She followed him through into the next carriage, where he stopped outside the toilet.
“Same deal,” he said with a grin. “But this time — if you see anybody coming, just tap on the door will you.”
Sarah gave him an inquisitive look.
The she watched as he pulled out a small set of screwdrivers and picks from his pocket.
“Time for a little investigation into the train’s plumbing,” he said. “Crazy idea but need to make sure there’s nowhere big enough to hide a man in. Wish me luck.”
Then he slipped into the toilet and locked the door.
Sarah shook her head and smiled at the noises coming from the other side of the door. The creak of a panel being pulled apart …
If anyone comes by, they’re going to think we’re crazy, she thought.
Five minutes later, the latch slipped open and Jack stepped out.
“Anything?”
“Nope. But I sure am glad they keep these things nice and clean.”
“I think … it’s time for that tea, Jack.”
And she led the way through the carriage.
*
The buffet car, Jack saw, featured the smallest of bar areas, with tea and coffee urns against the outside wall, and a wire rack with pre-packaged cookies … candies.
Definitely the basics, he thought.
The man at the counter had his back to them, fiddling with the large steaming urns. No uniform for him, just an apron with the logo of the railway.
Then, as if ready to deal with a crush of passengers, he turned to them.
“Good morning. Can I get you two anything?”
“Not sure,” Sarah said, looking over the tiny menu as if it provided a dizzying array of choices.
“Tea for me, I think,” Jack said.
“You don’t sound so sure, young man.”
She saw Jack smile at that.
“Oh, I’m sure. Tea, bit of sweetener, no milk, if you please.”
“And you, Miss?”
And Sarah pointed. “Just a Kit-Kat I think.”
The man’s bushy eyebrows went up at that. Then he gestured at the wire rack of treats.
“Help yourself!” Then he turned back to the urn, small paper cup in hand with a wooden stirrer in place, ready to fix Jack’s tea …
Who meanwhile had turned to her.
“Kit-Kat?”
“Guilty pleasure.” She took one from the rack, unwrapped it and broke off a piece. “Care for some?”
“Um, don’t think so …”
By then Wakely had turned back with the hot tea in its small white cup.
“There you are, that will be four pounds fifty.”
This time Jack dug out some coins.
And he wasted no time.
“We were wondering. You know about Bernard Mandeville?”
The man behind bar nodded. “Old chap who disappeared, hmm?”
“That’s the one,” said Jack.
“The family has asked us to see if we can find out what might have happened,” Sarah explained
Another nod from the man.
“You knew him?” Jack asked. “Served tea, maybe, coffee?”
But the man shook his head.
“Can’t say that I did. I mean, I knew that we had this old gent, as regular as clockwork on Sunday mornings. But you see, he always stayed in his seat. And we don’t have a trolley here. Least,” a small smile, “not yet. So, I never saw him.”
That, Sarah thought, was disappointing.
But then the man added. “Wish I could be of more help … heard he was a sweet old fellow, real enthusiast for the line!”
“Were you on the train that day — the day he disappeared?”
“Indeed I was! And a hectic day it was, too!”
“Busy then?” said Sarah.
“God, yes,” he said. “Typical Sunday — lots of families.”
“You don’t remember seeing anything unusual?” said Jack.
Sarah watched him ponder this for a few seconds. Then he shrugged: “Not that I remember. Non-stop teas and coffees — so I had my head down.”
“No theories on your part …?” Jack asked. “About what happened?”
“None at all, I am afraid. It’s, you know, a genuine mystery! Think they need some of those detective types to get on it!”
And Jack laughed at that.
“Now that’s a good idea.”
“Thanks,” Sarah said.
And she turned to Jack.
“Shall we continue?”
And now she led the way to the front, the noise and chugging of the locomotive closer, as if approaching a great beast.
*
Then, at the end of the cars, Sarah could look through a last connecting door to see the massive locomotive itself, that door — a hard pull on the handle revealing — locked tight.
She shrugged and turned to Jack — and as she did, the locomotive’s whistle shrieked, so incredibly loud it made her jump.
She looked at Jack — both of them laughing at her reaction.
Then with a whoosh — they were suddenly in a tunnel, the air pressure popping her ears, and the sound of the steam engine massive and echoing.
She leaned in close to Jack’s ear: “I forgot about the tunnel!”
“How long?”
“Very long, I think!”
She watched Jack go to the window of the carriage door and press his face against the glass, watching the lights from the train flashing on smoke and steam and the brick walls of the tunnel as they whizzed along.
After a few seconds, she saw him pull on the leather release for the window and ease it down a few inches. Smoke billowed in and the noise went up another impossible notch.
Quickly he slammed the window shut.
She waited until with another shriek on the whistle the train emerged into sunshine again.
“Had to check,” said Jack.
Sarah nodded: “Let me guess — no way anyone could jump from there, hmm?”
“Exactly. Can’t be more than a couple of feet clearance each side.”
“Back the other way?” she said.
