11 - Ticket to Oblivion (10 page)

The carriage reached a copse and drew to a halt. Beyond it was open country where it was certain to be seen. Everyone climbed out of the vehicle. Colbeck was momentarily diverted, helping Leeming to dismount. As she was reined in, the bay mare tried to dislodge her rider by rising up on her rear legs. Leeming more or less fell into the inspector’s arms. Showing great presence of mind, Tolley leapt from his seat, grabbed the reins and calmed the horse with soft words and gentle caresses on her neck. Tallis was unimpressed by the sergeant’s horsemanship.

‘You must learn to ride properly, Leeming,’ he said, sharply.

‘I’d rather not, sir.’

‘It could be the saving of you one day.’

‘I was born to keep my feet on the ground.’

Colbeck consulted his watch again. ‘It’s almost time to go.’

‘I still think it’s
my
right to undertake the exchange,’ said Tunnadine, chafing. ‘Imogen would expect it of me.’

‘This is a task for a professional detective, sir,’ said Tallis.

‘I endorse that,’ added Sir Marcus. ‘You’ll take no part in this, Clive.’

Tunnadine scowled and retreated to the carriage, lurking beside it. Colbeck had come prepared. During an earlier investigation in Scotland, he’d learnt the value of using a telescope and had brought one with him. With Leeming at his heels, he crept through the trees until he reached the edge of the copse, then used the instrument to survey the land ahead. The hill was visible but he could see nobody on its summit. Handing the telescope to Leeming, he returned to the others.

‘I’ll need the ransom money now, Sir Marcus,’ he said.

Reluctant to part with it, the older man suddenly thrust it into his hands.

‘Take great care, Inspector. You are holding a small fortune.’

‘I’ll exercise every caution,’ Colbeck promised.

Tunnadine appraised him. ‘Are you armed?’

‘No, sir – it would be pointless.’

‘In the interests of self-preservation, you should at least have a pistol.’

‘The best way to safeguard my life is to carry no weapon,’ said Colbeck. ‘The kidnapper will not approach me until he’s certain that I bear no arms.’

Tolley was thrilled by the confirmation that Rhoda Wills was alive. In return for a large amount of money, she’d be set free. When the others wished the inspector good luck, he joined in. Colbeck thanked them all and moved off.

Breaking cover, he walked for a few minutes before he reached the field designated in the ransom demand. He opened the five-barred gate then closed it behind him, moving slowly to indicate advanced years and bending forward to make it more difficult for his face to be scrutinised through the telescope that he was sure would be trained on him. When he reached the base of the hill, he stopped and waited. There was a long, uneasy silence. Though he could see nobody ahead of him, he knew that someone was there. To his right were acres of farmland, stretching into the distance. To his left was a low hedge that fringed the field on that side. Colbeck had a strong feeling that he was under surveillance from the hill and from behind the hedge. The kidnapper was taking no chances. Apparently, he’d brought an accomplice.

Eventually, he came into view at the top of the hill, one eye peering through a telescope. He was tall, slim, well dressed and had a voice that easily carried across the distance. Colbeck was subjected to a cross-examination.

‘Are you Sir Marcus Burnhope?’

‘Yes,’ replied Colbeck.

‘Do you have the money?’

He patted the bag. ‘It’s here.’

‘Is it the full amount?’

‘It’s as you requested.’

The man laughed harshly. ‘It was no request – it was a command.’

‘Where are my daughter and her maid?’

‘I’ll ask the questions, Sir Marcus. Are you armed?’

‘No, I am not.’

‘How can I be certain of that?’

‘I give you my word.’

‘Take off your coat,’ ordered the other. ‘Drop it on the ground.’

Colbeck hesitated. Punctilious about his attire, he didn’t want it stained by the grass but he had to obey. Putting the bag down, he removed his coat and laid it carefully on the ground.

‘Put your hands in the air and turn around slowly,’ said the man on the hilltop.

This time there was no hesitation. Colbeck stretched his arms up high and went in a slow circle. He could almost feel the telescope scanning his body to make sure that no weapon was concealed on it. When he faced the hill again, he picked up the bag and waited. Another figure appeared, an older, stockier man in rougher garb.

