The Circus Train Conspiracy

by Edward Marston

  ‘That’s a sound argument,’ agreed Lill. ‘I’d endorse it.’

  ‘If we blame Mr Greenwood, we’re going down a blind alley.’

  ‘He’s been threatening to obliterate us for years,’ claimed Moscardi.

  ‘Then why hasn’t he done so?’ asked Colbeck. ‘More to the point, why haven’t you launched a direct attack on his circus? The answer is simple. At the end of the day, both of you respect the law too much. You also draw back from inflicting injuries on your own kind. That’s why your vendetta with Mr Greenwood is almost exclusively a war of words.’

  ‘It’s not true. He has resorted to violence.’

  ‘I can understand why you believe that, sir, but you are wrong.’

  ‘We shall see.’

  ‘Sergeant Leeming will help to clarify the situation. He’ll have met Mr Greenwood and, at my suggestion, taken soundings from some of the artistes.’

  ‘All that he’ll learn is that Sam Greenwood is a born liar.’

  ‘He’s also a circus man at heart.’

  ‘That’s a crucial fact,’ said Lill.

  ‘It is in my opinion,’ Colbeck went on. ‘That’s why I’m certain that we’ll find your attacker is in some way connected to the Newcastle and Carlisle Railway.’

  The door opened and Jake Goodhart stepped out into the street. As he put on his cap, he mumbled his thanks. Geoffrey Enticott was terse.

  ‘Don’t ever come to me again.’

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  It had been several weeks since Madeleine Colbeck had even been into her studio. As she showed Lydia Quayle into the room, she realised how much the arrival of the baby had changed her life and its regular patterns. Instead of becoming absorbed in her latest artistic project, she simply wanted to devote herself to her daughter. The studio was a tribute to her skill and industry. Paintings of locomotives, some yet to be completed, were everywhere. Those she’d rejected altogether stood in a pile in the corner. She walked across to her easel.

  ‘This is where I used to spend my days,’ she explained. ‘Robert chose this bedroom for me because it gets the best of the light.’

  ‘That must be very important for an artist.’

  ‘It is, Lydia.’

  ‘Do you want Helen to follow in her mother’s footsteps?’

  Madeleine laughed. ‘It’s far too early to make a decision like that.’

  ‘But she may well have inherited your talent.’

  ‘I wouldn’t call it that. All that I had was a knack of drawing things. When Robert saw that, he encouraged me to develop it and paid for me to have proper instruction. I put my success down to a combination of hard work and some very good teachers. It was years before I was good enough to offer my work for sale.’

  ‘You’ve shown such tenacity, Madeleine.’

  ‘I love painting. That’s my secret.’

  After showing her friend some of the individual canvases, Madeleine took her downstairs to the drawing room. She was pleased with the obvious improvement in Lydia. There was no hint of dread about her now. Having been for two walks, and spent some time alone outdoors, Lydia looked and felt so much better. Fears of her stalker were receding gently to the back of her mind. Madeleine felt able to introduce the subject again without causing discomfort.

  ‘Have you remembered who Daniel Vance was yet?’ she asked.

  ‘No, I haven’t, but I know I’ve heard that name before.’

  ‘Was it someone you met?’

  ‘It could be. Then again, it could be someone of whom I only heard mention.’

  ‘You have such a good memory as a rule, Lydia.’

  ‘I like to think so. That’s why I’m coming to think that Daniel Vance belongs in my past. If we ever met, it must have been years ago.’

  ‘I suppose there’s no chance that …’ Madeleine let the words die. ‘No, that’s a silly thought. I apologise.’

  Lydia read her mind. ‘There’s no need. I’ve thought the same thing. Perhaps that is his real name. Then I tell myself that he’d never give himself away like that so he’d hide behind an alias.’

  ‘But why choose that particular one?’

  ‘Who knows?’

  ‘It’s so mystifying.’

  ‘The best thing I can do is to ignore him altogether. I’m safe here and I can walk out of that door without any worries. On the other hand, I don’t want to impose. This is my problem, not yours.’

  ‘We’re friends, Lydia. We share problems.’

