Authors: Edward Marston
‘How did he pay you?’
‘He waited until I’d got a job with Mr Brassey and settled in here. Then he told me what to do first so that I could prove myself. Once I’d done that,’ said Shannon, ‘he paid me the first half of the money so that I’d have enough to take on people I could trust.’
‘And cheat easily,’ said Mulryne.
‘It’s their own bleeding fault for being so stupid.’
Colbeck’s ears pricked up. ‘You say that you had the first half of the money?’ Shannon nodded. ‘When would you get the other half?’
‘When we brought the railway to a standstill.’
‘But how would you get in touch with Luke?’
‘He gave me an address in London,’ said Shannon. ‘I was to leave a message there, saying what we’d done. Once he could confirm it, he promised to leave the second half of the money for me to collect it. And – as God’s my witness – that’s the fucking truth!’
‘We’ll need that address,’ said Colbeck.
‘As long as you don’t tell the others about the money.’
‘We don’t bargain with criminals,’ said Tallis.
‘It’s a reasonable request, sir,’ Colbeck pointed out, ‘and, now that he appreciates the predicament that he’s in, Mr Shannon has been admirably cooperative. Some reward is in order, I believe.’
‘Thanks,’ said Shannon with great relief.
‘We’ll need that address, mind you.’
‘I’ll give it to you, Inspector.’
‘There you are, Superintendent,’ said Mulryne, hands on his hips. ‘You should have let the Inspector question him from the start. He’s a genius at getting blood from a bleeding stone.’
Luke Rogan was working in his office when he heard the doorbell ring insistently. He looked out of the front window to see Sir Marcus Hetherington standing there while a cab waited for him at the kerb. Rogan was surprised. The only place they
ever met was in the privacy of the Reform Club. If he had come to the office, Sir Marcus must have something of prime importance to discuss. Rogan hurried along the passageway and opened the door. Sweeping in without a word, Sir Marcus went into the office and waited for Rogan to join him.
‘What’s the matter, Sir Marcus?’ asked Rogan.
‘This,’ said the other, thrusting a newspaper at him. ‘This is what is the matter, Rogan. Look at the second page.’
‘Why?’
‘Just do as I say.’
‘Very well, Sir Marcus.’
Rogan opened the newspaper and scanned the second page. He soon realised why his visitor had come. What he was looking at was a report of the arrest of four men who were accused of trying to disrupt work on the railway that was being built between Mantes and Caen. Rogan recognised one of the names – that of Pierce Shannon – and assumed that the others were his accomplices. The name that really jumped up at him, however, was not that of the prisoners but of the man who had helped to capture them.
‘Inspector Colbeck!’ he gasped.
‘Read the last paragraph,’ instructed Sir Marcus. ‘The much-vaunted Railway Detective believes that he now has evidence that will lead him to the person or persons responsible for the murder of Gaston Chabal. In short,’ he said, hitting the top of the desk hard with his cane, ‘evidence that points to you and me.’
‘But that’s impossible!’
‘So you assured me.’
‘Shannon didn’t even know my name.’
‘He’s obviously told them enough to steer them towards
you.’
‘He couldn’t have, Sir Marcus.’
‘Then how do you explain this report?’
‘Colbeck is bluffing,’ said Rogan, trying to convince himself. ‘He’s done this before. He pretends to be in possession of more information than he really has in the hope of making someone fly into a panic and give themselves away.’
‘The newspaper certainly gave me a sense of panic,’ confessed Sir Marcus. ‘My wife thought I was having a heart attack when I read that – and I almost did.’
‘He knows
nothing,
Sir Marcus.’
‘Then how did he manage to arrest four men in France?’
‘Pure luck.’
‘Colbeck never relies on luck. He believes in a combination of tenacity and cold logic. He’s been quoted to that effect more than once. I do not want his tenacity and logic to lead him to me.’
‘That’s out of the question, Sir Marcus.’
‘Is it?’
‘I’m the only person that knows you were my client.’
‘Do you keep records?’ asked the other, glancing down at the desk. ‘Do you have an account book with my name in it?’
‘Of course not. I know how to be discreet.’
‘I hope so, Rogan.’
‘Colbeck will not get within a mile of us.’
‘What can he possibly have found out?’
‘Nothing of value.’