‘Give the money to my friend,’ the first man called out.

‘I need to see the ladies first.’

‘Do as you’re told and I’ll honour my side of the bargain.’

Colbeck was resolute. ‘Unless I see that they are safe, there’ll be no bargain.’

‘Are you defying me?’ asked the man, angrily.

‘I want proof that my daughter is still alive before I hand over a penny.’

‘You can take my word for it.’

‘I don’t trust you,’ said Colbeck. ‘I don’t believe that you have Imogen.’

Picking up his coat, he turned on his heel and deliberately walked away.

‘Wait!’ shouted the man. ‘You shall see her.’ He laughed in approval. ‘You’re not the gullible old fool I took you for. Here she is.’

Colbeck turned round and saw a young woman coming into view in a dress that proclaimed her social position. She was too far away for Colbeck to see her face clearly but she had the tall, lean body described by her father. Colbeck laid his coat back on the ground and waited. The stocky man began to descend the hill.

‘Hand the bag to my friend,’ instructed the kidnapper. ‘He will bring it to me. When I’ve counted the money and found it correct, the two ladies will be released.’

The older man came slowly down the hill, watched carefully through the telescope by his companion. He was not the only person keeping Colbeck under observation. Over to his left, he felt, someone was hiding behind the hedge to watch the proceedings. Colbeck had to suppress the desire to look in that direction. The man lumbered on towards him. Colbeck could now see that he had the appearance of a farm labourer. He certainly didn’t look like someone capable of devising a kidnap plot. The inspector’s instinct told him that the man was simply employed to assist in recovering the money and probably had no idea of the full implications of what was taking place. When he reached Colbeck, he had a bewildered air about him. Licking his lips, he shifted his feet then reached out both hands.

‘Give him the money!’ shouted the man on the hill.

‘Let my daughter come closer first,’ replied Colbeck.

‘I make the demands, Sir Marcus. Hand over the bag.’

‘I must be able to see Imogen properly.’

The intermediary was nervous and confused. Not knowing quite what he should do, he tried to wrest the bag from Colbeck’s hands but he reckoned without the inspector’s strength and persistence. As the two of them struggled, a shot rang out and Colbeck’s assailant was hit in the head, causing blood to spurt everywhere, some of it over Colbeck’s new waistcoat. The man collapsed to the ground in a heap. The young woman on the hill let out a shriek of horror and ran down the long incline. At the same time, Tunnadine came into view over to the left with a pistol in his hand. He jumped over the hedge and sprinted towards the inspector.

‘That was madness, sir!’ yelled Colbeck, reprovingly. ‘You’ve killed him.’

‘Who cares?’ replied Tunnadine with a wild cackle. ‘I’ve rescued Imogen and saved the money. You’d have done neither.’ Arms wide open, he ran towards the approaching figure. ‘Come to me, Imogen. You’re safe now.’

But it was not his future bride who was tearing down the hill towards him. It was a pretty country girl with red cheeks. Ignoring the outstretched arms, she went past him and flung herself at the man on the ground.

‘Father!’ she cried. ‘What have they done to you?’

Colbeck was furious as he walked over to Tunnadine. ‘I’ll trouble you for that weapon, please, sir.’

‘What are you talking about?’ snapped Tunnadine.

‘You’ve just committed a murder.’

‘Use your eyes, man. I’ve just rid the world of a kidnapper.’

‘This man had no connection with the plot, sir. He and his daughter were suborned.’ He extended a hand. ‘I’ll have that pistol now.’

‘Damn you, Inspector! I’m not the criminal. He is – and so is the man at the top of the hill. Instead of bothering me, you should be chasing him.’

‘There’s no point, sir,’ said Colbeck. ‘The moment you fired that gun, he would have mounted his horse and ridden away hell for leather. By the time I climb that hill, he’ll be a mile or more away. You’ve ruined everything, Mr Tunnadine. Instead of rescuing Sir Marcus’s daughter, you’ve made it more likely that she’ll be killed out of spite.’ Tunnadine shook his head, refusing to accept that he’d made a mistake. ‘The kindest way to describe your actions is that they were an example of misplaced heroism. I view them as mindless stupidity.’

