Blood on the Line (24 page)

‘Jerry only did what he had to do.’

‘Are you saying that murder can be justified, then?’

‘In this case – yes, it can.’

‘What about the murder of those two policemen?’

‘That, too, was necessary.’

‘I don’t believe that it was, Miss Adnam. You had a weapon. You could have held it on the policemen and ordered them to release Oxley. You could have handcuffed them so that they couldn’t pursue you,’ he said. ‘In fact, there are all sorts of things you could have done other than shooting one man dead then hurling the two of them under an oncoming train.’

‘That wasn’t my idea!’ she shouted, hands to her temples.

‘Did you raise an objection?’

‘No – it all happened so quickly. I had no time.’

‘But you do have time now, Miss Adnam,’ Colbeck told her. ‘You have plenty of time to reflect on the crimes you helped to commit while you and Oxley were together. In retrospect, I think you’ll find, they were neither necessary nor justifiable.’

Colbeck paused to allow time for his words to sink
in. Irene had a surface hardness that he believed he could penetrate. She was not as cold and heartless as Oxley. In talking about the escape from the train, he’d already put one small wedge between them. If his plan was to succeed, he needed to insert a much larger one.

‘How well do you know Jeremy Oxley?’ he asked.

‘I know him extremely well. He’s a wonderful man.’

‘Then you have a warped idea of wonder, Miss Adnam. Had you seen the way that Nathan Holly’s skull had caved in, I doubt that you’d have hailed his attacker as a wonderful man. I leave it to your imagination,’ said Colbeck, ‘how two human beings look when a train passes over them at high speed. The remains had to be gathered up in a couple of sacks.’

She began to retch and pulled a handkerchief from her sleeve to hold against her mouth. He gave her another respite. Her defences were weakening. Irene was starting to look like a cornered animal. At length, Colbeck resumed the interrogation.

‘Did he ever mention that he’d killed a young woman?’

‘Yes, he did.’

‘Were you shocked?’

She lowered her head. ‘I must confess that I was.’

‘Did it make you fear for your own safety?’

‘Not in the least.’

‘I think you’re lying, Miss Adnam.’

‘Jerry would never have hurt me!’ she cried.

‘Do you know
how
he murdered that young woman?’ There was a long pause. She refused to look at him. ‘I think
that you do. I think that he told you that he strangled her.’

Her head came up. ‘He also told me that you and this woman were close friends,’ she taunted, ‘and that you were the one who persuaded her to give evidence in court against Jerry. That’s why you’ve been chasing him so hard all these years, isn’t it? You were in love with her.’

Caught off guard by her attack, Colbeck felt as if he’d been slapped across the face. It was a sobering moment. He needed a while to control the intense feelings that had suddenly welled up inside him. He inhaled deeply through his nose.

‘Her name was Helen Millington,’ he said, solemnly, ‘and what you say about her is, to some extent, correct. I make no apology for my friendship with her. She was a remarkable young woman. I just hope that you will make no apology for someone for whom
you
care, Miss Adnam. Hear the whole story and you will see that he doesn’t deserve it. As I said earlier, it’s only when you know the full facts about someone that you see them in the round and can arrive at a proper judgement.’

‘You’ll say anything to blacken Jerry’s name,’ she sneered.

‘I would have thought that it was black enough as it is. You don’t have to believe me, of course. That’s your privilege. But you must ask yourself why I should trouble to confide details that are excruciatingly painful to me.’

Irene could see the sincerity in his eyes. She was apprehensive. He was about to tell her something she had no wish to hear. She flapped a hand and turned away.

‘He strangled her,’ she said. ‘What more is there to say?’

‘He obviously didn’t tell you what he did to her beforehand.’

‘That’s irrelevant.’

‘Not in my book,’ said Colbeck, forcefully. ‘Every detail is highly relevant because it tells me exactly the kind of man that Oxley is.’

‘You’ll never change my view of him, Inspector.’

‘I don’t need to – Helen Millington will do that for me. She was about the same age as you, as it happens, and equally as beautiful. She’d led a blameless life. It was her ill luck to witness a man being shot outside a jeweller’s shop but she had the presence of mind to take a close look at the killer. It was Oxley.’

