Blood on the Line (15 page)

Putting on his dressing gown, he went downstairs in great alarm and opened the door. Colbeck introduced himself then sent one of the policemen to the rear of the property. The other remained at the gate to block any attempt at a sudden departure.

‘I believe that you have two guests staying with you, sir,’ said Colbeck, glancing into the house.

‘I’m afraid that you’re mistaken, Inspector,’ replied Younger, wishing that his heart would stop pounding so hard. ‘There’s only my wife and I here.’

‘That’s not what we’ve been led to believe, sir. According to the stationmaster at Willesden, you and Mrs Younger paid a visit to London recently with two people whom we are very anxious to apprehend. Not to beat about the bush,’ said Colbeck, ‘they are wanted for a series of murders.’

Younger gulped. If he and his wife were caught harbouring fugitives, they would face the full rigour of the law. What he could not understand was how the police knew where to find Oxley and Irene. Seeing his amazement, Colbeck enlightened him.

‘Yesterday evening,’ he said, ‘Jeremy Oxley shot dead one of our detectives. We have established that he then took a train to Willesden. When I spoke to the stationmaster there a while ago, he remembered two people getting off a train and recognised them as the people he’d seen with you and Mrs Younger the previous day.’

‘It’s a case of mistaken identity,’ blustered Younger.

‘No man would mistake a woman like Irene Adnam, sir. I’m told that she’s very striking. There was something striking about Oxley as well. The stationmaster said there
were bloodstains on his waistcoat.’ He stepped in close. ‘Do you deny you went to London two days ago?’

Younger attempted some bluff. ‘No, Inspector,’ he said, ‘I don’t. I had a chat with Betson – he’s the stationmaster at Willesden. And yes, there were two people with us but they’re not our guests. We met them for the first time on the way to the station.’

‘Yet you came back with them as well. Betson saw you.’

‘That was pure coincidence.’

‘Stand aside, sir,’ said Colbeck, tiring of the prevarication. ‘You are deliberately interfering with a murder enquiry.’

‘What’s going on, Gordon?’ asked Susanna, appearing at the door. ‘Why is that policeman standing at our gate?’

‘Your husband will explain, Mrs Younger,’ said Colbeck. ‘Now will you please let me in or I’ll have to resort to force.’

She froze in horror. ‘You can’t come in here,’ she bleated.

‘It’s hopeless,’ Younger told his wife. ‘They know.’

‘Where are they?’ demanded Colbeck.

‘In the guest bedroom at the rear,’ admitted Younger, ‘but be careful, Inspector. He has a gun.’

‘I’m well aware of that, sir. I came prepared.’

Taking out a pistol, Colbeck went into the house and took a quick inventory of the ground floor. He then crept slowly up the stairs with the weapon at the ready. When he got to the landing, he could see four separate rooms. A circular staircase led to the attic where, he surmised,
any servants would sleep. Through the open door of one room, he could see rumpled bedclothes and decided it was the bedroom used by the Youngers. A second door that was ajar disclosed an empty room. He tiptoed to the door opposite, took hold of the knob, twisted it and pushed hard, only to discover that he was not in a bedroom at all. Lined with bookshelves, it had been converted into a study. Before withdrawing, he noted some of the objects on the desk.

Only one room was left. Since it was at the rear of the house, its occupants might not have heard the sound of the horses arriving. With luck, Oxley and Irene would be slumbering quietly. It was time to wake them. Finger on the trigger of the gun, Colbeck used the other hand to grasp the doorknob. On the other side of the door, he told himself, was the man who’d shot Ian Peebles and strangled Helen Millington. He deserved no quarter. If Oxley so much as reached for his weapon, Colbeck resolved to disable him with a bullet before arresting him. He was determined that the man would stay alive to pay for his crimes on the gallows.

With a sudden movement, Colbeck flung open the door and stepped into the room. He pointed his gun at the bed and got ready to shout out a command. It died in his throat. The bed was empty. There was no sign at all of Oxley and Irene.