‘He must have squeezed something out of those Irishmen.’
‘Shannon was the only one I had dealings with. The others don’t even know that I exist. And all that Shannon can do is to
give them a rough description of me.’ Rogan showed snaggly teeth in a grin. ‘That means he’d be describing thousands of men who look just like me.’
Sir Marcus relaxed slightly. He removed his top hat and sat down on a chair, resting his cane against a wall. Rogan took the unspoken hint and went to a small cupboard. Taking out a bottle of whisky, he poured two glasses and handed one to his visitor.
‘Thank you,’ said the old man, tasting the whisky. ‘I’d hoped to toast our success but our plans have obviously gone awry.’
‘We can try against at a later date, Sir Marcus.’
‘This was our chance and we missed it.’
‘Bide our time, that’s all we have to do.’
‘Until a certain detective comes knocking on our doors.’
‘That will never happen,’ said Rogan, airily. ‘The one thing that Shannon knows is an address where he was to leave a message. Nobody at that address knows my name or where I live. It was simply a convenient way of paying Shannon the second half of his fee when his work was completed.’
‘But it was not. He failed and you failed.’
Rogan was hurt. ‘You can’t put the blame on me.’
‘You selected this idiot.’
‘With the greatest of care, Sir Marcus. I asked a friend about him before I even went near him. He told me that Shannon was full of guile and quite fearless. That’s the kind of man we wanted.’
‘Then why has he let us down so badly?’ asked Sir Marcus. ‘And why is Inspector Colbeck coming back to England with such apparent confidence to hunt down Chabal’s killer?’
‘He’s trying to frighten us.’
‘He frightened me, I can tell you that.’
‘You’re as safe as can be, Sir Marcus,’ Rogan assured him, taking a first sip of his whisky. ‘So am I. London is a vast city. He could search for fifty years and still not find us. Colbeck has no idea where to start looking.’
‘There’s that address you gave to Shannon.’
‘A dead end. It will lead him nowhere.’
‘Supposing that he does pick up our scent?’
‘I’ve told you. There’s no hope of him doing that.’
‘But supposing – I speak hypothetically – that he does? Colbeck has already come much farther than I believed he would so we must respect him for that. What if he gets really close?’
‘Then he’ll regret it,’ said Rogan, coolly.
When he got back from work that evening, Caleb Andrews found a meal waiting for him. Since he had good news to impart about the murder investigation, he surrendered his paper to Madeleine and drew her attention to the relevant report. She was thrilled to read of Robert Colbeck’s success in France. Her faith in him had never wavered and she had been disturbed by the harsh criticism he had received in the press. Public rebuke had now been replaced by congratulation. He was once again being hailed for his skill as a detective.
When the meal was over, Andrews was in such an ebullient mood that he challenged his daughter to a game of draughts. He soon repented of his folly. Madeleine won the first two games and had him on the defensive in the third one.
‘I can’t seem to beat you,’ he complained.
‘You were the one who taught me how to play draughts.’
‘I obviously taught you too well.’
‘When we first started,’ she recalled, ‘you won every game.’
‘The only thing I seem to do now is to lose.’
He was spared a third defeat by a knock on the front door. Glad of the interruption, he was out of his chair at once. He went to the door and opened it. Robert Colbeck smiled at him.
‘Good evening, Mr Andrews,’ he said.
‘Ah, you’re back from France.’
‘At long last.’
‘We read about you in the paper.’
‘Don’t keep Robert standing out there,’ said Madeleine, coming up behind her father. ‘Invite him in.’
Andrews stood back so that Colbeck could enter the house, remove his hat and, under her father’s watchful eye, give Madeleine a chaste kiss on the cheek. They went into the living room. The first thing that Colbeck saw was the draughts board.
‘Who’s winning?’ he asked.
‘Maddy,’ replied Andrews, gloomily.
‘This game was a draw, Father,’ she said, eyes never leaving Colbeck. ‘Oh, it’s so lovely to see you again, Robert! What exactly happened in France?’
‘And why did you have to solve crimes on
their
railways? Don’t they have any police of their own?’
‘They do, Mr Andrews,’ replied Colbeck, ‘but this was, in a sense, a British crime. It was almost like working over here. British contractors have built most of their railways and French locomotives are largely the work of Thomas Crampton.’
