Railway to the Grave

by Edward Marston

  ‘Never,’ said Tarleton, passing it to his sister.

  ‘I don’t recognise it either,’ said Eve scrutinising it. ‘What about you, Agnes? Does it look familiar to you?’

  Agnes looked at the calligraphy and shook her head. ‘No, I’m sorry. I can’t tell you who wrote that, Inspector.’ She gave it back to him. ‘But it was someone with a warped mind.’

  ‘He’s not the only one. Other people sent poison-pen letters. Who knows? The killer may have been one of them, trying to put the colonel under intolerable strain that would lead him to take his own life.’ He glanced at Tarleton. ‘Even now, I fear, there are still people making the cruel assumption that the colonel was a killer.’

  ‘The real murderer must be very cunning,’ decided Agnes. ‘He seems to have worked out everything in advance.’

  ‘That’s because he underestimated us, Mrs Reader. He thought that, if the body were to be discovered, the presence of the cartridges would be proof positive to everyone that Colonel Tarleton was the villain of the piece. In my humble opinion,’ said Colbeck, ‘he most assuredly was not. The killer’s ruse has therefore failed. In setting it up, he gave himself away.’

  Eve was astounded. ‘You know who he is, Inspector?’

  ‘I know where to start looking for him, Mrs Doel.’

  ‘And where’s that?’

  ‘Among the small group of people who ever joined a shooting party with the colonel. That’s how they’d be able to pick up his spent cartridges. You see,’ he added, displaying the ammunition again, ‘I don’t believe that these were used in the murder at all. Your mother was shot by a different weapon altogether.’

  CHAPTER TEN

  Eric Hepworth would never be welcome at the Black Bull in South Otterington. The landlord resented his lordly manner, the landlord’s wife disliked the way he ogled her and other customers were unsettled by the presence of a policeman. Even on the few occasions when Hepworth had changed out of his uniform, he could still discourage people from entering the bar. He loomed large and tended to force his way into private conversations. As long as he was in the Black Bull, its patrons felt that they were under surveillance. Still in uniform that evening, and with his top hat resting on the counter, he nursed a pint of beer and engaged in desultory chat with the landlord while keeping a beady eye on the door. The moment that Colbeck eventually came through it, Hepworth took a step towards him and manufactured an ingratiating smile.

  ‘What can I get you, Inspector?’ he invited.

  ‘I want nothing for the moment, thank you,’ said Colbeck, ‘but I would appreciate a word with you, Sergeant Hepworth.’

  ‘You can have as many as you wish, sir.’

  ‘Shall we sit over here?’

  Colbeck indicated a table in the corner and they sat down either side of it. Stroking his beard, Hepworth cocked an ear, hoping to hear privileged information about the investigation.

  ‘Have you made any headway?’ he asked.

  ‘I think so.’

  ‘What have you found out?’

  ‘Lots of things,’ said Colbeck. ‘One of them concerns you.’

  Hepworth was wary. ‘Don’t believe all the gossip you hear around here, Inspector. You know what it’s like when you wear a police uniform. You get all kinds of nasty comments.’

  ‘This was not gossip. It came from an impeccable source.’

  ‘And what has someone been saying about me?’

  ‘That you and the colonel once exchanged harsh words.’

  ‘Most of his words were harsh,’ said Hepworth, curling a lip. ‘I was one of the few people in the village with the courage to stand up to him. He treated my daughter bad. Nobody does that without hearing from me.’

  ‘The argument was about her dismissal, I understand.’

  ‘He had the gall to say that Ginny was lazy. You’ve never met a more hard-working girl. She cried for days when he threw her out of there. Well,’ he continued, nodding towards the window, ‘you’ve seen the size of the village. If someone loses her job like that, everyone knows about it and there’s not much else a girl like Ginny can do but go into domestic service. Who’ll take her on now? Ginny’s got a reputation for idleness that she just doesn’t deserve. I felt I had to point that out to the colonel.’

  ‘How did he respond?’

  ‘He told me it was none of my business.’

  ‘As the girl’s father, you had a legitimate interest.’

  ‘That’s what I said. I didn’t expect him to take her on again, of course. All that I wanted from him was a letter to say that she’d given good service. She needed a reference, Inspector.’

  ‘Clearly,’ said Colbeck, ‘he refused to give it.’