Whenever he made a decision, Irene had learnt to obey it without argument. There would be time enough later for explanations. Though she was unhappy to slip out of
the house in the middle of the night, she trusted Oxley’s instincts. She was also given cause to admire his daring. They’d noticed the farm on their walk to the station. Oxley took her back there in the dark and, leaving her with their luggage, crept off towards the stables. Left alone in an isolated spot, Irene was prey to all sorts of fears but they proved ill-founded. Oxley eventually came out of the gloom, leading a horse to which he’d harnessed a small cart. It was not the most comfortable mode of transport but it served their purposes and got them to their destination. When the cart was abandoned, the horse cropped the grass outside the station.

When they were on the train, they could at last have a proper conversation. At that time of the morning, they had a compartment to themselves. Glad of the privacy and comfort, Irene nestled against the padded seat in first class.

‘Why did we come all the way to Harrow station?’ she asked. ‘Willesden was much closer.’

‘Yes,’ he explained, ‘but this early train doesn’t stop there. To be sure of catching it, we had to go further up the line.’

‘Couldn’t we have caught a later one?’

‘No, Irene.’

‘Why not?’

‘Call it what you will – I sensed danger.’

‘Gordon and Susanna wouldn’t have hurt us.’

‘Yes, they would,’ he said. ‘You saw the state they were in last night. Our friendship was near breaking point. It was only a matter of time before they unwittingly gave us away. It was a mistake to stay another night. I only did so
because I wasn’t going to let him turf us out like that so I dug in my heels. It was a matter of principle.’

‘Yesterday,’ she recalled, ‘you told me that we were completely safe now. What changed your mind?’

‘I told you – I had this feeling.’

‘But the police would never have found us there, especially without Inspector Colbeck to lead the hunt. It’s very upsetting to be roused like that in the middle of the night, Jerry. I like to know what’s going on.’

‘We’re making a precautionary move,’ he told her. ‘Gordon and Susanna won’t report us. They’ll just be relieved that we’ve gone.’

‘They’re bound to wonder.’

‘Let them – I’m never going back there again.’

She clung to his arm. ‘Will we ever be
really
safe?’

‘We already are, Irene.’

‘Sneaking off in the dark and stealing a horse and cart – that doesn’t feel like safety to me. It scares me.’

He kissed her. ‘You’ve no need to be scared when I’m here.’

‘Where exactly are we going?’

‘Wait and see. Meanwhile, try to get some sleep.’

‘I will,’ she said, eyelids already fluttering.

Fatigue sent her quickly asleep. It was a noisy journey. The uproar of the engine and the rattle of the carriages failed to wake her and so did the opening and slamming of doors when they stopped at stations. What finally opened her eyes was the soft rustle of paper. The train was stationary. Irene blinked in the light then looked at Oxley through narrowed lids. Staring at a newspaper he’d bought
from a vendor on the platform, Oxley had turned white. It was the first time that Irene had ever seen him truly afraid.

‘What is it?’ she asked, reaching out to touch him.

‘There’s a report about the shooting in London,’ he said, lower lip trembling. ‘It seems that the man I killed yesterday was Detective Constable Ian Peebles. I
knew
there was danger – Inspector Colbeck is still alive.’

Gordon and Susanna Younger felt utterly humiliated. Under the searching gaze of Robert Colbeck, they were perched side by side on their sofa like a pair of enormous birds. Their lies had been swiftly exposed. They were known to have offered sanctuary to fugitives from the law. Their only hope lay in pleading ignorance of the crimes committed by Oxley and Irene. If they could portray themselves as innocent victims rather than accomplices, they might yet escape imprisonment. They did have one shred of comfort. When he realised that the suspects had fled, Colbeck had sent the two policemen off in search of them. It spared the Youngers further embarrassment. As their neighbours woke to a new morning, they would not look across and see telltale uniforms outside the home of their friends. How long it would remain the Youngers’ home, of course, was debatable.