‘I’m the one person you don’t need to tell that to, Inspector,’ said Andrews, knowledgeably. ‘In fact, there are far more
Cramptons in France than here in England. Lord knows why. I’ve driven three or four of his engines and I like them. Shall I tell you why?’
‘Another time, Father,’ said Madeleine.
‘But the Inspector is interested in engineering, Maddy.’
‘This is not the best moment to discuss it.’
‘What?’ Andrews looked from one to the other. ‘Well, perhaps it isn’t,’ he said, moving away. ‘Now where did I leave my tobacco pouch? It must be upstairs.’ He paused at the door. ‘Don’t forget to show him that picture you drew of the Sankey Viaduct, Maddy.’
He went out of the room and Colbeck was able to embrace Madeleine properly. Over her shoulder, he saw that the tobacco pouch was on the table beside the draughts. He was grateful for her father’s tact. He stood back but kept hold of her hands.
‘What’s this about the Sankey Viaduct?’
‘Oh, it was just something I sketched to pass the time,’ she said. ‘It’s probably nothing at all like the real thing.’
‘I’d be interested to see it, all the same.’
‘Your work is far more important than mine, Robert. Come and sit down. Tell me what’s happened since I last saw you.’
‘That would take far too long,’ he said, as they sat beside each other on the sofa. ‘I’ll give you a shortened version.’
He told her about his visit to Paris and his long conversation with Gaston Chabal’s mother-in-law. Madeleine was startled by the revelation that the engineer appeared to have seduced another woman for the sole purpose of gaining an additional investor in the railway. She was fascinated to hear of Brendan Mulryne’s success as a spy and pleased that Superintendent
Tallis had been forced to admit that the Irishman had performed a valuable service.
‘Mr Tallis couldn’t actually bring himself to thank Brendan in person,’ said Colbeck. ‘That would have been asking too much. What he did concede was that the notion of putting an informer into the ranks of the navvies had, after all, been a sensible one.’
‘Coming from the superintendent, that’s high praise.’
‘I pointed out that Brendan Mulryne would be an asset if he were allowed to rejoin the police force but Mr Tallis would not hear of it. He’d sooner recruit a tribe of cannibals.’
‘Why is he so critical of your methods?’
‘There’s always been a degree of animus between us.’
‘Is he envious of you?’
‘It’s more a case of disapproval, Madeleine.’
‘How could he possibly disapprove of a man with your record?’
‘Quite easily,’ said Colbeck with a grin. ‘Mr Tallis doesn’t like the way I dress, the approach I take to any case and the readiness I have to use people such as Brendan Mulryne. Also, I’m afraid to say, he looks askance at my private life.’
She gave a laugh of surprise. ‘Your private life!’
‘He thinks that you’re leading me astray.’
‘Me?’
‘I was only joking, Madeleine,’ he said, putting an arm around her. ‘The truth is that Superintendent Tallis doesn’t believe that his detectives should
have
a private life. He thinks that we should be like him – unattached and therefore able to devote every waking hour to our job with no distractions.’
‘Is that what I am – a distraction?’
‘Yes – thank heaven!’ He kissed her on the lips. ‘Now, let’s
see this drawing of the Sankey Viaduct.’
‘You won’t like it, Robert.’
‘Why not?’
‘It’s too fanciful.’
‘I love anything that you do, Madeleine,’ he said, warmly. ‘And it must be worth seeing if your father recommends it.’
‘He only saw an earlier version.’
‘Please fetch it.’
‘I’m not sure that I should.’
‘Why are you being so bashful? I really want to see it.’
‘If you wish,’ she said, getting up, ‘but you must remember that it’s a work of imagination. It has no resemblance to the real viaduct.’ She crossed the room to pick up a portfolio that rested in an alcove. Opening it up, she selected a drawing. ‘It was simply a way of keeping you in my mind while you were in France.’
‘Then I must have a look at it.’
Colbeck rose to his feet and took the sketch from her hand. He was intrigued. The viaduct dominated the page, but what gave him a sudden thrill of recognition was the way that it connected England and France. It was like a bridge across a wide gulf. He let out a cry of joy and hugged her to him. Madeleine was mystified.
‘What have I done to deserve that?’ she said.
‘You’ve just solved a murder!’
