The Circus Train Conspiracy E-Book

Edward Marston

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

Seitenzahl: 450

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2017

Beschreibung

Following a string of successful performances, the Moscardi Circus is travelling by train to Newcastle for their next show. Yet a collision on the track with a couple of sleepers causes pandemonium: passengers are thrown about, animals escape into the night and the future of the circus looks uncertain. When the body of a woman is discovered in woodland next to the derailment, Inspector Colbeck is despatched to lend assistance, believing the two incidents might be connected. It is up to Colbeck to put the pieces together to discover the identity of the nameless woman and unmask who is targeting Moscardi's Magnificent Circus.

Leseprobe

THE CIRCUS TRAIN CONSPIRACY

EDWARD MARSTON

CONTENTS

TITLE PAGECHAPTER ONECHAPTER TWOCHAPTER THREECHAPTER FOURCHAPTER FIVECHAPTER SIXCHAPTER SEVENCHAPTER EIGHTCHAPTER NINECHAPTER TENCHAPTER ELEVENCHAPTER TWELVECHAPTER THIRTEENCHAPTER FOURTEENCHAPTER FIFTEENCHAPTER SIXTEENCHAPTER SEVENTEENCHAPTER EIGHTEENCHAPTER NINETEENABOUT THE AUTHORBY EDWARD MARSTONCOPYRIGHT

CHAPTER ONE

1860

During its stay in Carlisle, the circus had made a vast number of friends and many of them had turned up at the railway station to bid farewell to their visitors. The crowd consisted largely of cheering women, grateful for the thrilling entertainment they and their families had enjoyed, and tearful children, overwhelmed by a sense of loss and fearing that it might be an eternity before a circus of such size and quality visited the area again. While they were diverted by the sight of the animals being loaded – sometimes with great difficulty – into wagons, they were disappointed to see no sign of the clowns who’d brought so much merriment to Cumberland. Without realising it, however, they’d already rubbed shoulders with them on the platform as the men, without their make-up and garish costumes, boarded the train.

The noise was deafening. The hiss of steam, the slamming of carriage doors and the continuous hubbub of well-wishers were amplified by the cacophony set up by protesting horses and mutinous lions. When the whistle blew to signal departure, there was a scornful reply from Rosie the elephant, trumpeting her displeasure at being forced to leave the comfort of the compound they’d built for her. Waved off by the crowd, the first of the two trains pulled away with a rising chorus of dissent from the stock wagons. It was going to be an ear-splitting journey.

Mauro Moscardi, the owner of Moscardi’s Magnificent Circus, sat back in a first-class compartment and pulled on a cigar. He was a short, portly, still handsome man of middle years with a swarthy complexion and a twirling moustache. When he was acting as ringmaster, he seemed to grow in stature and had a booming voice that could reach everyone in the audience, no matter how large it might be. Having been born and brought up in England, he could speak the language perfectly. Yet when he was among strangers, he preferred to use a bogus Italian accent supplemented by expressive gesticulations. Alone with his wife, no pretence was needed.

‘I still can’t get used to travelling by train,’ he said, peevishly.

‘Railways have been a blessing to us,’ she argued. ‘When your father was on tour with the circus, he was lucky if they made seven or eight miles a day. Bad weather slowed them down even more.’

‘But he was carrying on a tradition, my love, and tradition is everything in the world of circus.’

‘Would you rather ride to Newcastle in our caravan? It’s about sixty miles away. This train will get us there by noon.’

‘What’s the rush? We’re going through beautiful countryside. We’d enjoy it much more if we took our time.’

‘And you’d never stop complaining how slowly we moved,’ she said with a smile. ‘You must learn to accept progress, Mauro.’

‘Tradition is more important.’

‘Your father would’ve loved railways – God rest his soul!’

But her husband was no longer listening because he’d just glanced out of the window and been captivated by the glorious landscape on view. It was quite stunning. Anne gave his arm an affectionate squeeze. Now approaching fifty, she’d somehow preserved the startling prettiness that had caught his eye when he’d first seen her. She was a promising young acrobat in those days and the subject of constant male attention. To the consternation of her other suitors, Mauro Moscardi had wooed and won her with the promise that they would one day run the circus together. She had never, for a moment, regretted marrying him.

The only other occupant of the compartment was her dog, the Princess of Pomerania, a small poodle with eyes that sparkled with intelligence and with a fluffy white mane around her neck thrown into relief by the well-clipped body. Anne and the Princess were amongst the most popular performers. In a circus dominated by equestrian acts, they were also a welcome variation from the general fare. Nestling against her mistress, the dog gave an elaborate yawn before closing her eyes. While the animal was her most prized possession, Anne Moscardi was also travelling with her jewellery. It was locked away securely in the large strongbox standing on the floor. After a long and profitable visit to Carlisle, it also contained a substantial amount of money.

Moscardi eventually turned his head away from the window.

‘Gianni is to blame,’ he decided.

‘Your brother is a genius.’

‘We should never have let him go to America.’

‘The month he spent there with a circus was a revelation,’ she said. ‘They not only travelled everywhere by train, they performed in a marquee that was easy to transport. Most of our rivals only visit towns that have a big hall or amphitheatre they can use, so there’s a limit to the places where they can perform. Since we are now under canvas, Moscardi’s Magnificent Circus can go anywhere. All we need is an open patch of land.’

‘The marquee flaps in a high wind.’

‘It’s safe and secure.’

‘I preferred the wooden structure we used to put up ourselves.’

‘It had its virtues,’ she conceded, ‘but it took an age to erect. Also, it was too similar to the one used by Pablo Fanque’s Circus and look what happened to that. The timber balcony collapsed during a performance in Leeds, killing his wife and causing serious injuries to hundreds of people.’

‘That was a freak accident.’

‘It was also a warning to others. Canvas is best, Mauro.’

‘That’s a matter of opinion,’ he murmured.

‘The marquee has brought us luck. Since we started using it, we’ve never had the slightest trouble.’

