Blood on the Line E-Book

Edward Marston

• Herausgeber: Allison & Busby
• Kategorie: Krimi
• Serie: Railway Detective
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 421

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2011

Beschreibung

1857. On the LNWR train to London, a criminal is being escorted to his appointment with the hangman. But the wily Jeremy Oxley, conman, thief and murderer, has one last ace up his sleeve - a beautiful and ruthless accomplice willing to do anything to save her lover, including cold-blooded murder. When the Railway Detective Inspector Robert Colbeck learns that Oxley, his arch nemesis, has escaped, black memories of their shared past leave him no choice but to do his duty, whatever the cost. With the faithful Victor Leeming at his side, Colbeck must use all of his skills to track his elusive enemy. But could he have finally met his match?

Leseprobe

BLOOD ON THE LINE

EDWARD MARSTON

This one is for Judith. Choo-choo!

Contents

Title PageDedicationCHAPTER ONECHAPTER TWOCHAPTER THREECHAPTER FOURCHAPTER FIVECHAPTER SIXCHAPTER SEVENCHAPTER EIGHTCHAPTER NINECHAPTER TENCHAPTER ELEVENCHAPTER TWELVECHAPTER THIRTEENCHAPTER FOURTEENCHAPTER FIFTEENCHAPTER SIXTEENBy Edward MarstonCopyright

CHAPTER ONE

1857

‘Are you serious?’ asked Dirk Sowerby, eyebrows aloft in disbelief.

‘Never more so,’ replied Caleb Andrews. ‘I’m starting to feel my age, Dirk. It’s time to think of retirement.’

‘But you’ve got more energy than the rest of us put together.’

Andrews laughed. ‘That’s not saying much.’

‘What does your daughter think of the idea?’

‘To be honest, it was Maddy’s suggestion. Now that she’s about to get married, she doesn’t need her old father to support her anymore. She feels that I’ve earned a rest.’

The two men were on the footplate of the locomotive they’d just brought into Wolverhampton station. The engine was still hissing and wheezing but at least they were now able to have a conversation without having to shout at each other. Andrews was not just one of the senior drivers on the London and North Western Railway, he was an institution, a grizzled veteran who’d dedicated himself to rail transport and achieved an almost iconic status among his work colleagues. He was a short, wiry man in his fifties with a wispy beard flecked with coal dust. Sowerby, by contrast, was tall, big-boned, potato-faced and well over twenty years younger. He idolised Andrews and – even though he sometimes felt the sharp edge of his friend’s tongue – was always glad to act as his fireman.

The LNWR train was on its way back to London but it did not have a monopoly on the route. As the two men chatted, a goods train belonging to the Great Western Railway steamed through the recently opened Low Level station nearby and left clouds of smoke in its wake. Andrews curled his lip in disgust.

‘We were here first,’ he declared. ‘Why does Wolverhampton have two stations? We can see to all of the town’s needs.’

‘Tell that to Mr Brunel.’

‘I wish I could, Dirk. There’s a lot of other things I could say to him as well. The man’s an idiot.’

‘That’s unfair,’ said Sowerby, defensively. ‘Brunel is a genius.’

‘A genius at getting things wrong,’ snapped Andrews, ‘such as the ridiculous broad gauge on the GWR. If he’s so clever, why did he get involved in that stupid atmospheric railway in Devon? He lost a pretty penny on that. Yes,’ he added, warming to his theme, ‘and don’t forget the battle of Mickleton when Brunel tried to use force to remove the contractors building the Campden Tunnel, even though the Riot Act had already been read.’

‘Everyone makes some mistakes, Caleb.’

‘He’s made far too many for my liking.’

‘Well, I think he’s a brilliant engineer.’

‘He might be if he stuck to one thing and learnt to do it properly. But that’s not good enough for Brunel, is it? He wants to design everything – railways, bridges, tunnels, stations, docks and harbour improvements. Now he’s building iron ships. You wouldn’t get me sailing on one of those, I can tell you.’

‘Then we have to disagree,’ said Sowerby with a wistful smile. ‘I’d love to go on a steamship to some faraway country. It’s something I dream about.’

‘You should be dreaming about taking over my job when I give it up. That should be your ambition, Dirk. The quickest and safest way to travel is by rail. It’s also the most enjoyable way.’ Andrews glanced down the platform. ‘Unless you happen to be that poor devil, of course.’

Sowerby craned his neck. ‘Who do you mean, Caleb?’

Andrews indicated three people walking towards the train.

‘Look at that prisoner being marched between two policemen. See the look on his face?’ He gave a grim chuckle. ‘Somehow I don’t think he’s going to enjoy travelling by rail.’

The arrival of the newcomers caused some commotion on the platform. Most of the passengers had boarded the train by now but there were several relatives and friends who’d come to see them off. They were diverted by the sight of a prisoner being hustled towards a carriage by two uniformed policemen. The older and brawnier of the policemen was handcuffed to the prisoner. What caused people to stare was the fact that the person under police escort was not the kind of ugly and uncouth villain they might expect but a handsome, well-dressed man in his thirties. Indeed, it was his taller companions who looked more likely to commit terrible crimes.

One of them, Arthur Wakeley, was a stringy individual with a gaunt face darkened by a menacing scowl. The other, Bob Hungerford, had the unmistakable appearance of a thug who prowled fairgrounds in search of easy targets, far more inclined to attack a policeman than become one. Tugging on his handcuffs, he pulled the prisoner along like an angry owner with a badly behaved dog. In spite of themselves, the onlookers felt an instinctive sympathy for the man, wondering what he could possibly have done to justify such harsh treatment and to be compelled to suffer such public humiliation. When the three of them disappeared into a compartment, the small crowd drifted slowly over to it.

