‘I will.’
‘I may be able to help in some way.’
‘You’re not a detective, Father.’
‘I’ve got a sixth sense where railways are concerned, Maddy. Look at that threat to the royal family. I was the first person to realise the danger.’
‘That’s true,’ she conceded.
‘I made a big difference in that case,’ he boasted, ‘and I may be able to do exactly the same again with this one. Be sure you tell me all the details. I could be useful.’
Madeleine wondered why it sounded more like a threat than a kind offer.
Augustus Hadlow was a sharp-featured, stooping man in his forties with a low voice and a pleasant manner. The son of a country doctor, he’d followed his father into the medical profession and had worked in Spondon for well over a decade. When they called at his house, a fine Georgian edifice with classical proportions, the detectives were given a cordial welcome before being conducted to the room in which the cadaver of Vivian Quayle was being kept. Herbs had been used to combat the smell of death. Quayle lay naked beneath a shroud and Colbeck noted how carefully his clothing had been folded before being draped over a chair. After checking the label, he examined the frock coat briefly. Though soiled by its contact with bare earth, it was not torn and the buttons were intact. Quayle’s shoes stood beside the garments but something was missing.
‘Where is his hat?’ asked Colbeck.
‘He didn’t have one, Inspector,’ replied the doctor.
‘A gentleman like Mr Quayle would never travel without a hat.’
‘Then it must have been stolen by the killer,’ surmised Leeming. ‘Why take a hat yet leave a wallet and a watch behind?’
‘That’s one more mystery for us to unravel, Sergeant. Tell me, Doctor,’ he went on, turning to Hadlow, ‘what made you decide that he’d been poisoned?’
‘I couldn’t think of any other possible explanation for his death,’ said Hadlow. ‘When I got him back here and was able to examine him properly, I saw puncture marks on his arm.’ He pulled back the shroud to reveal the corpse. Hadlow indicated a mark on one arm. ‘Something lethal was injected into the vein.’
‘Have you any idea what it could be?’
‘No, Inspector, I’m not an expert on poisons, I’m afraid.’
‘What struck you when you first saw the body?’
‘Well, I couldn’t believe that I was looking at a murder victim. It’s a strange thing to say about him but … it was almost as if he looked at peace.’
Wigg fell prey to light sarcasm. ‘Are you suggesting that he climbed into the grave of his own volition then met his Maker by injecting himself with poison?’
‘Of course not, Superintendent – there was no syringe.’
‘And there was no reason to take his own life,’ said Colbeck. ‘Didn’t you say that Mr Quayle was in line to be the next chairman of the Midland Railway?’
‘It was a foregone conclusion,’ said Wigg. ‘Mr Quayle was an ambitious man with a lot to live for. He’d never commit suicide. His death allows Mr Haygarth to collect the spoils. In the emergency, during the interregnum caused by the resignation of the previous chairman, he’d appointed himself as the acting chairman.’
Colbeck remembered that, in the telegraph sent to Scotland Yard, Haygarth was described as the chairman. Before the board approved of his appointment, he had already promoted himself. Both detectives had been studying the corpse and trying to work out what Quayle must have looked like when alive. Though he was reportedly in his late fifties, he seemed much younger and was passably handsome with dark, curly hair and a well-trimmed moustache. Even in that undignified position, he somehow looked a more imposing figure than Donald Haygarth.
Responding to a nod from Colbeck, the doctor covered the body up again.
‘Can I ask you a question, Dr Hadlow?’ said Leeming. ‘You were involved when Enoch Stone was killed, weren’t you?’
‘Do we have to drag that case up again?’ protested Wigg.
‘You told us that the investigation was ongoing, Superintendent.’
‘Yes, but you’re not here to meddle in it. One murder is enough to keep you occupied, I fancy. Please confine yourself to that.’
‘We’re bound to wonder if there’s any link between the two killings.’
‘None at all,’ said Wigg. ‘Don’t you agree, Doctor Hadlow?’
