‘He’s your killer, Inspector. He’s such a cruel bastard that he’d enjoy cutting off someone’s head. Go back and arrest him.’
‘It may not be as simple as that, Mr Dowd,’ said Colbeck. ‘From what I’ve heard of Mr Fido, he’s devious and manipulative. He’d get someone else to do his dirty work for him and make sure that he kept his hands clean. In any case, we’ve no proof that he’s in any way connected to the crime. But let me return to this charge of spying,’ he continued. ‘When a major race is coming up, there must be a lot of that sort of thing going on.’
‘We all like to know as much as we can about the competition.’
‘How would you find out about Merry Legs and Odysseus?’
‘Not by putting a lad like that in someone’s stables,’ retorted Dowd. ‘I didn’t send him off to his death, Inspector, so don’t look to accuse me. I told you what happened. John Feeny left of his own accord. I wished him well before he went and gave him twice what I owed him. You can ask Jerry Doyle – or anyone else, for that matter.’
‘I take your word for it, sir.’
‘The man you’re after is Hamilton Fido.’
‘I’ll speak with him at the earliest opportunity,’ said Colbeck, taking a longer sip of his whiskey. ‘If he’s capable of murder, he’ll clearly stop at nothing to win the Derby.’
‘Nothing at all.’
‘I hope you’ve taken extra precautions to protect Limerick Lad.’
‘Don’t trouble yourself on that score.’
‘Mr Fido – or your other rivals – might have someone watching these stables and biding their time until they can strike.’
‘We took that into account, Inspector Colbeck.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘As I told you,’ said Dowd, looking him in the eye, ‘racing has been my life. There’s not a dirty trick or a clever ruse I haven’t seen ten times over. On the night before a big race, I’ve often slept on the straw beside one of my horses with a loaded shotgun. Nobody has ever managed to cause serious injury to one of my animals.’
‘They killed one of your former grooms.’
‘John Feeny was an innocent victim – God save his soul!’
‘How can you be sure they won’t strike at Limerick Lad next?’ said Colbeck. ‘You’ve a long journey ahead of you. There’ll be plenty of opportunities to attack him on the way. When do you leave?’
‘Tomorrow.’
‘I’ll be happy to come with you to act as a guard.’
‘Kind of you to offer, Inspector,’ said Dowd, ‘but it won’t be necessary. We’ll travel on our own, if you don’t mind. And don’t worry about my horse. It’s quite impossible for anyone to get at Limerick Lad on the way to England.’
‘Not if someone is desperate enough.’
‘That’d make no difference.’
‘Have you forgotten what happened to John Feeny?’
‘No, I haven’t,’ said Dowd soulfully, ‘and I’ll do everything in my power to help you catch his killer. It’s the least I can do for the boy. But I still have no concerns about Limerick Lad.’
‘Why not?’
‘For reasons of safety, he was taken to England days ago. Until the Derby, he’s being kept in a secret location.’ Dowd grinned broadly. ‘I wouldn’t tell my own mother where we’ve got him hidden.’
CHAPTER FIVE
When he eventually returned to London, it was too late for Victor Leeming to report to the superintendent so he was glad to postpone that unappealing duty until the following day. There was a further delay. Edward Tallis spent all morning at a meeting with the commissioner. It was not until early afternoon that Leeming was able to speak to the superintendent. He approached the office with trepidation. Robert Colbeck enjoyed sparring with Tallis and welcomed their encounters. Leeming viewed them as nerve-racking ordeals. With the inspector beside him, he could put on a brave face at such interviews. When he had to confront the superintendent alone and unaided, he quailed inwardly.
Plucking up his courage, the sergeant knocked on the door. The invitation for him to enter was an angry bellow. Superintendent Tallis, it appeared, was not at his most docile. Leeming went in.
‘I’ve been waiting for you,’ said Tallis irritably. ‘What kept you?’
‘Nothing, sir…that is…I mean…well, you see…’
‘Spare me your excuses, sergeant. I know from past experience that they’ll be embarrassingly weak. What do you have to report?’
