The Circus Train Conspiracy

by Edward Marston

  ‘That’s correct, Mr Darlow,’ said Colbeck, getting up to shake his hand then indicating his companion. ‘This is Sergeant Leeming.’

  Leeming rose from the table in readiness for a handshake but all that he was given by the newcomer was a cursory inspection and a curt nod. Darlow’s only interest was in the Railway Detective.

  ‘You’d have been welcome to stay at my home,’ he said, expansively, ‘but I live north of Newcastle and I reasoned that you’d prefer to be closer to the scene of the crime. Hexham would have been ideal for you. It’s a delightful old town filled to the brim with historic significance.’

  ‘We came here as policemen, sir,’ said Colbeck, ‘not as antiquarians.’

  ‘You came as our guests and should be treated accordingly.’

  ‘This place suits us well enough,’ said Leeming as he looked around. ‘They sell good beer and a tasty meat pie.’

  ‘It also has the advantage of being closer to where we need to be,’ Colbeck pointed out. ‘We’re north of the river here. Had we stayed in Hexham, we’d have been further away and obliged to cross the river every time we wished to visit the circus.’

  ‘I won’t argue,’ said Darlow, ‘but don’t blame me if the beds are too hard and you keep banging your heads on these low beams. Luckily, that’s not a problem for someone like me,’ he went on with a chortle. ‘Being this short sometimes has its advantages.’ He had a sudden fit of coughing. ‘It’s very musty in here. Do you mind if we all step outside?’

  ‘Lead the way, sir,’ invited Colbeck.

  He and Leeming followed the old man out into the fresh air. They were greeted by bright sunshine and a bracing wind. Darlow looked at the nearby line.

  ‘How much do you know about the NCR?’ he asked.

  ‘Next to nothing,’ replied Leeming.

  ‘I know something of its history,’ said Colbeck. ‘Like so many railway companies, it faced stiff opposition from local landowners. Having overcome the enemy, so to speak, it surged ahead and was completed, I believe, in 1839. Nine or ten years later, it was leased by George Hudson, the now deposed Railway King, on behalf of the York, Newcastle and Berwick Railway.’

  ‘That was never a satisfactory arrangement,’ explained Darlow, ‘and we regained our independence very quickly. The company profited from astute management. We increased traffic markedly by offering reduced rates for people going to markets, wrestling matches, race meetings and so on. And we kept our potential passengers well informed with regular handbills.’

  ‘How long have you been at the helm, Mr Darlow?’

  ‘Oh, I only became chairman by default, as it were. My predecessor was taken ill and I was the only person foolish enough to put himself forward. Darlow is a name with some impact in this county,’ he said, thrusting out his chest. ‘Until a few years ago, I was one of the two Members of Parliament representing the good people of Newcastle. The borough has a population of almost seventy thousand, you know.’

  ‘But most of them, I suspect, don’t have a vote,’ said Colbeck.

  ‘Over five thousand of them do,’ returned the other with a hint of annoyance. ‘Suffice it to say that, when I felt it was time to retire, I suddenly found myself catapulted into the position I now hold. As for the company, I’ve been a major shareholder for many years and a champion of the NCR’s independence.’ He replaced his hat. ‘That brings me to the crux of the matter. Having only arrived yesterday, you’ll have had no time to formulate any theories about who was responsible for the train crash.’

  ‘Our minds are also focused on the murder of an unknown woman.’

  ‘That’s as it should be, Inspector, but you’ll understand why the railway accident weighs more heavily on my mind. Mr Moscardi’s brother is convinced that it was the work of a rival circus.’

  ‘Inspector Lill favours alternative villains.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Leeming. ‘He’s certain that Gypsies are responsible.’

  Darlow brushed the suggestion aside, ‘Then Lill is quite wrong.’

  ‘Don’t be too hard on him, sir,’ said Colbeck. ‘In all probability, Inspector Lill was one of the men who elected you to Parliament. And it was a logical supposition, after all. There have been Gypsies in the area, apparently, and they’ve caused mayhem.’

  ‘This crime has a purely commercial basis.’