He nodded. “Yeah, and this time, when we bump into Archie …”
“Yes?”
Though she felt she knew what Jack was going to suggest.
“How about you take the lead?”
“Sure. Just don’t wander away, hmm?”
And as she turned and started back, Jack laughed. “Right behind you, partner.”
And both of them made their wobbly way, past the buffet car, past the coach car, towards the rear of the train … and the single car, filled with the open-to-all first-class compartments.
And when they got there, at the entrance to that carriage …
Archie was standing there.
9. Archie
Archie looked up as Sarah, with Jack just behind, came close.
Jack watched as the train guard stepped aside, as if clearing a path for them to the first-class compartments.
Big smile on his face.
“Want to see out how the other half travels?” Archie said.
He then gestured to the doorway leading into the car with those once-pricey compartments, as if delivering them a surprise upgrade.
Cheltenham was only minutes away.
And he had asked Sarah to do the questioning for two very important reasons.
First, she was good at it.
The two of them had an interesting chemistry when asking difficult questions. Somehow, Sarah could be so disarming, a nice counterpoint to his own bluntness.
Subtlety was never his strong point, Jack knew.
And his quick take on Archie, with his devotion to this very British, legendary railway, was that any yank would be viewed as an interloper, barely tolerated.
And one with questions? Even worse …
He saw Sarah smile, matching Archie.
“Oh, yes. Absolutely. For the return.” Sarah said. A look back at Jack. “
First-class, all the way. But you see, we’re here, on the train … kind of—”
Bit of practised hesitancy there, Jack noticed. That tentativeness actually useful.
Would get old Archie thinking … what’s up?
“—at the request of the family of Bernard Mandeville.”
Archie looked from Sarah to Jack.
Then, his voice low, as if they were surrounded by nosey passengers, seated nearby, hanging on every word.
“The authorities already have my complete report, Miss. I’m sure, his … family can read it any time they want.”
Archie looked at his watch.
“Now — I need to get cracking. Just a few minutes to Cheltenham.”
But then Jack saw Sarah put her hand on the sleeve of the man’s jacket. Nice touch — literally. And her words, hard to refuse.
“I only have one question,” she said, her hand still there. “A very quick one. About that day.”
Jack thought this could go either way. Archie bustling past them, no time for any more foolish and unnecessary questions.
But instead, Archie said, quietly. “All right, then. But it better had be quick.”
“Tim Waite rode the train that day.”
Jack’s eyes on Archie. Was that a little flicker just there, Jack thought? A twinge of … surprise?
“And he said, while he saw Mr Mandeville on the way to Cheltenham, and confirmed that he certainly did not get off … he said—”
Archie looked away.
He knows what’s coming, Jack thought. Now that’s … interesting.
“—that rather than work the train with you on the return journey—”
That look of surprise changing, Jack saw.
Archie — not happy.
“—that you told him he could ride on the locomotive on the return leg. And so, well, he couldn’t say that he saw Mr Mandeville, because he didn’t.” Jack heard Sarah take an audible breath. “Because … he wasn’t actually in the train.”
Jack heard a blast of the whistle. The train slowing. The race track, deadly quiet off-season, just ahead.
It would have been easy for Archie to now say … really must go. Now! But with that accusation on the table, that’s not what he said. Jack waited.
“I told him that because …” Archie shook his head. “It’s always a bit of a treat for the newcomers. They’re volunteers, after all. That is why I said that.”
And with that explanation — Which, Jack thought, doesn’t hold water at all — Archie stepped past Sarah and, with the quickest of disgruntled looks, slid past Jack.
The interview over.
And only when the guard had passed into the next carriage, did Sarah finally turn to Jack and say to him, the train coming to a slow crawl: “You know, I don’t believe a word that man just said.”
Jack nodded, smiled. After all, they may have gotten their big breakthrough.
Someone with something to hide. Someone willing to lie.
Someone — nervous now.
And he said: “Neither do I. He’s lying. I wonder why?”
*
Jack slid open the door of one of the first-class compartments and Sarah followed him in as he shut the door behind her.
They sat, facing each other in window seats and she looked around the small compartment.
This could have been where Bernard had been sitting before he disappeared.
Four seats on each side, little leather armrests between them, net luggage racks overhead. One small sliding window — hardly big enough to pop your head through.
Under the seats some kind of primitive heating vents.
All in all — nowhere to hide. No easy way out.
She looked out of the window as the train slowly picked up steam and pulled out of Cheltenham Racecourse station.
They’d taken advantage of the ten-minute stop and walked the platform together, chatted to one or two of the staff.
And learned absolutely nothing new. The train that Sunday had pulled in, a handful of people had climbed aboard, the train had left.
And nobody had got off.
Just another Sunday.
Sarah sat back in her seat and stared at Jack.
“Had any inspiration?” she said.
“Nada,” he said, shaking his head.
“Me neither.”