There was more drama to come. As the whistle signalled the train’s departure, a young woman dashed onto the platform with a valise in her hand and ran to the nearest carriage. A porter was on hand to open the door and, as the train started to move, she flung herself into the compartment. The door clanged shut behind her. There was a collective gasp from the crowd as they imagined how she’d react when she realised she’d be travelling in the company of two intimidating policemen and their prisoner.

‘Dear me!’ exclaimed Irene Adnam, seeing the trio on the seat opposite her. ‘I seem to have got into the wrong compartment. I do apologise.’

‘No apology is needed,’ said Wakeley, running an approving eye over her. ‘You’re most welcome to join us. Bob and I are pleased to have you with us. I can’t speak for him, mind you,’ he went on with a nudge in the prisoner’s ribs. ‘And I doubt if he’ll speak for himself at the moment. He’s gone very quiet. It often happens that way. Slap a pair of handcuffs on them and they lose their tongue.’

‘Until then,’ said Hungerford, ‘this one was talking nineteen to the dozen. I was glad to shut him up.’

Irene smiled nervously. ‘I see.’

She glanced at the man sitting between them but he didn’t raise his eyes to meet her gaze. He seemed to be ashamed, embarrassed and overwhelmed by the situation. The policemen, however, were eager to catch the eye of such an attractive and smartly attired young woman and they clearly found her a more rewarding spectacle than the fields scudding past the windows. Irene stared at the handcuffs.

‘Does he have to be chained to one of you?’ she asked.

Hungerford smirked. ‘Would you rather be handcuffed to him?’

‘No, no, of course not – it’s just that he can hardly escape when the train is in motion. Besides, there are two of you against one of him.’

‘In other words,’ said Wakeley, ‘you’re sorry for him.’

‘Well, yes, I suppose that I am.’

‘Don’t be, miss. He deserves to be handcuffed, believe me. In fact, if it was my decision, I’d have him in leg irons as well.’

‘That would be dreadful.’

‘He’s a criminal. He has to be punished.’

‘So you won’t remove the handcuffs?’

‘Not for a second.’

Irene stifled the rejoinder she was about to make and opened her valise instead. Putting a hand inside, she brought out an object that was covered by a piece of cloth. The policemen watched with interest but their curiosity turned to amazement when she whisked the cloth away and was seen to be holding a pistol. Irene’s face hardened and her gentle voice now had some steel in it.

‘You have one last chance to release him.’

‘What are you doing?’ cried Hungerford, shrinking back in fear.

‘She’s only bluffing,’ said Wakeley with a confident chuckle. He extended a palm. ‘Now, give me that gun before somebody gets hurt.’

‘Do as I say!’ she ordered. ‘Release Mr Oxley.’

Hungerford was mystified. ‘You know him?’

‘They’re in this together, Bob,’ decided Wakeley, ‘but they won’t get away with it.’ He gave Irene a challenging glare. ‘I don’t think this lass has the guts to pull that trigger. The weapon is only for show. In any case, she could only kill one of us. Where would that get her?’

Irene was calm. ‘Why don’t we find out?’

Aiming the barrel at Wakeley, she pulled the trigger and there was a loud report. The bullet hit him between the eyes and burrowed into his brain, knocking his head backwards. The prisoner suddenly came to life. Before he could recover from the shock of his friend’s death, Hungerford was under attack. He not only had to grapple with Oxley, there was the woman to contend with as well. Irene did not hold back. Knocking off the policeman’s top hat, she used the butt of the weapon to club him time and again. Hungerford was strong and fought bravely but he was no match for two of them. His head had been split open and blood gushed down over his face and uniform. Oxley was trying to strangle him while his accomplice was delivering more and more blows to his head. It was only a matter of time before Hungerford began to lose consciousness.

The moment the policeman slumped to the floor, Oxley searched Hungerford’s pocket for the key to the handcuffs. He found it, released himself, then stole a quick kiss from his deliverer.

‘Well done, Irene!’ he said, panting.

‘What will we do with these two?’ she asked.

‘I’ll show you.’

Opening the door, he grabbed Wakeley under both arms and dragged him across to it. The train then plunged into a tunnel, its rhythmical clamour taking on a more thunderous note and its smoke thickening in the confined area. With one heave, Oxley hurled the dead man out of the compartment. Since Hungerford was bigger and weightier, it took the two of them to shove him out into the tunnel. Oxley closed the door and gave a laugh of triumph.

‘We did it!’ he shouted, spreading his arms. ‘Come here.’

‘Not until you’ve taken that coat off,’ she said, looking at it with distaste. ‘It’s covered in his blood. You can’t be seen wearing that.’ She opened the valise. ‘It’s just as well that I thought to bring you another one, isn’t it? I had a feeling that you might need to change.’

When Caleb Andrews brought the train to a halt under the vast iron and glass roof over New Street station in Birmingham, his only interest was in lighting his pipe. He puffed away contentedly, blithely unaware that two of his passengers had been murdered during the journey from Wolverhampton and that the killers had just melted unseen into the crowd.

CHAPTER TWO

Nothing upset Edward Tallis more than the murder of a policeman. As a superintendent at the Detective Department in Scotland Yard, he had devoted himself to law enforcement and felt personal grief whenever one of his officers was killed in the line of duty. Even though the latest victims had not been members of the Metropolitan Police Force, Tallis was consumed by a mingled sadness and fury. He waved the telegraph in the air.