  ‘You say that with real conviction, sir.’

  ‘I meant every word,’ said Darlow with sudden passion. ‘The NCR has been fighting off repeated attempts by the North Eastern Railway to secure a leasing arrangement with us or – ideal for them – a merger. In other words, they want to swallow us up wholesale and spit out the pips. Since we’ve refused to budge, they are starting to resort to more desperate measures.’

  ‘That’s a very serious allegation, sir.’

  ‘It’s one that I stand by, Inspector.’

  ‘A railway company wouldn’t stoop that low, surely?’ said Leeming.

  ‘The NER would.’

  ‘I beg to differ, Mr Darlow,’ said Colbeck. ‘If they have designs on taking over the NCR, why try to destroy one of its locomotives and some of its rolling stock?’

  ‘That’s commercial folly,’ said Leeming.

  ‘It’s a way of applying more pressure on us. I could be barking up the wrong tree altogether,’ admitted Darlow, ‘but I’ve been party to some abrasive negotiations with the NER. Ruthless men sat around that table. My belief is this. Since they can’t achieve their objective by peaceful means, they’re trying something else.’

  ‘Leave it to Inspector Colbeck,’ urged Mulryne.

  ‘He knows nothing about circuses,’ said Gianni Moscardi with contempt.

  ‘He knows a lot about catching criminals.’

  ‘We have to sort this out ourselves.’

  ‘But we can’t do that, Gianni.’

  ‘We can do anything we want if we all pull together. That’s why I organised those patrols last night. I put armed men all round the camp. Nobody could’ve got in.’

  ‘Nobody wanted to get in.’

  ‘We’re being watched by people from Greenwood’s Circus.’

  ‘The only people watching us are children who are dying to catch a glimpse of Rosie or of the lions. It’s always the same. Wherever we go, we get interlopers and they’re usually harmless.’

  ‘Not this time, Brendan.’

  ‘I simply don’t think we’re in danger.’

  ‘You’ve only been with us for a while. Most of us have spent our entire lives in a circus. It’s made us wary. We know when we’re under attack.’

  ‘I think you should talk to the inspector.’

  ‘I’ll be too busy waiting for Sam Greenwood’s thugs to turn up.’ He pulled back his coat to reveal a long knife. ‘That’s why I’m carrying this.’

  Gianna was not content to hand over the investigation to detectives from Scotland Yard. He was scornful of the praise heaped on them by Mulryne. It was not enough for him to catch the person or persons who’d derailed one of their trains. Gianni wanted to exact revenge. To that end, he’d assembled a group of the toughest men in the circus and placed them strategically around the camp at night. He was now ready to lead them in search of their enemy.

  Fond though he was of the Italian, Mulryne disagreed with his tactics.

  ‘You won’t catch anyone with a gang of vigilantes.’

  ‘Yes, we will – you watch.’

  ‘But you don’t know where to start.’

  ‘Neither do your friends from London. We came close to having a disaster on our hands but all that those detectives can think about is that woman you stumbled on. Look around you,’ he said with a gesture that took in the whole camp. ‘Haven’t you noticed how many people have got bandaging around their heads or an arm in a sling or cuts and bruises of some sort? Didn’t you hear the shot when we had to kill one of our best horses?’

  ‘Yes, of course I did,’ said Mulryne.

  ‘Then why didn’t you tell Inspector Colbeck
about the sheer scale of the damage caused? Why did you lead the sergeant to view the grave where the corpse was found? We needed him here, searching for clues to do with the crash.’

  ‘They won’t let us down, Gianni, I promise you that.’

  ‘Well, I’m not waiting around for them to realise that what happened to us is far more important than the murder of one person. Over forty people were in that train when it came off the rails.’

  ‘I know,’ said Mulryne, ruefully. ‘I was one of them, so you don’t need to tell me what a nasty experience it was. I’ve still got cuts and bruises as well.’

  As he was speaking, people drifted up to them and took their place alongside Gianni. They were the vigilantes he’d recruited and they included Samson, the circus Strong Man, a massive individual in his forties with a muscular torso, a rough beard and hair that hung to his shoulders. Mulryne counted fifteen of them in all.