“So, what do we know? Bernard didn’t get off at Cheltenham. He can’t have fallen off the train, or been pushed — the police checked the line. Far as I can see, he can’t have hidden anywhere and gotten off later. And when the train arrived at Cherringham they searched the carriages carefully — and they were empty.”
He shook his head.
Then: “You ever go to a magic show — see a trick that looks impossible, then when somebody tells you how it’s done, it seems so obvious …?”
“Yeah,” she said. “That’s how I feel too.”
“We may see something in the CCTV footage,” he said, “but, you know, I doubt it. Police will have gone through that properly, for sure.”
“So — it’s down to us,” said Sarah. “Who we talk to now, the questions we ask?”
“Yep, pretty much.”
She took out her notebook, and flicked through the pages.
“First — the doctor. I’ll give Finch a call, see if he’s willing to bend the rules a bit on patient confidentiality. We need to know what might be happening to Bernard without medication.”
“Check out the London doctor too. What was his name? McTavish?”
“Yes, shouldn’t be hard to track down,” said Sarah. “Also — the woman who came by — what did the Mandevilles call her — the gold-digger? Grisoni?”
“Something like that. Didn’t seem too sure.”
“Don’t hold your breath,” she said. “Unless she stayed in a local hotel, I doubt I’ll be able to track her just on a name.”
“Give it a go. Meanwhile — I’m thinking I might drop by the house again, have a chat with our friend the butler.”
“The maid too,” said Sarah. “Both pretty suspicious characters!”
“Speaking of which, let’s not forget the Mandevilles themselves,” said Jack. “Something not quite right there …”
“Jack — you’re not seriously thinking one of the family could be involved? Even though they asked for our help?”
“Shouldn’t discount the possibility — especially if there’s big money at stake.”
“You’re right. I’ll get online tonight, check them out. See if there’s anything murky lurking in the family tree. Which leaves Archie …”
“Yep, Archie,” said Jack. “He’s lying. We know that. So maybe — just maybe — he’s at the heart of our little magic trick.”
“I agree. But how?”
“Maybe not impossible for him — with help — to drug Bernard, drag him into one of the toilets, lock it — and pretend to our friend Reg later that he’s checked it.”
“Then later …” said Sarah, “when the fuss dies down — he and his accomplices come back and remove the old fella. Take him somewhere — and everybody lies low.”
“Exactly,” said Jack. “Just before the police scour the whole train. And don’t forget — he made sure Tim was well out of the way by putting him on the engine.”
“Giving him free run of the train.”
“It’s a theory,” said Jack. “And it’s plausible. Just.”
Sarah laughed. “It’s also the only theory we’ve got.”
“Yep. So when we get back to the station, let’s ask Reg for the rest of the day’s CCTV. Check it out.”
“Oh, he’ll love that,” said Sarah. “He was really enjoying our questions!”
Jack laughed. “We find anything; we’ll credit the case to him.”
Sarah made another note in her book. “And I’ll see what I can find out about Archie online.”
“You think he’s local?”
“Think I recognise him vaguely from the village — I’ll ask around.”
/>
She saw Jack look out of the window.
“Look,” he said, pointing to the ridge of hills a mile or two away.
“Mandeville Towers,” she said, just recognising the turreted mansion set back against the hilltop.
“Funny to think of old Bernard, sitting at one of those windows watching the trains go by, day after day,” said Jack. “I’d like to get him back there.”
“Let’s hope we find him soon then,” said Sarah.
And she saw Jack nod — his face serious.
Thoughts unspoken.
Both of them hoping to find Bernard … alive.
10. One Step Forward
Sarah finished loading the washing machine, chucked in a tablet and hit the “on” button. Then she gathered her laptop bag, handbag, keys and coat and headed into the hall.
“Daniel,” she called upstairs as she opened the front door. “Put the washing on the line, will you? Should be done in a couple of hours.”
She waited for a response from her son, still — she knew — in bed. Even a groan would do. Then: “Yeah, Mum.”
Amazing, she thought. Nearly a whole sentence.
Used to be a time — years ago! — when she couldn’t get Daniel to stop talking.
Ah teenagers …
“Oh — don’t forget — your football stuff’s in there and you’re going to need it tomorrow.”
She waited a few seconds for an answer, but nothing came.
“Earth calling Daniel. Earth calling Daniel!”
Nothing.
She headed out and climbed into her car.
Seconds later she was out on the lane leading down to Cherringham Bridge Road.
She and Grace had a big presentation to make this morning to a new farm shop that had opened outside the village. Could be a big client — and one she really wanted. State-of-the-art organic, the best local produce sourced … she couldn’t wait to be a customer!
But instead — all she could think about was Bernard Mandeville.
If he was alive — just where was he waking up this morning? Tied up in a cellar somewhere? Or maybe — memory gone — in some hostel? Or out in the countryside, lying in a ditch, barely conscious …
Or — worse?
She thought back to yesterday afternoon: she and Jack had gone through the CCTV footage frame by frame and seen — as expected — nothing suspicious.
The Gentleman Vanishes Page 6