Colbeck had searched the whole house before he was ready to question them. The long wait gave time for their fears to intensify. When he finally sat before them, he was in no mood for evasion.

‘Let me make one thing clear before we start,’ he said. ‘You tried to mislead me on your doorstep. If you lie to me again, I’ll arrest you at once and we’ll continue this interview at Scotland Yard. Is that understood?’

‘Yes, Inspector,’ said Younger, guiltily.

‘What about you, Mrs Younger?’

‘We’ll tell the truth,’ promised Susanna.

‘I’m glad to hear it,’ said Colbeck. ‘And bear in mind that I’ll be talking to both of your servants in a while. If you say something that they are unable to confirm, then I’ll know you deceived me.’ He took out a pad and pencil to make notes. ‘How long were they here?’

‘A few days,’ said Younger.

‘Did they come by invitation?’

‘No, Inspector, they turned up out of the blue.’

‘And why did they do that?’

‘Jerry Oxley was an old friend from the days when we lived in Yorkshire. We … kept in touch from time to time.’

‘Were you aware that he had a criminal record?’

‘We were not.’

‘He’s reputed to dress well and live in some style. Where did you imagine that his money came from?’

‘He mentioned an inheritance at one point.’

‘That could be a play on words, I suppose,’ said Colbeck, dryly. ‘If you rob somebody, then – technically
– you inherit their money. Had either of you met Irene Adnam before?’ They shook their heads. ‘What did you think when Oxley arrived unexpectedly?’

‘It was typical of his behaviour.’

‘You didn’t mind?’

‘One makes allowances for old friends,’ said Younger.

‘In this case, I fancy, you made incredible allowances. You offered shelter to two dangerous criminals, both of whom were named in the newspapers yesterday, as you must have noticed.’

‘We rarely read newspapers, Inspector.’

‘I certainly couldn’t find any when I looked around.’

‘They’re always full of such dire news.’

‘Today’s editions will be especially dire,’ said Colbeck. ‘They will report the murder of my former colleague.’

‘I swear that we knew nothing about that, Inspector.’

‘We never
wanted
to know what Jerry did,’ Susanna blurted out. ‘It was none of our business. Until this time, we hadn’t seen him for almost two years. He seldom wrote to us. We had no idea where he was or what he was doing.’

‘That’s perhaps just as well, Mrs Younger,’ observed Colbeck. ‘Had you known the full record of his villainy, you couldn’t have tolerated him under your roof for a second.’

‘I’m glad you understand that, Inspector.’

‘We are law-abiding people,’ said Younger, earnestly. ‘Ask any of our neighbours. Or speak to the vicar – he’s keen for me to take over as churchwarden next year. I’m happy to accept the position. Does that sound like the action of someone who consorts with criminals?’

‘No, sir,’ replied Colbeck, ‘but it might interest you to know that days before they robbed a shop in Birmingham, your erstwhile guests attended church in Coventry. Even criminals are prone to religious promptings at times.’ He scrutinised Younger’s face. ‘You appear to be living in retirement, sir.’

‘That’s right. I was an archaeologist for many years but my knees finally gave out. It’s a noble profession but a dig does involve a lot of hard manual work. I restrict myself to writing the occasional article on the subject.’

‘Yes, I noticed the books in your study. Several were about archaeology. But when I went back for a closer look, I saw that most of them were medical textbooks. That’s an odd hobby. Do you have medical training, by any chance?’

There was a pause. ‘No,’ said Younger at length, forced back on deceit, ‘but my father did. He was a doctor in Bradford and, when he died, he bequeathed the books to me.’

‘What was his name?’

‘Why do you ask that, Inspector?’

‘Well, when people buy expensive books, they usually write their names in them, so I’d expect to find a Dr Younger. Yet when I glanced inside one tome, the name inscribed there was Dr Philip Oldfield.’

‘That was the original owner,’ said Younger, quickly. ‘My father bought the book second hand.’