  ‘We’ve come for our orders,’ said Samson.

  ‘Follow me,’ said Gianni, walking away and beckoning them to follow.

  Mulryne watched them go and shook his head in dismay. While he understood their anger, he regretted the way that they’d despaired of the police investigation before it had really got under way. The detectives had to be warned. Gianni and his men could pose a real problem in the future.

  Colbeck had handled two cases simultaneously before but there had been discernible links between them. No such overlap existed here or, if it did, it had yet to come to light. It meant that he had competition for his attention. Should he concentrate on the derailment or did the murder have a stronger claim? Mauro Moscardi had complained so loudly that the plight of the circus was not at the heart of the investigation that it had taken hours for Colbeck to convince him otherwise. It was late when he and Leeming had finally left the camp and gone to the inn where they were staying. Since he’d had no time to view the body of the murder victim, he made it a priority for the next morning. Tapper Darlow was highly critical.

  ‘What’s the point of bothering with her when you don’t even know who she is?’ he asked.

  ‘I might be able to pick up clues as to her identity, sir.’

  ‘How can you do that from a body on a slab?’

  ‘You’d be surprised what you can sometimes learn. I speak from personal experience. A severed head was once found in a hatbox on Crewe station. That was all that we had to guide us. It proved to be more than adequate. We identified the murder victim, uncovered the motive for the crime and arrested the killers. If we can learn so much from a head, think how much more we’ll be able to deduce from a whole body.’

  ‘I still think that the train crash should come first.’

  ‘It’s not being ignored. Sergeant Leeming is with the circus right now.’

  ‘Sergeant Leeming is not you, Inspector. Going to Hexham to look at a corpse sends out the wrong signal to me and to Mr Moscardi.’

  ‘Not so long ago,’ Colbeck remembered, ‘you were telling us what a beautiful old town Hexham was. Now you’re trying to stop me going there.’

  They were travelling together on a train they’d joined at Fourstones. Darlow spent the whole of the short journey arguing that his demands should be respected first. Though he was glad to get off alone at the next stop, Colbeck was wise enough to realise that Darlow could be an asset to them. For all his pomposity, he was clearly a man of political skills and had a detailed knowledge of the workings of the NCR. His claim that the derailment had been engineered by a rival company had failed to convince Colbeck, yet it had to be borne in mind. It would certainly not be the first time that an acquisitive company was ready to employ underhand means to achieve its ends. Some people were prepared to go to any lengths to achieve power and wealth.

  Having consulted his copy of Bradshaw on his way north, Colbeck had already learnt that Hexham was a picturesque town of almost five thousand souls with a population chiefly engaged in leather, shoe, glove, hat and woollen manufacture. As he left the station, he had the impression of a contented community, living in pleasant surroundings and preserving its many links to the past. The address he’d been given was that of Dr Thomas Fereby, the man who’d been summoned to examine the body of the murder victim and who’d had it moved to his house. A tall, angular, owlish man of sixty, Fereby had had experience of working as a pathologist and was well respected in the area. When he welcomed his visitor, he gave Colbeck a clammy handshake that was redeemed by his warm smile.

  ‘It’s good to meet you, Inspector,’ he said. ‘Your reputation precedes you.’

  ‘I’m told that people have the highest opinion of you as well, Doctor.’

  ‘I do my best.’

  ‘What have you discovered about the victim?’

  ‘There’s very little to report, I fear, but I’ve made some notes and you can take a copy away with you. As you may know, the cause of death was poison but I’m no toxicologist. The body is being moved to Newcastle today for a post-mortem. They’ll bring in an expert to decide exactly what she died of.’

  ‘Could you describe your reaction when you first saw the body?’

  ‘I can do so in great detail.’

  Fereby was a refreshing contrast to Tapper Darlow. Unlike the former, he had a soft voice and an easy manner. He recalled his surprise at being unable to determine the cause of death at first. The woman had been lying on her back and care had been taken to arrange her in a natural position. She had not simply been dumped into the cavity then hastily covered over.

