The Circus Train Conspiracy

by Edward Marston

  ‘Thanks to you, Mulryne, the Railway Detective is coming.’

  ‘He’s an old friend, Mr Moscardi. We worked well together.’

  ‘Why did you leave the police force?’

  Mulryne chuckled. ‘That’s a long story.’

  ‘Save it until this whole business has been sorted out.’

  ‘Have you decided when we move on?’

  ‘No,’ said Moscardi, sadly. ‘People involved in the crash are still jangled and so am I. We need time to get over it before we move on. The same goes for the animals, of course. They’re all very restive.’

  ‘Jacko won’t sit still for a single minute.’

  ‘He’s like the rest of us – hurt and afraid.’

  ‘I was hurt,’ said Mulryne, straightening his shoulders, ‘but I’m certainly not afraid. I want to help Inspector Colbeck catch whoever put those sleepers on the line. Then, of course, there’s that poor woman we found.’

  ‘God rest her soul!’ said Moscardi. ‘We’re so worried about our own troubles that we’re forgetting about her. If Jacko hadn’t found the corpse for us, it might have lain undiscovered for ages. What sort of state would she be in by then?’

  ‘I hate to think.’

  ‘You said that she’d only been killed recently, didn’t you?’

  ‘That would be my guess,’ replied Mulryne, ‘and, I’m sorry to say, I’ve seen a lot of dead bodies in my time. The ones I hauled out of the Thames were the worst. They were hideously bloated. This woman was different. There was no sign of decomposition. She looked so normal. I’ve no idea how she died. There wasn’t a mark of violence upon her.’ He scratched his head. ‘I’d love to know who she is and how she got there.’

  Victor Leeming would never be reconciled to the notion of rail travel. In his opinion, trains were dirty, noisy, uncomfortable, unreliable and a potential source of danger. He was honest enough to admit that going to Northumberland by road would take vastly longer and would subject him to a very bumpy ride but he still preferred a stagecoach. For Colbeck, however, the railway was always a first choice. He was fascinated by the engineering involved and loved hurtling around the country in the course of his investigations. Since their compartment was almost full when they departed, they had little opportunity at first for private conversation. At a series of stops, they shed the other passengers one by one and eventually finished up alone. Colbeck was deep in thought. Leeming recognised the quiet smile on his lips.

  ‘You’re thinking about your daughter, aren’t you, sir?’

  ‘What?’ said the other, jerked out of his reverie. ‘Yes, I was, as a matter of fact. You’re very perceptive, Victor.’

  ‘I have children of my own, remember. I think of them all the time.’

  ‘It’s only natural.’

  ‘I worry about them misbehaving when I’m not there.’

  ‘Helen is far too young to misbehave but I daresay her turn will come. However,’ he went on, adjusting his position, ‘we’ve indulged ourselves enough. The superintendent didn’t send us to Northumberland to daydream about our children. We have a complex case ahead of us.’

  ‘If only it wasn’t so far away,’ said Leeming.

  ‘We go where we’re needed, Victor.’

  ‘That’s the trouble.’

  Adored by his wife, Leeming would never have been considered attractive by any other woman. He had a kind of unthreatening ugliness and looked wholly out of place in a top hat and frock coat. During his days in uniform, his stocky frame and readiness for action gained him great respect. As a detective, however, he seemed on first acquaintance to be out of his depth. There was an almost apologetic air about him as if he knew how unconvincing he must appear.

  ‘I love circuses,’ he said, fondly. ‘Who would possibly want to harm one?’

  ‘There’s an obvious answer to that.’

  ‘I can’t see it.’

  ‘I’m talking about another circus, Victor. There’s a fierce rivalry between them. They’re always trying to poach each other’s artistes or steal each other’s ideas.’

  ‘But they wouldn’t deliberately set out to destroy each other, would they?’

  ‘It’s a possibility we can’t rule out.’

  ‘Circuses are always full of such friendly people. There’s such a welcoming atmosphere when you go to one. My boys laugh for days after they’ve seen clowns playing about. A circus makes them happy.’