‘I want this villain caught and caught quickly,’ he announced. ‘He has the blood of two policemen on his hands.’

‘We need more details,’ said Victor Leeming.

‘It’s up to you to find them, Sergeant.’

‘What exactly does the telegraph say?’

‘It says enough to get you off your backside and on the next train to Wolverhampton. Apart from anything else,’ said Tallis, ‘your help has been specifically requested by the London and North Western Railway. This has just arrived by messenger.’ He picked up a letter with his other hand. ‘They are mindful of the fact that we served them well in the past.’

‘That was Inspector Colbeck’s doing,’ argued Leeming.

Tallis bristled. ‘It was a joint effort,’ he insisted.

‘The superintendent is correct, Victor,’ said Colbeck, stepping in to rescue the sergeant from the ire of his superior. ‘Whatever we’ve achieved must be ascribed to the efficiency of this whole department. Cooperation is everything. No individual deserves to be singled out.’

Tallis was only partially mollified. It was a source of great irritation to him that he did not get the credit to which he felt he was entitled. Newspaper reports of their triumphs invariably picked out Inspector Robert Colbeck as their unrivalled hero. It was the Railway Detective who claimed all the attention. Tallis could only smoulder impotently in his shadow.

The three men were in the superintendent’s office, blissfully free from cigar smoke for once. Seated behind his desk, Tallis, a former soldier, was seething with outrage at the latest news. He wanted instant retribution. The detectives sat side by side in front of him. Leeming, always uneasy in the presence of the superintendent, wanted to leave at once. Colbeck pressed for more information.

‘Did the telegraph give the name of the escaped prisoner?’ he asked, politely.

‘No,’ snapped Tallis.

‘What about the letter from the LNWR?’

‘I think there was a mention in that – though, shamefully, the two murder victims were not named. The villain takes precedence over them, it seems.’ He put down the telegraph and looked at the letter. ‘Yes, here we are. The killer’s name is Oxley.’

Colbeck was stunned. ‘Would that be Jeremy Oxley, by any chance?’

‘No Christian name is given, Inspector.’

‘But it could be him.’

‘Presumably.’

‘Do you know the man?’ asked Leeming.

‘If it’s Jeremy Oxley, I know him extremely well,’ said Colbeck, ruefully. ‘And this will not be the first time that he’s committed a murder.’ He rose to his feet. ‘We must leave immediately, Victor. I have a copy of Bradshaw in my office. That will tell us which train we can catch.’ As Leeming got up from his chair, Colbeck turned to Tallis. ‘Is there anything else we need to know, Superintendent?’

‘Only that I’ll be watching you every inch of the way,’ said Tallis. ‘And so will the general public. They must not be allowed to think that anyone can kill a representative of law and order with impunity. I want to see Oxley dangling from the gallows.’

‘So do I,’ said Colbeck, teeth gritted. ‘So do I.’

Madeleine Andrews was working at her easel when she heard the familiar footsteps outside on the pavement. She was surprised that her father had returned so early and her first thought was that he might have been injured at work. Putting her brush aside, she rushed to open the door. When she saw that Andrews was apparently unharmed, she heaved a sigh of relief.

‘What are you doing home at this hour, Father?’ she asked.

‘If you let me in, I’ll tell you.’

Madeleine stood aside so that Andrews could step into the house. As she closed the door behind him, another fear surfaced.

‘You haven’t been dismissed, have you?’

He cackled. ‘They’d never dare to sack me, Maddy.’

‘Then why are you here?’

‘It’s because I was the driver of the death train.’

She gaped. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Sit down and you’ll hear the full story.’

Madeleine lowered herself into a chair but she had to wait while her father filled and lit his pipe. He puffed on it until the tobacco glowed and gave off a pleasing aroma.

‘What’s this about a death train?’ she asked.

‘Two policemen were murdered on it,’ he explained, taking a seat. ‘Not that I knew anything about it at the time. We picked them and their prisoner up at Wolverhampton station. Somewhere between there and Birmingham a shot was fired. Dirk Sowerby and I didn’t hear a thing above the roar of the engine, of course, but passengers in the next carriage did. They told the guard and he found blood all over the seat. There was a blood-covered coat in there as well.’

‘What about the policemen?’

‘They’d been thrown out of the carriage, Maddy.’

She recoiled at the thought. ‘Oh – how dreadful!’

‘It really upset Dirk.’

‘It upset both of you, I daresay.’

‘I’ve got a stronger stomach than my fireman,’ boasted Andrews. ‘And it’s not the first time a crime has been committed on one of my trains. That’s how we came to meet Inspector Colbeck in the first place, so you might say that I was seasoned.’

‘Your train was robbed and you were badly injured,’ recalled Madeleine, ‘but – thank God – nobody was actually killed on that occasion. Let’s go back to Wolverhampton. You say that you picked up two policemen and a prisoner.’

‘That’s right. He was handcuffed to one of the peelers. I saw them on the platform and pointed them out to Dirk.’

‘Was the prisoner a big strong man?’

‘Not really.’

‘Then how could he get the better of two policemen?’

‘That’s what we’ll have to decide.’

‘We?’ she repeated.

‘Inspector Colbeck and me,’ he said, airily. ‘I’m a witness, so I’ll have to be involved. In fact, the investigation won’t get anywhere without me. What do you think of that, Maddy? Your father is going to be a detective in his own right. I’ll wager that the inspector will be tickled pink to work alongside me.’