‘Don’t tempt Providence.’

‘You always say that.’

‘I can’t help being superstitious, Anne. It’s in my blood.’

She leant across to give him a peck on the cheek then turned her attention to the scenery outside. At their request, the hired train was travelling at a moderate pace out of consideration for their precious livestock. In earlier days, cattle, sheep, pigs and poultry were taken to market in open pens but roofs had now been added to many of the wagons. The circus horses therefore travelled in relative comfort, with straw at their feet and hay nets to keep them well fed during the journey. Locked in their cages, the lions were also under cover.

Rosie the elephant was the only animal in an open wagon. It was at the rear of the train next to the brake van. The sight of such a large and rare creature caused great interest in every station they passed through. Everyone on the platforms stared in wonder and waved. Labourers in the fields stopped to gape open-mouthed. At one point, when Rosie lifted her trunk and bellowed aloud, she frightened a herd of sheep so much that they scampered over the hillside to escape being trampled to death by the fearsome monster rolling towards them.

The train went on through open countryside filled with scenic delights. Fells, crags, streams, woodland, castles, churches, quaint cottages and sumptuous manor houses went past and the vestiges of Hadrian’s Wall came frequently into view. One by one, stations of varying sizes popped up – Scotby, Wetheral, How Mill, Milton, Low Row, Rose Hill, Greenhead, Haltwhistle, Bardon Mill and Haydon Bridge where they crossed the South Tyne river. Moscardi and his wife were now in Northumberland.

Anne eventually broke the long silence.

‘This is the way to travel,’ she said, expansively. ‘We don’t have to ride along bad roads the way we used to and camp overnight like Gypsies. That’s all in the past. We can travel in style now.’

‘It’s too expensive.’

‘I think it’s worth every penny.’

‘Well, I don’t.’

‘Sit back and relax, Mauro. We worked hard in Carlisle. We’re entitled to a rest and that’s exactly what the railway gives us.’ She spread her hands. ‘This is sheer bliss to me.’

Anne spoke too soon. The moment the words left her mouth, there was an ominous screeching sound as the engine driver suddenly tried to slow the train down for an emergency stop. It juddered, swayed and sent up showers of sparks from the line. Fear spread like wildfire. Something was amiss. Driver and fireman were patently struggling to control the train. After another series of convulsions, there was an awesome thud as the locomotive hit an obstruction.

Mauro, his wife and the dog were thrown across the compartment.

Two timber sleepers wreaked havoc. Laid across the rails, they made the engine pitch off the line. Miraculously remaining upright, it continued on its way along a grass verge, its wheels digging deep into soft earth that helped it to slow more dramatically. Carriages and wagons were dragged along behind it, rocking precariously as they parted company with the rails yet somehow regaining enough balance to avoid being overturned. It was terrifying. People yelled out, animals became hysterical and, when it finally came to a halt against the trunk of a tree, the locomotive hissed angrily. Behind it, zigzagging its way along the grass, was the rolling stock, most of it perched at crazy angles. It was a scene of chaos.

Moscardi’s Magnificent Circus had lost its magnificence.

CHAPTER TWO

Now that they had a young baby, days began even earlier at the Colbeck household and took on a very different form. In the past, Madeleine would have enjoyed a leisurely breakfast with her husband before spending the morning at her easel bringing a new painting to life. The arrival of Helen Rose Colbeck had changed everything. Her needs took priority and, though they had a nanny to help them, they had to cope with the largely unforeseen pressures of parenting. It was an education for both of them. When he left home that morning, therefore, Colbeck did so with mixed feelings, sad to leave his beautiful daughter yet embracing the sense of release. By the time he reached his office in Scotland Yard, domestic concerns had been put firmly aside. An article in the newspaper soon caught his attention and sent him straight into the superintendent’s office.

‘Good morning, sir,’ he said, holding up his copy of The Times. ‘Have you seen this item about a train crash?’

‘I have, Inspector.’

‘Then I hope you’ll send me to Northumberland immediately.’

‘I most certainly will not,’ said Tallis, brusquely. ‘We’ve had no request for your services from the railway company and – if you’d taken the trouble to read the article in its entirety – you’d have seen that nobody was actually killed and that the train itself was, by the grace of God, spared any irreparable damage.’

‘Someone tried to destroy the circus,’ argued Colbeck.

‘It’s a matter for the local constabulary.’

‘They can’t cope with something on this scale, Superintendent.’

‘Then they will have to bring in help – but it will not come from here.’

His long years in the army had given Edward Tallis the habit of command and the ability to make firm decisions. It had also left him with an expectation of unquestioning obedience. Since the inspector was his most talented detective, he was loath to send him off to another part of the country when his skills were needed in the capital. And there was another reason why Tallis was unmoved by the disaster in Northumberland. He had a very low opinion of circuses. In his opinion, they consisted of lawless itinerants offering vulgar entertainment that included half-naked women indulging in all sorts of unseemly exercise. By its very nature, a circus contained and attracted some of the most disreputable elements in society and left audiences dangerously overexcited. Disorder and immorality trailed in its wake, much of it, he believed, because so many hot-blooded foreigners were employed in the sawdust ring. Tallis disliked foreigners. His hatred of Italians was particularly strong.

‘I must ask you to think again, sir,’ said Colbeck, politely.

‘Then you are wasting your breath.’

‘I did read the article in its entirety and I noticed something that you seem to have overlooked. The crash did result in deaths. One of the horses was so badly injured that it had to be shot.’

‘That’s neither here nor there.’

‘It’s of great significance to Mr Moscardi. He has just lost a highly expensive and well-trained Arab horse whose legs were broken when the train came off the line and tossed them around in their wagon. He loves his animals like children, sir.’

‘So?’

‘Someone was trying to destroy his livelihood. Doesn’t that shock you? Had the rolling stock overturned, lives would have been lost and Moscardi’s circus might never have survived.’

‘Their continued existence is not something that troubles me, Inspector.’