  ‘That’s its intention and why it has a unique place in our culture. But not everyone shares our view of it, I’m afraid,’ said Colbeck. ‘The superintendent hates them and so do lots of other people. Town councils in some places refuse to let a circus anywhere near them because they think it breeds mischief.’

  ‘That’s all part of the fun.’

  ‘Fun worries some people, Victor. They fear that it can get out of hand. As for the present case,’ he continued, ‘we can only speculate. I’ve no doubt that Brendan Mulryne will have his theories and he won’t need any encouragement to share them with us.’

  Leeming grinned. ‘No, he was never shy about thrusting himself forward.’ He glanced through the window. ‘We’re going to spend an age on this train.’

  ‘You’ll get your reward when we reach our destination.’

  ‘Why – have you been to Northumberland before?’

  ‘Yes, I once took Madeleine to Wylam Colliery to see Puffing Billy, one of the very earliest locomotives.’

  ‘That’s not what I’d call a treat, sir.’

  ‘The treat lies in the landscape,’ said Colbeck. ‘We’re not just going to solve two heinous crimes. We’re going to one of the most beautiful places in the whole of England.’

  The man on the hill had no interest in the landscape. Concealed behind a bush, he used a telescope to look down on the encampment. To his dismay, the circus had a distressing air of normality about it. Hoping to see evidence of injury and widespread damage, he was instead gazing at acrobats practising their routines and animals being fed by their keepers. He could even hear the happy laughter of children carried on the wind. Only the sight of police uniforms hinted that something was amiss. Cursing his luck, he retracted the telescope, spat angrily on the ground and slunk away.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  It took several hours and two changes of train before Colbeck and Leeming finally got within a few miles of their destination. Having alighted at Fourstones railway station, they were driven in a dog cart by an old man whose beard was so dense and curly that words had difficulty finding a way through it. Because Leeming had his back to the driver, Colbeck, seated beside the old man, bore the brunt of his narrative. It was delivered in an almost impenetrable local dialect. Having spent his entire life in a sleepy little village where nothing untoward ever happened, the old man finally had a major incident to talk about and he freely embroidered the few facts he’d picked up into a vivid description of an event of epic proportions. His account was totally at variance with what the detectives had already learnt in Newcastle.

  When they reached the circus, Colbeck expected to see the aftermath of a calamity, with dead bodies being carried out on stretchers and wounded animals being killed in relays. What he and Leeming actually found was a bustling camp in which the majority of people were far too busy to brood on the crash the previous day. Reacting quickly to the emergency, they lapsed comfortably back into their usual routine. The only real sign of unease was the sustained chorus of protest from the animals. Led by Rosie, it combined anger, confusion and fear.

  Brendan Mulryne came forward eagerly to greet the newcomers.

  ‘You’re a sight for sore eyes, Inspector,’ he said. ‘And the same goes for you, Sergeant.’

  Leeming was given an equally warm handshake. It was years since he’d seen the Irishman but the latter had changed very little in the interim. He had the same bristling energy and the same mischievous twinkle in his eye.

  ‘What are you doing in a circus, Brendan?’ he asked.

  ‘Oh, I do just
about everything.’

  ‘Do you perform in the ring?’

  ‘It’s the one thing I don’t do, Sergeant. They already have a Strong Man and there’s not a tightrope thick enough to bear my weight. As for the trapeze, I’ve no head for heights.’ He picked up their valises from the ground. ‘But let me take you to Mr Moscardi. He’s dying to meet you. And so is Inspector Lill.’

  ‘Is he from the Newcastle Constabulary?’

  ‘Yes – he was in charge here until you arrived.’

  ‘What sort of man, is he?’

  The Irishman snorted. ‘He wouldn’t last a fortnight in London.’

  ‘Why is that?’

  ‘You’ll soon see.’

  Mulryne set off and the others fell in beside him. Colbeck was curious.

  ‘The telegraph said that you discovered the murder victim.’

  ‘That’s not strictly true. Jacko found her.’

  ‘Then we’ll need to speak to him.’

