‘At least, we now know who she is, sir.’
‘Quite so – in that sense, Underhill has been a godsend. The parents will have to be told, of course, and that’s best done by the police on Guernsey. I’ve set that in motion. Underhill has volunteered to help with funeral arrangements because he thinks that the parents will be too frail to cope.’
‘That’s very kind of him.’
‘Is he being kind or simply intrusive?’
‘I don’t follow.’
‘Well, he asked me to inform him of the date of the inquest so that he can be here. Why should he do that? At one point, he even asked me if I could take him to the place where the body was discovered. That borders on the ghoulish.’
‘The death of someone you know can have strange effects.’
‘Mrs Pulver is not someone he knows, Victor. She’s a woman he loved.’
‘Was it that obvious?’
‘You can see for yourself,’ said Colbeck. ‘I’ve sent word to his hotel that I’d like to speak to him tomorrow morning. You’ll come with me. I’d appreciate your opinion of him.’ After adding some pepper to his soup, he stirred it with his spoon before tasting a first mouthful. ‘We’ve met someone like Mr Underhill before.’
‘That’s what I was just thinking.’
‘Someone who is so desperate to know what’s happening at every stage of an investigation could have an ulterior motive. He’s keen to save his skin.’
‘Should we add him to the list of suspects?’
‘Judge for yourself when you meet him,’ advised Colbeck. ‘I trust your instincts. Now eat your soup before it goes cold. It’s delicious.’
For the first time since she’d moved into the house, Lydia Quayle woke up without even the most vestigial anxieties. The time spent with Madeleine had been both enjoyable and restorative but she felt that she should move back to a hotel to regain her independence. To work up an appetite for breakfast, she decided to take a brisk walk. Madeleine intervened.
‘Wait until we’ve eaten,’ she suggested. ‘When the baby’s been fed, she soon goes off to sleep. We can both go for a walk then.’
‘I can manage on my own, Madeleine. I did so yesterday.’
‘That’s true.’
‘What harm can come to me if I have a ten-minute stroll?’
‘None at all, I suppose,’ said Madeleine.
‘Then we must talk about my leaving.’
‘But there’s no need to do that yet. Look upon this house as your home.’
‘That’s very sweet of you but I can’t hide away for ever. That’s what I’ve been doing. When I got up today, my first thought was that I ought to start looking for a hotel, somewhere discreet in the suburbs. Then I had another idea,’ she said. ‘Why don’t I take advantage of the situation to have a holiday?’
‘Where would you go?’
‘I’m not sure yet. I just think it might be wise if I get well away from London for a while. If he is still trying to pursue me, his enthusiasm might wane if I go off to Devon or somewhere like that.’
‘There’s some truth in that, Lydia.’
‘It’s not that I’m running away,’ said the other. ‘I adore being here and fulfilling my role as an unofficial aunt. I just can’t see enough of Helen. For my own sake, I need to drag myself away. It’s ages since I had a holiday of any kind.’
‘You used to go to Italy a lot at one time, didn’t you?’
‘That phase of my life is over.’
‘I understand.’
‘Italy has no appeal for me now, Madeleine.’
It had been on a visit to Italy that Lydia had first met Beatrice Myler, the older woman with whom she’d later lived for a while. Drawn together by a mutual love of art and Italian history, they’d discovered many other things they had in common. After her decisive break with her, Lydia didn’t wish to be reminded of the country where they first encountered each other.
Sad as she was to let her friend go, Madeleine could see the virtue of a holiday. A change of scene would be restful for her. Crucially, it would get her away from the man who had been stalking her so relentlessly. She tried to sound a positive note.
‘You’re right, Lydia. A holiday would be the making of you. We’ll miss you, of course, but your niece will still be here when you come back. We expect you to have lots of wonderful adventures to tell us about.’
