The Railway Detective Collection: The Railway Detective, the Excursion Train, the Railway Viaduct (The Railway Detective Series)

by Edward Marston

  ‘Well, I don’t feel sorry for that Welsh bastard, I know that.’

  ‘Win ought to be told. It might cheer her up.’ Newman sat back. ‘I spoke to her early this morning. She said that you wouldn’t talk to Inspector Colbeck.’

  ‘Nor to any other policeman,’ said Hawkshaw, sourly.

  ‘But he might help us.’ The other snorted. ‘He might, Adam. We’ve all tried to find the man who did kill Joe Dykes but we’ve got nowhere so far. And we have jobs to do, people to support. This detective has the time to conduct a proper search.’

  ‘Keep him away from me.’

  ‘If we can convince him that your father was innocent, we’ll get him on our side – don’t you see?’

  ‘He thinks we killed that hangman.’

  ‘That doesn’t mean we don’t use him, Adam.’

  ‘Forget it.’

  ‘Win agrees,’ said Newman. ‘If we cooperate with this Inspector, he may do us all a favour and help to clear your father’s name. You want the man who really killed Joe Dykes to be caught, don’t you?’

  Hawkshaw gave him a strange look then took another long sip from his tankard. Wiping his mouth again, he got to his feet.

  ‘Thanks for the beer, Gregory.’

  ‘Where are you going?’

  ‘I’ve got to see somebody.’

  Without even a farewell, Adam Hawkshaw walked out of the bar.

  Robert Colbeck was sporting a red silk waistcoat when he joined his superior for dinner and Edward Tallis glared at it with unconcealed distaste. Victor Leeming’s apparel was far more conservative but he was criticised by the Superintendent for being too untidy. It did not make for a pleasant meal. Tallis waited until they had ordered from the menu before he pitched into the two detectives.

  ‘What the deuce is going on?’ he demanded. ‘I send you off to solve one railway murder and a second one is committed.’

  ‘We can hardly be blamed for that, sir,’ said Colbeck.

  ‘But it happened right under your noses.’

  ‘Paddock Wood is some distance from here and the chaplain was killed somewhere beyond it. We have a rough idea of the location.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Because we walked beside the line,’ said Leeming, able to get a word in at last. ‘The Inspector’s theory was right.’

  ‘It wasn’t a theory, Victor,’ said Colbeck, quickly, ‘because we know that the Superintendent frowns upon such things. It was more of an educated supposition.’

  ‘Don’t try to bamboozle me,’ warned Tallis.

  ‘It would never cross my mind, sir.’

  Leeming took over. ‘Inspector Colbeck believed that the killer committed his crime soon after the train left Paddock Wood, then jumped off it before it reached the first station at Yalding.’

  ‘A preposterous notion!’ said Tallis.

  ‘We proved it.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Colbeck. ‘A shallow embankment runs alongside the line outside Yalding. We found a place where there were distinct footprints, as if someone had landed heavily and skidded down the grass. My supposition was correct.’

  ‘I dispute that,’ said Tallis. ‘Those marks could have been caused by someone else – children, playing near the line, for instance.’

  ‘A child would not leave a murder weapon behind, sir.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘We found it in some bushes close to the footprints.’

  ‘A piece of wire,’ said Leeming, ‘covered in blood.’

  ‘Then why didn’t you bring it back with you?’ asked Tallis. ‘That’s the kind of evidence we desperately need.’

  ‘It’s upstairs in my room, Superintendent,’ Colbeck reassured him. ‘The stationmaster at Yalding was kind enough to give me a bag in which to carry it. So at least we know where and precisely how the prison chaplain met his death.’

  ‘What we really need is a suspect.’

  ‘Two of them, sir.’

  Tallis was sceptical. ‘Not this phantom woman again, surely?’

  ‘She was no phantom, sir,’ said Leeming. ‘There were two clear sets of footprints beside the railway line. The Inspector guessed it the moment we heard the news. The woman was there to distract the victim.’

  ‘Both of them will hang when they’re caught.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Colbeck, ‘for the two murders.’

  ‘You’re certain we’re dealing with the same killer here?’