  ‘All you’ll get out of him is a few squeals, I’m afraid,’ said Mulryne with a chuckle. ‘Jacko is a monkey. He escaped during the crash and I went hunting for him with Albert, his keeper.’

  ‘Where did you find him?’

  ‘In the woods – it’s not all that far away.’

  ‘In that case,’ said Colbeck, ‘as soon as you’ve introduced us to Mr Moscardi, I want you to take Sergeant Leeming to the exact spot where the victim was buried.’ He glanced upwards. ‘Light will be fading soon. You might take a lantern.’

  ‘There’s something much more important to take than that.’

  ‘What is it?’ asked Leeming.

  ‘Jacko.’

  Mauro Moscardi was getting increasingly impatient. Seated in their caravan with his wife, he was firing questions at the man nominally leading the investigation and he was getting disappointing answers.

  ‘Have you found any clues at all?’

  ‘We believe so,’ replied Lill, guardedly.

  ‘What are they?’

  ‘It’s too soon to be certain that they are actually relevant.’

  ‘You must have some idea who attacked my circus.’

  ‘All I can offer you at the moment is a guess.’

  ‘A guess!’ exclaimed the Italian. ‘What use is that, man?’

  ‘I’m relying on intuition, sir.’

  ‘And what does it tell you, Inspector?’ asked Anne, calmly. ‘I apologise for my husband. He doesn’t mean to hector you like this. You must understand that this circus has been run by his family for the best part of eighty years. He will fight to the death to save it.’

  ‘All I need to know,’ said Moscardi, ‘is who I’m fighting against.’

  ‘Let the inspector speak, Mauro,’ she advised, softly.

  Cyrus Lill was a lanky man of middle years with a face that looked far too small for such a large head. Its most notable feature was the drooping moustache that hung beneath the snub nose and the watery eyes. He shrugged apologetically.

  ‘We’re doing our best, sir.’

  Moscardi gave a dismissive gesture. ‘Ha!’

  ‘It’s a complex investigation.’

  ‘I just want a simple answer.’

  ‘These things take time—’

  He got no further. Someone rapped on the door and brought the interview to an end. Anne got up to see who the caller was. It was Mulryne’s huge fist that had pounded on the door. When the three of them realised that the detectives had arrived from Scotland Yard, they climbed out of the caravan to give them an effusive welcome. Once introductions were over, Colbeck explained that he was sending Leeming to view the place where the victim had been found and to hear full details from Mulryne of the actual discovery. The two men set off.

  Moscardi was hurt. ‘The assault on my circus should come first,’ he said, vehemently. ‘Our whole future was at stake. Do you know what it’s like to be in a train crash, Inspector Colbeck? We could all have been killed.’

  ‘Thankfully,’ said Colbeck, ‘you were not. The victim, however, was killed.’ He turned to Lill. ‘Have you indentified her yet?’

  ‘I’m afraid not,’ replied Lill.

  ‘Where was the body taken?’

  ‘It’s in Hexham.’

  ‘I’ll need to examine it.’

  ‘And when you’ve done that,’ said Moscardi, testily, ‘will you get round to catching the fiend who did his best to destroy my circus?’

  ‘That crime is at the forefront of my mind, sir,’ said Colbeck.

  ‘Inspector Lill was about to tell us who he suspects,’ said Anne, giving the man his cue. ‘He has a theory.’

  ‘My brother thinks it was someone from Greenwood’s Circus,’ asserted Moscardi.

  She put a hand on her husband’s arm. ‘Let the inspector speak.’

  ‘Well,’ said Lill, diffidently, ‘it’s early into the investigation and we are still gathering evidence but – if I had to hazard a guess – it would be that the crash was the work of some Gypsies. They’ve been around for a fortnight or more and caused all sorts of headaches for us before vanishing like a puff of smoke.’

  ‘What motive would they have?’ asked Colbeck.

  ‘They love to cause trouble.’

  ‘I wouldn’t describe a train crash as mere trouble, Inspector Lill.’

  ‘In my view, they’re incorrigible and would stop at nothing.’