‘Then it should,’ said Colbeck, sharply. ‘Had that train been carrying an army battalion, you’d have dispatched me to Northumberland instantly.’

‘Damn your impertinence, man!’

‘The circus is in a crisis. It needs help.’

‘You are leading a murder investigation here in London. Attend to it.’

‘We’ve already identified the culprit, sir. The evidence against him is overwhelming. It’s simply a case of tracking him down.’

‘Then leave me in peace and find the man.’

‘Inspector Vallence is more than capable of doing that,’ said Colbeck. ‘It would leave me free to catch the next train to Northumberland.’

‘Don’t you recognise an order when you hear it?’ roared Tallis, rising to his feet and pointing a finger. ‘I deploy my detectives in the way that I think fit. Unlike you, I don’t regard the death of a circus horse as a reason to dispatch you and Sergeant Leeming northwards. Mr Moscardi must cope without you.’

There was a warning glare in his eye, signalling that the conversation was over. Heaving a sigh, Colbeck turned on his heel and left the room. For the time being, he accepted, he would be forced to remain in London.

His thoughts, however, were with the beleaguered circus.

They’d camped beside the railway line and spent a sleepless night nursing their bruises and wondering who had been responsible for causing the crash. Next morning, Moscardi and his wife had been joined in their caravan by Gianni, younger brother of Mauro. The three of them were assessing the damage.

‘We’ve only had to put down one horse,’ said Moscardi, ‘but the rest of them are so shaken up that they’ll be unable to perform for some time. It’s the same with the other animals. Rosie is the worst. Elephants are sensitive creatures. It may take ages to settle her down. They’re all so nervous.’

‘I know how they feel,’ said Anne, uneasily. ‘We’re on tenterhooks. As for Princess,’ she went on, stroking the dog curled up in her lap, ‘she won’t let me out of her sight.’

‘Someone is trying to wreck our circus, my love. From now on, we all have to watch each other’s backs.’

‘I’ve got a better idea,’ said Gianni, eyes smouldering. ‘We know who did this. It’s the work of Greenwood’s Circus. Why don’t we find out where they are and wreak our revenge?’

‘No,’ said his brother, ‘that’s not the way to react.’

‘You’re growing soft in your old age, Mauro.’

‘Don’t you dare say that to me!’

‘It’s true,’ insisted Gianni. ‘When we had trouble from a rival circus in the past, Father would urge us to hit back at them at once. You were always ready to strike the first blow.’

‘That was different. We were certain who the villains were.’

‘It’s the same this time – Greenwood’s Circus.’

‘The last we heard of them,’ Anne reminded him, ‘was that they were touring in the West Country. Why come all this way to cause us trouble?’

‘It’s more than trouble,’ protested Gianni. ‘They want to kill us off.’

‘That’s enough,’ said Moscardi.

‘Are we too cowardly to fight back?’

‘Be quiet, Gianni!’

It was said with such force and authority that the younger man lapsed into silence. Gianni Moscardi was an impulsive character, always likely to explode in the face of what he considered an injustice. Now in his forties, he was a lithe man of medium height whose outstanding career as an acrobat had been cut short by a fall from a trapeze, obliging him to use a walking stick. He was still bristling with resentment at the fate that had befallen him.

His brother put a hand on Gianni’s shoulder and looked into his eyes.

‘We let the law take its course,’ he asserted. ‘We have no proof that someone from Greenwood’s was involved. If they were, there’ll be a prosecution. But ask yourself this, Gianni. How could Sam Greenwood and his men have possibly known that we’d be travelling by rail at precisely that time? We always keep our itinerary hidden from other circuses. They’d have no idea we’d be steaming through Haydon Bridge this morning.’

‘We may not even have been the targets,’ Anne interjected.

‘Oh, I think that we were, my love. Someone was expecting us.’

‘Someone from Sam Greenwood’s circus,’ said Gianni.

‘No – you can forget about them.’

There was a sudden tension between the brothers. Anne sought to ease it.

‘Instead of moaning,’ she suggested, ‘I think we should count our blessings. Only one train was involved. More than half our animals and our staff were due to be on the second train under Gianni’s supervision. And – thank heaven – so were all of the children. They were unharmed because we split up into two groups.’

‘That’s a good point,’ said Moscardi.

‘Then here’s another one. Nobody was killed. Most of us were bruised and a couple of people lost a little blood but we are otherwise intact. If that isn’t a sign of God’s mercy, I don’t know what is. We live to fight another day.’

‘And we should fight,’ urged Gianni, ‘with staves in our hands.’

‘You can’t fight an invisible enemy.’

‘And we can’t take the law into our hands,’ added Moscardi. ‘Let the police get on with their investigation. We’ve got more than enough to do. There are plans to be made, animals to be calmed down and a lot of frightened people to be reassured. Anne is right. We’ve had a lucky escape. If the train had been going at full pelt, there could have been a catastrophe.’

‘That was Sam Greenwood’s intention,’ said Gianni, sourly.

‘He may not be behind this, Gianni.’

‘Then who is?’

Moscardi shrugged. ‘Only time will tell.’

The circus had built its reputation on the quality of its artistes and the variety of its animals. Everyone had heard of Moscardi’s horses, lions and celebrated elephant. To those who looked after the menagerie, however, there was an even more important member of it and that was Jacko, a much-loved capuchin monkey who was given licence to roam more freely than the other animals. Jacko was small, impish and unpredictable. A reliable performer in front of an audience, he was a free spirit when away from it and loved nothing more than causing trouble and playing tricks on everyone. As a rule, the monkey kept everyone laughing but his latest trick aroused no amusement. It provoked sadness and alarm. Jacko had disappeared.

‘If this in another of his japes,’ said Albert Stagg, ruefully, ‘I’ll starve the little devil for a whole week.’

‘I’ll just be glad to get him back,’ said his companion.

‘Where on earth can he be?’

‘We’ll find him sooner or later.’

‘Alive or dead?’