Victor Leeming was thoroughly delighted when Colbeck called on him that morning. Simply seeing the inspector again was a tonic to him. Time had been hanging with undue heaviness on his hands and he desperately missed being involved in the murder investigation. He felt that he was letting the inspector down. They sat down together in the cramped living room of Leeming’s house. He listened attentively to the recitation of events that had taken place in France, only interrupting when a certain name was mentioned.
‘Brendan Mulryne?’
‘Yes, Victor.’
‘There was no reference to him in the newspapers.’
‘Mr Tallis made sure of that,’ said Colbeck. ‘He refused to give any public acknowledgement to Brendan because he felt that it would demean us if we admitted any reliance on people like him. As it happens, I would have kept his name secret for another reason.’
‘What’s that, Inspector?’
‘I may want to employ him again. If his name and description are plastered all over the newspapers, it would make that difficult. He needs to be kept anonymous.’
‘I’m not sure that I’d have used him at all,’ admitted Leeming.
‘That’s why I didn’t discuss the matter with you.’
‘I like Mulryne – he’s good company – but I’d never trust him with anything important. He’s likely to go off the rails.’
Colbeck smiled. ‘In this case,’ he pointed out, ‘he did the exact opposite. Instead of going off the rails, he kept Mr Brassey on them. Largely because of what Brendan did, the railway can still be built.’
‘Then I congratulate him.’
‘You have a reason to thank him as well, Victor.’
‘Do I?’
‘One of the men who gave you the beating was Pierce Shannon.’
‘I’m not surprised to hear it. He was a sly character.’
‘Brendan laid him out cold on your behalf.’
‘I wish I’d been there to do it myself,’ said Leeming, grimly.
‘The other man who attacked you was Liam Kilfoyle.’
‘Liam? And I thought he was a friend of mine!’
‘Not any more,’ said Colbeck. ‘I had the pleasure of exchanging a few blows with Mr Kilfoyle. I let him know what I felt about people who assaulted my sergeant.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
Colbeck told him about the capture of the villains and how they had been handed over to the French police the next day. Thomas Brassey and Aubrey Filton had been overwhelmed with gratitude. The second visit to France had been eventful.
Colbeck felt satisfied.
‘So that part of the investigation is now concluded,’ he said.
‘What comes next?’
‘The small matter of tracking down the killer.’
‘Do you have any clues, Inspector?’
‘Yes, Victor. One of them came from the most unexpected source, but that’s often the way with police work. And I’m a great believer in serendipity.’
Leeming was honest. ‘So would I be, if I knew what it meant.’
‘Picking up a good thing where you find it.’
‘Ah, I see. A bit like beachcombing.’
‘Not really,’ said Colbeck. ‘Beachcombing implies that you deliberately go in search of something. Serendipity depends entirely on chance. You might not even be looking for a particular clue until you stumble upon it in the most unlikely place.’
‘Serendipity. I’ll remember that word. It will impress Estelle.’
‘How is your wife?’
‘She’s been a tower of strength, sir.’
‘Happy to have you at home so much, I should imagine.’
‘Yes and no,’ said Leeming, sucking in air through his teeth. ‘Estelle is happy to have me here but not when I’m convalescing. She’d like more of a husband and a bit less of a patient.’
‘You seem to be recovering well.’
Leeming’s facial scars had almost disappeared now and the heavy bruising on his body had also faded. What remained were the cracked ribs that occasionally reminded him that
they were there by causing a spasm of pain. He refused to give in to his injuries.
‘I’m as fit as a fiddle, sir,’ he said, cheerily. ‘But for the doctor, I’d be back at work right now.’
‘Doctors usually know best.’
‘It’s so boring and wasteful, sitting at home here.’
‘Do you get out at all?’
‘Every day, Inspector. I have a long walk and I sometimes take the children to the park. I can get about quite easily.’
‘That’s good news. We look forward to having you back.’
‘I can’t wait,’ said Leeming. ‘Much as I love Estelle and the children, I do hate being unemployed. It feels wrong somehow. I’m not a man who can rest, sir. I like action.’
‘You had rather too much of it in France.’
‘I like to think that I helped.’
‘You did, Victor,’ said Colbeck. ‘You did indeed.’
‘Mind you, I couldn’t make a living as a navvy. A week of that kind of work would have finished me off. They earn their money.’