Victor Leeming was so enthralled at the prospect of hearing the full story that he forgot all about his dislike of rail transport. He was a stocky man with the kind of unsightly features designed to unsettle rather than reassure anyone meeting him for the first time. Colbeck knew his true worth and – even though they differed markedly in appearance, manner and intelligence – they were a formidable team. The two of them had boarded a train at Euston and shared an empty carriage as it steamed off. Colbeck, an elegant dandy, was known for his aplomb yet he was now very animated.

‘It has to be Jeremy Oxley,’ he said, slapping his knee. ‘It’s too great a coincidence.’

‘Who is this man?’ asked Leeming.

‘He’s the reason I joined the police force.’

‘Yet you always say that you gave up your other work as a barrister because you only came along after a crime was committed. What you wanted to do was to prevent it happening in the first place.’

‘That’s true, Victor. When I was called to the bar, I had grandiose notions of making wonderful speeches about the need for justice as the bedrock of our society. I was soon robbed of that delusion. Being a barrister was not as lofty a profession as I’d imagined. To be frank, there were times when I felt as if I was taking part in a comic opera.’

‘How did you come across Oxley?’

‘He broke into a jewellery shop and collected quite a haul,’ said Colbeck. ‘When the owner of the premises chased him, Oxley shot the man dead in cold blood.’

‘Were there any witnesses?’

‘There were several.’

‘That was helpful.’

‘Alas, it was not. They lost their nerve when they received death threats from Oxley’s accomplice. Only one of them had the courage to identify him as the man who’d fired the fatal shot.’

‘Was he convicted on the strength of the evidence?’

‘Unfortunately, no – the case never came to court.’

‘Why not?’

‘He escaped from custody.’

Leeming sighed. ‘He’s an old hand at doing that, then.’

‘There was worse to come, Victor,’ said Colbeck, jaw tightening. ‘He hunted down the witness who was prepared to identify him and showed no mercy.’

‘He killed the man?’

‘The victim was a woman – Helen Millington.’

Colbeck spoke her name with a sorrow tinged with something more than mere affection. For a moment, his attention drifted and a distant look came into his eye. Old and very painful memories flitted across his mind. Leeming waited patiently until his friend was ready to continue.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Colbeck, making an effort to concentrate. ‘It’s just that it made a deep impression on me at the time. I was only a junior counsel in the case but it fell to me to persuade Miss Millington to come forward. In doing so,’ he added, biting his lip, ‘I inadvertently caused her death.’

‘You weren’t to know that Oxley would murder her, sir.’

‘Death threats had been sent.’

‘Yes, but that sort of thing happens all the time. Criminals will often try to scare a witness or a jury by issuing dire warnings. It doesn’t mean that they’ll actually carry out their threats.’

‘That’s what I keep telling myself but the guilt remains. I felt so helpless, Victor. She was a beautiful young woman in the prime of life. She didn’t deserve such a fate. I was desperate to avenge her death in some way, but what could I do as a barrister except make eloquent speeches in court?’ He took a deep breath and composed himself before continuing. ‘It was then I decided to join the fight against crime instead of simply dealing with its consequences.’

‘That was very brave of you, sir.’

‘The real bravery was shown by Helen Millington.’

‘What I meant was that you must have given up a good income to work for a lot less money.’

‘There are other kinds of rewards, Victor.’

‘Yes,’ said Leeming with a grin, ‘there’s nothing to touch the satisfaction of arresting a real villain and watching him get his punishment in court. You can’t buy something like that.’

‘It’s just as well. I don’t think we could afford it on police pay.’

They shared a laugh. Colbeck glanced through the window and realised that they were just passing Leighton Buzzard station. They were not far from the spot where Caleb Andrews had been tricked into stopping his train so that it could be boarded and robbed of the gold coin it was carrying. As a result of the robbery, during which Andrews had been wounded, Colbeck had first met Madeleine, the driver’s anguished daughter. What had started as a chance meeting had slowly matured into a friendship that had grown in intensity until it became a love match. He and Madeleine were now engaged to be married. Colbeck at last felt that his private world was complete. Thinking fondly of their future together, he let his thoughts dwell on her for a few luxurious minutes. As he pictured her face, however, and longed to see it again in the flesh, it was suddenly replaced in his mind’s eye by that of the equally lovely Helen Millington. Taken aback, Colbeck gave an involuntary start.

Leeming was worried. ‘Is something wrong, Inspector?’

‘No, no. I’m fine.’

‘You seemed to be miles away.’

‘Then I apologise. It was rude of me to ignore you.’

‘Tell me more about this Jeremy Oxley.’

‘His friends call him “Jerry” and he has a long criminal record. He’s a thief, confidence trickster and ruthless killer. Most of his victims have fallen for his charm. Oxley is very plausible.’

‘Let’s see how plausible he is at the end of a rope.’

‘We have to find him first, and that,’ conceded Colbeck, ‘will not be easy. He’s as slippery as an eel.’

‘So it seems. How would you describe him?’

‘He’s rather different from the villains we normally pursue. In fact, you wouldn’t take him for a criminal at all. Oxley, by all accounts, is good-looking, personable and educated. He has the talent to succeed in most professions. The tragedy is that he chose to make his living on the wrong side of the law.’

Leeming regarded him shrewdly. ‘Catching him means a lot to you, doesn’t it, sir?’

‘Yes, it does,’ admitted Colbeck. ‘I’ve been after him for years and this is the first time he’s crossed my path again. I’m going to make sure that it’s the last time as well. It’s a debt I have to pay to Helen Millington. This is not just another investigation to me, Victor,’ he stressed. ‘It’s a mission. I won’t rest until we have this devil in custody.’