A new day brought all of the old zest back to the circus. They were within striking distance of a major city where they always enjoyed a rapturous welcome. The dazzling sunshine was a good omen. Putting their setbacks behind them, they set off early with smiles on their faces. Moscardi knew how to catch the eye. Ever the showman, he unfurled banners, passed out flags and dressed the horses in their prettiest harness. Rosie the elephant was brought to the front of the cavalcade with a young female acrobat astride her in a glistening costume. Close behind was the band that would play them into the city and let the whole of Newcastle know that the long-awaited visit of their favourite entertainment had at last arrived.
Clowns put on their full make-up and their outrageous wigs. Tumblers, jugglers, acrobats and tightrope walkers donned their costumes. Dressed in her finery, Anne Moscardi sat beside her husband as he drove the caravan. He was wearing the red coat and black top hat he used as the ringmaster. At the first village, they were mobbed by excited children who ran alongside them and revelled in the antics of the clowns. The lions attracted great attention but one mighty roar could disperse a crowd in seconds. While the artistes were on display, Gianni Moscardi and his men rode ahead to check that there were no obstacles to the safe passage of the circus. From time to time, he galloped back to report to his brother.
‘Everything is clear ahead,’ he shouted.
‘Thank you, Gianni. Is there any sign of that Strong Man?’
‘No, we haven’t seen hide nor hair of Bev Rogers. He’s a difficult man to miss. Karl must have made a mistake.’
‘You don’t make mistakes about a man you worked with for years.’
‘I suppose not.’
‘Keep your eyes peeled, Gianni.’
A train thundered past to their left. ‘That’s the best way to get there.’
‘We can’t drum up business if we arrive by rail.’
‘We don’t need to do so,’ Anne interjected. ‘They know us and value us in Newcastle. Lots of the people there live a hard life. Coming to the circus is one of the biggest treats they ever get.’
‘Coming to our circus, that is,’ corrected her husband. ‘I wouldn’t give a fig for any other one.’
‘Neither would I, Mauro.’
‘I’ll get back to the others,’ said Gianni.
‘Spread the word about Bev Rogers,’ warned Moscardi. ‘I want him caught.’
‘What if he puts up a fight?’
‘You’ve got a gun, haven’t you?’
Gianni nodded. Wheeling his horse, he kicked it into life and raced off.
Leeming disliked the man on sight. Coming from a humble background, he’d always had a latent fear of those from the higher ranks in society. Even though Colbeck had told him many times that he had no cause to feel inferior, the residual unease remained. Donald Underhill was the sort of man who induced both disquiet and anger in him. At a glance, the sergeant found him too patrician, too vain and too disdainful of those, like Leeming, from the lower orders. When they were introduced, Underhill gave him an almost scornful smile whereas Colbeck merited obvious respect. The three men sat down together in the hotel lounge.
‘We’re sorry to delay your departure, sir,’ Colbeck began.
‘That’s the advantage of being the senior partner,’ said Underhill, airily. ‘I’m not tied down to regular hours. I come and go as I please.’
‘I wish we could,’ said Leeming under his breath.
‘What did you wish to see me about, Inspector?’
‘There’s something I forgot to ask you,’ said Colbeck. ‘Have you ever been to this corner of th
e country before?’
‘As a matter of fact, I have – though it was years ago. I came by invitation. I spoke to a roomful of lawyers on aspects of the Criminal Law. It was only for a weekend.’
‘What was your impression?’
‘I liked the place and I found the countryside around here quite enchanting.’
‘We feel the same.’
‘But there’s a big difference between us. I only came to talk about the law. You and the sergeant are here to enforce it.’
‘We have to find the killer first, sir,’ said Leeming, ‘and he’s very elusive.’
‘Why do you assume that it must be a man?’ asked Colbeck. ‘Women can administer poison just as well. We’ve dealt with cases of three husbands who died at their wife’s hands that way.’
Underhill was surprised. ‘Are you serious, Inspector?’
‘We must look at every option.’
‘But the body was found in a remote location, according to you. How could a woman carry the corpse there?’
