Points of Danger

by Edward Marston

  ‘Very well, sir,’ replied Leeming, adjusting his clothing.

  ‘We’ll look after him now, Mr Freed.’

  ‘I’m so grateful,’ said Freed. ‘He behaved like a madman.’

  ‘You should have let me in,’ murmured Swarbrick, swaying.

  ‘Come with us, sir,’ said Colbeck. ‘You’ve caused enough of a disturbance. I want to get to the bottom of this.’

  Wardlow was mystified. When he’d brought Tallis out of his reverie with a tap on the shoulder, he’d been roared at and insulted. Two minutes later, however, his friend was apologising for his behaviour and assuring him that it wouldn’t happen again. When they had a drink together, Tallis became once again the man that Wardlow knew and respected, pleasant, civilised and lapsing back easily into the indomitable soldier he’d once been. Because of the presence of Mrs Wardlow, he was more subdued during dinner but Tallis came back to life when he and his host were left alone. He tried to explain away his outburst in the garden and said that such a thing had never happened before. As a result of Alan Hinton’s visit, however, Wardlow knew only too well that his friend’s erratic behaviour fitted into a pattern. It was deeply worrying. While pouring two glasses of brandy, Wardlow pretended to enjoy the conversation, at the same time wondering how long this period of normality would last.

  Now that Swarbrick’s anger had spent itself, he cut such a sad figure that they were almost tempted to feel sorry for him. The impulse was short-lived. Having rambled on drunkenly, he sat with his head between his legs then straightened his back without warning and looked around the room with disdain.

  ‘Where am I?’ he demanded.

  ‘You’re in a cottage on Mr Freed’s estate, sir,’ said Colbeck. ‘He’s been good enough to give us free use of it.’

  ‘I wish he’d been good enough to let me into his house.’

  ‘He was right to refuse you entry. You came to cause trouble.’

  ‘Aren’t I allowed to see a member of my own family?’

  ‘We’ve been told that you refuse to recognise Mrs Swarbrick as a legitimate member of the family. You even stayed away from the wedding.’

  ‘I was making a gesture,’ said Swarbrick.

  ‘You were making another gesture when we arrived at the house,’ said Leeming, ‘and it was a violent one. What would your stepmother have made of you in that state?’

  ‘I needed to speak to her.’

  ‘I fancy that you were there to hurl abuse at her,’ said Colbeck.

  ‘She deserved it.’

  ‘Why?’

  Swarbrick looked sourly from one to the other, annoyed at their intervention yet sobered enough by it to realise that he’d behaved impetuously. With his self-control restored, he decided to confide in them and talked about his ill-starred visit to his father’s solicitor. Moving between outrage and humiliation, he explained that his father had always given him the impression that he, as the only child, would inherit the family house and grounds. To learn that it was instead going to a woman he hated had been a shattering blow. Swarbrick claimed that his father hadn’t been acting of his own volition. He’d been tricked into changing his will in her favour by his second wife.

  ‘It’s exactly the sort of thing that she’d do,’ he said.

  ‘Was your father a weak-willed person, sir?’ asked Colbeck.

  ‘On the contrary, he was very decisive.’

  ‘Did your mother ever “trick” him into anything?’

  Swarbrick tensed. ‘That’s a slanderous suggestion, inspector,’ he retorted. ‘My mother was an absolute angel. She supported my father in every possible way.’

  ‘The second Mrs Swarbrick vowed to do the same. We have Mrs Freed’s word for that. Unlike you, she and her husband attended the wedding. They speak of your stepmother as loyal and undemanding.’

  ‘That’s how she may appear to them. I know better.’

  ‘Then perhaps you can give us instances of her deceit, trickery, manipulation or whatever you wish to call it.’

  There was a lengthy silence. Swarbrick looked hunted.

  ‘We’re waiting, sir,’ said Leeming. When there was still no sound from him, the sergeant continued. ‘Your stepmother hates to travel by train, yet she did so whenever required because she felt it was her duty. That shows what a caring wife she’d been.’

  ‘My father didn’t always think so,’ sneered Swarbrick.

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘He didn’t put it into words, but I could tell that something was amiss between them. Father was … disappointed.’

