The Circus Train Conspiracy

by Edward Marston

  ‘You know my feelings about railways,’ grumbled Leeming.

  But his comment went unheard. Colbeck had clasped his hands together and gone off into a reverie. When he came out of it, he apologised for being so rude.

  ‘You’re entitled to think when you want to, sir, and so am I, for that matter.’

  ‘Meditation is part of our stock-in-trade.’

  ‘I remember something you said early on.’

  ‘What was that?’

  ‘You reminded me that poison was often the choice of weapon for a woman,’ Leeming said. ‘Instead of looking at Mr Underhill and Mr Probert, should we be talking to their wives? Yes,’ he added quickly before Colbeck could interrupt, ‘I know that Mrs Underhill is disabled but that wouldn’t stop her paying someone to act for her. Mrs Probert would also resent the fact that another woman came between her and her husband. Could she be a possible suspect?’

  ‘Having met her briefly, I’d dismiss the idea. Mrs Probert would indeed have reason to hate her husband’s mistress but only if she was aware of her existence, and I doubt that she was. What struck me about Mrs Pulver’s corpse was how apparently unharmed it was. When someone kills out of passion,’ said Colbeck, ‘they usually like to cause pain as well as death.’

  ‘It was just an idea, sir.’

  ‘It was a valid one.’

  ‘All this talk of wives has made me think of mine. I know that Underhill thinks that Mrs Pulver was a saint but he hasn’t met Estelle. She does everything for me,’ said Leeming with a smile. ‘No woman alive could put up with me the same way that my wife does. Being apart from her is always a wrench. You must feel the same about your wife.’

  ‘Oh,’ said Colbeck, ‘I certainly do.’

  Lydia had been in a state of suspense all morning. Every time she heard a noise in the hall, she thought that the postman had called, even though she’d been warned that he rarely arrived with the mail before noon. Madeleine was bending over the crib, shaking a rattle at the baby and laughing at her delighted reaction when the front door was heard opening. Lydia was on her feet at once. She rushed hopefully into the hall then stopped when she saw one of the servants leaving the house. Lydia went swiftly back to her friend.

  ‘It may not even come today,’ Madeleine pointed out.

  ‘I know that.’

  ‘It may be that Lucas is not at home at the moment so he won’t even have got the letter you sent to him.’

  ‘That’s more than possible.’

  ‘Even if he did get it yesterday, he may not have decided to reply yet.’

  ‘Oh, I think he would, Madeleine. I know my brother. If he was made aware of what was going on, he’d write back immediately.’

  ‘Then let’s hope he does.’

  Lydia sank down on the sofa. ‘In some ways, I don’t want him to write.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous. You said he’d recognise the name Daniel Vance.’

  ‘I’m not sure that I want to know who he is.’

  Madeleine was livid. ‘Lydia, for goodness’ sake, what’s got into you? Do you want this torture to go on?’

  ‘No, of course I don’t.’

  ‘Then you should be praying that Lucas can identify the man who has been stalking you? Have you forgotten what happened yesterday? He brushed against you then left your dress. When you got back here, you collapsed into my arms.’ She sat beside Lydia and took her hands. ‘This has got to end.’

  ‘As ever, you’re right. I’m being cowardly again. I must stand up to him.’

  Madeleine looked at her, hunched up on the sofa and stricken by fear. In the time leading up to the birth of her daughter, she’d received unwavering love and support from Lydia who’d helped to repair the absence of Madeleine’s mother. During the early weeks of the baby’s life, Lydia was always there to help, growing into a role for which she had no experience and, at the same time, coping with a major problem in her private life. Madeleine now treated her as one of the family. It grieved her to see the way that she was suffering.

  ‘Can I ask you a favour?’ said Lydia.

  ‘Yes, of course.’

  ‘If my brother does write, could you read the letter out to me, please?’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I desperately want the truth but I need you to help me confront what I’m afraid is going to be a dark and disturbing secret.’