‘It would have been possible to get reasonably close with a trap. Mrs Pulver was not heavy. Another woman could have carried her – or dragged her along.’
‘Why would any woman even think of poisoning her? Mrs Pulver had no enemies. All the women in her village worshipped her.’
‘Perhaps they only pretended to,’ suggested Leeming. ‘The question we have to ask is why someone who lives in Shropshire should end her life so far away? Who or what brought her here? It would be interesting to visit Mrs Pulver’s village to find out if anyone was absent during the time that she was.’
‘That’s precisely what I intend to do,’ said Colbeck.
‘Couldn’t I do it on your behalf?’ asked Underhill, keen to be of assistance. ‘It would save you time and trouble.’
‘There’s no trouble when we have a railway system at our disposal. Thank you for your offer, sir, but there are some things we must do ourselves. To be frank, I’d rather like to see the place where Mrs Pulver seems to have become an icon.’
‘I look forward to showing you around.’
Colbeck made a mental note to resist being shown only what Underhill decided to show him. When he asked about the area, he was given what amounted to a gazetteer of the county. Leeming had to butt in to end the recital.
‘That’s very helpful, Mr Underhill,’ he said, ‘but you have your work to do, albeit at hours of your own choosing. If one or both of us come to Shropshire, I’m sure we’ll manage to find our way around.’
‘But I could introduce you to the people who count, Sergeant.’
‘All people count to me, sir. I make no distinctions.’
‘No,’ said Underhill in a lordly tone. ‘I can see that you don’t.’ He turned to Colbeck. ‘I suppose you have no idea how long the investigation will go on?’
‘It will take some time, that’s all I can say.’
‘You can always reach me by telegraph.’
‘That’s a comfort to know, sir.’
‘Needless to say, the local newspapers will want to write about the case. Have I your permission to reveal that I was the person who identified Mrs Pulver?’
‘Go ahead and do so. The more publicity this case gets, the more likelihood of jogging someone’s memory. I’ve already been in touch with the national press. Mrs Pulver’s name will soon be known all over the country.’
The detectives had come to ask the questions but it was Underhill who now took charge of the interrogation. He tried to wrest every last detail of the case from them and was irritated when they remained circumspect. Eventually, realising that he was making no headway, he gave up.
‘Right,’ he said, fussily, ‘if there’s nothing else, I ought to be on my way.’
‘Thank you again for coming, sir.’
‘It was my duty, Inspector.’
After a respectful nod to Colbeck, he ignored Leeming entirely and went out through the main door. A porter was standing by with his luggage. The detectives looked after the departing solicitor.
‘Well,’ said Colbeck, ‘what did you think?’
‘I didn’t like him one bit, sir.’
‘I was asking about his character.’
‘As to that, I’d say that he was proud, arrogant and too fond of himself. I’m sure he’s well educated but nobody has taught him good manners.’
‘I want to see him on his home territory.’
‘I’d be happy if I never see him again, sir.’
‘Could he be a potential suspect?’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Leeming. ‘I’d have no trouble believing that.’
‘We’ve established that he’s been to the county before. That could turn out to be significant. On the other hand, he doesn’t look like a man who’d actually kill someone. He’d delegate anything as distasteful as that to an accomplice.’
‘If that were the case, he’d surely be the last person to come forward to identify the victim. He’d hide away in Shropshire, wouldn’t he?’
‘Maybe, maybe not. I just don’t think he has a credible motive for murder.’
‘I agree, sir.’
Getting to their feet, they were about to leave when Cyrus Lill came bustling over. Colbeck had left details with him of their whereabouts at the start of the day. Lill was patently relieved to catch them.
‘There’s a problem with the circus,’ he announced.
Leeming winced. ‘Was it another attack?’
‘No, it’s nothing like that. One of the acrobats thought he recognised someone in a crowd yesterday who used to be the Strong Man with Greenwood’s Circus.’