‘I know all this.’

‘Then you’ll know why he took his revenge on her.’

‘Jerry has a temper,’ she conceded. ‘He can act rashly.’

‘I’m glad you’ve found a defect in this paragon,’ said Colbeck, ‘because I’m going to identify a few more. It was not enough for him to kill Miss Millington, you see, he had to make her suffer for her bravery in coming forward. When he discovered where she lived, he abducted her and spirited her away to a place where nobody would interrupt them. He stripped her naked and tied her up with wire that cut deep into her wrists. The first thing he did – and I choose a polite phrase to cover a brutal act – was to relieve her of her virginity. Jeremy Oxley then began to torture her.’

As he related the details, Colbeck’s voice became hoarse
with disgust and his head began to pound. Seeing that he’d finally got her attention, however, he forced himself to go on and talk about things that had haunted him for years. Irene tried not to listen but the words kept hammering away at her ears. She was revolted. Much as she wanted to disbelieve it all, she knew that his account had the ring of truth. Oxley did not simply diminish in her esteem. He slowly turned into a ravening beast. There had been hints. Since the time they’d been together, there’d been several hints of darker passions in him, moments when she prayed that she would never be close to him if he lost control of his temper. That was what he’d done with Helen Millington. In a fit of anger, he’d abused her, tortured her and mutilated her so badly that neither her parents – nor Colbeck – had been able to identify her from her face.

When it was all over, Colbeck was as moved as Irene had been.

‘I’m sorry I had to tell you all that,’ he said, quietly. ‘I just wanted you to understand why I’ve dedicated myself to the capture of Jeremy Oxley. He has no place in a civilised world.’

Preparation was everything. Oxley had learnt that long ago. If he failed to make adequate preparation for a crime, then the chances of a successful outcome were lessened. Time was on his side. He had a whole day in which to appraise the building and to observe the normal procedure at the courthouse. First of all, he strolled past and took a close look at the front. Then he walked around the block so that he could examine the building from the rear. Returning to
the front, he crossed the road and went into the bookshop opposite. Pretending to study a book, he kept one eye on the window. From his vantage point, he could see police vehicles arrive at the courthouse. Each followed the same pattern. They would turn into the yard at the side of the building. The driver would then unlock the door at the back of the van and the prisoner would be brought out, handcuffed to a second policeman. All three of them went into the courthouse.

It was a simple, unvarying routine. Having watched it three times, Oxley knew it off by heart. His next step was to get inside the building so that he could learn its geography. It involved dodging various court officials but he was adept at that. He eventually worked his way around to the entrance where the prisoners were admitted and made a note of the rooms through which they’d have to pass. At that point, he was disturbed by a janitor.

‘Can I help you, sir?’ asked the man.

‘I was looking for a …’

A smile and a gesture replaced the word. The janitor led him to the lavatory at the side of the building, explaining pointedly that it was not generally accessible to members of the public. Oxley had already taken the trouble to change some of his money into the local currency. He responded to the broad hint from the janitor by pressing some coins into the man’s hand. It was a sound investment. Thanks to the janitor, Oxley had stumbled on another vantage point. Through the small, rectangular window in the lavatory, he had a good view of the yard into which Irene would be driven next day.

Oxley was pleased with his preparations. All he had to do now was to familiarise himself with the rest of the interior so that he could plan an escape through a rear exit. When he was challenged by one of the court ushers, he pretended that he was unwell and in need of fresh air. The man kindly showed him the quickest way to the exit at the back of the building. There was a cab rank thirty yards away. If he could smuggle Irene out of the courthouse, they could be lost in traffic within a minute. Only one thing remained. Walking around the block to the front of the courthouse, he entered the public gallery in order to watch part of a trial. As he perched on the hard bench and looked down at the wretch standing in the dock, Oxley permitted himself a complacent smile. He’d found the perfect refuge. No matter how intense the manhunt for him, the one place they’d never dream of looking for him was in a court of law.