  ‘But you don’t have any. Your life is perfect.’

  ‘Is that what you think?’ said Madeleine, amused. ‘I spend every waking hour worrying about my daughter, I miss my husband terribly and I’m afraid that my days as an artist are well and truly over. Is that what you call a perfect life?’

  ‘No,’ admitted Lydia, ‘it isn’t.’

  ‘As for you being an imposition, that’s absurd. You help to take my mind off Helen and to forget that Robert is so far away. And when you were praising my work up in the studio just now, you kindled an urge in me to paint once again. You may not need me,’ she said, embracing Lydia, ‘but I certainly need you.’

  The journey seemed interminable and became progressively more tedious. As a man who liked physical action, Victor Leeming hated being cooped up in the compartment of a train with companions who chattered continuously. When he changed trains in Carlisle, he was relieved that he was at last setting off on the last leg of his trek. He just wished that there were not so many intermediate stops on the way. As the train pulled out of Haydon Bridge, he consoled himself with the thought that he would soon see the circus encampment beside the line. Light was starting to fall but he nevertheless expected to get a good view of it. He was therefore amazed when all that was left of it was the huge patch of grass on which the camp had been set up.

  Arriving at Fourstones Station, he jumped out of the compartment and ran for the exit. When he reached the Station Inn, he dashed straight upstairs and knocked on the door of the room occupied by Colbeck. Since there was no response, he opened the door and saw that the inspector’s luggage had disappeared. No circus, no Colbeck and no explanation – Leeming began to wonder if he was hallucinating.

  ‘Where is everybody?’ he cried.

  ‘My wife and I would be delighted to act as your hosts, Inspector.’

  ‘That’s a very kind offer, sir, but I have to decline it.’

  ‘You’d be far more comfortable in our home,’ said Tapper Darlow. ‘You’d have better food than this place could ever provide and I’d put a carriage at your disposal to drive you back and forth from the city.’

  ‘There’ll be no need,’ Colbeck assured him. ‘We’ll stay here.’

  ‘May I remind you that I was the person who summoned you here? We’re dealing with a crime that caused great inconvenience to my railway. I insist on being at the centre of this investigation.’

  ‘You’ll be informed of any development, sir.’

  ‘I don’t want to rely on a string of messages,’ said the other, peevishly. ‘I want to be able to discuss the case at length across the dining table.’

  ‘There’ll be little time for that, Mr Darlow. Detection is far more important than discussion. While we’re dining with you, we’re being diverted from our primary purpose. Moreover, as I’ve reminded you before, we’re handling two cases. Now that we know the name of the murder victim, that investigation will take more of my time.’

  Darlow slapped his knee. ‘I protest strongly against that.’

  ‘Your protest is noted, sir,’ said Colbeck, suavely.

  They were seated in the lounge of the hotel in Newcastle he’d chosen as the base from which to operate. Close to Central Station, it lacked the superior facilities of the Grand Hotel but it was ideal for the detectives. As on previous occasions, those who’d actually summoned them expected Colbeck and Leeming to move in with them during the time they were there. It was the last thing they wished to do. They’d be hampered and deprived of privacy. Having
to face someone as fussily inquisitive as Darlow over the breakfast table every morning was a prospect that filled Colbeck with horror. He and Leeming could only function at their best if given complete freedom to do so.

  ‘I repeat,’ said Darlow, raising his voice as if speaking to a deaf person, ‘that my telegraph brought you here from London.’

  ‘That’s partly true, sir, but it was the second telegram that had more impact on me.’

  ‘Who sent it?’

  ‘It was an old colleague of ours, Brendan Mulryne. He works for the circus. Mulryne was actually on the train when it came off the rails. That’s why his testimony is so much more important than yours.’

  Darlow reddened. ‘I have the authority to speak for the NCR.’

  ‘Mulryne speaks for the people and animals that survived the ordeal.’

  ‘You can be very exasperating, Inspector.’

  ‘Then I apologise. It’s not intentional.’

  ‘How much time might we expect you to devote to the derailment?’

  ‘That’s in the lap of the gods, sir.’

  ‘Damn it, man! Do you have to be so evasive?’