  ‘Whoever buried her, Inspector, took some trouble.’

  ‘That’s interesting.’

  ‘There were very few effects – no reticule, no rings on either hand, no accessories of any kind. Her dress and underwear are all that remained.’

  ‘What about shoes?’

  ‘There were none.’

  When he’d completed the list, he took Colbeck into his office and handed him a box that contained everything belonging to the woman. Examining the dress, the inspector saw that the label had been torn out. He felt the quality of the material.

  ‘This was expensive,’ he observed. ‘She had taste.’ He noticed two tiny holes on the front of the dress. ‘She was wearing a brooch of some kind, I fancy.’

  ‘It wasn’t in the grave.’

  ‘The killer may have stolen it along with any other jewellery.’

  ‘And yet he laid her out so gently and caringly.’ He looked at Colbeck. ‘There is, of course, another explanation. She was wearing jewellery, after all.’

  ‘I can see what you’re hinting at, Doctor Fereby. You think that the person who discovered the body then robbed it of any valuables. Let me put your mind at rest on that score,’ Colbeck went on. ‘The man who actually found her – with, I gather, the assistance of a monkey – was a Brendan Mulryne who works for the circus. Earlier in his career, he was a member of the Metropolitan Police Force. I can vouch for his character. He’s no thief.’

  ‘That’s reassuring to hear, Inspector.’

  ‘I can’t speak for the monkey, however.’

  They shared a laugh. Fereby then led him to the rear of the house and out into a stone-built annexe with a paved floor. There was a chill atmosphere. Herbs had been scattered to sweeten the smell of death. The woman lay on a table under a shroud. At the doctor’s invitation, Colbeck pulled it back to reveal everything above the waist. He first looked at the hands, noting impressions that suggested rings had been worn on two fingers on each hand. The skin was pale and tiny blue veins could be seen beneath it, reaching out in all directions like a miniature river delta. What he was looking at was the face of an attractive woman in her forties who, judging by her coiffure, could afford a very good hairdresser. The face intrigued him.

  ‘There’s no sign of pain or suffering,’ he said. ‘I’ve seen people who’ve been given corrosive poisons and they die in agony with their teeth clenched and their faces crumpled up. If there is such a thing, this woman died from a benign poison.’

  ‘Pois
ons that can kill are never benign, Inspector. My explanation would be that she was given it in small doses over a long period. The effect was cumulative.’

  Fereby went on to talk of other cases of poisoning he’d seen in the course of his career and how the person administering the dose had clearly wanted their victim to writhe in torment before dying. That was clearly not the case here.

  ‘There’ll have to be an inquest,’ said Colbeck.

  ‘It’s going to be a very short one. Since we don’t know who she is or where she comes from, there’ll be no family to call upon.’

  ‘I’ll find them somehow.’

  ‘What about the killer?’

  ‘He won’t escape, I assure you.’ He drew the shroud slowly across the body. ‘At the moment, this lady is unidentified. Our first task is to put a name to her. When we’ve done that, we can go after the man who murdered her.’

  It was just after noon when Lydia Quayle returned to the hotel. Situated in a quiet backstreet, it was smaller than the one where she had been living but it was clean and comfortable. More importantly, it was unknown to her stalker. She was glad that she’d finally confided in Madeleine Colbeck. Her friend had told her that a shared burden was lighter to bear and the truth of that was soon evident. When she left the house, she did so with a spring in her step. Lydia was so heartened by Madeleine’s support that she found the courage to walk all the way back to the hotel. At no point did she feel that she was being watched or followed. When she entered the building, she had an overwhelming sensation of being safe.

  Lydia went up to her room. After removing her hat and coat and hanging them up, she crossed to the window and looked out at the buildings opposite. They were reassuringly nondescript, reinforcing the belief that she’d found an anonymous haven. When her gaze travelled down to ground level, however, she was given an unexpected shock. He was there and he did not walk away this time. Standing on the pavement opposite, he was not only looking up at her, he was smiling in triumph.