‘I went to Cambridge yesterday,’ said Leeming.
‘That much I know. Tell me something I don’t know.’
‘It’s a very pleasant place, Superintendent.’
‘I don’t want a guided tour of the town,’ snapped Tallis. ‘I want to hear what evidence you managed to gather.’
‘Ah, yes.’
‘Take a seat while you give it.’
Leeming sat down. ‘Thank you, sir.’
Consulting his notebook throughout, he gave a halting account of his visit to the Angel Hotel and explained that the hatbox had not been stolen from there. When Leeming passed on a description of the woman who had stayed in Cambridge with Lord Hendry, the superintendent’s eyebrows went up and down like a pair of dancing caterpillars. A note of moral outrage came into his voice.
‘That does not sound like his lawful wife.’
‘She was so much younger than him, sir,’ said Leeming. ‘The inspector was certain that the real Lady Hendry had not been at that hotel. He sensed it from the start.’
‘Let’s forget Inspector Colbeck for a moment, shall we?’ said Tallis with a sniff. ‘All that interests me at this juncture is what you found out about that hatbox.’
‘It must have been stolen elsewhere.’
‘Then why did Lord Hendry lie about it?’
‘I intend to ask him that very question, sir.’
‘No, no – don’t do that. We don’t want Lord Hendry to know that we’ve found him out. That will only throw him on the defensive. Also, of course,’ he went on, stroking his moustache, ‘the fact that he and a certain person spent the night together may have nothing whatsoever to do with the crime we are investigating.’
‘Inspector Colbeck felt that it did.’
‘I told you to keep him out of this.’
‘But he’s usually right about such things, sir.’
‘We have to tread very carefully,’ insisted Tallis, thinking it through. ‘Lord Hendry has misled two officers of the law and I deprecate that but it is not, at this stage, an offence that renders him liable to arrest. It may well be that this so-called “Lady Hendry” told him that the hatbox was stolen from that hotel. What she said to him was thus passed on to you in good faith. Conceivably, he may be the victim of her deception.’
‘His wife is the real victim here,’ noted Leeming.
Tallis nodded. ‘One of the many perils of marriage.’
‘It has its compensations, sir.’
‘How can you compensate for adultery?’
‘That’s not what I meant, Superintendent. Because one man goes astray, it doesn’t mean that marriage itself is at fault. There’s nothing so wonderful as being joined together in holy matrimony. Family life is a joy to me.’
‘We are not talking about you, Leeming.’
‘You seemed to be criticising the whole idea of marriage.’
‘I was,’ said Tallis vehemently, ‘and I’ll continue to do so. Lord Hendry’s case is only one of thousands. All over London, husbands and wives readily forget the vows they took so solemnly at the altar. If adultery were made the crime that it should be, every gaol in the country would be bursting at the seams.’
‘For every bad marriage, there are dozens of good ones.’
‘How do you know?’
‘It stands to reason, sir.’
‘Then why do we have to deal with so much domestic strife? Policemen in some parts of the city seem to spend half their time stopping married couples from trying to kill each other. Wives h
ave been bludgeoned to death. Husbands have been poisoned. Unwanted children have had their throats cut.’
‘We only get to see the worst cases, superintendent.’
‘They show the defects of the institution of marriage.’
Victor Leeming bit back what he was going to say. Arguing with the superintendent was never advisable. He decided that it was better to weather the storm of Tallis’s vituperation in silence. The tirade against holy matrimony went on for a few minutes then came to an abrupt stop.
‘Where were we?’ demanded Tallis.
‘You thought Lord Hendry might be the victim of deception, sir.’
‘It’s a possibility we have to consider.’
‘What we need to find out is who that other Lady Hendry was.’
‘I doubt very much if he would volunteer the information.’
‘Since the hatbox belonged to her,’ said Leeming, ‘it may even be that she was a party to the conspiracy to murder. She only pretended that the item was stolen.’
‘That would implicate Lord Hendry as well.’
‘Not necessarily, sir.’
‘You met him – what manner of man was he?’