‘Hey,’ said Brendan Mulryne, rounding on him. ‘We’ll have none of that kind of talk, if you don’t mind. Jacko is fine. He just happens to have got lost, that’s all. That crash scared the daylights out of him, Albert, and I’m not surprised. It did the same to me, so it did.’

They presented a complete contrast. Mulryne was a tall, muscular Irishman with enormous hands and a battered face that featured a broken nose, a scarred cheek and a thick lip. One of his ears was almost twice the size of its partner. Stagg, on the other hand, was a short, neat, skinny individual in his thirties with a bald head and protruding eyes. He looked after the monkey and performed with him. Having only been with the circus for a few months, Mulryne was simply searching for a missing animal. Stagg was looking for his best friend.

‘He could be anywhere, Brendan,’ he said.

‘Keep shouting for him every few minutes.’

‘My throat is already hoarse.’

‘Ignore the pain. Jacko knows your voice. If he hears it, he’ll come to you.’

‘That’s not what happened when we came off the line,’ recalled Stagg. ‘Jacko jumped through the open window and ignored me altogether.’

‘Thank heavens it was only a monkey who escaped,’ said Mulryne. ‘If it had been Rosie the elephant or some of the lions, we’d have a real problem.’

‘Jacko is just as important to me as any of the animals.’

‘I know that, but he’s not as much of a danger to the public as a lion.’

‘I won’t rest till we find him.’

Stagg was desperately worried about the monkey. It was almost twenty-four hours since he’d disappeared. They’d searched until dark then started again at dawn. It was now almost noon and there was still no sign of Jacko. Hopelessly lost, the animal would be at the mercy of all sorts of predators. Where would he get food? How would he survive? They’d heard distant gunfire on more than one occasion. Had somebody shot him? The very thought made Stagg shudder.

When they came to a stretch of woodland, they decided to split up.

‘Stay within earshot,’ advised the Irishman.

‘Jacko would be safer in here among the trees. He’d climb out of danger.’

Mulryne grinned. ‘Well, don’t ask me to climb up after him,’ he said. ‘You’ll have to lure him down somehow.’

‘When he hears my voice, he’ll respond.’

‘I hope you’re right, Albert.’

Going in opposite directions, they began to pick their way through the woods. Each of them called for Jacko by name but there was no reply. Every now and then, Mulryne shouted to his friend and got an answering yell to confirm that they were still in touch with each other. As they pressed on, however, Stagg’s voice became increasingly faint. Eventually, it disappeared altogether and Mulryne began to get worried. He stopped in a clearing, filled his lungs and bellowed.

‘Can you hear me, Albert?’

There was no reply. Cupping his hands, he shouted even louder.

‘Where are you?’

This time, there was an answer but it didn’t come from Stagg. It was the distinctive squeal of a monkey and it made the Irishman’s heart lift. He went off in the direction from which the sound came.

‘Don’t worry, Jacko,’ he said. ‘I’m coming.’

The squeals became more excited and acted as a guide. Trampling through the undergrowth, Mulryne rushed on with a sense of relief coursing through his body. The monkey was alive, after all. The search was over. When he got close to the area where the sound was coming from, however, he couldn’t see the monkey. Instead, to his horror, he saw something that made his blood run cold. Having led a hard life, the Irishman was not easily shocked but this sight stopped him in his tracks.

Sticking out of the ground, a human hand was waving to him. 

CHAPTER THREE

When the message came, Robert Colbeck and Victor Leeming were keeping a house in Wardour Street under surveillance. Since they believed their main suspect was inside, they’d placed men at the rear of the property to prevent an attempt at escape. They were discussing tactics as a uniformed policeman approached.

‘The superintendent said I would find you here,’ he said, handing a letter to Colbeck. ‘It’s urgent, sir.’

‘Thank you, Constable,’ said the other, opening the missive and reading it.

‘Is there a reply?’

‘I’ll deliver it in person.’

‘Very good, sir.’

‘Come on, Victor,’ said Colbeck. ‘We’re needed elsewhere.’

‘But we may be in a position to make an arrest, sir,’ complained Leeming.

‘Someone else can have the pleasure of doing that.’

‘We can’t just walk away.’

‘Yes, we can. Only one thing would make the superintendent pull us off this job and I fancy that I know what it is.’

Colbeck beckoned to one of the detective constables watching the house and gave him his orders. Confident that his men could handle the situation, he hailed a cab and asked the driver to take them to Scotland Yard. It was not long before he and the sergeant were standing side by side in front of the superintendent. Colbeck had a smile of anticipation but Leeming quailed inwardly. Though he was fearless when confronting violent criminals, he felt his legs turn to rubber whenever he faced Edward Tallis. The superintendent increased the sergeant’s discomfort by keeping them waiting for a full minute. When he spoke, it was with obvious regret.

‘I’ve received two telegraphs from Northumberland,’ he said, grumpily. ‘The first one is from the Newcastle and Carlisle Railway Company.’

‘I had a feeling that they’d be in touch,’ said Colbeck.

‘Is it about this crash?’ asked Leeming.

‘Be quiet and listen,’ said Tallis.

‘Someone derailed a circus.’

‘Close that irritating orifice known as your mouth.’

‘The inspector has already shown me that article in the newspaper.’

‘Silence!’ Leeming winced and took a cautionary step backwards. ‘There’s been a development,’ explained Tallis, ‘and it’s a disturbing one.’

‘What’s happened, sir?’ asked Colbeck.

‘The body of a woman has been found in a shallow grave not far from the scene. Foul play is evident. I’ve been asked to send you at the earliest possible opportunity.’

‘Does the NCR believe there is a link between the crash and the murder?’ asked Colbeck.

‘There’s no suggestion of that kind. They simply beg for assistance.’

‘You said that there were two telegraphs.’

‘Yes,’ said Tallis, face darkening, ‘and the second one is from a man whose vile name I hoped never to hear again.’ He handed the paper to Colbeck. ‘It looks as if Mulryne has ended up in a circus.’