  ‘Without a shadow of doubt, sir.’

  ‘Convince me,’ said Tallis, thrusting out his chin.

  Colbeck had rehearsed his report in advance. It was clear and concise, containing a description of what the Inspector had found at the scene of the crime and the supporting evidence that had been gathered. Leeming felt impelled to add his own coda.

  ‘We even called at St Peter’s Church in Paddock Wood,’ he said. ‘They still had the board that advertised the talk by the Reverend Jones. A large congregation turned up with lots of strangers among them.’

  ‘Including, I should imagine, the killer,’ said Tallis.

  ‘He and this woman must have followed the chaplain to the station and seized their opportunity.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Colbeck. ‘They realised that there wouldn’t be many people on that train so there was a good chance that their victim would get into an empty carriage. The rest we know.’

  ‘It means that I now have two railway companies demanding action from me,’ complained Tallis. ‘If anything, the management of the South Eastern Railway is even more strident. They say that disasters come in threes. Which is the next railway company to harry me?’

  The waiter arrived with the first course and the discussion was suspended for a little while. Colbeck nibbled his bread roll and Leeming overcame his discomfort in the presence of the Superintendent to tuck into his soup. Only when Tallis had tasted his own first mouthful of soup was he ready to resume.

  ‘This all began with an illegal prizefight,’ he noted.

  ‘With respect, sir,’ said Colbeck, ‘it goes back before that. It really started with the murder of Joseph Dykes.’

  ‘That case is closed.’

  ‘Not to the people who believe Hawkshaw was wrongly hanged.’

  ‘Courts of law do not make errors on that scale.’

  ‘It’s conceivable that they did so in this instance,’ said Colbeck. ‘But, in one sense, it doesn’t really matter. It’s a question of perception, sir. The people who supported Nathan Hawkshaw saw what they honestly believed was an innocent man going to the gallows. They went to exhaustive lengths on his behalf.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘One of those people is the man we’re after, Superintendent, and there are dozens to choose from. What happened at Twyford, and on that train last night to Maidstone, is rooted here in Ashford. The killer is probably less than a couple of hundred yards from where we sit.’

  ‘Then find him, Inspector.’

  ‘We will. Meanwhile, precautions have to be taken.’

  ‘Of what kind?’

  ‘We have to ensure that Jacob Guttridge and Narcissus Jones are not joined by a third victim,’ said Colbeck. ‘We’re dealing with a ruthless man here. He may not be content with killing the hangman and the prison chaplain. Other people may be in danger as well.’

  ‘What other people?’

  ‘For a start,’ said Leeming, chewing a bread roll, ‘the policeman who came here to arrest Hawkshaw. His name is Sergeant Lugg.’

  ‘Empty your mouth before you speak,’ snapped Tallis.

  ‘Sorry, sir.’

  ‘Sergeant Lugg has been warned,’ said Colbeck, ‘but the person we need to contact is the barrister who led the prosecution team. He tore the case for the defence apart and made the guilty verdict inevitable.’

  ‘What’s his name?’

  ‘Patrick Perivale, sir. I’m wondering if he received one of those death threats as well.’

  ‘Where are his chambers?’

  ‘In Canterbury. I’m sending Victor o
ver there tomorrow.’

  Leeming was uneasy. ‘Not by train, I hope.’

  ‘By any means you choose. Mr Perivale must be alerted.’

  ‘Very sensible,’ said Tallis. ‘We don’t want another murder on our hands. You, I presume, will be remaining here, Inspector?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ replied Colbeck, ‘but I require your assistance. The petition for the release of Nathan Hawkshaw was sent to the Home Secretary, who refused to grant a reprieve. I’d be grateful if you could get a copy of the names on that petition from the Home Office.’

  ‘Can’t you ask for the names from that fellow who organised the campaign? What did you call him – Gregory Newland?’

  ‘Newman, and the answer is no. He knows why we’re in the town and he’s not going to betray one of his friends by volunteering his name. We’ll have to dig it out for ourselves. The only place we can get the full list is from the Home Office.’

  ‘Use your influence, Superintendent,’ said Leeming.