It was several hours later but Irene’s hands were still shaking slightly. Oxley enfolded them in his own palms and held them tight.

‘You’re still trembling,’ he observed.

‘I can’t help it, Jerry. When I shot that policeman, I felt as cool as a cucumber. It was only afterwards that I realised what I’d done.’

‘Yes – you rescued me from disaster.’

‘I killed a man,’ she said with a shudder. ‘I never thought I’d be able to do that. I hoped that they’d release you when I pulled out the gun. It never crossed my mind that I’d have to pull the trigger.’

‘But you did, Irene,’ he said, kissing her on the forehead. ‘I knew that you wouldn’t let me down.’

She gave a shrug. ‘I love you. That’s why I did it.’

‘And because you did it – I love you.’

He squeezed her hands then sat back in his chair. They were in a public house in Stafford, sitting in a quiet corner where they could talk freely. Oxley had already changed his appearance so that any description of him would be misleading. He’d shaved off his neat moustache, combed his hair in a different way and put on a pair of spectacles with clear glass in them. He looked quite different. In the interests of evading suspicion, Irene had also made adjustments to her hair and to her clothing. Witnesses who saw her diving onto the train in Wolverhampton would not recognise her now. After calmly leaving the train at Birmingham, they had bought tickets to Stafford and travelled there in separate carriages. Nobody on the same journey would have connected them.

While Oxley was in a state of euphoria after his escape, she remained anxious and preoccupied. She took out a handkerchief and blew her nose. Looking up at him, her eyes were moist.

‘Was it like this for you, Jerry?’ she asked, nervously.

‘What are you talking about?’

‘The first time you killed someone. Did you have this terrible feeling in the pit of your stomach? Did your hands shake? Were you haunted by remorse?’

‘Not in the slightest,’ he said, coldly.

‘You must have had some regrets.’

‘I put them out of my mind.’

‘I can’t do that somehow. I keep seeing his face at the moment I actually shot him.’ She shook her head. ‘I just can’t believe I did that.’

‘Would you rather have seen me put on remand?’

‘No, no – I’d have hated that.’

‘Then you did the right thing.’

‘Did you feel that you did the right thing when you killed a man for the first time?’

‘Of course – he was foolish enough to chase me when I robbed his jewellery shop. It was the right thing to kill him and the right thing to kill her as well.’

She was shocked. ‘You killed a woman?’

‘She was going to bear witness against me.’

‘When was this – and how did you do it?’

‘That doesn’t matter,’ he said, dismissively. ‘It was a long time ago and I’ve put it all behind me. That’s what you must do. All I can tell you is that I felt proud.’

‘Proud?’ she echoed. ‘How can you be proud of taking a life?’

‘It showed I had the courage to do so. Most people don’t have that courage. They never know that sense of power you get. That’s what I had, Irene, and – when you get over the initial shock – you’ll enjoy remembering that same thrill as well.’

She was unconvinced. ‘I doubt that, Jerry.’

‘There’s nothing quite like it.’

They had been together almost a year now and it had been a very fruitful partnership. Her air of innocence and wholesomeness belied the fact that she was an accomplished thief and had long since abandoned any claim to respectability. Oxley had used her time and again to distract people while he stole things from their premises. As the more experienced criminal, he was able to teach her the tricks of the trade. Drawn ever closer to him, Irene became so besotted that she did not realise that Oxley was manipulating her emotions. She was utterly devoted to him. When his luck finally ran out and he was captured, all that she could think about was setting him free. Her audacious plan had worked. It had involved killing one man and helping to hurl a second one to his death, but her lover was back with her again. Irene just wished that she could relish his company instead of being assailed by regrets over what she’d done.

Taking her hands again, he looked deep into her eyes.

‘Are you happy, Irene?’

‘Of course I’m happy,’ she said, forcing a smile.

‘You don’t have to do this, you know. You’re under no compulsion. If you’d rather go your own way, we can part here and now. You’re not at my beck and call.’

‘But I want to be, Jerry.’

‘I sense that you’re getting cold feet.’

‘That’s not true,’ she asserted, sitting up straight. ‘I was a little troubled about it, that’s all. It’s past now. I feel much better, honestly. The only thing I want is to be with you.’

‘Then we have something in common,’ he said, leaning forward to whisper in her ear, ‘because the only thing I want is to be with you. Let’s find somewhere to spend the night, then I can tell you why.’

‘I thought we were going to Manchester.’

‘That can wait until tomorrow. Given what we did today, I think we’re entitled to celebrate.’

‘Yes, we are!’

‘Are you ready to be my wife for another night?’

Irene laughed. ‘I’m ready tonight and every night.’

They got up from their table and headed for the door. As they came out of the pub, they were elated. With Irene on his arm, Oxley strode purposefully along, distributing smiles to everyone he passed and making the most of his freedom. He then pulled Irene gently into an alleyway so that he could confide something to her.

‘Remember this, my love,’ he told her. ‘You didn’t shoot a human being on that train this morning.’

‘But I did, Jerry,’ she said, earnestly. ‘You saw me.’

‘All you killed was a policeman.’

‘So?’

Oxley beamed. ‘They don’t count.’