‘Would that be Brendan Mulryne?’ asked Leeming, tentatively.

‘It would, alas. Even when he wore a policeman’s uniform, he was always something of a performing bear.’

‘I liked him, sir. He was a good man to have beside you in a fight.’

‘The trouble is that he always started the fight.’

Leeming turned to the inspector. ‘What does he say?’

‘He says very little,’ replied Colbeck, ‘but I’m just reading between the lines. Mulryne is pleading for us to head north. Strange things are happening up there.’

‘When a circus comes to town,’ said Tallis, ‘there’s always trouble.’

‘In this case, they didn’t even reach town, sir. Someone sought to stop them getting there in one piece. I’ll be interested to find out why.’ He handed the telegraph back to Tallis. ‘It’s lucky that Mulryne is involved. He’ll be a great help. He’s got a policeman’s eye.’

‘It was usually blackened from his latest brawl.’

‘I always enjoyed being on duty with him,’ said Leeming. ‘I felt safe.’

‘Nobody was safe when that mad Irishman was around. He broke every rule of policing. We did the people of London a great service when we dismissed him.’

Colbeck was about to point out that Mulryne had, in fact, been of considerable assistance to them in a private capacity but he decided against doing so. Tallis would never accept that Mulryne could be an asset to the Metropolitan Police Force. In any case, Colbeck had got what he wanted. The Railway Detective was at his best when dealing with crimes relating to the railway system that had spread so quickly and so haphazardly throughout the whole country. He was eager to get to the circus as soon as possible and to learn more about the crash and the mysterious death.

‘We’ll leave at once, sir,’ said Colbeck. ‘Inspector Vallence can take over our current investigation. Send him to Wardour Street.’

‘But we did all the hard work,’ moaned Leeming. ‘Why should someone else have the credit of making the arrest? It’s not fair.’

‘It’s an example of teamwork, Sergeant.’

‘We should get the glory.’

‘Don’t be so selfish, man,’ said Tallis. ‘And let’s have no more nonsense about glory. Your function is to solve major crimes, not to court approbation.’

Before he could speak again, the sergeant was hustled out of the office by Colbeck. Arguing with Tallis was pointless. It would only delay them and the inspector was anxious to be on their way.

As they walked down the corridor, Leeming asked a jolting question.

‘What about your daughter, sir?’

‘What about her?’

‘Do you really want to go that far away from Helen?’

Colbeck came to an abrupt halt. He thought about the beautiful little girl who’d come into his life and given it a new direction. The child had been a blessing in every way and, since her birth, he’d been fortunate to be based entirely in London. For the first time, he was being torn away from her and it was going to be a painful experience. He tried to control an upsurge of regret.

‘No, I don’t,’ he admitted, ‘but duty comes first.’

From the moment when he heard that his daughter was pregnant, Caleb Andrews was convinced that he was about to have a grandson. So firm was his belief that he even named the child beforehand. When Madeleine gave birth to a daughter, therefore, he was at first upset but, the moment he set eyes on her, his disappointment was swiftly supplanted by joy. It was increased by the news that the parents had decided to name the baby after his late wife, Helen. Andrews had been profoundly moved. Every time he saw his granddaughter, he was reminded of his wife. As he looked at her now, sleeping contentedly in her crib, he chided himself for wanting to have a grandson instead.

Madeleine waited until he sat down again before she broke the news.

‘Robert is going to be away for a while,’ she said.

‘A child needs its father close to her, Maddy.’

‘That’s the ideal situation, I agree, but it’s not always possible when the father happens to be a famous detective. His work takes him everywhere.’

‘And it’s dangerous work at that,’ said Andrews. ‘I wonder if it isn’t time for Robert to find a job with no risks that keeps him in London all the time.’

‘You’re a fine one to talk,’ she said, laughing. ‘When you were an engine driver all those years, you were always in danger and often hundreds of miles away.’

‘That was different.’

‘I don’t agree.’

‘I was tied hand and foot by the rules of employment.’

‘And so is Robert. The main rule is crystal clear. If he’s summoned by any railway company – regardless of where it is – then he simply has to go.’

‘How much has he told you about this latest case?’

‘Very little,’ she replied. ‘All that he had time to do was to dash off a quick note and have it delivered here by hand. He’s off to Northumberland.’

He was appalled. ‘You mean that he couldn’t even come home to say a proper goodbye to you and the baby?’

‘He and Victor Leeming had to catch a train from King’s Cross. They’re used to making sudden departures. That’s why they always keep a change of clothing at Scotland Yard.’ She saw the look of anguish on her father’s face. ‘Are you all right?’

‘No,’ he croaked, ‘I feel sick to my stomach.’

‘Can I get you something?’ she asked with concern.

‘This is not something that can be cured with a pill, Maddy. And I don’t think an apology from your husband would make me feel any better.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘You just told me that he was travelling from King’s Cross. That means he’ll be on the Great Northern Railway.’

‘Ah, I see,’ she said, realisation dawning. ‘You’d expect him to go to Euston.’

‘A train from the LNWR would take him all the way to Carlisle.’

‘Robert must have found a quicker route.’

‘It’s not a question of speed,’ he wailed. ‘It’s a matter of loyalty.’

‘You can’t expect Robert to use only the London and North Western because you used to work for it. He always carries his Bradshaw with him and chooses the fastest train to get him where he wants to go. Besides, the LNWR only reaches certain parts of the country.’

‘If he’s going to Northumberland, he can change at Carlisle and pick up a train on the NCR. There’s a regular service to Newcastle.’

‘I’m sure that Robert has worked out his route very carefully.’

‘He should have asked my advice.’

She suppressed a smile. ‘I think he already knows what it would have been.’

‘Well,’ he said, shaking his head, ‘I expected more of him than this. He can’t be bothered to find time to see you before he goes, then he chooses the wrong train. I thought he’d be more caring as a father, I must say.’