‘Exactly what you’d expect of a lord, sir,’ recalled Leeming, pulling at an ear lobe. ‘He was dignified, well spoken and a bit too haughty for my liking. He seemed honest enough to me until Inspector Colbeck pointed out something I’d missed. Lord Hendry was a proper gentleman.’ He became confidential. ‘And the best thing about the visit was that he told us who’d win the Derby. I know where to put my money now.’
Tallis scowled. ‘You intend to place a bet, Sergeant?’
‘Just a small amount, sir.’
‘I don’t care if it’s only a brass farthing. Gambling is sinful. Think what a bad example you’re setting.’
‘Everyone bets on the Derby.’
‘I don’t and nor should you.’
‘Why not, Superintendent?’
‘Because it only encourages crime,’ said Tallis. ‘Bookmakers are, by definition, thoroughgoing villains. They rig the betting so that they can never lose and they exploit gullible fools like you. They’re a despicable breed who should be hung in chains and left to rot.’
Leeming was roused. ‘Betting is harmless fun, sir.’
‘It’s a foul disease.’
‘People are entitled to dream.’
‘Not if their dreams have a selfish foundation. That’s what gambling is about, sergeant – investing little money in the hope of making a large amount. Work!’ declared the superintendent, pounding his desk with a fist. ‘That’s the only decent way to acquire money.’
‘But when people have worked,’ said Leeming, stung by the blanket condemnation of gambling, ‘they’re entitled to spend it how they wish. Betting on the Derby is a tradition.’
‘A very bad tradition.’
‘Wanting to win is a normal human urge, sir.’
‘But common sense tells you that the overwhelming majority of people will lose. All that gambling does is to fill up debtors’ prisons. In the case of the Derby, it’s part of the whole ugly panoply of crime.’
‘What’s criminal about putting a few shillings on a horse?’
‘You’re helping to fund a national scandal,’ said Tallis, raising his voice and gesticulating as he warmed to his theme. ‘What are the constituent elements of the Derby? I’ll tell you, Sergeant. Violence, theft, deceit, drunkenness, gluttony, gambling and sexual licence – all played out against a background of loud music, bawling crowds and a loss of inhibition that would make any true Christian weep.’
‘I like to think I’m a true Christian,’ said Leeming meekly.
‘Then why do you condone this annual saturnalia?’
‘All I want to do is to put money on Odysseus.’
‘Off-course betting was banned last year. Surely, you’re not intending to go to Epsom for the express purpose of being tricked by a bookmaker?’ He saw Leeming shrink back in his chair. ‘I hope you’re not thinking of flouting the law by indulging in illegal betting.’
‘It would never cross mind, sir,’ said Leeming hastily, wishing that he had held his peace. He sought a means of escape. ‘Thank you, Superintendent – you’ve talked me out of it.’
‘At least, some good may have come out of this conversation.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Let’s put the Derby from our minds, shall we?’
‘But this murder is connected to the race.’
‘Inspector Colbeck is the only person who thinks that.’
‘I agree with him,’ said the sergeant loyally. ‘There’s a huge amount of money at stake, sir. Whenever that happens, you’ll always have corruption of some sort or other.’
‘That’s exactly what I’ve been saying.’
‘The inspector wouldn’t have gone to Ireland on a whim.’
‘I reserve my judgement on that particular venture,’ said Tallis coolly. ‘I still fear that it may have been a wild goose. While we’re waiting for Inspector Colbeck to return from his unnecessary visit to Ireland, exercise your mind with this question – what is the name of the bogus Lady Hendry?’
Lord Hendry was not known for his patience. He was accustomed to getting what he wanted when he needed it. Waiting quietly was an alien concept to him. Instead of relaxing in a chair, he paced the room like a caged animal, checked his watch every few minutes and kept pulling back the curtain to look out into the street below. The time arranged for the meeting came and went. Half an hour soon scudded past. His impatience gave way to a cold anger that was, in turn, replaced by a burning desire for revenge. When he saw that it was an hour past the appointed time, he could stand the suspense no longer. Snatching up his hat, he moved towards the door. Before he reached it, however, someone tapped on the other side.