  ‘He did more than that, sir. He flew off the handle and started calling me names. He threatened to report me for insubordination, as if I was a soldier in his regiment. I wasn’t standing for that,’ growled Hepworth, eyes kindling at an unpleasant memory, ‘so I told him what I really thought about him.’

  ‘What happened then?’

  ‘He said that I should be horsewhipped for my insolence but he wasn’t stupid enough to raise a hand against me. In the end, he just stalked off. I came in here to cool down with a couple of pints.’

  ‘Weren’t you afraid there’d be some retaliation?’

  Hepworth stuck out his chest. ‘I wasn’t afraid of anything.’

  ‘Did he try to get you dismissed?’

  ‘If he did, he failed. I’ve got an excellent record of service. They’d be idiots to part with someone of my experience.’

  ‘I’m sure they realised that,’ said Colbeck, with gentle sarcasm. ‘But why was there an allegation of laziness against your daughter if it wasn’t true?’

  ‘I think it came from that old harpy, Mrs Withers. She made my daughter work every hour that God sends. Ginny was expected to fetch, carry, wash, clean, fill this, empty that and do a dozen other chores. The girl was exhausted.’ Hepworth lowered his voice. ‘Then, of course, there was the other business.’

  ‘What other business, Sergeant?’

  ‘I told you. Ginny knew about the colonel and his housekeeper. When she realised their secret might come out, Mrs Withers invented an excuse to have Ginny dismissed.’

  Colbeck was sceptical. ‘That interpretation of facts,’ he said, ‘only holds water if there really was some intimacy between the colonel and Mrs Withers. Having met the housekeeper, I find it hard to believe that she’d engage in any kind of impropriety and events have shown that theory to be wildly eccentric.’

  ‘Ginny saw what she saw, Inspector.’

  ‘But she saw it through rather bleary eyes if she was close to exhaustion most of the time. According to you, Mrs Tarleton learnt of this clandestine romance and fled the house.’ He leant forward. ‘How do you explain the fact that we exhumed her body early this morning and confirmed that she was a murder victim?’

  ‘The colonel must have killed her,’ argued Hepworth, wagging a finger. ‘He had to silence his wife before she told everyone what was going on in the house.’

  ‘Colonel Tarleton did not commit murder,’ said Colbeck with rasping authority. ‘I’m absolutely certain of that. Nor did he develop an inappropriate interest in his housekeeper. Your daughter only imagined that. What drove him to take his life was grief over the loss of a beloved wife. It’s reprehensible of you to blacken his name with hints of scandal at the house.’

  ‘I haven’t blackened his name,’ denied Hepworth, squirming under the reproach. ‘I merely reported what Ginny sensed. You and Sergeant Leeming are the only people I told, I swear it. And even though the colonel and I had that argument, I was more than ready to help when his wife first went missing.’

  ‘Yes,’ recalled Colbeck, ‘I believe you were paid for that.’

  ‘It wasn’t just me. He offered money to everyone who’d take part. But that wasn’t what made me give up my free time to join the search. I felt sorry for the man.’

  ‘Weren’t you stil
l angry that he’d dismissed your daughter?’

  ‘It was a crisis, Inspector,’ said Hepworth, righteously. ‘In those circumstances, you forget petty differences. I forgot about Ginny and I even overlooked what he did to Sam.’

  ‘Who is Sam?’

  ‘He’s my lad. Though he’s a bit slow between the ears, he’s very willing and does all sorts of jobs around here to earn an honest penny. One of the things Sam liked most was going on a shooting party.’

  Colbeck’s interest was sparked. ‘Why was that?’

  ‘He always used to carry the colonel’s gun for him. Until I had the argument over Ginny, that is,’ Hepworth went on. ‘Next time he tried to go out with a shooting party, Sam was sent packing by that vindictive old curmudgeon. So you see,’ he said as if he’d just been exonerated, ‘I was ready to forgive and forget. That’s the kind of man Eric Hepworth is.’ He patted his chest. ‘I have a big heart, Inspector.’