‘Nobody could be more considerate as a husband or as a father,’ she said, firmly. ‘Robert is the kindest man alive. When duty calls, however, he has to respond. He’s gone to Northumberland because someone tried to wreck a train that was carrying a circus to Newcastle, and there’s been a murder nearby.’

Andrews leapt to his feet. ‘There’d be another murder if I caught the man who tried to wreck the train. They don’t have a punishment strong enough for villains who do that sort of thing. I’m sorry for the circus,’ he went on, ‘but my sympathy goes to the engine driver and fireman. It must have been an ordeal for them.’

‘Robert will send me more details in due course.’

‘Well, be sure to pass them on to me, Maddy. Trains are a benefit to everyone, if they’re allowed to be. They’ve changed this country out of all recognition. The trouble is,’ he added, worriedly, ‘that they’re so easy to derail.’

‘They call him the Railway Detective.’

‘Why is that?’

‘Inspector Colbeck got that name when he caught the men behind a train robbery. It was a difficult case,’ recalled Mulryne, ‘but he solved it in the end. He never gives up.’

‘That’s good to hear,’ said Moscardi. ‘I just hope that, when he catches the men behind the crash, he’ll hand them over to me.’

‘I’d like a crack at them first, Mr Moscardi. When our train came to a dead halt, I banged my head against the side of the compartment. I was holding Jacko at the time. He was so frightened that he hopped through the open window.’

‘He’s safely back with Albert now. Jacko is a survivor. One of the animals wasn’t so lucky.’

‘How will you replace that horse?’

‘Buying a new one will be easy enough. Training him up to the right standard is a different matter. It takes time and patience.’

‘I know,’ said Mulryne, appreciatively. ‘You work wonders with them. And even when they’re experienced performers, they rehearse day after day.’

‘Practice makes perfect.’

The two men were standing beside the gaudy exterior of Moscardi’s caravan. In the wake of the crash, constables had come from Hexham to support the railway policeman first to the scene. When the murder victim was discovered, however, it was deemed necessary to involve the Newcastle Constabulary and detectives had been duly dispatched. Not realising that the railway company had already done so, Mulryne had insisted that they should send for Colbeck and put his name on the telegraph because, he boasted, it would make all the difference.

‘Thanks to you, Mulryne, the Railway Detective is coming.’

‘He’s an old friend, Mr Moscardi. We worked well together.’

‘Why did you leave the police force?’

Mulryne chuckled. ‘That’s a long story.’

‘Save it until this whole business has been sorted out.’

‘Have you decided when we move on?’

‘No,’ said Moscardi, sadly. ‘People involved in the crash are still jangled and so am I. We need time to get over it before we move on. The same goes for the animals, of course. They’re all very restive.’

‘Jacko won’t sit still for a single minute.’

‘He’s like the rest of us – hurt and afraid.’

‘I was hurt,’ said Mulryne, straightening his shoulders, ‘but I’m certainly not afraid. I want to help Inspector Colbeck catch whoever put those sleepers on the line. Then, of course, there’s that poor woman we found.’

‘God rest her soul!’ said Moscardi. ‘We’re so worried about our own troubles that we’re forgetting about her. If Jacko hadn’t found the corpse for us, it might have lain undiscovered for ages. What sort of state would she be in by then?’

‘I hate to think.’

‘You said that she’d only been killed recently, didn’t you?’

‘That would be my guess,’ replied Mulryne, ‘and, I’m sorry to say, I’ve seen a lot of dead bodies in my time. The ones I hauled out of the Thames were the worst. They were hideously bloated. This woman was different. There was no sign of decomposition. She looked so normal. I’ve no idea how she died. There wasn’t a mark of violence upon her.’ He scratched his head. ‘I’d love to know who she is and how she got there.’

Victor Leeming would never be reconciled to the notion of rail travel. In his opinion, trains were dirty, noisy, uncomfortable, unreliable and a potential source of danger. He was honest enough to admit that going to Northumberland by road would take vastly longer and would subject him to a very bumpy ride but he still preferred a stagecoach. For Colbeck, however, the railway was always a first choice. He was fascinated by the engineering involved and loved hurtling around the country in the course of his investigations. Since their compartment was almost full when they departed, they had little opportunity at first for private conversation. At a series of stops, they shed the other passengers one by one and eventually finished up alone. Colbeck was deep in thought. Leeming recognised the quiet smile on his lips.

‘You’re thinking about your daughter, aren’t you, sir?’

‘What?’ said the other, jerked out of his reverie. ‘Yes, I was, as a matter of fact. You’re very perceptive, Victor.’

‘I have children of my own, remember. I think of them all the time.’

‘It’s only natural.’

‘I worry about them misbehaving when I’m not there.’

‘Helen is far too young to misbehave but I daresay her turn will come. However,’ he went on, adjusting his position, ‘we’ve indulged ourselves enough. The superintendent didn’t send us to Northumberland to daydream about our children. We have a complex case ahead of us.’

‘If only it wasn’t so far away,’ said Leeming.

‘We go where we’re needed, Victor.’

‘That’s the trouble.’

Adored by his wife, Leeming would never have been considered attractive by any other woman. He had a kind of unthreatening ugliness and looked wholly out of place in a top hat and frock coat. During his days in uniform, his stocky frame and readiness for action gained him great respect. As a detective, however, he seemed on first acquaintance to be out of his depth. There was an almost apologetic air about him as if he knew how unconvincing he must appear.

‘I love circuses,’ he said, fondly. ‘Who would possibly want to harm one?’

‘There’s an obvious answer to that.’

‘I can’t see it.’

‘I’m talking about another circus, Victor. There’s a fierce rivalry between them. They’re always trying to poach each other’s artistes or steal each other’s ideas.’

‘But they wouldn’t deliberately set out to destroy each other, would they?’

‘It’s a possibility we can’t rule out.’

‘Circuses are always full of such friendly people. There’s such a welcoming atmosphere when you go to one. My boys laugh for days after they’ve seen clowns playing about. A circus makes them happy.’