Colbeck reached forward to snatch the pistol from his hand. Tunnadine made no protest. He gazed down at the dead man and the weeping girl, realising that they were merely pawns used by the real kidnapper. The gunshot had brought the others out of hiding. Leeming was leading the way at a trot, with Tallis and Sir Marcus walking quickly behind him, breathing heavily from their exertions. Tolley came after them, his face a study in fear. Colbeck tried to comfort the girl but she was beyond sympathy. Utterly forlorn, she kept shaking her father as if expecting him to wake up.

‘What the devil happened?’ demanded Sir Marcus, taking the bag with the money from Colbeck.

‘We heard a shot,’ said Tallis. He saw the body. ‘Who’s this?’

‘He’s a local man paid to act as a go-between,’ said Colbeck. ‘Unfortunately, Mr Tunnadine decided to kill him.’

‘I thought he was the kidnapper,’ howled Tunnadine. ‘I acted from the best possible motives. I sought to rescue Imogen.’ He pointed to the girl. ‘I believed that this was her. I’ve seen that dress before. I know it belongs to Imogen.’

‘What about Rhoda Wills?’ asked Tolley.

‘She’s still being held with Sir Marcus’s daughter,’ explained Colbeck, ‘though the two of them may well suffer as a result of Mr Tunnadine’s folly.’

‘I only did what I felt was right,’ said Tunnadine, defensively.

Sir Marcus was seething. ‘You blundered, Clive.’

‘I saved your money from being handed over, Sir Marcus.’

‘What use is the blasted money without my daughter?’

‘I’ll find her, I promise. I’ll bring her back alive.’

Tolley wanted to ask if Rhoda would come back alive as well but it was not his place to do so. His earlier optimism had now darkened considerably. He skulked on the edge of the group and looked up imploringly at the heavens.

Tallis asserted himself. ‘What crime has taken place here, Inspector?’

‘A murder was committed.’

‘Were you injured in any way?’

‘Happily, I was not,’ said Colbeck, ‘but I might easily have been. I was wrestling with the man when the shot was fired. It could well have been me lying there on the ground.’

‘When I take aim at something,’ boasted Tunnadine, ‘I always hit the mark.’

‘What you hit was no mark,’ protested Leeming. ‘It was
a human being. All you’ve done is to deprive this poor child of a father.’

‘I’ve heard enough,’ decided Tallis. ‘Sergeant …’

‘Yes, sir?’

‘Arrest Mr Tunnadine. He’ll be charged with murder.’

‘You can’t do that,’ bellowed Tunnadine, backing away. ‘It was an accident.’

‘When you aim at something,’ taunted Colbeck, ‘you always hit the mark.’

‘How was I to know who the fellow was?’

‘You’ll have plenty of time to reflect upon that while you’re held in custody. I fancy that he may choose to resist arrest, Sergeant Leeming. It will be another charge against him. Go on,’ urged Colbeck. ‘Do your duty.’

Leeming grinned. ‘It will be a pleasure, Inspector.’

Reaching under his coat, he produced a pair of handcuffs and moved in.

Clive Tunnadine was fuming. He would not allow someone from what he considered to be the lower orders even to touch him yet Leeming was threatening to put him under restraint. Pushing the sergeant firmly away, he tried to walk off, head held high in disdain. He did not get far. Leeming was on him at once, grabbing an arm and clipping a handcuff to the wrist before Tunnadine could resist. Securing the other wrist proved slightly more difficult because the prisoner swung round with his fist bunched. Leeming parried the blow then grappled with the politician for a few moments before twisting the man’s free hand behind his back and snapping the handcuff in position. Tunnadine went berserk, yelling obscenities and kicking out wildly at his captor.

‘Attacking a police officer is a criminal offence, sir,’ said Tallis, ‘and that foul language should never be used in front of a young female, especially one who’s mourning the death of her father.’

The rebuke stopped the outburst of violence but Tunnadine still simmered.