CHAPTER THREE

As soon as they arrived in the town, they hired a cab to take them to Garrick Street, home of the Wolverhampton Borough Police Force. Roland Riggs, the duty sergeant, was a big, beetle-browed man with an instinctive dislike of anyone who tried to take over an investigation he felt should be carried out by his own men. Colbeck and Leeming were given a frosty welcome. Accustomed to such treatment, they asserted their authority and drew all the relevant information out of Riggs. They learnt the names of the two murdered policemen and heard how the both of them had been hit by a train coming in the opposite direction. What Riggs could not explain was how two of his best officers had been unable to stop the prisoner from escaping.

‘Jeremy Oxley didn’t look like a dangerous man,’ he argued.

‘I knew it was him,’ said Colbeck.

‘The inspector has had a brush with Oxley before,’ explained Leeming. ‘That’s why he was so eager to take on the case.’

‘By rights, it falls within our jurisdiction,’ insisted Riggs. ‘Bob Hungerford and Arthur Wakeley were good friends of mine. It’s the reason I volunteered to tell their wives what had happened. You can imagine how I felt doing that.’

‘You have my sympathy, Sergeant,’ said Colbeck. ‘It must have been a harrowing assignment. The only consolation is that they heard the appalling news from an experienced officer who knew how to soften their grief. They’re not the kind of tidings you want a young and unschooled policeman blurting out on the doorstep.’

Riggs was solemn. ‘I’d agree with you there.’

‘Where was the prisoner being taken?’ wondered Leeming.

‘It was only as far as Birmingham. We had information that a man fitting his description had robbed a pawnshop there at gunpoint. The way that Oxley resisted arrest was a confession in itself. Our colleagues in Birmingham were delighted to hear that we had him in custody.’

‘They must have been surprised to hear of his escape.’

Riggs rubbed his chin. ‘I’d still like to know how the bugger managed that.’

‘I think there’s only one logical explanation,’ said Colbeck. ‘He must have had an accomplice. I feel sure that you’d never have let him leave here until he’d been thoroughly searched. He would not have been carrying a concealed weapon.’

‘We know our job, Inspector.’

‘Then another person was involved.’

‘That’s an obvious assumption,’ said Riggs, gruffly, ‘yet the only passenger who got into the same compartment was a young woman. A number of witnesses recalled her, jumping on the train at the very last moment.’

‘There’s your accomplice,’ concluded Colbeck.

Riggs was dubious. ‘Could someone like that shoot one policeman and help to overpower another? I think not, Inspector.’

‘Then you don’t know Jerry Oxley. He has a strange power over women and can get them to do almost anything for him. Believe me, I’ve had dealings with this fellow. His accomplice then was the woman with whom he’d been living. The likelihood is that the one in question this time is his latest mistress.’

‘So he’s corrupted her,’ said Leeming with disapproval.

‘Oh, I suspect that she was not entirely without corruption beforehand, Victor. How else could she meet him in the first place without frequenting the sorts of places he tends to visit? All that he did was to draw her deeper into the criminal fraternity.’

‘Where could she have got hold of a gun?’

‘She and Oxley would travel with a weapon all the time.’

‘He was carrying a pistol when we arrested him,’ noted Riggs.

‘Then his accomplice could have bought a second one. It’s not difficult if you have enough money, and they’d just committed a robbery in Birmingham, remember. No,’ Colbeck went on, ‘I don’t think we should waste time speculating on how she acquired the weapon. The first thing we must do is to unmask the second accomplice.’

Riggs blinked. ‘There were two of them?’

‘Yes, Sergeant, and I’m afraid to tell you that one of them wears a police uniform. Oxley’s mistress had help from one of your men.’

‘That’s a disgraceful allegation!’ shouted Riggs, banging his desk. ‘I can vouch for every one of my constables. None of them would dream of being party to a plot to murder two of their fellow officers.’

‘I’m sure that’s true,’ said Colbeck, ‘but, then, the man I’m after would have had no idea that such dread consequences would ensue. It probably never occurred to him that he was aiding and abetting the escape of a desperate criminal.’

Riggs folded his arms. ‘Explain yourself, Inspector.’

‘Very few people must have known when Oxley was being transferred from here to Birmingham. Is that agreed?’

‘Yes – only a handful of us had the details.’

‘I need the name of every man who knew the exact train on which the prisoner would be taken this morning. You, presumably, are one of them.’

‘Are you accusing me?’ howled Riggs, reddening.

‘Of course not,’ said Colbeck with a soothing smile. ‘You are evidently far too sensible to let such vital information slip. It must have been someone else. How many people knew?’

‘And where can we get in touch with them?’ added Leeming.

‘Let me see now,’ said Riggs, thinking hard and using his fingers to count. ‘Including me, there’d only be four of us – but I have complete faith in the other three. They’re all decent, reliable, upright men who’d never dare to be involved in anything like this.’

‘Would you care to put money on that?’ said Leeming.

‘I’m not a gambling man, Sergeant.’

‘It’s just as well because you’d certainly lose.’

Riggs fell back on pomposity. ‘My men are above suspicion.’

Colbeck was impassive. ‘Give us their names.’

Though she was pleased to see her father, Madeleine did find him a distraction while she was trying to paint. He kept coming up behind her to look at her latest railway scene and to offer unwanted advice. It was Colbeck who’d discovered her talent as an artist and encouraged her to develop it to the point where she was able to sell her work. There were other female artists in London but none specialised in pictures of locomotives in the way that Madeleine did. Landscapes and seascapes had no appeal for her and she lacked the eye for figurative painting, but there were few people who could bring a train so vividly to life on a canvas in the way that she did. It was a gift.

‘I’m surprised that he hasn’t been in touch with me,’ said Andrews, looking over her shoulder. He nudged her elbow. ‘You’ve got the wrong colour on that carriage, Maddy.’