‘That’s its intention and why it has a unique place in our culture. But not everyone shares our view of it, I’m afraid,’ said Colbeck. ‘The superintendent hates them and so do lots of other people. Town councils in some places refuse to let a circus anywhere near them because they think it breeds mischief.’

‘That’s all part of the fun.’

‘Fun worries some people, Victor. They fear that it can get out of hand. As for the present case,’ he continued, ‘we can only speculate. I’ve no doubt that Brendan Mulryne will have his theories and he won’t need any encouragement to share them with us.’

Leeming grinned. ‘No, he was never shy about thrusting himself forward.’ He glanced through the window. ‘We’re going to spend an age on this train.’

‘You’ll get your reward when we reach our destination.’

‘Why – have you been to Northumberland before?’

‘Yes, I once took Madeleine to Wylam Colliery to see Puffing Billy, one of the very earliest locomotives.’

‘That’s not what I’d call a treat, sir.’

‘The treat lies in the landscape,’ said Colbeck. ‘We’re not just going to solve two heinous crimes. We’re going to one of the most beautiful places in the whole of England.’

The man on the hill had no interest in the landscape. Concealed behind a bush, he used a telescope to look down on the encampment. To his dismay, the circus had a distressing air of normality about it. Hoping to see evidence of injury and widespread damage, he was instead gazing at acrobats practising their routines and animals being fed by their keepers. He could even hear the happy laughter of children carried on the wind. Only the sight of police uniforms hinted that something was amiss. Cursing his luck, he retracted the telescope, spat angrily on the ground and slunk away.

CHAPTER FOUR

It took several hours and two changes of train before Colbeck and Leeming finally got within a few miles of their destination. Having alighted at Fourstones railway station, they were driven in a dog cart by an old man whose beard was so dense and curly that words had difficulty finding a way through it. Because Leeming had his back to the driver, Colbeck, seated beside the old man, bore the brunt of his narrative. It was delivered in an almost impenetrable local dialect. Having spent his entire life in a sleepy little village where nothing untoward ever happened, the old man finally had a major incident to talk about and he freely embroidered the few facts he’d picked up into a vivid description of an event of epic proportions. His account was totally at variance with what the detectives had already learnt in Newcastle.

When they reached the circus, Colbeck expected to see the aftermath of a calamity, with dead bodies being carried out on stretchers and wounded animals being killed in relays. What he and Leeming actually found was a bustling camp in which the majority of people were far too busy to brood on the crash the previous day. Reacting quickly to the emergency, they lapsed comfortably back into their usual routine. The only real sign of unease was the sustained chorus of protest from the animals. Led by Rosie, it combined anger, confusion and fear.

Brendan Mulryne came forward eagerly to greet the newcomers.

‘You’re a sight for sore eyes, Inspector,’ he said. ‘And the same goes for you, Sergeant.’

Leeming was given an equally warm handshake. It was years since he’d seen the Irishman but the latter had changed very little in the interim. He had the same bristling energy and the same mischievous twinkle in his eye.

‘What are you doing in a circus, Brendan?’ he asked.

‘Oh, I do just about everything.’

‘Do you perform in the ring?’

‘It’s the one thing I don’t do, Sergeant. They already have a Strong Man and there’s not a tightrope thick enough to bear my weight. As for the trapeze, I’ve no head for heights.’ He picked up their valises from the ground. ‘But let me take you to Mr Moscardi. He’s dying to meet you. And so is Inspector Lill.’

‘Is he from the Newcastle Constabulary?’

‘Yes – he was in charge here until you arrived.’

‘What sort of man, is he?’

The Irishman snorted. ‘He wouldn’t last a fortnight in London.’

‘Why is that?’

‘You’ll soon see.’

Mulryne set off and the others fell in beside him. Colbeck was curious.

‘The telegraph said that you discovered the murder victim.’

‘That’s not strictly true. Jacko found her.’

‘Then we’ll need to speak to him.’

‘All you’ll get out of him is a few squeals, I’m afraid,’ said Mulryne with a chuckle. ‘Jacko is a monkey. He escaped during the crash and I went hunting for him with Albert, his keeper.’

‘Where did you find him?’

‘In the woods – it’s not all that far away.’

‘In that case,’ said Colbeck, ‘as soon as you’ve introduced us to Mr Moscardi, I want you to take Sergeant Leeming to the exact spot where the victim was buried.’ He glanced upwards. ‘Light will be fading soon. You might take a lantern.’

‘There’s something much more important to take than that.’

‘What is it?’ asked Leeming.

‘Jacko.’

Mauro Moscardi was getting increasingly impatient. Seated in their caravan with his wife, he was firing questions at the man nominally leading the investigation and he was getting disappointing answers.

‘Have you found any clues at all?’

‘We believe so,’ replied Lill, guardedly.

‘What are they?’

‘It’s too soon to be certain that they are actually relevant.’

‘You must have some idea who attacked my circus.’

‘All I can offer you at the moment is a guess.’

‘A guess!’ exclaimed the Italian. ‘What use is that, man?’

‘I’m relying on intuition, sir.’

‘And what does it tell you, Inspector?’ asked Anne, calmly. ‘I apologise for my husband. He doesn’t mean to hector you like this. You must understand that this circus has been run by his family for the best part of eighty years. He will fight to the death to save it.’

‘All I need to know,’ said Moscardi, ‘is who I’m fighting against.’

‘Let the inspector speak, Mauro,’ she advised, softly.

Cyrus Lill was a lanky man of middle years with a face that looked far too small for such a large head. Its most notable feature was the drooping moustache that hung beneath the snub nose and the watery eyes. He shrugged apologetically.

‘We’re doing our best, sir.’

Moscardi gave a dismissive gesture. ‘Ha!’

‘It’s a complex investigation.’

‘I just want a simple answer.’