  Colbeck fixed him with a stare. ‘We won’t let you down, Mr Darlow.’

  After fulminating for a few minutes, the older man accepted that he couldn’t browbeat the inspector and backed off. Telling Colbeck that he could be contacted at his office the next day, he stamped off. No sooner had he disappeared than he was replaced by Victor Leeming, who came into the lounge with a valise in his hand. Seeing Colbeck, he came across to him.

  ‘What did you do to Mr Darlow?’

  ‘I told him the truth.’

  ‘I could almost see the steam rising from him.’

  ‘That was probably the most appropriate response to our conversation,’ said Colbeck. ‘You look tired, Victor. Sit down.’

  ‘Thank you,’ said the other, flopping into an armchair. ‘I’m exhausted. I came all the way from Bristol to find that the circus had vanished and that you were no longer at the Station Inn. It was weird.’

  ‘I left you a letter explaining where you’d find me.’

  ‘Yes, I read it. Why did Mr Moscardi decide to move?’

  ‘When you’ve had a chance to recover,’ promised Colbeck, ‘I’ll give you all the details. Before we do that, I suggest that we order a drink and look at the dinner menu. There’s a lot to discuss, Victor, and it’s best done on a full stomach.’

  Having finally got on the move again, the circus had made good time. It camped for the night in a field within five miles of Newcastle. Moscardi chose a site that had a supply of water nearby, grazing for the horses and some rising ground forming the perimeter. Gianni immediately commandeered that for his sentries. With armed men defending them on every side, everyone felt reassured. The derailment and the fire still lingered in their minds without dominating them. Once fed, the animals were much calmer. Some of the artistes even started singing. Mulryne was delighted.

  ‘They’re getting back something of their old spirit,’ he said, grinning. ‘It’s good to hear them.’

  ‘I won’t start singing until we reach Newcastle,’ said Moscardi.

  ‘We’ll be very safe there, sir.’

  ‘I hope so,’ said Anne. ‘Everyone is so tired and unsettled. They won’t be happy until they see our marquee up again and can rehearse properly in it.’

  ‘I’ll enjoy helping to put it up tomorrow,’ said Mulryne. ‘I love pulling on those ropes. It’s a good way to build up a thirst.’

  ‘Don’t get too thirsty. You know our rules.’

  ‘We’ll have no drunkenness in this circus,’ decreed Moscardi. ‘People are entitled to a drink as long as they have it in moderation. If anyone finishes up in a drunken stupor, I’ll throw them out straight away.’

  They were sitting outside the Moscardi caravan and enjoying the warm evening air. Fires had been lit for cooking and lamps burnt all round the camp. From the sound of playful banter, they could hear that a sense of camaraderie had returned. Mulryne had just come back from a tour of the whole area.

  ‘What do you have to report?’ asked Moscardi.

  ‘I have nothing but good news, sir. The danger is over.’

  ‘It doesn’t feel over,’ complained Anne.

  ‘The rest of us think so, Mrs Moscardi. Your brother-in-law will make sure that we have an uninterrupted night. All is well.’

  ‘I thought that when we came through that copse,’ recalled Moscardi.

  ‘We let our defences down and we learnt from our mistake. But wasn’t it wonderful to get such a welcome in the villages we passed through? They treated the Moscardi’s Magnificent Circus like conquering heroes.’

  ‘In a sense, that’s what we are.’

  ‘It lifted everybody,’ said Anne. ‘Applause like that is our lifeblood.’

  ‘We’ll have plenty of that when we get to Newcastle, my love.’

  ‘Right,’ said Mulryne, ‘I’ll be on my way. I know you’ll want to have a meal in private.’ About to move away, he paused. ‘Oh, there was one thing.’

  ‘What’s that?’ asked Moscardi.

  ‘I was talking to Karl Liebermann earlier on. When we came through that last village, he thought he recognised a face in the crowd. He’d worked with the man, he said. I wondered if you’d heard of him.’

  ‘What was his name?’

  ‘Bev Rogers.’

  Moscardi started. ‘Say that again.’