  Everyone in the circus was still thoroughly jangled by what had happened during their first performance in the city. They knew how close they’d come to destruction. If a member of the audience had been mauled by the lion, their stay in Newcastle would have come to an abrupt end. Nobody would have wanted to see them and there’d be a collective demand for refunds. Since an animal in their care had attacked someone, it would have to be shot and Moscardi would be liable to prosecution. Bad publicity would ruin the remaining part of their tour. If they couldn’t guarantee the safety of the spectators, people would stay away in droves.

  That fear stoked Mauro Moscardi’s anger. When he held a discussion in his caravan with his brother and Mulryne, he was quick to allot the blame.

  ‘This is your fault,’ he said, jabbing a finger at the Irishman. ‘You’re supposed to be in charge of security and you’ve let us down badly.’

  ‘No, I haven’t,’ said Mulryne.

  ‘How could you let someone release that lion?’

  ‘I can’t be everywhere, Mr Moscardi. We’ve had lots of flares and torches but they only create light in small patches. There are always lots of shadows. That’s why he was able to creep up to the cage.’

  ‘I don’t want excuses. I just want you to leave my circus.’

  ‘That’s unfair,’ said Gianni. ‘You can’t get rid of Brendan.’

  ‘I can do as I wish.’

  ‘But he’s been a Trojan. Think back to all the things he’s done for us since he joined the circus. It was only yesterday that he caught Rogers for us. Nobody else could have knocked him unconscious but Brendan did.’

  ‘It was a good punch,’ said Mulryne.

  ‘And when that lion was on the loose, who went into the ring after it? You didn’t, Mauro. You were cringing in a corner. It was Brendan who risked his life to help Otto. Between them, they saved us.’

  ‘That’s true,’ admitted Moscardi.

  ‘You can’t make him take all the blame.’

  ‘It isn’t just because of what happened last night, Gianni. First, there was the derailment, then the stampede and then all that trouble with the sheep farmer.’

  ‘I didn’t hire the train to take us to Newcastle,’ argued Mulryne. ‘That was your doing, Mr Moscardi. I not only helped to get everyone safely out of their carriages, I found Jacko for us. That monkey is an important part of this circus.’

  ‘But Jacko wasn’t all you found, was he?’ asked Moscardi. ‘In searching for him, you stumbled on a dead body. As a result, Inspector Colbeck has shown far more interest in that than he has in us.’

  ‘The woman was murdered,’ said Mulryne. ‘That’s a heinous crime.’

  ‘So is trying to kill off my circus.’

  The row escalated until both men were yelling at once. For a change, it was Gianni, the established firebrand, who appealed for calm. Moscardi and Mulryne fell silent and eyed each other warily.

  ‘This will get us nowhere,’ said Gianni. ‘We have to work together, Mauro, and, when I say “we”, I’m including Brendan. He belongs here.’

  ‘Not if he keeps making mistakes,’ said Moscardi.

  ‘You’ve obviously forgotten that he helped me find those sheep. If he hadn’t done that, we’d still have been arguing with that farmer. Get rid of Brendan and he won’t be the only person to go. He recruited some of the people we’ve taken on in our maintenance team,’ said Gianni. ‘They’re very loyal to him. If he goes, they do.’

  ‘They’re all good men,’ added Mulryne, ‘and they’ve worked hard for you. Most of them have stayed up all night on guard duty – and so have I, for that matter.’ He lo
oked at Moscardi. ‘Well? Do I still work here or don’t I?’

  ‘You still do,’ said Gianni, clapping him on the shoulder.

  ‘It’s your brother’s decision.’

  There was a lengthy pause. ‘You still do,’ said Moscardi at length.

  ‘Thank you, sir. The next performance is this afternoon. He won’t come near us in daylight. And I’ll promise you that he won’t get anywhere near our animals after dark. Put your trust in me and Sergeant Leeming. As for Inspector Colbeck,’ he went on, ‘he isn’t neglecting you. He was in the audience last night so he knows the danger you face. He told me that he’ll be speaking on your behalf to the chairman of the railway company today. The inspector will find out somehow who put those sleepers on the line.’