‘Unfortunately, some of them tried to earn it by other means.’
‘Yes,’ said the other with feeling. ‘Shannon and his friends were too greedy. They wanted more than Mr Brassey could ever pay them. Pierce Shannon always had an ambitious streak. It’s a pity you got so little out of him when you questioned him.’
‘That’s not true.’
‘He couldn’t even tell you the name of the man who paid him.’
‘Oh, I think that he gave us a lot more information than he realised,’ said Colbeck. ‘To begin with, we now know how he
and his paymaster first met.’
‘In a police cell.’
‘What does that tell you?’
‘Nothing that I couldn’t have guessed about Shannon, sir. He got involved in a brawl and was arrested for disturbing the peace. Men like that always get into trouble when they’ve had a few drinks.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I’m bound to point out that the same thing happened to Brendan Mulryne after he’d left the police force.’
‘He might not be the only policeman that we lost.’
‘I don’t think that Shannon was ever in uniform, sir.’
‘What about the man who employed him?’
‘We know nothing whatsoever about the fellow.’
‘Yes, we do,’ said Colbeck. ‘We know that he’s able to talk to someone in a police cell, which means that he’s either a lawyer, a policeman or someone who used to be involved in law enforcement. I’d hazard a guess that he has friends in the police force, or he’d not have been given such easy access to a prisoner. Also, of course, we do have his Christian name.’
‘Luke.’
‘You can find out the rest when you get there.’
‘Where?’
‘To the station where Pierce Shannon was detained.’
Leeming was taken aback. ‘You want
me
to do that, sir?’
‘You enjoy a long walk, don’t you?’
‘Yes.’
‘And you’re chafing at the bit while you’re sitting here.’
‘I am, Inspector – that’s the plain truth.’
‘Then you can return to light duties immediately.’ His grin was conspiratorial. ‘Provided that you don’t mention the fact to Mr Tallis, that is. He might not understand. He has a
preference for making all operational decisions himself.’
‘I won’t breathe a single word to him.’
‘Not even serendipity?’
‘I’m saving that one for my wife.’
‘Does that mean you’re willing to help us, Victor?’
Leeming struggled to his feet. ‘I’m on my way, sir.’
They noticed the difference at once. It was as if a threatening black cloud that had been hanging over the site had suddenly dispersed to let bright sunshine through. In fact, it was raining that morning but nothing could dampen their spirits or that of the navvies. Hectic activity was continuing apace. They were now certain to complete the stipulated amount of work on the railway by the end of the month. The sudden and dramatic improvement made Aubrey Filton blossom into an unaccustomed smile.
‘This is how it should be, Mr Brassey,’ he said. ‘Now that we’ve got rid of the rotten apples from the barrel, we can surge ahead.’
‘Word spread quickly. When they heard about the arrests, the men were as relieved as we were. And you can’t blame them,’ said Brassey, reasonably. ‘If work had ground to a halt here, I’d have been in danger of losing the contract. Thousands of them would have been thrown out of work. Their livelihoods have been saved.’
‘And your reputation has been vindicated.’
‘I care more about them than about me, Aubrey.’
‘You treat them like members of a huge family.’
‘That’s exactly what they are.’
They were at the window, gazing out at sodden navvies who laboured away as if impervious to rain. There was a new
spirit about the way everyone was working. It was almost as if the many wanted to atone for the dire shortcomings of the few by demonstrating their commitment to the project. Eamonn Slattery had noticed it. The priest was standing between the two men.
‘Look at them,’ he said with pride. ‘There’s not a navvy alive who can match an Irishman when it comes to hard physical work. The Potato Famine nearly crippled our beloved country but it was a blessing to someone like you, Mr Brassey.’
‘I agree, Father Slattery,’ conceded the other. ‘A lot of the men here emigrated from Ireland. I was glad to take them on. What’s the feeling among them now?’
‘Oh, they reacted with a mixture of thanks and outrage.’
‘Inspector Colbeck deserves most of the thanks.’
‘So I hear,’ said Slattery with a cackle. ‘And there was me, thinking that dandy was working for the Minister of Public Works. He took me in completely but, then, so did Brendan Mulryne.’
‘He’s the real hero here,’ opined Filton.
‘The others will miss him. He made himself very popular. Well, there’s one good thing to come out of all this.’