‘What shall we do with him, sir?’ asked Leeming.

‘He must be taken before a magistrate and remanded in custody,’ said Tallis.

‘You can’t arrest
me
,’ cried Tunnadine. ‘I’m a Member of Parliament.’

‘That doesn’t entitle you to kill someone,’ Colbeck pointed out. ‘If the Prime Minister himself had done what you’ve just done, he’d be treated the same.’

‘It was an accident, I tell you. I acted from the best possible motives.’

‘That’s debatable, Mr Tunnadine. A clever barrister may be able to commute the charge to one of manslaughter but you must face justice.’

‘Take him back to the carriage, Sergeant,’ ordered Tallis.

Tunnadine turned to Sir Marcus with a pleading note in his voice.

‘Are you going to let them do this to me?’

‘No,’ said the other, putting friendship before justice, ‘I’m sure that there’s an easier way to settle this. I’m sad for this girl, of course, but the fact remains that she and her father were aiding and abetting a kidnapper.
They
are the criminals here – not Mr Tunnadine.’

‘I’m glad that someone realises that,’ said Tunnadine.

‘He was too headstrong, I grant you, and he may inadvertently have complicated the situation that my daughter is in by his intemperate action. However, he is no killer. Let’s be reasonable, gentlemen,’ he went on, looking from Tallis to Colbeck. ‘In essence, this was a tragic accident. It’s the kind of thing that happens sometimes
during a shooting party. One of the beaters is killed by a stray shot. It’s regrettable, naturally, but not something one should worry about overmuch. The widow – if there is one – is always given compensation.’

‘Does that mean that this man’s family will be offered reparation?’ asked Colbeck, comforting the girl and offering her a handkerchief. ‘They’re certainly in need of it.’

‘The matter will be considered,’ said Sir Marcus, huffily.

‘But you are holding a large amount of money in your hands.’

‘This is the ransom for my daughter and her maid.’

‘Besides,’ said Leeming, ‘it wasn’t Sir Marcus who shot him. It was Mr Tunnadine who had the gun. He’s the one who should cough up.’

‘I can hardly reach for my wallet when I’m handcuffed like this,’ said Tunnadine, nastily, ‘and, in any case, I refuse to pay anything. I shot a man engaged in a criminal act. Any barrister will be able to get me off scot-free.’

‘Don’t be too sure of that, sir,’ said Colbeck. ‘Before I became a detective, I practised at the bar myself. If I was involved in the prosecution, I guarantee that you’d end up with a custodial sentence.’

‘Now, now,’ said Sir Marcus with a conciliatory smile, ‘there’s no need for any of this to reach that stage. I appeal to your discretion, Superintendent. Have him released. In my view, he has no case to answer.’

‘The law is the law, Sir Marcus,’ said Tallis, solemnly.

‘See it for what it was, man. A random shot happens to hit a man who, by the look of him, is nothing but a labourer. His life is worthless compared to that of a leading politician like Mr Tunnadine? It’s a question of degree.’

‘With respect, Sir Marcus,’ said Colbeck, one arm around the weeping girl, ‘I find that argument both specious and insulting. This man is a murder victim and therefore deserving of our compassion. In my opinion, his death has equal value to that of a ranting politician with an ill temper and a vicious tongue.’

‘Take care, Inspector,’ warned Tallis, starting to become fearful of the consequences of upsetting Sir Marcus. ‘This discussion is becoming too heated.’

‘Then release Mr Tunnadine,’ suggested Sir Marcus, ‘and we can talk this over sensibly.’

‘He’ll have to give us his word that he won’t try to escape.’

‘He will do so.’

Sir Marcus nodded at Tunnadine who glowered hard at the detectives.

‘You have my word of honour,’ he grunted.

Tallis gave a signal and Leeming unlocked the handcuffs and stowed them under his coat. The prisoner rubbed his wrists. With great reluctance, Tunnadine opened his wallet, took out some banknotes and gave them to Colbeck before being led away by Leeming in the direction of the landau. Tolley went with them. Sir Marcus glanced at the girl, choking back her tears as she talked to Colbeck, who made sure that she could no longer see the lifeless body of her father. It was a touching scene. Sympathy aroused, Sir Marcus opened the bag and took out a few banknotes. He thrust them at Colbeck then strode off towards the carriage.