‘These things take time—’

He got no further. Someone rapped on the door and brought the interview to an end. Anne got up to see who the caller was. It was Mulryne’s huge fist that had pounded on the door. When the three of them realised that the detectives had arrived from Scotland Yard, they climbed out of the caravan to give them an effusive welcome. Once introductions were over, Colbeck explained that he was sending Leeming to view the place where the victim had been found and to hear full details from Mulryne of the actual discovery. The two men set off.

Moscardi was hurt. ‘The assault on my circus should come first,’ he said, vehemently. ‘Our whole future was at stake. Do you know what it’s like to be in a train crash, Inspector Colbeck? We could all have been killed.’

‘Thankfully,’ said Colbeck, ‘you were not. The victim, however, was killed.’ He turned to Lill. ‘Have you indentified her yet?’

‘I’m afraid not,’ replied Lill.

‘Where was the body taken?’

‘It’s in Hexham.’

‘I’ll need to examine it.’

‘And when you’ve done that,’ said Moscardi, testily, ‘will you get round to catching the fiend who did his best to destroy my circus?’

‘That crime is at the forefront of my mind, sir,’ said Colbeck.

‘Inspector Lill was about to tell us who he suspects,’ said Anne, giving the man his cue. ‘He has a theory.’

‘My brother thinks it was someone from Greenwood’s Circus,’ asserted Moscardi.

She put a hand on her husband’s arm. ‘Let the inspector speak.’

‘Well,’ said Lill, diffidently, ‘it’s early into the investigation and we are still gathering evidence but – if I had to hazard a guess – it would be that the crash was the work of some Gypsies. They’ve been around for a fortnight or more and caused all sorts of headaches for us before vanishing like a puff of smoke.’

‘What motive would they have?’ asked Colbeck.

‘They love to cause trouble.’

‘I wouldn’t describe a train crash as mere trouble, Inspector Lill.’

‘In my view, they’re incorrigible and would stop at nothing.’

‘Oh, I’d fancy they’d stop well short of inflicting damage on a circus. Gypsies and circus folk are kindred spirits, nomads who roam the country and who adapt to what they find in a particular place. Life is without frontiers to them. They relish freedom of movement.’ He turned to Moscardi. ‘Am I right, sir?’

‘You are,’ said the other. ‘We were born to roam. As for Gypsies, they’ve never given us any trouble. I employ a couple of them. They’re good men.’

‘It was only a suggestion,’ said Lill, defensively.

‘I was against it at first but my brother’s suggestion may be a better one, after all. The villain works for Sam Greenwood’s Circus. He’s sworn to put us out of business one day.’

Anne looked at Colbeck. ‘What do you think, Inspector?’

‘I have only one observation to make at this stage,’ replied Colbeck after a moment’s reflection. ‘Before our train departed from Newcastle, I took the trouble to speak to the guard. He’s been from Newcastle to Carlisle and back a number of times today and passed the scene of the crash on each occasion. He told me that your train was derailed by two sleepers laid across the line.’

‘That’s correct,’ said Lill.

‘I asked him where the sleepers would be stored and he told me.’

‘What was your conclusion?’

‘It’s this,’ said Colbeck, smoothly. ‘I’m not going to waste precious time looking for Gypsies or tracking down a rival circus. The person who put those sleepers on the line was – or has recently been – employed by the NCR. Only someone with inside knowledge would have access to the train timetables and thus be aware of the likely time when the train would be passing a particular spot. And there’s something else to consider. Who but a railwayman would know exactly where to find a couple of sleepers? That’s my initial conclusion,’ he went on, distributing a smile around the group. ‘It should help to narrow the search a little.’

It had been a testing journey for Victor Leeming. Having spent so many long hours in a jolting train, he was delighted to have the opportunity to stretch his legs. The walk also gave him the chance to renew his acquaintance with Brendan Mulryne, a man with whom he’d once walked the beat in one of London’s most dangerous districts. They had a lot of news to exchange but the presence of the monkey made any conversation almost impossible. Perched on the Irishman’s shoulder, Jacko piped away continuously, making noises that ranged from a squeal of alarm to a soft kissing sound. Leeming was amused when the monkey kept snatching Mulryne’s hat off before replacing it at a rakish angle but he didn’t laugh when he became the animal’s target. Without warning, Jacko suddenly hopped onto his back, snatched his top hat off and swung on the branch of a tree before depositing the hat out of reach of both men. When Leeming complained, the monkey shot up to the very top of the tree and emitted a mocking laugh. Leeming was furious.

‘Do you know how much that hat cost?’ he demanded.

‘Don’t shout at him, Sergeant. He’s only having some fun.’

‘Well, I’d rather he didn’t do it at my expense.’

‘He meant no harm,’ said Mulryne, good-humouredly. ‘I’ll get your hat back, don’t worry.’ He clapped his hands. ‘All right, Jacko. The game is over.’ He patted his shoulder. ‘Come back here.’

The monkey descended the tree at once and picked up the top hat on his way. Leaping on to Mulryne’s shoulder, he knocked off his hat and replaced it with the one belonging to Leeming.

‘Oh, it’s far too good for me,’ said Mulryne, whisking it off and handing it back to Leeming. ‘Fetch my hat, Jacko.’

The monkey obeyed at once, retrieving it from the ground and putting it back on the Irishman’s head. Afraid of losing it again, Leeming chose to keep his top hat in his hands. As they walked on, his friend recounted what had happened.

‘We searched for Jacko, high and low – it was mostly high, actually, because he’s at home in the trees, as you’ve just seen. He does things that the circus acrobats couldn’t even try to do. Jacko’s a delight to watch when he’s showing off.’

‘How did he lead you to the grave?’

‘But he didn’t. When I stumbled upon it with Albert, we didn’t even know that Jacko was there. All I saw was this pale white hand sticking out of the earth and waving at me. Jesus! I almost filled my pants, so I did.’

‘Was the woman still alive at that point?’

‘No, but Jacko was. He decided to play a joke on us by digging up the hand and using it to wave. I didn’t know whether to be grateful we’d found him or to strangle the little wretch.’