An Expert in Murder (4 page)

The air in the compartment was heavy and oppressive, and Penrose was glad to step outside into the corridor. ‘Where is the luggage, by the way?’ he asked Fallowfield. ‘Was it being sent on or was she planning to take it with her?’

‘I’ve had it locked in one of the guards’ rooms, Sir. There were no instructions for it to be sent anywhere.’

‘Then someone must have been coming to meet her. You’d better go and see who you can find in that crowd, Sergeant. Whoever it is will be worried sick by now – unless they’ve got something to 21

hide, of course. We’ll leave the scene to the boys, but tell them I want photographs of the lot – every small detail, particularly that cut on her neck. And we’ll need to start working through the passenger list, so the sooner you can get hold of that and a list of staff on duty, the better. I’ll go and see if Forrester can tell us anything we don’t already know – I could do with a cup of Maybrick’s tea myself, now you mention it – but if you find that anyone’s been waiting for her, I want to be told straight away. Have you gone through her bag yet?’

‘I’ve had a quick look, Sir. A few papers and a couple of weeklies, and this was in the side pocket with her train ticket,’ said Fallowfield, holding out a magazine. ‘Look at page fourteen.’

Penrose did as he was told. When he saw the dated inscription, his heart sank: ‘To dear Elspeth, with thanks for an unforgettable trip. I hope we’ll meet again! Much love, Josephine (Gordon).’ So she had known her as well, and could have been one of the last people to see her alive. Suddenly he needed something a little stronger than Maybrick’s tea.

When he saw the closest thing he had to a witness sitting in the waiting room clutching a full cup of tea that must have been cold for some time, Penrose realised he was unlikely to hear anything of great use. Fallowfield had been accurate in his assessment of Forrester’s fear, and it was hardly surprising. Most people were fortunate enough to reach a comfortable middle age before an awareness of the transience of life began to weigh heavily on them, but that was a luxury which had been denied to his own generation and he was all too experienced in recognising the moment when someone first came face to face with his own mortality.

For Penrose, that moment had come before he really had a chance to find anything out about himself, to know who he might have become if the world had turned out differently. He could still remember that week in early September – a month or so short of his return to Cambridge for the final year of his medical degree – when the war had begun, but before it had gathered any real momentum.

In Cornwall it had been intensely hot for the time of year, and he 22

was making the most of his last days at home. The village had decided to continue as planned with the Harvest Festival in defiance of the stresses and strains of war, so he had joined the rest of the family in a walk to the cliff-top church on the edge of his grand-father’s estate to listen while his uncle, the rector of the parish, thanked God for a magnificent harvest and the unbroken weather which had allowed it to be gathered in.

As soon as he saw the great Union Jack which had replaced the usual hanging at the front of the pulpit, Penrose realised that God’s representative – a sanctimonious bigot at the best of times, even if he was family – had changed his agenda. After preaching a terrifying sermon on the glories of battle, sanctifying maiming, slaughter and bloodshed with the blessing of a higher authority, the rector had urged all the young men to join the army, to sate the country’s appetite for soldiers who would defend the justice of the war. What he had failed to mention was that it was a cause for which thousands of them would be asked to give their lives, but his harvest sermon had done the trick: by the end of the year, every eligible man in the village had signed up to Kitchener’s new army, an exodus which was replicated all over the country, swelling the ranks by nearly a million in the space of just four months. Some expected garrison service at home while the real soldiers went off to do the real soldiering; most believed the papers when they said it would be a short war, over by Christmas at the outside. All had been wrong, and he was still sickened to the stomach when he thought of that call from the altar for young men to offer themselves for the glory of God and eight shillings and nine pence a week.

In his darker moments, when a connection to life was harder to find, he wondered if that was perhaps what kept him in this job –

not an abstract desire for justice or a belief that he could do anything to stem the evil which ran inherently through some men’s hearts, but a desperate need to contain the sense of guilt which he had carried since those days. Sometimes it worked, and the natural course of an investigation in which the humanity of an individual was paramount dispelled the sense of waste that came from seeing death on such a massive scale – but those moments were rare, and 23

the anger that had been a part of him since the war only seemed to grow deeper with time.