‘Then he would surely have crossed out the name of the previous owner and replaced it with his own.’ Colbeck leant forward. ‘I’m a curious man, sir. It’s an occupational
hazard. The truth is that I looked inside the covers of
half-a-dozen
of the medical books. Every one of them had Oldfield’s name inside. It seems that your father specialised in buying books from the fellow.’ His voice darkened. ‘Unless, of course, there’s another explanation …’

Younger said nothing but his face was expressive. Susanna looked even guiltier than he did, shifting her position and clenching her fists. A nervous smile brushed her lips.

‘I put it to you, sir,’ said Colbeck with assurance, ‘that
you
are Dr Oldfield and that, for some reason, you decided to be reborn as a younger man with a preference for archaeology. I’m intrigued to know why the counterfeit was necessary. When a man changes his name and invents a new profession for himself, he must have something to hide.’ He gave Younger a shrewd look. ‘What is it?’

Victor Leeming was bored. He’d been left at Willesden in case the fugitives eluded Colbeck and made their way to the station. Had they seen a uniformed policeman waiting there, they would have been alerted, whereas the sight of Leeming in plain clothes would not have forewarned them. The station was a small, featureless place with a few posters to divert him and a tiny kiosk that sold newspapers, books and other items that passengers might need. After a lengthy and unproductive wait, Leeming bought a newspaper and read the account of the murder of Ian Peebles. It had been drafted by Edward Tallis and copies had been sent to various editors. Leeming found no new details in it. As he read on, he felt a surge of grief
at the death of their young fellow detective. Excessively proud to work alongside Colbeck and Leeming, Peebles had had his career terminated before it had really begun.

Another career had been brought to an end in the shooting and it was a much longer and more celebrated one. As a result of his action in exposing Peebles to danger, Tallis had resigned. It was a hugely significant act. At the very moment when the superintendent had announced his intentions, Leeming had experienced a sense of sheer joy. The man who’d terrified him for so many years was leaving Scotland Yard altogether. Two thoughts qualified his joy. The first was that Tallis would be a great loss to the police force. Fearsome as he could be, he was an efficient administrator and worked assiduously to improve the performance of those under him.

However, it was the second reservation that unnerved Leeming and made him wish that Tallis might, after all, stay in his job. If the superintendent left, the obvious candidate to replace him was Robert Colbeck. That would rob Leeming of the finest partner with whom he’d worked as well as his closest friend. Colbeck was at his best out in the field. Shackled to a desk and directing others, his talents would be wasted. The mistake that Tallis had made was to think that he could act just as decisively as Colbeck. He’d wanted to be an alternative Railway Detective and learnt that he was unfitted for the role. By the same token, Leeming felt, Colbeck would be a poor imitation of the superintendent. Each man needed the other in his present position. Reluctantly, Leeming accepted that Edward Tallis
must somehow be persuaded to reconsider his decision to resign.

The approach of a trap made him get to his feet and walk to the exit. He saw one of the vehicles hired earlier and containing the two policemen. Leeming went across to them.

‘Did you catch him?’ he asked.

‘No,’ said one of the men, ‘he did a moonlight flit. We searched everywhere for him. He stole a horse and cart from a nearby farm but we’ve no idea where he went with it.’

‘What about Inspector Colbeck?’

‘He’s still at the house, talking to the owners.’

It was unkind and discourteous of him but for Colbeck it was a means to an end. In deliberately keeping his suspects in their dressing gowns, he deprived them of their camouflage and their nerve. Having found it in the wardrobe in the guest room, he also waved Oxley’s bloodstained waistcoat in front of them. It weakened what little resolve they still had. Faced with his probing, Gordon and Susanna had soon capitulated. They not only talked honestly about their guests’ brief stay with them, they divulged their real names and their reason for leaving Bradford. On searching for one set of fugitives, Colbeck had stumbled on another. He was astounded at the way Dr and Mrs Oldfield had maintained their new identities so successfully. They’d been Gordon and Susanna Younger for so long that they’d come to believe that that was who they really were. The vicar who’d approached
Gordon to be churchwarden was in for a terrible shock.