Habits of a long working life could not easily be changed. Though he had talked about staying in bed until late morning, Caleb Andrews was downstairs at his usual time. Madeleine was awakened by the sound of her father walking around the uncarpeted kitchen. Unable to sleep, she too resumed the early breakfasts. The problem was that he was almost always there. She encouraged him to go out but Andrews preferred to stay in the house, chatting to her when she wanted to be alone, standing behind her and clicking his tongue in disapproval as she tried to paint. It was more than irritating. In taking his retirement,
Andrews had effectively stopped her from working as well. Her patience began to fray.

The situation became so bad that she decided to take up the offer made by Colbeck. His house was in John Islip Street and he’d urged her to make use of it. Madeleine paid a preparatory visit. The servants knew her well and treated her with the respect befitting a future mistress of the house. They were happy to let her roam around at will. She was familiar with the downstairs rooms, particularly the library. It was the source of her education and had provided her with an endless succession of books. As she entered it once more now, she was impressed afresh by the ornate bookshelves around three walls, by the nest of occasional tables and by the elaborate desk. Colbeck’s father had been a successful cabinetmaker and the library was a striking example of his handiwork.

Madeleine realised with a start that it was the first time she had ever been in the house without Colbeck. Her immediate response was that she was trespassing, intruding on his privacy. Then she reminded herself that she would one day live there and have to shed any feelings of humility. Wandering around the downstairs rooms, she was bound to compare Colbeck’s situation with her own. He’d inherited a comfortable home and enough money to permit an existence of relative idleness. It was to his credit that he chose instead to pursue a career in the Metropolitan Police Force. Coming from a very different background, Madeleine had more modest expectations. In the event of her father’s death, she would inherit the house and what little of his savings he left behind him. In moving to John
Islip Street, she would be climbing several rungs up the social ladder. It was a forbidding yet curiously inspiring prospect. Luxuriating in the home she would share with Colbeck, she was determined to prove herself worthy of him.

As she looked to the future, however, doubts began to cloud her mind. Would he survive the voyage to and from America? After all that time apart, would his feelings for her remain unchanged? Why had there been an element of mystery about the investigation? Was he still thinking about her? When would he return? All her fears ultimately rolled into one crucial question.

Where
was
he?

‘It’s too tight,’ said Leeming as he did up the buttons. ‘And the hat is far too big for me.’

‘This is not a fashion parade, Victor,’ said Colbeck, amused. ‘Stop complaining. You look fine to me.’

‘And to me,’ agreed Riley, appraising them both. ‘The uniforms might have been made for you.’

It was not true. Reduced to the ranks, Colbeck was wearing a constable’s uniform that was baggy on him. At least it gave him freedom of movement. Leeming felt he was being pinched under the armpits. He had to wear the hat at a rakish angle to stop it from falling too low over his forehead. They were in Riley’s office, going through the last details of their plan.

‘What if Oxley doesn’t turn up?’ asked Riley.

‘Then I can get out of this uniform and breathe properly again,’ said Leeming with a grimace.

‘He’ll turn up,’ insisted Colbeck. ‘It’s too good a chance to miss. Oxley will know that there may not be another one. Will your men be in position, Captain?’

‘Have no worries about them,’ said Riley. ‘They’ll be placed in strategic positions around the courthouse. I took your advice. We don’t want to spook him with the sight of too many uniforms. All my men will be in plain clothes.’

‘I wish that
I
was,’ grumbled Leeming.

‘It’s not like you to miss an opportunity to arrest a killer,’ said Colbeck, ‘especially one who murdered a colleague of ours.’

‘That’s what worries me,’ admitted Riley. ‘This man is armed. We know he doesn’t hesitate to kill. All it takes is a warning from the prisoner and one of you will be shot dead.’

‘Miss Adnam won’t raise the alarm, Captain Riley.’

‘You can’t be sure of that.’

‘Oh yes I can.’

‘She’s in love with this man,’ said Riley. ‘If she sees that he’s in danger, she’s bound to yell out.’

‘That’s a good point,’ said Leeming. ‘We’re taking a big risk.’

‘And there’s something else to bear in mind, Inspector. Didn’t you tell me that he’s tried to shoot you before? When he sees you right in front of him, he won’t be able to resist the temptation.’