  Tapper Darlow had inherited the office from his predecessor and it mirrored that man’s commitment to railway travel. Any available space on the walls was covered with charts or drawings of locomotives in service on the NCR. Colbeck was especially interested in the plan pinned to a board and occupying pride of position by the desk. Darlow looked over the detective’s shoulder.

  ‘That’s the branch line to Alston. It’s the only one we built, unfortunately.’

  ‘Isn’t there a Border Counties line under construction?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Darlow, sourly. ‘That belongs to the North British.’

  ‘You seem to be beset by rivals, sir.’

  ‘We’ll survive somehow.’

  ‘I’d like to be able to report that we’ve caught the man who derailed one of your trains,’ said Colbeck, ‘but that’s not possible yet. However, I do get the feeling that we’re getting closer.’

  ‘I don’t want to hear about your feelings, Inspector. I want an arrest.’

  ‘So do we – and so, of course, does Mr Moscardi.’

  ‘You can’t compare the problems of a circus with those of a railway company. Until that train came off the line, we had a very good safety record.’

  ‘So did the circus until last night.’

  ‘Why – what happened then?’

  ‘Let me just say that one of the lions decided to give the audience a fright. If he’d leapt out of the ring, the whole performance would have been derailed.’

  When he’d sworn Darlow to silence, he told him the truth about what had happened. Unaware of the activities of the interloper, the morning newspapers had reported how convincing the new routine with a snarling lion had been. Darlow learnt the truth and it made him gasp. He was relieved to hear that the lion would not appear in the ring again. When he performed his act, the lion tamer would only work with the other two beasts.

  ‘It must have been a frightening moment, Inspector.’

  ‘It was, sir.’

  ‘Thank heaven my grandchildren weren’t there.’

  ‘Luckily, everyone accepted that it was a well-rehearsed act and there was a round of applause. Something in our natures means that we like being scared and then released from that fear. It may be the reason we have so many melodramas onstage.’

  ‘I’m starting to feel sympathy for Mr Moscardi.’

  ‘You might also feel gratitude, sir.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘Most passengers in a train that left the line would think about suing your company for compensation.’

  ‘It wasn’t our fault that those sleepers were on the line.’

  ‘Nevertheless, you must bear some responsibility. Mr Moscardi was hopping mad at first and was determined to drag the NCR through the courts. He’s calmed down a bit since then.’

  ‘We can’t afford compensation,’ said Darlow. ‘As it is, we already have some heavy costs. Every carriage was badly damaged and the locomotive will be out of service for some time.’

  ‘All I’m suggesting to you is this, sir. When you think of what happened that day, don’t view it entirely from the point of view of the NCR. The circus was the real victim. Apart from the driver, fireman and guard, none of your employees was in the train at the time – and neither were you.’

  ‘I accept that.’

  Colbeck studied the plan again. ‘Your predecessor must have been very proud of the branch line. It follows an interesting route.’

  ‘Yes, it was one of his better initiatives. Some of the others were … well, let me say that I’d never have sanctioned them.’

  ‘Why not, sir?’

  ‘Let me give you one example,’ said Darlow. ‘Mr Nicholls, the former chairman, was a deeply religious man. He decided to appoint an NCR chaplain.’

  ‘What function did the man have?’

  ‘As far as I can see, he didn’t have any particular duties. He was allowed free travel on our line, presumably so that he could spread an air of sanctity. Oh, and he did take the occasional service for employees who were minded to attend.’

  ‘Who was this chaplain, sir?’

  ‘He’s a parish priest from somewhere in Carlisle, I believe. I’m glad to say that I’ve never had the misfortune to meet him. As for some of the other decisions that Nicholls made, one or two of them were even stranger. The first thing I did when I took over was to reverse them.’

  ‘I thought you wanted to carry on the traditions of the NCR.’