  Refreshed and restored by a night in his wife’s arms, Victor Leeming arrived at a railway station for once with a modicum of enthusiasm. When he entered the maelstrom that was King’s Cross, he was still beaming. Built only a few years earlier as a terminus for the Great Northern Railway, the station was on a cramped site with tunnels close to the platform ends. What caught the eye of any newcomer, however, were the two vast glazed arches that spanned the whole structure and gave it a sense of space and wonder. Having gone there reluctantly on the previous occasion, Leeming now found a moment to look upwards and gape. He was still marvelling at the construction when someone tugged at the sleeve of his frock coat.

  ‘Good morning,’ said Madeleine Andrews, voice raised above the general hubbub.

  He was astonished. ‘I never thought I’d see you here.’

  ‘I came in the hope of catching you. I was lucky. In a crowd like this, I could easily have missed you.’

  ‘And you came on your own?’

  ‘Yes, I walked along the towpath from Camden.’

  ‘That’s a very dangerous thing for a young woman to do,’ he said, worriedly. ‘You should really have had someone with you.’

  ‘There were plenty of people about and lots of barges on the canal. I sensed no danger. Besides,’ she went on, ‘I was anxious to give you this.’ She handed over her letter. ‘Could you deliver it for me, please?’

  He glanced at the name on the envelope. ‘The inspector will be delighted to receive this. Though he never talks about it, I know that he misses you as much as I miss Estelle.’

  ‘Was your wife pleased to see you last night?’

  ‘She was overjoyed, Miss Andrews, and so were the children. It was a lovely surprise for them.’

  ‘My lovely surprise came in the form of a letter. That’s why I felt I had to reply to it.’ They moved aside to get away from the crush of bodies. ‘I do hope this case won’t take as long as you fear.’

  ‘So do I,’ he said. ‘Inspector Colbeck is very tenacious. He’ll not rest until the murder is solved. Even in the time I’ve been away, he’ll have made progress.’

  ‘The people I feel sorry for are the children. To lose their mother must have been an awful shock. Before they recovered from that, their stepfather committed suicide in the most horrible way. It seems such a strange thing to do, walking along a railway track.’

  ‘It certainly left nothing to chance.’

  ‘Why did he do it?’

  ‘The Inspector believes that he was sending a message.’

  ‘What sort of message?’

  ‘We haven’t found that out yet, Miss Andrews.’

  ‘Did the colonel have some connection with railways?’

  ‘None that I know of,’ said Leeming, looking down a platform at a waiting train. ‘Anyway, I’m afraid that I can’t stop now. My train leaves in a few minutes. I’ll have to go.’

  ‘Of course, Sergeant – I’m sorry to hold you up.’

  ‘I don’t want to miss it. After all, I have an important letter to deliver.’ He held up the envelope. ‘The inspector will want to see it at the earliest possible opportunity. In fact, if I know him, he’ll be waiting at the station to meet me.’

  Colbeck sat on a bench at South Otterington station and watched the passengers climbing on board a train to York. Railways had always held a fascination for him. He never ceased to be amazed at the way steam had conquered distance, putting the entire country within the grasp of every traveller. He loved the constant bustle, the ear-splitting clamour and the distinctive smell of stations like Euston, Paddington and Waterloo. Here, in this corner of the North Riding, he’d found the perfect antidote to the large, enclosed London termini with their daily pandemonium. This station was tiny by comparison, open to the skies and intensely personal. As the village’s link with the outside world, it performed a valuable function without detracting from the sense of a tightly knit and self-supporting community.

  Once the stationmaster had despatched the train, Colbeck felt able to stroll across to him. Silas Ellerby gave him a warm greeting.

  ‘Good morning to you, Inspector!’

  ‘Good morning to you, Mr Ellerby,’ said Colbeck, noticing that his cheeks looked more rubicund than ever. ‘I envy you.’

  Ellerby laughed. ‘You’re the first person who’s ever done that.’

  ‘You work in such pleasant surroundings, you see fresh faces every day and you exert such power over those hissing monsters we call locomotives. Once they’re here, they’re under your control.’

  ‘You’ve only been watching me on a fine summer’s day, sir. This is not such a pleasant place to work in the winter when the rain pours down and the wind sweeps through. As for the so-called fresh faces, they’re usually the same ones every day. You and the sergeant are the only strangers to come here in the last month. I’m the one who envies you, Inspector,’ said Ellerby. ‘Making trains leave on time is important but it’s not as exciting as the work that you do.’

  ‘Being a detective has its drawbacks as well.’