  ‘Leaving the bulk of his estate to his wife is not exactly evidence of disappointment, sir,’ observed Colbeck. ‘I’d say that it reflected his love and gratitude.’

  ‘She persuaded him to oust me.’

  ‘There was no need. By shunning his second wife, you’d already ousted yourself.’

  ‘Father and I were drifting back together again.’

  ‘Were you getting on better with him?’

  ‘Yes, I was.’

  ‘Then why wasn’t that improved relationship mirrored in his will?’

  ‘It was because of her, of course.’

  ‘You’ve no proof of that, sir.’

  ‘She stabbed me in the back.’

  ‘With respect,’ said Colbeck, ‘your stepmother isn’t capable of stabbing anyone in the back. You seem to forget the ordeal that she went through when your father was shot dead. As for the will, I put it to you that she may have no idea at all what its contents are. Why should she? Until a few days ago, Mrs Swarbrick was expecting her husband to live for years. Any discussion between them of inheritance would have seemed premature.’

  ‘I disagree.’

  ‘What puzzles me,’ said Leeming, ‘is why you got so upset about it. Mr Freed told us that you’re a very wealthy man. You don’t need the house. You already have one. Why make such a fuss?’

  ‘Mind your own business,’ said Swarbrick, haughtily.

  ‘I can answer your question, Sergeant,’ said Colbeck. ‘There are two reasons why ownership of the property is so important to him. First of all, it will allow him to evict a stepmother whom he has always seen as an interloper. Secondly, it will give him a base from which to operate if and when he takes over from his father as a Member of Parliament.’

  ‘I wanted there to be a simple transition from my father to me,’ explained Swarbrick. ‘What’s wrong with that?’

  ‘On the face of it, I see nothing whatsoever.’

  ‘Leaving the house to her was a grotesque mistake.’

  ‘He’s not in a position to rectify it, sir,’ said Colbeck, smoothly. ‘But let me give you some advice, if I may. I’ve never been an MP, though I did once have the pleasure of arresting someone who was. As you well know, appearance is all-important in public life.’

  ‘What are you getting at?’

  ‘This city is crawling with reporters at the moment. The sergeant and I spend most of our time dodging them. If any of them had seen you yelling at Mr Freed earlier on, then grappling with his servant, you’d have been waking up tomorrow to some damning headlines.’

  ‘Who wants to vote for someone like that?’ asked Leeming.

  ‘You were drunk, violent and abusive,’ added Colbeck. ‘My advice is that you should calm down and steer well clear of your stepmother. Or you’ll be handing the seat to Oliver Trant.’

  Swarbrick had the grace to look ashamed. Bad publicity would damage his chances of a political career and had to be avoided at all costs. Knowing that he had to rely on their discretion, he expressed his gratitude in a few, stumbling words. Then he left.

  Inspector Jellings arrived at the police station next morning to learn that Oliver Trant was waiting for him in the office. After a token handshake, they sat down.

  ‘What brings you here so early, Mr Trant?’ he asked.

  ‘It’s more of a social call, really.’

  ‘I don’t have any leisure time to spare, sir. There’s the small m
atter of a murder to solve.’

  ‘How is the investigation proceeding?’

  ‘The best person to ask is inspector Colbeck.’

  ‘He’s not always available,’ said Trant, ‘and, in any case, he has a maddening habit of holding back information from me. Let’s forget the inspector. When the crime is solved, he’ll go back to London and we’ll never hear a word from him again. You and I, on the other hand,’ he went on with a meaningful glint, ‘will still be here.’

  ‘That’s true.’

  ‘We belong in this part of the country. Colbeck is no more than a passing acquaintance with a love of stylish waistcoats. He and I could never be kindred spirits. I’m speaking to you as a friend – at least, I hope that I can do so.’

  ‘Yes, of course,’ said Jellings, warmly. ‘We’ve known each other for years and, if I earned a proper wage, I’d buy far more of your shoes than I can presently afford.’ Screwing up one eye, he peered at his visitor. ‘I sense that you want something from me.’

  ‘I’d like some honest answers. Is that too much to ask?’

  ‘It depends on the questions.’