‘On the face of it,’ replied the other, ‘I’d have to endorse your opinion. Stone was the victim of a brutal assault while Mr Quayle seems to have escaped violence. Then, of course, their stations in life were far apart. One came from humble stock while the other was extremely wealthy, if his attire is anything to judge by. I see no connection between the two crimes, Sergeant.’
‘Except the obvious one,’ added Colbeck. ‘Both men were killed in Spondon. Was that a bizarre coincidence?’
‘I don’t know, Inspector.’
‘I do,’ said Wigg, firmly. ‘Yes, it was a coincidence, so can we please forget Enoch Stone and concentrate our efforts on finding out who killed Mr Quayle?’
After plying the doctor with some more questions, Colbeck signalled to Leeming that it was time to leave and the two of them stepped out into the street. Since the superintendent stayed in the house for a few minutes, they were able to have a private conversation at long last.
‘What’s your feeling, Inspector?’
‘Wigg is an encumbrance.’
‘It’s a pity that he wasn’t found in that grave.’
‘Now, now, Victor, let’s not be vindictive.’
‘That’s what he is, sir. He reminds me of Superintendent Tallis.’
‘Oh, no,’ said Colbeck with a laugh. ‘You’re comparing a molehill to a mountain. Wigg doesn’t have the intelligence or the ruthlessness to replace our beloved superintendent.’
‘What’s our next step, sir?’
‘I think that we should take a walk around Spondon and get to know the geography of the village. I noticed some public houses on our way here. Keep a sharp eye out for any others.’
‘Why is that?’
‘It’s because you will have to choose between them.’
‘I don’t follow, sir.’
‘This crime was committed in Spondon but I’ll wager anything that its roots are a long way from here. Finding those roots is my job. That’s why I’ll use the hotel in Derby as my base. You, meanwhile, will be staying here in a local hostelry while you search for any clues and talk to potential witnesses.’
Leeming’s face fell. ‘Are you leaving me alone in this godforsaken wilderness?’
‘It strikes me as a rather nice place to live.’
‘Then why don’t you stay here?’
‘I’ll be dealing with the family of the deceased and looking more closely into Mr Quayle’s relationship with the Midland Railway. Don’t worry, Victor. I’m not cutting you adrift. We’ll spend the first night at the Royal Hotel then you can come here tomorrow morning. Spondon is only a few miles away from Derby.’
‘What exactly must I do here?’
‘Your first task will be to attend the funeral of Mrs Peet. The vicar did tell us that a lot of people were expected. Study them carefully,’ advised Colbeck. ‘The killer might well be among them.’
CHAPTER FOUR
‘This is the reward notice, Mr Haygarth,’ Cope said, handing it over. ‘I’ve arranged for copies to be put up in Spondon itself and all over Derby.’
‘We must go further afield than that.’
‘We will do.’
‘A supply must be sent to Nottingham.’
‘That’s already in hand.’
‘This is good,’ said Donald Haygarth, examining the notice. ‘It’s clear and precise. A reward of two hundred pounds should be enough to encourage anyone with relevant information to come forward.’
‘I hope so, sir.’
Maurice Cope was a short, stringy, thin-faced man in his late thirties with a self-effacing manner and an eag
erness to please. He’d worked at the head office of the Midland Railway since its formation and watched the internal battles on its board of directors attentively so that he could align himself with the more influential members. Impressed by Haygarth’s character and determination, he’d campaigned in secret on his behalf and was gratified that he was now working for the future chairman. There were, however, clouds on the horizon.
‘I should warn you that there have been rumblings,’ he said.
‘About what, may I ask?’
‘They’re about the size of the reward for a start, sir. Some people have complained that it’s far too high and that there should have been a board meeting in order to authorise it.’
‘Nonsense!’ exclaimed Haygarth with a dismissive gesture. ‘In a crisis such as we face, immediate action was called for. That’s why I took it upon myself to summon Inspector Colbeck and have these reward notices printed. If we’d had to wait days until members of the board could be brought together for discussion, we’d have lost all momentum.’
‘I agree, Mr Haygarth.’