Anna Oldfield, as she’d once been, said that she knew they’d be found out one day and that there was an element of relief in it. Her husband, however, took a very different stance, arguing that a doctor’s first duty was to relieve pain and that, if someone found life itself intolerably painful, he was justified in releasing that person from agony. Colbeck let him state his case before reminding him how his actions would be viewed in a court of law. As an accessory, his wife also had to prepare herself for a harsh sentence.

When he’d squeezed what he wanted out of them, Colbeck let them get dressed and eat a final breakfast at the house. He joined them at the table. Over a cup of coffee, he searched for more detail.

‘You say that Oxley kept on the move,’ he noted.

‘Yes,’ replied Oldfield, ‘that’s how he evaded arrest. Jerry had a sybaritic streak, Inspector. He was very fond of staying at hotels where he could be waited on hand and foot.’

‘Did he ever mention the names of any hotels?’

‘Not that I can recall.’

‘Jerry didn’t,’ said Anna, ‘but Irene did. It was when she and I were sitting in the garden one day. She confided to me how exciting it was to be with Jerry. He’d introduced her to a different world.’

‘Yes,’ said Colbeck, ‘one in which she’d have to kill someone.’ He raised a hand. ‘I’m sorry to interrupt you, Mrs Oldfield.’

She was startled. ‘It’s such a long time since I was called that.’

‘You were going to name a hotel.’

‘It was one in which they’d stayed not long ago and Irene said it was the most luxurious she’d ever known.’

‘Where exactly was it?’

‘Somewhere in Coventry.’

‘Then you’ve no need to say any more,’ Colbeck told her. ‘I’ve actually visited that establishment. It’s the Sherbourne Hotel.’

Irene was rocked. She’d never known Oxley make mistakes before yet he had now made three in succession. In retrospect, the move to London had been a grave error on his part. She had accepted the logic of it because Oxley had been so persuasive. It was their first mistake. The second had been his attempt to kill Inspector Colbeck. Having taken the trouble to choose an ideal location for the murder, Oxley had sent a note to Scotland Yard in the firm belief that it would draw the detective out into the open. In order to bait Colbeck, he’d included a reference to Helen Millington. In the end, however, the plan had turned into a fiasco. The wrong man had been shot and Colbeck remained alive to pursue them.

It was the third mistake that stunned Irene. Insisting that they were in no danger of being recognised from their descriptions in the newspapers, he suggested that they might recuperate at the Coventry hotel where they’d had such good service. Desperate for somewhere to rest, she’d agreed wholeheartedly. It was a fateful decision. Irene would never forget the look in Gwen Darker’s eyes as they stepped across the threshold of the hotel. She knew exactly
who Mr and Mrs Salford really were and, in a carrying voice, ordered one of her staff to summon a policeman. Oxley and Irene had to take to their heels.

They were now at a hotel in Crewe, a railway junction that would allow them to escape, if the need arose, in one of various directions. To avoid being seen together, they checked in separately. Oxley waited until the coast was clear then joined her in her room. There was a frantic embrace.

‘I’m frightened, Jerry,’ she said.

‘You’ve no need to be.’

‘You keep saying that but it’s not true. Look what happened in Coventry. That manageress recognised us. She’ll tell the police and they’ll get into contact with Inspector Colbeck.’

‘But they’ll have no idea where we are.’

‘I wonder.’

He pulled her closer. ‘Stop worrying, will you?’ he said. ‘You never used to do this, Irene. We’ve had narrow shaves before and you found it exhilarating. Why get upset because Mrs Darker worked out who we must be?’

‘If
she
can do it, Jerry, so can someone else.’

‘Only if we’re seen together and we’ll move around separately from now on. The police are hunting for a couple, not for two single individuals. Wherever we stay, we’ll have different rooms.’

‘But I want to be
with
you,’ she pleaded.

‘You will be, Irene – all night long.’