosvenor was known to have a malicious streak. He’d use his new power to strike back at those who’d mocked him in the past.

  When he called on Tallis at the end of the day, he’d absorbed the information he’d been given about the current cases and was able to discuss each one of them without referring to the documents. The superintendent was full of praise.

  ‘You have a remarkable memory, Inspector.’

  ‘It’s an asset in our profession.’

  ‘Oh, I agree. The only detective we have with a greater power of recall is Colbeck. In addition to remembering details about the activities of various criminals, he has an extraordinary capacity to recognise their faces. No matter how clever the disguises they might employ, Colbeck picks them out at once.’

  ‘I’ve done that myself many times,’ said Grosvenor, peevishly.

  ‘He’s developed it into an art. However,’ said Tallis, ‘let’s deal with your role as my replacement. There’s one change to the information I gave you. That burglar in Whitechapel has now been arrested. We have Detective Constable Hinton to thank for that. He’s young and eager and might one day aspire to a higher rank.’

  ‘Yes, I’ve worked with him, sir. He’s sometimes too eager. When he has more experience, Hinton will understand the virtue of patience.’

  ‘He’s
still a young man to watch.’

  Tallis shuffled the papers in front of him. In the course of the day, reports of various crimes had come in and officers had been sent to look into them. He gave Grosvenor a brief description of each one before passing the sheaf to him. After glancing through them, the inspector looked up.

  ‘No word from Colbeck, I suppose?’

  ‘He’ll be in touch when he’s ready.’

  ‘Does that mean he’ll be coming back here this evening? If he does, I’d like to be here when he delivers his report.’

  ‘That won’t be necessary.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Colbeck and Leeming will be staying in Swindon.’

  ‘But a train would get them back here in little over two hours.’

  ‘They prefer to remain where they are,’ said Tallis, ‘and I agree with the decision. If they are to solve this grotesque murder, they need to mingle with the people who live in the Railway Village in order to win their confidence.’

  Grosvenor winced. He’d been thwarted.

  There was no need for an appeal to the public. Information about the murder came in from a number of anonymous sources. Everyone seemed to know by now that the detectives had taken rooms at the Queen’s Tap. Leeming called in there and found a selection of messages waiting for them. Most simply contained the putative name of the killer but a few tried to offer what they felt was crucial evidence. After sifting through them, Leeming thanked Hiram Wells for looking after the unsolicited mail.

  ‘Do you have any idea who sent these?’ he asked.

  ‘No,’ replied the landlord. ‘They were slipped under the door.’

  ‘We’ll need to study them carefully.’

  ‘Don’t be misled. Some people here are known for their hoaxes.’

  ‘Yes, I spotted one of those straight away. According to him, we should be arresting Prince Albert. That wouldn’t go down well in the Queen’s Tap, would it?’

  Wells guffawed. ‘I don’t think Her Majesty would be too pleased, either.’

  ‘It’s always the same. We get ridiculous suggestions, especially when there’s a big reward on offer. They’ll tell any lie to get their hands on the money.’