‘Someone had to step into the breach.’
‘You were the ideal person,’ said Cope, ingratiatingly, ‘and we are fortunate to have you. Inevitably, however, there has been criticism of the way that you took control of the situation.’
‘Mr Quayle and I were the only candidates for the chairmanship. When he was murdered it was only natural that I should assume the office.’
‘Thank goodness you did, sir.’
‘I wish that all my colleagues saw it that way.’
‘I’m sure that they’ll come to do so in time.’
They were in the headquarters of the Midland Railway, the place from which its complex network of services was controlled. Years earlier, Haygarth, the owner of some lucrative silk mills, had been persuaded to invest some of his substantial wealth in the company. In return, he was given a seat on the board of directors and immediately began to gather like-minded people around him. Intelligent, ambitious and politically adroit, he’d waited until a vacancy had occurred for the chairmanship then put himself forward. He’d been needled when the general preference seemed to be for Vivian Quayle.
‘Mr Quayle had many virtues,’ he said, ‘and I’ll be the first to admit that. He was industrious, far-sighted and wholly committed to the expansion of the Midland Railway. As a man, I admired him. As a future chairman, on the other hand, I had the gravest of reservations about him. In the present circumstances, those reservations are now quite irrelevant. We must bring his killer to justice and we must console his family in every way possible. In posting a large reward and in bringing the Railway Detective here, we are sending out a message that any enemies of this company will be swiftly hunted down.’
‘Your prompt action is to be commended, Mr Haygarth.’
‘I’ve given statements to the press and much of what I said will be included in the obituaries of Mr Quayle. He will be deservedly mourned. As for my critics,’ he went on, waving the poster in the air, ‘you may tell them that the costs of printing and distribution will not fall on the company. Along with the reward money, I will gladly pay them out of my own pocket.’
‘That’s extraordinarily generous of you, sir.’
‘I want my colleagues to know the sort of man that I am.’
‘They’ll be impressed. But there’s just one question I’d like to ask.’
‘What’s that?’
‘If the crime is solved by Inspector Colbeck, will he get the full reward of two hundred pounds?’
Haygarth’s face darkened. ‘We’ll have to see about that.’
Big, solid and with a commanding presence in the town, the Royal Hotel offered good accommodation and an excellent menu in its dining room. As they enjoyed their meal there that evening, Robert Colbeck had no cause for complaint. Victor Leeming, however, kept glancing wistfully around. From the next day onwards, he knew he’d be eating plainer fare and sleeping in a far less comfortable bed above a noisy bar in a Spondon public house. Sensing the sergeant’s dismay, Colbeck tried to cheer him up.
‘You’ll like it there, Victor. It’s what you’ve yearned for, after all.’
Leeming was baffled. ‘Is it?’
‘Yes, I’ve lost count of the times you’ve moaned about bringing up your family in a big city with all the dangers that that implies. Whenever our work has taken us to smaller communities – Dawlish was a case in point – you said how nice it would be to live in such a place.’
‘That’s true,’ admitted the other. ‘The air would be a lot cleaner than it is in London and it would certainly be a lot safer and quieter.’
‘There you are, then. Spondon answers all your needs. It’s a pleasant village, just the kind of place for you, Estelle and the boys.’
‘No, it isn’t. I’d soon tire of it.’
‘Why?’
‘There’s so little to do in a small village. Nothing ever happens there.’
Colbeck grinned. ‘I wouldn’t describe two murders in three years as a case of nothing ever happening. There are six constables there, remember, so there must be a lot of petty crime to police.’
‘Throwing drunks out of a bar and keeping naughty children out of the churchyard is not my idea of work, Inspector. I thrive on action.’
‘Don’t treat naughty children with such contempt. It was two of them who first discovered that a murder had occurred. They set this investigation in motion. Bear that in mind. You should make a point of meeting the pair of them.’
‘I will, sir,’ said Leeming, ‘and I’m sorry to complain. It’s only right that one of us explores Spondon properly. If truth be told, I’ll feel more at home in a village pub. Luxury like this always makes me uneasy.’