‘I haven’t finished painting it yet.’

‘I thought the inspector would be banging on my door by now.’

‘Why on earth should he do that, Father?’ she asked. ‘In the first place, Robert may not even be responsible for the investigation. And even if he is, how could he possibly know that you drove the train on which murder was committed?’

He gave a grudging nod. ‘There is that, I suppose.’

‘You’ll just have to wait.’

‘Well, it won’t be for long,’ he said, ‘because I’m certain that he’ll be in charge of the case. The LNWR would be mad not to ask for him. It’s only a matter of time before he discovers that I was on the footplate this morning. That will bring him running.’

‘But you didn’t see anything of interest.’

‘Yes, I did. I saw those two policemen with their prisoner.’

‘Can you describe him?’

‘Well, he wasn’t young but, then again, you couldn’t call him an old man. As for the villain’s face, I must have been thirty-odd yards away, Maddy, so I can’t really help you.’

‘Then you won’t be able to help Robert either.’

Andrews was deflated, fearing that his offer of assistance might be turned down by Colbeck. Slumping into his chair, he racked his brains for any tiny details that he might be able to pass on in the hope of ingratiating himself with the Railway Detective. When none came to mind, he was tempted to invent some. Madeleine, meanwhile, had resumed work at her easel. He looked across at her.

‘Have you set a date yet, Maddy?’

‘You know that we haven’t,’ she replied.

‘Then it’s high time that you did.’

‘There’s no real urgency.’

‘There may not be for you,’ he complained, ‘but what about me? How can I retire when I still have you to support? I told Dirk Sowerby about it this morning. He refused to believe that I’d finally turn my back on the railway but I can’t wait to do it.’

‘You could retire tomorrow, if you wished.’

‘Not while I’ve got a daughter to feed and clothe.’

‘I don’t need you to support me anymore, Father,’ she said. ‘Now that I can sell my work, I have a fair amount of money coming in. You can’t use me as an excuse.’

It was true. Madeleine’s income – albeit irregular – had enabled them to buy all kinds of additional items for their little house in Camden. It had also transformed her wardrobe. When she and Colbeck went out together, she always dressed well and did not look out of place on his arm. It would be a wrench to leave the house in which she was born and brought up, but she was confident that her father could cope now that he’d finally got over the death of his wife. How he would fill his day during his retirement was another matter. Madeleine did not want him spending too much time at the marital home. She and Colbeck would value their privacy.

‘There’s lots of things I can do when I leave the LNWR,’ he said, giving his imagination free rein. ‘I could take an interest in gardening, learn to paint just like you, travel the country by train, get married again, have a stall in the market, write my life story, go to church more often or decorate the house. My real ambition, of course, is to work side by side with my son-in-law.’

‘You’re too old to join the police force, Father,’ she pointed out.

‘We’d have an unofficial arrangement. Whenever he had a tricky case, he’d tell me the full details and I’d advise him what to do. I think I’d make a wonderful detective, Maddy. Why don’t you mention that to the inspector? He might be grateful for my help.’

Madeleine suppressed a grin. ‘Then again, he might not.’

‘But my instincts are sharp.’

‘Robert is well aware of your instincts, Father,’ she said, turning to offer a gentle smile. ‘If he felt he could make use of them, I’m sure that he would. You’ll just have to wait. In the meantime, I think that you should just let him get on with his job.’

Two of the policemen who’d been aware of the exact train on which the prisoner would be travelling were on duty together. Colbeck and Leeming met them on their beat and interviewed them. Like Riggs, they were not receptive to the idea of detectives from London taking over the search for the killers of their former colleagues. When they realised why they were being questioned, they became indignant at the suggestion that they might unwittingly have given away the information that told Oxley’s accomplice when and where to strike. Their language became ripe. Roused by their aggressive attitude, Leeming had to control an urge to hit one of the men. Colbeck calmed all three of them down before apologising to the policemen. It was clear to him, he told them, that they were in no way implicated. After ridding themselves of some more bad language, they stalked off to continue their beat.

‘That leaves only one man,’ noted Leeming.

‘Yes,’ said Colbeck, ‘Constable Toby Marner.’

‘I hope he’s a little more helpful than those two.’

‘Nobody likes to be accused of a crime, Victor, even if it’s an unintentional one. Their intemperate reaction was forgivable.’

‘I’d have forgiven them with a punch on the nose.’

‘Save your strength for the real villain – Jerry Oxley. The one thing we can guarantee is that he’ll put up a fight.’

They went to the address they’d been given and knocked on the door of a shabby house in one of the rougher districts of the town. The woman who answered the door was Toby Marner’s landlady. She told them that they might find him at the Waterloo, a nearby public house. Colbeck asked her some questions about her lodger and was told that he’d been a good tenant.

When they located the seedy pub, they had no difficulty in picking out the man they were after. Sitting alone in a corner, the tall, rangy Marner was wearing his uniform and hat but he was not the image of sobriety expected of a law enforcement officer. His eyes were glazed, his cheeks red and he was quaffing a pint of beer as if his life depended on it. The detectives joined him and introduced themselves. It took Marner a few moments to understand what they were saying.

‘What do you want with me?’ he asked, slurring his words.

‘We need your assistance,’ said Colbeck. ‘According to Sergeant Riggs, you were told on which train the prisoner would be travelling this morning. Is that true?’

Marner was defensive. ‘I wasn’t the only one.’

‘We’ve spoken to the others. We’re satisfied that none of them passed on the information to anyone else.’