‘And what’s that, Father?’
‘I can count on a decent congregation on Sunday,’ explained the priest with a grin. ‘It’s strange how adversity turns a man’s mind to religion. They know how close they came to losing their jobs. A lot of them will get down on their knees to send up a prayer of thanks. I’ll make the most of it and preach a sermon that will sing in their ears for a week. By next Sunday,’ he added, philosophically, ‘most of them won’t come anywhere near the service.’
‘Were you surprised to find out who was trying to disrupt
the railway?’ asked Brassey.
‘I’d always suspected that Shannon might have something to do with it. He was the type. Kilfoyle disappointed me. I thought that Liam would have more sense.’
‘What about the other two men?’
‘Dowd and Murphy? Weak characters. Easily lead.’
‘They’ll get no mercy in court,’ predicted Brassey. ‘This railway has the backing of Louis Napoleon and his government. Anyone who tries to bring it to a halt will be hit with the full weight of the law.’
‘The whole sad business is finally over,’ said Slattery. ‘I think that we ought to console ourselves with that thought.’
‘But it isn’t over yet.’
‘No,’ said Filton. ‘The murder of Gaston Chabal has still to be solved. What happened here was entangled with that, Father Slattery.’
‘How?’
‘The only person who knows that is Inspector Colbeck.’
‘Does he know the name of the killer?’
‘He will do before long.’
‘You sound very confident of that, Mr Filton.’
‘He’s an astonishing man.’
‘It was an education to see him at work,’ said Brassey. ‘In his own way, Inspector Colbeck reminded me of Gaston. Both share the same passion for detail. They are utterly meticulous. That’s why I know that he’ll apprehend the killer in due course, Father Slattery.’
‘More power to his elbow!’
‘The inspector is tireless,’ said Filton.
‘Yes,’ confirmed Brassey. ‘His energy is remarkable. Even as we speak, the hunt is continuing with a vengeance.’
Robert Colbeck did not like him. The moment he set eyes on Gerald Kane, he felt an instant aversion. Kane was a short, neat, vain, conservatively dressed, fussy man in his forties, with long brown hair and a thick moustache. His deep-set eyes peered at the newcomer through wire-framed spectacles. His manner was officious and unwelcoming. Even after he had introduced himself, Colbeck was viewed with a mingled suspicion and distaste.
‘Why are you bothering me, Inspector?’ asked Kane, huffily. ‘As far as I’m aware, we have broken no laws.’
‘None at all, sir.’
‘Then I’ll ask you to be brief. I’m a busy man.’
‘So am I.’
‘In that case, we’ll both profit from brevity.’
‘This cannot be rushed, Mr Kane,’ warned Colbeck.
‘It will have to be, sir. I have a meeting.’
‘Postpone it – for his sake.’
‘Whom are you talking about?’
‘Gaston Chabal.’
Gerald Kane raised his eyebrows in surprise, but the name did not encourage him to adopt a more friendly tone. He simply treated his visitor to a hostile stare across his desk. They were in his office, a place that was as cold, ordered and impeccably clean as the man himself. Everything on the leather top of the desk was in a tidy pile. All the pictures on the walls had been hung at identical heights. Kane was the secretary of the Society of Civil and Mechanical Engineers and he seemed to look upon his post as a major office of state. He sounded an almost imperious note.
‘What about him, Inspector?’ he said.
‘I believe that you wrote to him, sir.’
‘I don’t see why that should concern you. Any correspondence in which I am engaged is highly confidential.’
‘Not when one of the recipients of your letters is murdered.’
‘I’m well aware of what happened to Chabal,’ said Kane without the slightest gesture towards sympathy. ‘It’s caused me no little inconvenience.’
‘He did not get himself killed in order to inconvenience you,’ said Colbeck, sharply. ‘Since you wrote to invite him to lecture here, you might show some interest in helping to solve the crime.’
‘That is your job, Inspector. Leave me to do mine.’
‘I will, sir – when I have finished.’
Kane looked at his watch. ‘And when, pray, will that be?’
‘When I tell you, sir.’
‘You cannot keep me here against my will.’
‘I quite agree,’ said Colbeck, moving to the door. ‘This is not the best place for an interview. Perhaps you’d be so good as to accompany me to Scotland Yard where we can talk at more leisure.’