‘It’s a strange paradox. Comfort makes you uncomfortable.’
‘I’m like a fish out of water here. It’s Spondon for me. That’s where the crime took place and where, in all probability, the killer lives.’
‘Why do you say that?’
‘He knew that there was an empty grave handy at St Mary’s.’
‘That could have been a case of serendipity.’
Leeming frowned. ‘You’ve used that word before but I forget what it means.’
‘It means that, if you stumble upon something that serves your purpose, you take full advantage of it. When the killer chose St Mary’s, he may have been unaware that there was an appropriate place for a dead body. He’s obviously somebody who knows the village,’ Colbeck agreed, ‘but that doesn’t mean he still lives there. What we do know about him is that he has a macabre sense of humour. Most killers try to conceal their victims in order to slow down the process of detection. This man did the opposite. He wanted that corpse to be found.’
‘I keep thinking about that missing top hat.’
‘If we find that, it will have the name of Mr Quayle inside it.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I checked the label on his coat. His name was sewn into it. Among the many places I need to visit is the Nottingham tailor patronised by Mr Quayle. He was a man of exquisite taste.’
‘Where else will you go, sir?’
‘I’ll visit the home of the deceased and make discreet enquiries there and I’ll certainly need to look into the workings of the Midland Railway. Mr Quayle was intimately involved in them. He had power and that always creates enemies.’
‘Mr Haygarth was one of them,’ said Leeming, recalling their meeting with the acting chairman. ‘He made a song and dance about the importance of catching Mr Quayle’s killer but I didn’t get the impression that he was really sorry that the man had died. Secretly, he must be delighted. He’s just too cunning to show it.’
‘My feeling exactly, Victor.’
‘Do you think that someone from the Midland Railway is behind it all?’
‘It’s not impossible,’ said Colbeck, thanking the waiter with a smile as the man cleared away their plates. ‘It’s equally possible that someone employed
by a rival company is implicated. One sure way to disable the Midland is to get rid of the man who is about to become its chairman. Think of the impact on the morale of all the employees of the company. This will have shaken them badly.’
‘It didn’t shake Mr Haygarth.’
‘I noticed that.’
‘I know that Superintendent Wigg only said it by way of a jest but should we put Haygarth on the list of suspects? I can’t see him killing another man but he looks capable of hiring someone to do his dirty work.’
‘We must keep an open mind, Victor.’
‘I like to have something to bite on in an investigation.’
‘The cheese will be served very soon. Bite into that.’ They both laughed. ‘I’ll warrant that you won’t find the same quality in the Malt Shovel or the Union Inn or wherever you choose to stay.’
‘I’ll be where I fit in better,’ said Leeming.
‘Exactly,’ said Colbeck. ‘You can blend into that village in a way that I can’t. There are times, I readily accept, when my educated vowels are a positive drawback. You’re more down to earth and you’re a good listener. It’s one of your strengths.’
Leeming pulled a face. ‘I didn’t know that I had any.’
Colbeck laughed and patted his companion’s shoulder. ‘You’re awash with them, Victor.’ He saw the waiter approaching. ‘It looks as if our cheese is on its way.’
But the waiter was bringing something more than just a selection of cheeses. After setting down the platter on the table, he put a hand inside his coat to extract a letter.
‘This is for you, Inspector,’ he said, giving it to him. ‘It was handed in by someone at reception and passed on to the head waiter.’
‘Thank you,’ said Colbeck, scrutinising it and noting the neatness with which his name had been written. The man nodded and walked away. ‘Let’s see what we have here, shall we?’ He opened the letter and took something out. ‘Well, well, well …’
‘What is it, sir?’
‘It’s a reward notice, Victor. A very tempting amount of money is being offered for information that leads to the arrest of the killer of Mr Quayle.’ He turned the paper over. ‘However, that’s not all we’ve been given.’ He passed it over to Leeming. ‘Do you see what someone has written on the back?’
Timetable of Death Page 3