‘Let’s go back to before you found Miss Simmons in the compartment,’ he said to the boy gently.

‘Is that her name, then?’

‘Yes, she was called Elspeth. What were you doing in that carriage?’

‘I was only in there to make sure it was clean and tidy, ready for the next journey.’

‘But that wasn’t your job, was it? You’re a waiter, not a porter.’

Tommy took one look at the Inspector’s face and knew instantly that it would be pointless to string him along by pretending any great diligence in his work. ‘There was this girl, see? In the restaurant car – she kept giving me the eye, so I asked one of the other blokes if I could have a go at checking some carriages because I knew she’d be there somewhere. I thought I could catch her before she got off and see if she fancied a bite to eat later on. There wasn’t any harm in it,’ he finished defiantly.

‘And did you?’

‘Did I what?’

‘Catch her before she left the train.’

‘I did, as it happens. I was supposed to meet her outside the sta -

tion when I knocked off. I expect she’s given up by now,’ Tommy said, with a wistful glance in the direction of the door.

‘Does this girl have a name?’

‘Ivy. I don’t know what her other name is. We hadn’t got that far.’

‘You’re sure you didn’t really go looking for Miss Simmons in that compartment?’

Penrose’s voice had taken on a harder edge and it suddenly dawned on Tommy that his quest for a date might have brought him a little more trouble than he’d bargained for. ‘You don’t think it was me, do you?’ he cried in horror. ‘I know I flirted with her in the restaurant, but I was only being friendly and I’m like that with everyone. I’d never hurt a girl and anyway, I thought she was already off the train – I saw her on the platform while I was talking to Ivy.’

24

‘All right, calm down.’ Penrose sent Maybrick out to see if the elusive Ivy had anything better to do than hang around outside a railway station waiting for her meal ticket, then turned his attention back to Tommy. ‘No, actually I don’t think you had anything to do with it, but I need you to be honest with me about exactly what you saw and when. You say you noticed Miss Simmons on the platform, but surely there were a lot of people milling around?

What made her stand out?’

‘Her hat for a start,’ Tommy replied. ‘You couldn’t miss that.

And her luggage – she had loads of it. I remember being glad that I didn’t have to unload that lot.’ He paused for a moment, then fell back on the criteria that made most sense in his world. ‘She wasn’t a bad-looking girl, either. Not in the same class as Ivy, obviously, but you wouldn’t mind being seen walking out with her.’

‘And how long after seeing Miss Simmons on the platform did you find her body?’

‘I don’t know – about ten or fifteen minutes, I suppose. I caught up with Ivy just as she was about to get off the train – I think she’d been hanging about, hoping I’d come and find her – and we talked just outside the carriage door for a few minutes. That’s when I noticed the girl. She was a bit further down the platform, talking to a couple of other women. Then I saw Mr Folkard – he’s the boss

– coming towards me, so I had to fix something up quick with Ivy and scarper before he asked me what I was doing. It only took me a few minutes to look in on the other compartments to make sure nothing had been left behind – and then I got to that one.’

‘Did you notice anybody hanging about?’

‘I didn’t
see
anybody, no.’

‘But?’

‘Well, when I got to that compartment, the “Do Not Disturb” notice was hanging on the door so I just knocked and told them to hurry up, then I went on to the next one.’

‘How did you know there was someone in there? Wasn’t it more likely that the notice had just been left on the door?’

‘I could hear someone moving about.’ Tommy looked down, embarrassed. ‘I thought they were having a bit of . . . well, you 25

know. So I left them to get themselves sorted out and came back a couple of minutes later, after I’d heard someone shut the door and leave.’

‘Exactly what did you hear inside the compartment?’

‘Just a bit of shuffling.’ He looked up at Penrose, suddenly more aggressive. ‘You don’t think I’d have left her if I’d known what was going on, do you? How was I supposed to guess that there was a bleeding psychopath on board?’

So that was why the boy was so defensive. It wasn’t just shock at discovering a body that had so affected him, but the realisation of how close he had come to the murder and a sense of guilt at having failed to stop it. Penrose continued more gently.