  ‘We’d be eternally grateful, sir.’

  Tallis was unconvinced. ‘Will that really help to solve the murder of the prison chaplain?’

  ‘And that of Jacob Guttridge,’ said Colbeck, firmly. ‘Somewhere in that list of names is the man that we want and – in all probability – his female accomplice.’

  Winifred Hawkshaw was pleased to see her visitor. After a fruitless attempt to get her daughter to eat anything more than a slice of apple, she gave up and slumped in a chair. Emily retired to her room once more. Winifred could do nothing but brood on a malign fate. A once happy home was now a place of unrelieved misery. The arrival of Gregory Newman lifted her out of her gloom.

  ‘Hello,’ she said, accepting a kiss on the cheek. ‘Come in.’

  ‘I won’t stay long,’ he told her, removing his hat and going into the parlour ahead of her. ‘I have to get back to Meg soon.’

  ‘Of course. Sit down for a moment, anyway.’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘Can I get you some tea?’

  ‘No, thank you.’ Newman took a seat and Winifred sat opposite him. They exchanged a warm smile. ‘I had a few words with Adam earlier on. He was in a peculiar mood.’

  ‘He’s been strange all day, Gregory. But at least he was civil to us and we must be thankful for that. Since the execution, Adam’s been like a bear with a sore head.’

  ‘I had some glad tidings for him.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘The prison chaplain was murdered on a train last night.’

  ‘Mr Jones?’ She gave a cry of delight but was instantly penitent. ‘God forgive me for rejoicing in the death of another!’

  ‘You’re entitled to rejoice, Win.’

  ‘No, it’s wrong. He was a man of the cloth.’

  ‘Are you forgetting what Nathan said about him?’

  ‘It makes no difference. This is awful news. How did he die?’

  ‘I don’t know the details,’ said Newman, disappointed by her response. ‘Our foreman passed it on to me. All that he picked up was that the chaplain was found dead in a railway carriage at Maidstone.’

  ‘Did you tell this to Adam?’

  ‘Yes, and I thought that he’d be glad as well.’

  ‘Wasn’t he?’

  ‘It was difficult to say, Win. There was hardly any reaction at all and that was surprising when you think of the way that he damned the chaplain at the execution. It’s odd,’ Newman went on, scratching his beard, ‘but it was almost as if Adam already knew.’

  ‘How could he?’

  ‘I don’t know and he didn’t stay long enough for me to find out. He rushed off. Adam said that he had somewhere to go and, judging by the way he left, it must have been somewhere important.’

  ‘He told me that he didn’t sleep at all last night.’

  Newman was puzzled. ‘Then what is the lad up to?’ He dismissed the subject and turned his attention to her. ‘Let’s put him aside for the moment, shall we? The person I’m really worried about is you, Win.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘You looked so drawn and harassed when I saw you this morning. So desperately tired. To be honest, I thought you were sickening for something.’

  ‘Don’t fret about me, Gregory.’

  ‘But I do.’

  ‘I’m worn down, that’s all,’ she explained. ‘This whole business has dragged on for so long. Nathan’s arrest was such a shock to me and the trial was unbearable. As for the execution…’

  ‘You shouldn’t have been there. I did try to stop you.’

  ‘He was my husband. I had to be there.’

  ‘It was too much to ask of any wife, Win. It was foolish to put yourself through all that suffering outside Maidstone prison.’

  ‘Nathan wanted me, Gregory. I gave him my word.’

  She looked down at her hands as unpleasant memories surged back to make her temples pound. He could see her struggling to compose herself. Newman gave her time to recover. When she eventually glanced up, she manufactured a smile.

  ‘I’m sorry. I try not to think about it or the pain floods back.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘At least Emily was spared the sight. It would have been cruel to make her go with us. She adored Nathan – he could talk to her somehow. Emily always turned to him for help, not me.’

  ‘He was a good father to her.’

  ‘She trusted him.’

  He looked upwards. ‘She spends all her time in her room?’

  ‘Yes, it’s so worrying. She won’t eat and she won’t speak to me.’

  ‘Would you like me to talk to her?’