  Trant grinned. ‘Oh, they’ll be very simple.’

  Jellings saw no reason why he shouldn’t divulge some of the details of the investigation. Trant was a major businessman in the city and had considerable influence. It wouldn’t be advisable for Jellings to fall out with him. Though he held some details back, he gave Trant a clear and straightforward account of the investigation so far. The other man seemed pleased by what he heard.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘What is Colbeck up to now?’

  ‘I can’t speak for him, I’m afraid, but I can tell you what Sergeant Leeming is going to do.’

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘He’s off to Yarmouth.’

  ‘Yarmouth?’ said Pryor. ‘I thought you went there yesterday.’

  ‘I liked it so much, I’m going back again.’

  ‘What are you hoping to find?’

  ‘Well, I wouldn’t mind watching Punch and Judy again.’

  ‘Do you think the killer is hiding there somewhere?’

  ‘No,’ said Leeming. ‘The one thing we do know is that he’s no longer in the country. I’m hoping to find out where he’s gone.’

  ‘You can sail almost anywhere from Yarmouth.’

  ‘No, thanks – I prefer to stay on land.’

  ‘Where do you think the killer might have gone?’

  ‘That’s a secret,’ said Leeming. ‘You’ll find out when we eventually catch him – and the person or persons helping him.’

  Pryor took a pace backward. ‘Don’t look at me like that.’

  ‘Like what?’

  ‘Well, as if you think I was involved somehow.’

  ‘You were involved, albeit against your will. Because you took your eyes off the track, someone was able to switch the points. One of the people working at this station aided and abetted a murder.’

  ‘Are you accusing me?’ said Pryor, hotly.

  ‘Why – do you think I ought to?’

  ‘No, it was nothing at all to do with me.’

  ‘Unfortunately, it was.’ He heard the train approaching. ‘Here it is at last. That’s a relief.’

  ‘How long will you be in Yarmouth?’

  ‘I’ll be there as long as it takes,’ said Leeming.

  Madeleine Colbeck had endured an uncomfortable night, waking at intervals and brooding at length until fatigue plucked her back into unconsciousness. When she got up the next day, she was confronted by the same dilemma. Since her husband wasn’t there to discuss it with her, she had to pin her hopes on Lydia Quayle. Though she tried to work in her studio, her mind refused to allow her. In the end, she gave up and went back downstairs. While eager to see her friend, she hoped that her father wouldn’t take it into his head to call in. He was the one person with whom she wouldn’t dare to share her problem.

  Lydia eventually arrived. Seeing her through the window of the drawing room, Madeleine ran into the hall to open the door wide.

  ‘Well,’ said Lydia, laughing, ‘I wasn’t expecting a welcome like that. What have I done to deserve it?’

  ‘I need to talk to you.’

  ‘Why – has something happened?’

  ‘That’s the trouble, Lydia. I don’t really know.’

  Taking her by the arm, she led her visitor into the drawing room, then sat beside her on the sofa. Lydia was surprised to see that someone who had remarkable self-possession as a rule was now trembling.

  ‘Whatever is the trouble, Madeleine?’ she asked.

  ‘I think I may have made a horrible mistake.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘It’s Mr Fairbank,’ said Madeleine. ‘He came back again.’

  ‘Why did he do that?’

  ‘I sent him a letter by hand to say that I accepted his commission. Hours later, when I was returning from a walk with Helen and her nanny, I saw him getting out of a cab.’

  ‘What did he want?’

  ‘He came with a proposition. I’d accepted that I’d have to go to his home at some stage in order to make sketches, but he wanted us to travel there together by train very soon.’

  ‘That’s rather sudden.’

  ‘I felt as if I was being rushed into it, Lydia.’

  ‘What did you decide?’

  ‘I was so flustered that I played for time. I told him that I’d think it over. From the way I said it, he could see my reluctance.’

  ‘How did he react?’

  ‘Oh,’ said Madeleine, ‘he was as polite and charming as he had been before, but I thought I detected a subtle change in his attitude towards me. Thinking about it kept me awake half the night.’

  ‘I can see why you’re so perturbed.’

  ‘It was not so much what he said, more the way that he said it.’