‘What did you see when you first went into the compartment?’

‘It was nearly dark because the blinds were down, but I could see someone was still in there. I thought they must be asleep, so I went over and lifted the blind at the window. When I turned round, I saw the girl, and some funny dolls on the other seat.’

‘How long were you in there?’

‘It can only have been a minute or two but it felt like ages. I wouldn’t have stayed that long but I suddenly thought – what if whoever did it was still about? Then that flower fell off the seat and I just legged it. It sounds stupid, I know, but I couldn’t bear it any longer.’

‘Did you touch anything?’

‘Only the blind when I first went in. It was too dark to tidy up, you see.’

‘And the women Miss Simmons was talking to – did you recognise them from the train?’

‘One of them, the taller one with the dark hair and the smart suit. She’d been on since Edinburgh and they had lunch together in the restaurant car. Spent a lot of time talking, they did.’

‘So they seemed to know each other well?’

‘I don’t know about that, but they were definitely getting on like a house on fire.’

‘What about the other woman?’

‘I don’t think I’d seen her before, but there are a lot of meals 26

served on that journey – I might not have noticed. But she certainly wasn’t eating with the other two.’

‘What did she look like?’

‘Nice-looking, I suppose, for her age – she must have been in her forties. Long hair, but that’s about all I remember.’

Penrose had heard enough to confirm that Elspeth’s companions matched the signatures in her magazine. ‘Were they still with Miss Simmons when she got back on the train?’ he asked, trying to keep the sinking feeling out of his voice.

‘I told you – I don’t know. They’d all disappeared by the time I looked again and I just assumed they’d left. I didn’t see anybody get back on, but you know what it’s like when there’s people getting off and luggage everywhere – it’s far too busy to keep an eye on everything that’s going on.’

‘All right, we’ll let it go now but it’s vital that you don’t tell anyone what you saw in the train – do you understand?’ he asked sternly, without any real hope of his words being heeded. The boy was bound to talk to someone because, as Penrose knew from his own experience, there was nothing worse than the twisted intimacy of being the first to look upon a dead body. The loneliness of it was unbearable.

Maybrick re-entered the room and gave a brief nod. ‘Well Tommy,’ Penrose said, ‘it looks like your Ivy might be keener than you thought. She’s confirmed what you’ve told us, so tell the Constable where we can get hold of you if we need to and you can be on your way. Better not keep the girl waiting any longer but remember what I said – no details to anyone.’

‘To be honest, I haven’t really got the stomach for courting now,’ Tommy said despondently as Maybrick handed him a pencil to write down his address, ‘but I suppose I shouldn’t disappoint her.’

As Penrose left the waiting room to look for his sergeant, he saw Fallowfield already approaching and knew instantly that the man at his side had come to King’s Cross to meet Elspeth Simmons. Her father, he guessed, or perhaps an uncle – too old, in any case, to be 27

a boyfriend. But whatever connection he had had to the girl, the news of her death seemed to have devastated him: his walk, his shoulders, the constant movement of his hands and the blank expression on his face – all signalled the stubborn disbelief of the violently bereaved.

‘This is Frank Simmons, Sir,’ said Fallowfield. ‘He’s Miss Simmons’s uncle.’

Archie held out his hand, knowing from experience that the habitual formalities of everyday life could, in their very familiarity, act as a small but reassuring prop to those whose world had just been snatched from under them. ‘Detective Inspector Penrose,’ he said, and then simply, ‘I’m so very sorry.’

The man nodded in acknowledgement. ‘It’s all my fault, you see,’ he said, in response to an accusation which came not from the policemen but from a voice inside his head. ‘I was so late to meet her. If only I’d just stayed where I was, she’d be all right now.’

Penrose let him talk, making whatever confession he thought necessary, until he had been led gently to a seat in the waiting room. ‘This is going to be difficult for you, I know, but it’s important that I ask you some questions now about Elspeth and any arrangements that had been made with her for this evening. What did you mean when you said you should have stayed where you were?’