‘Neither did I.’

‘Are you sure?’ pressed Leeming.

‘I’m very sure.’

‘Well, somebody let the cat out of the bag.’

Marner tensed. ‘Are you calling me a liar?’

‘We just want to solve this mystery,’ said Colbeck, adopting a quieter tone. ‘As you’re well aware, two of your fellow policemen were murdered this morning on a train. You must have known them well.’

‘I did, Inspector.’ There was a sob in his voice. ‘Bob Hungerford was my brother-in-law. We joined the police force together.’

‘Then you have a special reason to want his killers arrested.’

‘Yes, I do.’

‘Is there any chance that you might accidentally have divulged the details of Oxley’s transfer to anyone?’

‘None at all,’ said Marner, emphatically.

‘Not even to your landlady, for instance?’

‘I told nobody.’

‘What about other policemen?’

Marner became truculent. ‘I’ve given you my answer, so you can leave me alone. Go back to London and let us deal with this. Arthur Wakeley and Bob Hungerford were Wolverhampton lads through and through. This is our case.’

He was slurring his words even more now and almost keeled over at one point. When Marner reached for his tankard, Colbeck moved it out of the way. The policeman was outraged.

‘Give me my beer.’

‘I think you’ve had enough already,’ said Colbeck. ‘You can’t hold your beer because you’re not a drinking man.’

‘Who can afford to be on police pay?’ moaned Leeming.

‘Your landlady said that you very rarely go to a pub. That’s why she was so surprised when she saw you heading in this direction. Do you know what that tells me, Constable Marner? It tells me that you’re a man with a need to drown his sorrows.’

‘You’re right,’ said Marner. ‘I’m mourning the death of two good friends. Is there anything wrong in that?’

‘No,’ replied Colbeck, fixing him with a piercing stare. ‘I’d expect it – especially if you are somehow connected with those deaths. And I’m inclined to think that you are.’

‘That’s a filthy lie!’

‘You’re the one who’s lying and you know it.’

‘I want my beer back.’

‘It’s no good trying to block out the truth,’ said Colbeck, sternly. ‘It will always come out in the end. Do you know what I believe we should do? Instead of talking to you here, I think we should have this conversation at Constable Hungerford’s house. Your sister will be present then.’ He leant in close. ‘You’d never dare to tell lies in front of her, would you?’ Marner swallowed hard. ‘You wouldn’t be cruel enough to add to her grief by trying to deceive us.’ He stood up and gestured towards the door. ‘Shall we go?’

Marner remained in his seat, staring anxiously ahead of him as he thought about what might lay ahead. He chewed his lip and wrung his hands. They could see the terror in his eyes. When Leeming took him by the elbow, Marner let out a yelp and burst into tears.

‘Don’t take me to my sister,’ he begged. ‘Please don’t make me go there. After what I did, I just can’t face Mary. I’d die of shame.’

‘And what exactly did you do?’ asked Leeming.

Colbeck resumed his seat. ‘Let’s give him time to clear his mind, Victor,’ he advised, ‘then he’ll tell us the whole story. That’s right, isn’t it, Constable Marner?’

‘Yes, Inspector,’ murmured the other.

‘I fancy that you’re in possession of information that will help in the search for those who murdered your colleagues. To hold it back would be a crime in itself.’

‘I know.’

‘Then you should get it off your chest.’

Marner needed a couple of minutes to compose his thoughts and to confront the horror of what had occurred. Colbeck let him have another sip of beer. Clearing his throat, Marner was about to confess when he started to weep again. Colbeck put a consoling hand on his shoulder and prompted him.

‘You didn’t think you were doing anything wrong, did you?’

‘No, Inspector,’ replied Marner.

‘Was any money involved?’

‘He offered me five pounds.’

‘Are you talking about Oxley?’

‘Yes,’ said Marner. ‘At first I refused, but five pounds is a lot of money to a man like me.’

‘And me,’ Leeming interjected. ‘What did you do to earn it?’

‘It seemed like a simple favour. All that I had to do was to tell the prisoner’s wife what train he’d be on and she’d give me five pounds. Oxley said she’d be there to wave him off.’

‘Instead of which,’ said Colbeck, ‘she caught the same train and helped him to escape.’

‘I wasn’t to know that,’ bleated Marner. ‘His wife was so pleased when I spoke to her. I felt sorry for her. I could see that she was carrying her husband’s child.’

‘She played on your emotions, Constable. To begin with, I doubt very much if she was his wife. I’m certain they cohabit but theirs is not a union blessed in the sight of God. As for being pregnant, that was another lie. What woman in that condition can run to catch a train then help to commit a murder?’

‘You were tricked,’ said Leeming with disgust. ‘You betrayed your friends. Because you took those five pounds, two policemen are going to their grave.’

Marner was in despair. ‘You think I don’t realise that, Sergeant? Ever since I heard the news, I’ve been in torment. What I did was terrible. If I had a gun, I swear to God that I’d have used it on myself by now.’ He put his head in his hands. ‘I feel like a murderer.’

‘Stop thinking about yourself,’ said Colbeck, ‘and try to help us instead. You met this so-called wife and had the opportunity to take her measure. We need you to remember every single thing about her that you can. Each detail is important.’ Marner looked up at him through bleary eyes. ‘What was your first impression of her?’

‘She was a … very appealing young lady.’

‘At what age would you put her?’

‘I think she was not much more than twenty,’ said Marner.

‘What about her build, height and colouring?’

‘She was slim, of medium height and dark-haired.’

‘Can you recall any significant feature about her?’