  ‘What sort of drawbacks?’

  ‘Well, you have to ask searching questions that people don’t want to answer. You have to delve into their private lives and they resent that.’

  ‘That’s only if they have something to hide, Inspector. When you have a clear conscience like me, you don’t mind any questions.’

  ‘In that case, I’ll put one to you, if I may.’

  ‘Then you can count on a straight answer, sir.’

  ‘Is it true that you and the colonel once locked horns?’

  Ellerby chuckled. ‘Yes, it is, as a matter of fact,’ he admitted. ‘Luckily, I had some beer inside me and that always fires me up.’

  ‘What was the argument about?’

  ‘I can’t remember all the details. I was too drunk at the time. But it was something to do with getting him home when his horse went lame. What did he expect me to do?’ asked the stationmaster. ‘Get between the shafts and pull the bloody trap for him? In any case, I was off duty that night so nobody was going to order me about. All he had to do was bang on the blacksmith’s door but that was beneath him. He ordered me to fetch another horse. When I refused, he was furious and told me he’d get the company to sack me. I forget what I said exactly,’ said Ellerby, grinning broadly, ‘but it did the trick. He went storming off in a rage.’

  Colbeck warmed to the stationmaster. His red cheeks, bloodshot eyes and purple-veined nose hinted that he was a heavy drinker but it didn’t seem to impair him in the exercise of his duties. When at work, he was polite, affable and efficient. From the cheerful way passengers had greeted him, Colbeck had seen how popular the little man was. What was not visible was the truculent streak that allowed Ellerby to take on a man who was effectively the local squire.

  ‘I’ve been talking to the colonel’s housekeeper,’ said Colbeck. ‘On the day he committed suicide, he told her that he was catching a train to Doncaster.’

  ‘Oh, he often did that at one time, Inspector.’

  ‘It seems an odd thin
g to do. Doncaster is pre-eminently a railway town. When the Great Northern Railway built their works there, they increased the population by thousands. They took over completely. I wouldn’t have thought the town held any interest for the colonel.’

  ‘Nor me,’ said Ellerby, ‘but he went there fairly regular. Well, until a year or so ago, he did. All of a sudden, he stopped. I always assumed he must have a friend there – a retired army man like him.’

  Colbeck was not persuaded. ‘Who would choose to spend his retirement in Doncaster? Think of the noise and the clouds of smoke coming from the Plant. Then there’s the stink of industry. It’s hardly a restful place to live.’

  ‘The colonel must have had his reasons for going there.’

  ‘What about his wife? Did she ever accompany him?’

  ‘No,’ said Ellerby. ‘They rarely travelled together. While her husband went south, Mrs Tarleton used to go north from time to time. She had a cousin in Edinburgh. She won’t be catching the train to Scotland again.’

  ‘By now, I daresay, all of her relations will have been informed of the tragedies that occurred here. You’ll soon have a lot of fresh faces coming to the village.’

  ‘When will the funerals be held?’

  ‘Not until after the inquest into Mrs Tarleton’s death.’

  ‘They’ll be buried side by side in the churchyard, no doubt.’

  ‘Actually,’ said Colbeck, ‘there is a doubt.’

  ‘They’re husband and wife. They must be together.’

  ‘There’s no problem with regard to Mrs Tarleton. She’ll be buried with full Christian rites in consecrated ground. The colonel’s case is somewhat different, alas. He committed suicide and that is anathema to certain people. They feel that it’s wrong for him to be buried in the churchyard.’

  ‘They can’t stop it happening, though, can they?’

  ‘Only for a short while, Mr Ellerby,’ Colbeck assured him. ‘Once resistance is overcome, husband and wife will lie side by side.’

  Husband and wife knelt side by side at the altar rail in St Andrew’s church. Hands clasped in prayer and heads bent in humility, Frederick and Dorcas Skelton sent their pleas up to heaven in unison. Less than a decade earlier, the church had been rebuilt in its original Norman style. The result was striking. Its nave was divided from its north aisle by three moulded arches rising from slender, round pillars. The church boasted a chancel, a square tower and a porch, all finished in decorated stone. Both the pulpit and the lectern were extravagantly ornamented with deeply recessed arches and zigzag or dog-tooth moulding. It was an archetypal House of God and its two occupants were statues of Christian virtue.