‘What will you do, Inspector?’ asked Tallis.

‘I’ll take her back home with her father,’ replied Colbeck. ‘She told me that they came here by horse and cart. I’ll use
the cart to transport him. If you can spare the sergeant, I’ll be glad of his help.’

‘I’ll send him back to you.’

‘We leave it to you to take Mr Tunnadine before a magistrate.’

‘Yes, yes,’ said Tallis, irritably, ‘I don’t need advice about police procedure. Do what you have to do then meet me back at Burnhope Manor.’

‘I will, sir.’

About to leave, the superintendent looked at the girl, crying piteously into Colbeck’s handkerchief. Moved by her plight, he took out his wallet and extracted some banknotes before giving them to the inspector. He then trudged off towards the carriage. While he was waiting, Colbeck tried to get more information from the girl.

‘What’s your name?’ he asked.

‘Mary, sir – I didn’t know we was doing wrong.’

‘You were cruelly misled, Mary. A man paid your father money, didn’t he?’

‘That’s right, sir.’

‘What did he ask you to do?’

‘I was to put on this dress,’ she said, looking down at it in dismay. ‘I’ve never seen anything as beautiful. It’s not the sort of thing the likes of me wears, sir. I was so pleased when he gave it to me. But now …’ She glanced down at her father. ‘I wish we’d never met that man.’

‘Can you describe him?’

‘He was tall like you and very smart. Oh, and he had a nice voice.’

‘What age would he be?’

‘He was about the same as you, sir.’

‘Did he give you a name?’

‘No, sir, he just gave us money and told us what to do.’

‘What was he riding?’

‘It was a fine horse, sir – a roan, sixteen hands. He was a good horseman.’

‘Why do you say that?’

‘I’ve never seen anyone ride that well, sir. My father said he looked as if he’d been born in the saddle.’

The same could not be said of Victor Leeming. Summoned by Colbeck, he took no chances with his mettlesome horse. In the interests of safety, he led her by the reins. After letting himself and the mare into the field, he walked across to them.

‘This is Mary,’ introduced Colbeck. ‘And this,’ he said to her, ‘is Sergeant Leeming. He’ll look after you for a minute.’

‘Where are you going, sir?’ asked Leeming.

‘You’ll soon see.’

Taking the reins from Leeming, he put his foot in the stirrup and hauled himself up into the saddle. One dig of the heels sent the bay mare cantering up the hill. Leeming was amazed at the inspector’s control of the animal.

‘Why didn’t she behave like that for
me
?’ he complained.

Emma had been so delighted to see her younger brother that she’d clung to him for minutes. It was some time since George Vaughan had been in Oxford and she’d only seen him once during the interim when they met in London at the home of a mutual friend. Pleased with the warmth of his welcome, he did not expect the same response from his father. In the event, it was hours before he even met
him. Dominic Vaughan was at a meeting in Corpus Christi College and didn’t return until the afternoon. When he came back to the Master’s Lodging and saw his son there, he was momentarily aghast.

‘What are you doing here, George?’ he asked.

‘Hello, Father – it’s good to see you again.’

‘I thought you’d wiped the dust of Oxford from your feet forever.’

‘It seems that I haven’t done so, after all.’

‘Then welcome back,’ said Vaughan, shaking his hand. ‘It’s a pleasure to see you again.’ He eyed his son’s flamboyant apparel, ‘though I wish that you’d been wearing something more in keeping with college attire.’

His son grinned. ‘Would you have me in subfusc, then?’

‘There’d be no need to go to that extreme.’

‘Isn’t it wonderful to see him again?’ asked Emma. ‘It seems that Sergeant Leeming called on George and told him what had happened. George was keen to hear news of Imogen so he came here this morning.’

‘I’m just sorry that Mother isn’t here as well,’ said her brother. ‘I’m told that she’s gone off to Burnhope Manor.’