  ‘Karl thought he saw this Bev Rogers but he couldn’t be sure. You’ve obviously heard the name before. Who is he?’

  ‘Rogers was the Strong Man with Greenwood’s circus. He’s stopped performing now but he was kept on because he was useful. Now I see just how useful he can be,’ said Moscardi, scowling. ‘Rogers is a big man. He’d stick out in a crowd. That’s why Karl spotted him.’

  ‘I thought I should mention it to you, sir.’

  ‘Thank goodness you did. It proves I was right all along.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Rogers is not here to watch us performing. He’s a spy, and it’s more than likely that he was responsible for the attacks on us. I knew that Sam Greenwood was behind it. He’s set his Strong Man on to us.’

  ‘We’ve got plenty of strong men of our own.’

  ‘I know that, Mulryne. I’ll be sending some of them out in search of Rogers tomorrow. Their orders will be simple. Beat him to a pulp until he confesses.’

  ‘Inspector Colbeck should be told about this.’

  ‘He won’t take it seriously,’ said Anne, sadly.

  ‘That’s right,’ added her husband. ‘He refuses to believe that we’re under attack from one of our rivals. According to the inspector, the person who’s been hounding us has a connection with the railways. Well, I’ve got news for him,’ he continued, eyes blazing. ‘We know who’s been sent to destroy us now. It’s definitely one of Sam Greenwood’s men.’

  The tankard of beer had revived him and the imminent prospect of food reminded him how hungry he was. Leeming was already starting to forget the boredom and discomfort of the train journey. His first task was to hand over the letter from Madeleine. Dying to open it, Colbeck nevertheless kept it in his pocket until the sergeant had delivered his report. He was interested to hear about the visit to Bristol and explained why he now thought Greenwood was innocent of the accusations hurled at him by Mauro Moscardi. Having had plenty of time to reflect on what he’d learnt, Leeming agreed with him wholeheartedly.

  ‘Moscardi and Greenwood are two of a kind,’ he said. ‘They’re like wild dogs barking at each other from a distance.’

  ‘And that’s all they do, Victor. They bark but never bite.’

  ‘Superintendent Tallis can do both simultaneously.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Colbeck, laughing. ‘He’s a circus act in himself.’

  ‘There’s something else I must tell you, sir. I daresay it will be mentioned in your wife’s letter but you ought to hear my version first.’


  He went on to describe the trouble that Lydia Quayle had been having with a stalker and how the man had actually booked into her hotel. The news that he’d also stolen a dress of hers alarmed Colbeck.

  ‘This is rather more than unwanted attention,’ he said.

  ‘Miss Quayle was really frightened.’

  ‘I’m glad that Madeleine invited her to move into our house. Your action was very prompt, Victor. It was good of you to help her in that way.’

  ‘Unfortunately, I wasn’t able to catch the man.’

  ‘Somebody ought to do so.’

  ‘Well, it’s no use turning to the superintendent for permission to institute a search for him. He’d claim that no crime had actually been committed.’

  ‘A dress was stolen.’

  ‘That wouldn’t justify assigning a detective to the case in his eyes. You know what he’s like. I did all I could do in asking the constables on the beat in your area to look out for the stalker.’

  ‘That will help but the problem will remain until this individual is stopped.’

  A waiter came into the lounge to tell them that their table was ready. Leeming took the opportunity to slip up to the room reserved for him, partly to get rid of his luggage but mainly in order to give Colbeck the chance to read Madeleine’s letter. When he eventually rejoined him, the inspector had a contented smile. Over the first course, Leeming heard what had been happening while he was away. He was abashed.

  ‘A positive identification of the murder victim and another attack on the circus,’ he said, morosely. ‘I always miss the excitement.’

  ‘I should have thought a visit to the superintendent provided enough of that.’

  Leeming gave a hollow laugh. ‘Tell me more about this Mr Underhill.’

  ‘He’s a curious fellow,’ said Colbeck. ‘I ought to be grateful for all the information he supplied but he troubles me. The truth is that he’s given me far too much information about Mrs Pulver. I was swamped with unnecessary detail. It was almost as if he was planning to write her biography.’