  ‘Traditions are something I respect. It’s the eccentricities I can’t tolerate. But you came here to talk about the circus train,’ he went on. ‘Now that you’ve discounted the three people I suggested, have you found any other suspects?’

  ‘We have a much clearer picture of the man we’re after, sir.’

  ‘But you don’t have a name.’

  ‘Not as yet, I fear.’

  ‘When do you expect to get one?’

  ‘Well …’

  Colbeck’s attention wandered once again to the plan on the wall. Neatly drawn and annotated, it had been signed by the engineer. It had been based on a surveyor’s report of the area through which the line passed and took account of its contours. The plan was mesmerising. It made Colbeck remember something that Underhill had told him during his visit to Shropshire.

  Forced to wait so long, Darlow became petulant.

  ‘This conversation has its own branch line,’ he complained.

  Conscious that she was irritating her friend by constantly darting into the hall, Lydia Quayle withdrew to her bedroom and watched for the postman from behind the curtain in her bedroom. She remained out of sight because she feared her stalker might be watching. The dress that he’d returned to her had been thrown away. In view of where it had been and with whom, Lydia couldn’t bear to touch it.

  Downstairs in the drawing room, Madeleine was chatting with her father. Andrews was saddened to hear the latest turn of events. He could imagine the shock that Lydia must have felt when the man appeared out of nowhere.

  ‘She must only go out with someone else, Maddy.’

  ‘I offered to go but she insisted on walking alone.’

  ‘It’s not your company she needs. She should have a man to escort her.’

  ‘None was available, Father.’

  ‘All you had to do was to send word with me. If I’d been walking with her, this man would have realised that she was being protected. That would have helped to scare him off.’

  ‘You’ve just given me an idea,’ said Madeleine. ‘Perhaps she does need a man to accompany her each time she goes out. It would send a signal.’

  ‘I’m standing by, Maddy.’

  ‘This is a job for somebody else. If Lydia is seen with you, the man will assume you’re an older relative. What we need is a much younger man, one who could be taken for a suitor. If it looks as if she’s spoken for, that might work in her favour.’

  ‘In that case, what you want is someone young and handsome and I don’t think we know anyone like that.’

  ‘Yes, we do, Father.’

  ‘Who is it?’

  ‘Detective Constable Hinton.’

  ‘I haven’t met him yet.’

  ‘If he can be persuaded, he’d be ideal.’

  T
he doorbell rang and it was followed by the sound of Lydia’s footsteps descending the stairs at speed. Madeleine and her father looked into the hall. Lydia appeared as one of the servants opened the front door and accepted some mail from the postman. When she’d closed the door, the servant offered the letters to Madeleine, who handed them over to Lydia at once. They watched as she went through the batch of correspondence, searching for the letter that she wanted. At length, she gave up.

  ‘There’s nothing for me, Madeleine,’ she said in despair.

  ‘I’m so sorry,’ said Madeleine.

  ‘But there is one for you. It looks like your husband’s writing.’ She handed over the letters. ‘Do excuse me.’

  Shoulders sagging, she trudged off back upstairs.

  There were still hours to go before the performance that afternoon but people had already started to gather outside the marquee. Everyone had heard about the act featuring the lion and wondered if they would be lucky enough to watch it. The buzz of excitement was constant. Mulryne had deployed his men carefully and all the animals now had additional guards. Back in his labourer’s garb, Leeming came across to his friend.

  ‘I’m so glad to see you, Brendan,’ he said. ‘I heard a rumour that Mr Moscardi was going to get rid of you.’

  ‘He had the sense to see how much I do for this circus.’

  ‘You’re part and parcel of it. They’d be mad to let you leave.’

  ‘I’d be very sorry to go, I can tell you. There’s one consolation, though.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Jacko will have a good home. If I disappear, you’ll look after him.’

  Leeming was petrified. ‘Me?’

  Right on cue, the monkey jumped from a wagon onto his shoulder.