‘That’s right.’ Vaughan inspected him from top to toe. ‘You look different, George. I can’t put a finger on it but … you’ve changed somehow.’

‘I don’t think so, Father,’ said Emma. ‘He looks the same as ever to me.’

‘That’s odd,’ teased George Vaughan. ‘
You
look ten years older than when I last saw you – and you’re twice as fat.’

‘It’s not true!’ she protested.

‘Of course, it isn’t,’ said her father, ‘but George has to
have his little joke. Could you leave us alone for a while, please, Emma?’

‘But I want to stay with George.’

‘I won’t keep him long, I promise. I just wanted a private word.’

Emma pouted then moved towards the door. She blew her brother a kiss. He pulled a face at her and she laughed as she let herself out. When he turned to his father, he saw a grave expression on his countenance.

‘The news about Imogen is very distressing, Father,’ he said.

‘She is never out of our thoughts.’

‘Have there been any developments?’

‘There are none that I know of, George.’

‘If there is anything I can do, just tell me what it is.’

‘First of all, you can sit down.’ In response to his father’s gesture, he lowered himself into a chair. Vaughan sat opposite and fixed him with a stare. ‘Second, I’d be obliged if you could inform me what exactly is going on.’

‘I only know what the sergeant told me.’

‘I’m not talking about Imogen now. My question relates to you.’

‘Oh, I see.’

‘You
do
look different. It’s a look I’ve seen on certain undergraduates when they mistake debauchery for education. It signals a decline in moral standards.’

‘I’m no longer an undergraduate here, Father,’ his son reminded him. ‘I’m old enough to follow my own destiny.’

‘Yet your destiny still seems to require financial help from me.’

‘It’s only until I get established as an artist,’ argued his
son. ‘As soon as I do that, I can pay back everything you kindly gave me. Meanwhile, I’m very grateful for your help. It may not be needed for that long.’

Vaughan leant forward. ‘I’m very worried, George.’

‘If I’m getting too much, reduce the size of the payments.’

‘I’m not worried about the amount of money. What concerns me is the use to which it’s put.’ His voice hardened. ‘Let me be candid. I wish to know what exactly I am subsidising.’

‘You are helping a young artist to blossom into full flower.’

‘Leave metaphors aside and tell me the plain truth.’

‘I have a deal of creative talent – you’ve admitted that yourself – and I am working hard to develop it. I already have one commission and there are two others in the wind. The fees will not be very large at this stage in my career but, in due course, I can assure you that—’

‘Forget your creative talent,’ interrupted Vaughan. ‘I speak of the rumours.’

His son beamed unconcernedly. ‘To what rumours do you refer, Father?’

‘They are rumours too disturbing to mention to your mother. Their source appears to be Professor Triggs. He, as you know, has a son of your age – one who joined a more respectable profession.’

‘Respectability is the death of art.’

‘You were seen by the professor’s son at a party, entertaining low company.’

‘I’m surely permitted to choose my own friends. And if this famous son is so respectable, what was he doing at the sort of party to which I’m invited?’

‘His uncle is an art dealer in London.’

‘Ah,’ said George Vaughan, ‘that explains it. We may well have rubbed shoulders at such a gathering. As a breed, I loathe art dealers but they are a necessary evil, so I never miss a chance to cultivate them.’

‘It seems that another form of cultivation is taking place.’

‘Speak more plainly, Father. Of what am I being accused?’

‘Fornication is a sin.’

‘Then you’ve been wise to abstain from it.’

‘Do you dare to mock me!’ shouted Vaughan, jumping to his feet. ‘Remember where you are, sir, and who I am.’

‘I tender my sincerest apologies, Father. I did not mean to be flippant.’

‘You were crude and I’ll not tolerate such behaviour.’

His son was contrite. ‘Then I take back what I said unreservedly.’

‘When I named you after Lord Byron, I hoped that you’d be inspired by his poetry and not ape some of the alleged excesses of his private life.’

‘What alleged excesses? Has Professor Triggs been spreading rumours about Byron as well? How does the good professor find time to write his theological tracts when he’s otherwise engaged, listening to silly gossip about artists and poets.’