  ‘You?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Newman, persuasively. ‘Emily and I always got on very well. She adored horses so she’d spend hours watching me at work in the forge. She talked all the time then. If a horse was well behaved, I’d let her hold the bridle sometimes. Emily liked that.’

  ‘Nathan always talked about buying her a pony of her own.’

  ‘Let me see if I can draw her out.’

  Win was hesitant. ‘I’m not sure that it would do any good.’

  ‘It will certainly do no harm. Bring her down.’

  ‘Well…’

  ‘And leave us alone for five minutes,’ he suggested.

  Winifred considered the request for some time before she agreed to it. At length she went upstairs and Newman could hear a muted discussion with her daughter. Emily’s voice then rose in protest but it was instantly silenced by her mother’s rebuke. After another minute, tentative footsteps came down the stairs and the girl entered the room.

  Newman stood up and gave her a welcoming smile.

  ‘Hello, Emily,’ he said.

  ‘Hello.’

  ‘I haven’t seen you for a while. Come and sit down so that I can have a proper look at you.’ She glanced nervously around the room then perched on the edge of an upright chair near the door. ‘That’s better,’ he said, resuming his own seat. ‘I was just talking to your mother about the way that you used to hold the horses for me at the forge.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘You enjoyed that, didn’t you?’ Emily nodded. ‘I don’t work as a blacksmith any more but I’ve still got my own horse and cart. If ever you want to come for a ride, you only have to ask. You can take the reins.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘It’s important to get out. You mustn’t lock yourself away in your room like a hermit. We all miss Nathan terribly,’ he went on, lowering his voice to a soothing whisper. ‘When I take my wife to church on Sundays, the first prayer I say is for your father. Do you pray for him as well?’

  ‘All the time.’

  ‘But we haven’t seen you in church for weeks. You mustn’t be afraid of what other people may say,’ he told her. ‘You’ve just as much right as anyone to go to St Mary’s. There are one or two narrow-minded busybodies who may turn up their noses when they see anyone from this family but you’ve nothing at all to be embarrassed about, Emily. Your father was innocent.’

&n
bsp; ‘I know,’ she said, ‘that’s what makes it so hard to bear.’

  ‘You loved him dearly, didn’t you?’ said Newman. ‘Nathan was so proud of you. He was always talking about his lovely daughter. That’s how he thought of you, Emily – as his own child. And you looked on him as your real father, didn’t you?’

  ‘I tried.’

  ‘You were a proper family, all four of you.’

  She shifted on her seat. ‘Can I go now, Mr Newman?’

  ‘Am I upsetting you in some way?’

  ‘No, no.’

  ‘Because we both want the same thing, Emily, you know that, don’t you? I’ll strain every bone in my body to prove that your father did not commit that crime. That’s why I got that petition together,’ he said, ‘and you saw how many people signed that.’

  ‘You did so much for us, Mr Newman.’

  ‘Then let me do a little more,’ he offered, spreading his arms. ‘Let me help you through this period of mourning. Share your grief, Emily. Talk to your mother about it. Come to church with us and show the town that you can bear this loss because you know in your heart that your father was not a killer. Stand up and be seen.’

  ‘I can’t, Mr Newman,’ she said, shaking her head.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘Don’t ask me that.’

  ‘But we’re entitled to know. Your father was the best friend I ever had, Emily,’ he said, soulfully, ‘and I stood by him until the end. I’ll not give up on him now. Nathan may be dead but he still needs us to speak up for him, to show everyone how hard we’ll fight to protect his good name. You care, don’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, tearfully. ‘I care more than anyone.’

  ‘Then why can’t you open your heart to us?’

  She stood up. ‘Let me go,’ she bleated, taking out a handkerchief.

  ‘Wait,’ he said, getting up to cross over to her. ‘Just tell me one thing, Emily. Why are you pushing away the people who love you? Mourn for your father with the rest of us.’

  ‘No, Mr Newman!’

  ‘It’s the right and proper way.’

  ‘I’m sorry but I can’t do it.’

  ‘Why ever not?’

  ‘You wouldn’t understand.’

  ‘Why not?’ he pressed.