‘Yes, that’s right. His name is Bevis Rogers.’
‘Mr Moscardi is convinced that he’s come to destroy them.’
‘That’s nonsense,’ said Colbeck, ‘and I explained exactly why to him. This is not a plot hatched by a rival circus.’
‘You won’t ever convince Mr Moscardi or his brother, come to that. Gianni is out on patrol with a loaded gun and we’ve seen how hot-headed he is. If he gets a glimpse of this man, Rogers, he’ll kill him on the spot.’
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
As the circus came to another village, they were greeted yet again by cheers and applause. The elephant was the most popular attraction but the clowns were by far the most active. Leaping off their wagons and caravans, they went into the crowd to play tricks on them and kept them laughing uncontrollably for minutes. Mauro Moscardi was pleased with the reaction they were getting. He could afford to breathe more easily. Their problems seemed to be over.
Half a mile ahead, however, his brother was getting a more frosty reception. As he cantered along in advance of the circus, he came upon a group of men blocking the track. They were led by a burly farmer with a sheepdog beside his feet and a shotgun in his hands. His companions were armed with staves and hay forks. One had a sledgehammer over his shoulder.
Gianni tugged on the reins and brought his mount to a halt in front of them.
‘Are you from the circus?’ demanded the farmer.
‘Yes, I am.’
‘Well, you’re not crossing my land till I have compensation.’
Gianni was nonplussed. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘Don’t pretend you don’t know.’
‘I’m not pretending anything,’ said Gianni, reasonably. ‘My elder brother runs the circus. Since we left Carlisle, we’ve been attacked twice. I’m riding ahead as a scout to make sure that the coast is clear.’
‘Then you can tell your brother that it’s not. We’re in the way.’
‘And we’ll stay in the way,’ said the man with the sledgehammer, ‘until we get our money. Those sheep were ours. You stole them.’
‘We did nothing of the kind,’ asserted Gianni.
‘Yes, you did. People from your circus were seen rustling.’
‘That’s a lie.’
‘We’ve got a witness,’ said the farmer. ‘He watched the sheep being taken early this morning and warned us about i
t. The circus stole them to feed the lions. You won’t get past this spot until you admit the truth and pay up.’
‘We’ll do neither,’ said Gianni, temper rising. ‘We always carry enough meat for the lions and provisions for the other animals as well. We don’t need to steal any sheep. Where’s the man who accused us? I want to speak to him.’
‘You can’t do that. He’s gone now.’
‘What was his name? Where does he live?’
‘Forget about him. He gave us his word that he saw people from the circus rounding up the sheep and carrying them off. They’ve probably had their throats cut by now and are being butchered.’
‘Give us compensation!’ shouted the man with the sledgehammer.
‘Pay the full cost or we’ll call in the police.’
‘Go ahead and do that,’ urged Gianni, ‘because it’s the only way we can sort this out. Moscardi’s Circus has never stolen any livestock. We always respect the owners of any private land we have to cross. If anyone dared to rustle a sheep, we’d not only throw him out of the circus, we’d make sure that he finished up in gaol.’
‘Don’t try to fool us, Moscardi.’
‘He’s just another greasy Italian,’ said someone.
‘They’re all the same – liars and thieves.’
‘I say they should be sent back where they came from.’
‘Don’t you dare insult us!’ yelled Gianni. ‘I’m proud to have Italian blood. I won’t listen to these hateful comments.’
‘Then pay up and get off our land as quickly as you can,’ said the farmer.
‘Listen, you idiot, I swear to you that we’ve done nothing wrong.’
‘Three of our sheep are missing. Some of your men took them.’
‘The lions are fed with meat we bought in Carlisle. If you don’t believe us, we can show you the receipts.’
‘And we can show you the field where the flock was grazing. A shepherd always knows when some of his sheep have gone astray. He knew that something was amiss this morning. When he counted them, he found that three were missing. We know who took them.’
The Circus Train Conspiracy Page 16