  ‘Oh, I’d fancy they’d stop well short of inflicting damage on a circus. Gypsies and circus folk are kindred spirits, nomads who roam the country and who adapt to what they find in a particular place. Life is without frontiers to them. They relish freedom of movement.’ He turned to Moscardi. ‘Am I right, sir?’

  ‘You are,’ said the other. ‘We were born to roam. As for Gypsies, they’ve never given us any trouble. I employ a couple of them. They’re good men.’

  ‘It was only a suggestion,’ said Lill, defensively.

  ‘I was against it at first but my brother’s suggestion may be a better one, after all. The villain works for Sam Greenwood’s Circus. He’s sworn to put us out of business one day.’

  Anne looked at Colbeck. ‘What do you think, Inspector?’

  ‘I have only one observation to make at this stage,’ replied Colbeck after a moment’s reflection. ‘Before our train departed from Newcastle, I took the trouble to speak to the guard. He’s been from Newcastle to Carlisle and back a number of times today and passed the scene of the crash on each occasion. He told me that your train was derailed by two sleepers laid across the line.’

  ‘That’s correct,’ said Lill.

  ‘I asked him where the sleepers would be stored and he told me.’

  ‘What was your conclusion?’

  ‘It’s this,’ said Colbeck, smoothly. ‘I’m not going to waste precious time looking for Gypsies or tracking down a rival circus. The person who put those sleepers on the line was – or has recently been – employed by the NCR. Only someone with inside knowledge would have access to the train timetables and thus be aware of the likely time when the train would be passing a particular spot. And there’s something else to consider. Who but a railwayman would know exactly where to find a couple of sleepers? That’s my initial conclusion,’ he went on, distributing a smile around the group. ‘It should help to narrow the search a little.’

  It had been a testing journey for Victor Leeming. Having spent so many long hours in a jolting train, he was delighted to have the opportunity to stretch his legs. The walk also gave him the chance to renew his acquaintance with Brendan Mulryne, a man with whom he’d once walked the beat in one of London’s most dangerous districts. They had a lot of news to exchange but the presence of the monkey made any conversation almost impossible. Perched on the Irishman’s shoulder, Jacko piped away continuously, making noises that ranged from a squeal of alarm to a soft kissing sound. Leeming was amused when the monkey kept snatching Mulryne’s hat off before replacing it at a rakish angle but he didn’t laugh when he became the animal’s target. Without wa
rning, Jacko suddenly hopped onto his back, snatched his top hat off and swung on the branch of a tree before depositing the hat out of reach of both men. When Leeming complained, the monkey shot up to the very top of the tree and emitted a mocking laugh. Leeming was furious.

  ‘Do you know how much that hat cost?’ he demanded.

  ‘Don’t shout at him, Sergeant. He’s only having some fun.’

  ‘Well, I’d rather he didn’t do it at my expense.’

  ‘He meant no harm,’ said Mulryne, good-humouredly. ‘I’ll get your hat back, don’t worry.’ He clapped his hands. ‘All right, Jacko. The game is over.’ He patted his shoulder. ‘Come back here.’

  The monkey descended the tree at once and picked up the top hat on his way. Leaping on to Mulryne’s shoulder, he knocked off his hat and replaced it with the one belonging to Leeming.

  ‘Oh, it’s far too good for me,’ said Mulryne, whisking it off and handing it back to Leeming. ‘Fetch my hat, Jacko.’

  The monkey obeyed at once, retrieving it from the ground and putting it back on the Irishman’s head. Afraid of losing it again, Leeming chose to keep his top hat in his hands. As they walked on, his friend recounted what had happened.

  ‘We searched for Jacko, high and low – it was mostly high, actually, because he’s at home in the trees, as you’ve just seen. He does things that the circus acrobats couldn’t even try to do. Jacko’s a delight to watch when he’s showing off.’

  ‘How did he lead you to the grave?’

  ‘But he didn’t. When I stumbled upon it with Albert, we didn’t even know that Jacko was there. All I saw was this pale white hand sticking out of the earth and waving at me. Jesus! I almost filled my pants, so I did.’