Torn between rage and hope, he flung open the door.
She had come at last.
‘Where on earth have you been?’ he demanded.
‘I was unavoidably detained.’
‘By whom?’
‘If you’ll let me in,’ she said with an appeasing smile, ‘then I might be able to explain.’ He stepped aside so that she could enter the room then shut the door. ‘First of all, let me apologise.’
‘You’re an hour late, Kitty!’
‘Be grateful that I came at all. When I got your letter, my first instinct was to burn it along with all the others. It was only after calm reflection that I felt you deserved the right to see me.’
‘I told you how important it was.’
‘Important to you, George,’ she said with mock sweetness, ‘but not quite so important to me, I suspect. Before we go any further, let me make one thing crystal clear. If the purpose of this meeting is to make overtures to me, then I may as well leave immediately. After what happened between us, I could never countenance a return to our earlier situation.’
Kitty Lavender glanced around the room with mingled distaste and nostalgia. They were in the London hotel where their romance had first started and it aroused mixed emotions in her. She was a graceful woman in her twenties with a startling beauty that was enhanced by exquisite clothing. Her blonde ringlets hung around the flower-trimmed edges of a poke bonnet. Kitty Lavender had the bearing and assurance of an aristocrat even though she had been born much lower down the social scale. In spite of himself, Lord Hendry felt the pull of an old affection.
‘You look positively divine,’ he said, appraising her with a smile.
She stiffened. ‘I need no compliments,’ she said frostily.
‘At least, take a seat while you’re here.’
‘I’ll not be staying.’
‘Doesn’t this room bring back memories?’
‘Ones that I’d prefer to forget.’
‘Have it your way,’ he said, reverting to a subdued fury. ‘I asked you here for one reason only. What happened to that hatbox I bought you in Jermyn Street?’
‘Hatbox!’ she echoed with a splutter. ‘You br
ought me all the way here to talk about a hatbox?’
‘Yes, I did – and you won’t leave until I know the truth.’
Kitty bridled. ‘You can’t keep me against my will.’
‘I’ll do as I wish.’
‘Stand aside,’ she ordered as he put his back against the door. ‘If you don’t do so at once, I shall call for help.’
‘Answer my question, Kitty – or would you rather have it put to you by the police? I’ve already had them banging on my door.’
‘The police?’
‘Two detectives from Scotland Yard.’
She was mystified. ‘And they asked you about my hatbox?’
‘It’s taken on a gruesome significance,’ he told her. ‘It was found at Crewe railway station with a severed head inside it.’
She opened her mouth to emit a silent scream of horror then she slumped onto a chair. Seeing her distress, he tried to put a consoling hand on her shoulder but she waved him away. Kitty Lavender pulled out a delicate lace handkerchief and dabbed at her eyes. It was some time before she was able to collect herself.
‘Can this be true, George?’ she asked.
‘Unfortunately, it can.’
‘But how did they know it was my hatbox?’
‘The milliner’s name was inside. Inspector Colbeck visited him and discovered who purchased it. That brought the inspector to me.’
‘What did you tell him?’
‘The same as I told that posturing ninny Elijah Swinnerton – that I was buying the hat and hatbox for my wife. To get rid of him, I said that it had been stolen from that hotel in Cambridge.’
‘Supposing that he checks your story?’
‘There’s no chance of that,’ he said confidently. ‘Besides, I made sure that I didn’t give him the name of the hotel. But the fact remains that your hatbox was responsible for the police visit. It was highly disturbing, Kitty. Had I not been there, Caroline might have spoken to them and discovered what I had been doing in Jermyn Street. That would have been a catastrophe.’
‘It’s your own fault for buying gifts for another woman.’
‘You wanted that hat.’
‘I did – it was perfect for me.’
‘At the time, I was happy to get it for you, Now, however,’ he went on, ‘I wish I’d never gone anywhere near that confounded shop.’
The Iron Horse Page 7