  ‘Well, I think it quite wrong of him to turn up here without warning,’ said Lydia. ‘It was inconsiderate. He should have sent a message, asking when it would be convenient for him to call.’

  ‘I was prepared to forgive him for that, Lydia. When someone is that enthusiastic about my work, I’m ready to make allowances. Then, of course, there was that amazing offer of two hundred pounds.’

  ‘What was he expecting to buy with it?’

  ‘When he pressed me to go to Windsor with him, that worrying thought flashed across my mind. Did he want more from me than a painting? What is he really interested in – my work or me?’

  ‘You were right to be suspicious, Madeleine.’

  ‘I wish that I’d never encouraged his interest.’

  ‘You did nothing of the kind,’ said Lydia. ‘When he made a second visit here, Mr Fairbank crossed an invisible line. You should be glad that you sensed something was wrong.’

  ‘But I don’t know for certain that I did. It’s what I wrestled with all night, Lydia. Is he really not the person he seems or am I being grossly unfair to him?’ She chewed her lip. ‘I can’t make up my mind.’

  ‘There are two things you can do, Madeleine.’

  ‘What are they?’

  ‘Well, the first one is to mention the fact that your husband is a detective inspector. If he does have designs on you, that would frighten him away at once. In fact,’ said Lydia, ‘I’m surprised you haven’t done that already.’

  ‘Robert and I agreed that I must stand on my own feet as an artist. That’s why I never mention him. Robert says that, as far as my work goes, he’s quite irrelevant.’

  ‘I take his point.’

  ‘What’s the second thing I could do?’

  ‘Well, you could find out more about Mr Fairbank. I don’t mean that you should question the art dealer, as your father did. All you’d get was what you already know.’

  ‘Where do I go, then?’

  ‘You have his London address, don’t you? Why not institute some discreet enquiries among the neighbours?’

  Madeleine was shocked. ‘I can’t do that, Lydia.’


  ‘I wasn’t suggesting that you did. With Robert away, you may have lost one detective, but you still have another one to call on.’

  ‘Constable Hinton?’

  ‘Why don’t you get in touch with him?’ said Lydia. ‘If you have qualms about doing that, I’ll speak to him on your behalf.’

  Terence Wardlow drove himself into Canterbury and pulled the dog cart to a halt outside his friend’s house. He’d left Tallis back at the house and given him free use of his study where his guest could browse through the many books on military history. Admitted to Dr Kitson’s house, he recounted the episode in the garden before dinner the previous evening.

  ‘You say that he was staring ahead of him.’

  ‘That’s right, Donald.’

  ‘In which direction was he looking?’

  ‘Well, I suppose it would be in this direction.’

  ‘Doesn’t that tell you something?’ asked Kitson. ‘When you and Tallis first arrived in Canterbury, you told me that he’d recoiled from the sight of the cathedral. It obviously aroused searing memories that caused him both pain and a sense of shame.’

  ‘Shame?’ echoed Wardlow. ‘He has nothing to be ashamed of.’

  ‘He thinks that he does. It only took a few minutes in his company for me to see the sort of man he was. Edward Tallis is accustomed to being in control. He’s always had people beneath him whom he can order about. Last December,’ said Kitson, ‘he lost that control completely and it must have been a terrifying experience for him.’

  ‘It was. I remember seeing him when he was finally rescued from that farm. He was silent and subdued. That’s highly uncharacteristic.’

  ‘His behaviour at Scotland Yard was also unusual, you say.’

  ‘Only in recent times,’ said Wardlow. ‘The kidnap was days before Christmas. He was back at work by the New Year and functioning as well as ever. And that was the story for several months. All of a sudden, his concentration started to falter. Why now?’

  ‘I wish I knew the answer to that.’

  Victor Leeming arrived in Yarmouth to be met by a strong wind that threatened to dislodge his top hat. Holidaymakers seemed unconcerned with the discomfort because they were there to enjoy themselves and made light of any adverse changes in the weather. Leeming was there with a specific purpose and found the gusts a nuisance. Making his way to the harbour, he sought out the two old sailors who worked for the owner of the Flying Fish. When he asked them why it hadn’t arrived yet, they laughed.