Blood on the Line (8 page)

He put a finger to his lips. ‘Don’t ever say that in his presence. He doesn’t believe that he murdered anyone. Gordon was a doctor. He took an oath to say that he’d always seek to preserve life. It’s just that he felt there were certain exceptions – people whose existence was so dire and unendurable that they begged him to help them.’

‘You mean that he
assisted
in their death?’

‘That’s one way of putting it. Gordon felt that he was
performing a sacred duty. And, of course, there was a commercial aspect to it.’

‘In what way?’

‘It was a lot to ask of a doctor, Irene. His patients understood that. After he’d sent them painlessly to their deaths, he was rewarded by the provisions of their respective wills. That’s how he came to buy this cottage,’ he went on, taking in the whole building with a sweep of his hand. ‘He and Susanna have retired on the proceeds of his work in Bradford, putting rich old ladies to sleep for the last time.’ He pulled her close. ‘Take heart from what happened to them, my love. It
is
possible to kill and to live happily ever after.’

Caleb Andrews was home earlier than usual that evening. He found his daughter reading the latest book she’d borrowed from Colbeck. Madeleine got up to give him a welcoming kiss. After hanging his cap on the peg, he went into the kitchen to wash the grime off his hands and face. When he came back in, she was putting a bookmark in place before setting her book aside.

‘Who wrote that one?’ he asked.

‘Charles Dickens.’

‘Ah, now there’s a man who can make the blood race. I like his novels. When you’ve finished with it, I might take a look at it myself. What’s it called, Maddie?’

‘American Notes,’
she answered. ‘But it’s not a novel. It’s an account of a journey Mr Dickens made to America some years ago. It must have upset a lot of readers over there because it’s very critical of the Americans.’

‘So it should be,’ said Andrews with acerbity. ‘What did America ever do for this country except cause us a lot of trouble? I don’t like Americans.’

‘How can you say that, Father? You’ve never even met one.’

‘I don’t
need
to meet one.’

‘It’s unfair to make judgements about people like that.’

‘Britain is best, Maddie, that’s what I always say. I hate France, Germany, Russia and – most of all – America.’

‘Yet you’ve never been to any of those countries.’

‘Wild horses wouldn’t drag me there.’ He sat down opposite her. ‘I spoke to Mr Pomeroy again today. He’s given me an exact date. My retirement is only a matter of weeks away.’

She needed a moment for the full impact of the announcement to sink in. After all these years, it seemed unreal that her father was finally quitting a job that he loved so much. From the time when she was a small child, Madeleine remembered the way that he set off each morning with a spring in his step. Though he moaned about the long hours, inadequate pay and bad weather he had to endure, Andrews had never considered finding alternative work. Wholly committed to the railways, he was proud to serve them.

‘Well,’ he said, taking out his pipe and tobacco pouch, ‘now that
I’ve
set a date, it’s time that you and the inspector did the same.’

‘Robert has promised to discuss it as soon as this case is over.’

‘I’ll believe that when it happens.’

Madeleine was hurt. ‘He always keeps his promises.’

‘Then why hasn’t he taken you up the aisle before now? Each time he looks as if he’s about to do so, there’s a delay.’ He filled the pipe with tobacco. ‘Perhaps it’s time for me to speak to him, man to man?’

‘Don’t you dare!’ she warned.

‘I’m only thinking of you, Maddy.’

‘We just have to wait until Robert is ready.’

‘That means you’ll have to wait for ever,’ he grumbled. ‘Look how long you had to twiddle your thumbs while you waited for a proposal of marriage. It was years and years.’

‘We had an understanding, Father.’

‘Well, it’s about time that Inspector Colbeck and I had a sort of understanding. I’m fed up with seeing my daughter moping around the house all day while the man she’s supposed to marry keeps feeding her one excuse after another.’

‘It’s not like that,’ she argued, ‘and I certainly don’t mope.’

‘I’ll want privacy when I retire, Maddy, and there’s something else I’m looking forward to as well.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Playing with my grandchildren, of course – where are they?’

She was startled. ‘Father!’

‘You can’t leave these things too late,’ he cautioned.

Even from her mother, Madeleine would have found such advice intrusive. From her father it was embarrassing. Like many young women on the verge of marriage, she
was prepared to leave such decisions to Mother Nature, then react to them accordingly. She certainly did not wish to discuss the prospects of raising a family when she had yet to wear a wedding ring. All that Madeleine longed for was to share her life with Colbeck. To do that, she was willing to be patient and forbearing.

For his own and for his daughter’s sake, Andrews was keen to see a resolution at the altar. At the same time, however, he did not want to upset Madeleine. He lit his pipe and puffed away at it before taking up the conversation again. His tone was much softer.

‘Dirk Sowerby was married only four months after the betrothal,’ he said, meaningfully.

‘His wife is welcome to him,’ she replied. ‘I’d have no desire to spend my life with a man like that.’

‘What’s wrong with Dirk?’

‘I could never love him, Father.’

He was indignant. ‘Is that because he works on the railway?’

‘You know that it isn’t.’

‘Are you so high and mighty that you look down on us now?’

‘No,’ she said with vehemence, ‘and you must never think that. I’m the daughter of an engine driver and I always will be.’ She pointed to her easel. ‘Do you think I’d spend all my time painting trains if I regarded railwaymen with contempt? It’s unfair even to suggest it. Nobody could ever accuse me of looking down on you.’

‘Very well,’ he said, shamefacedly. ‘I take that back.’

‘Thank you.’

‘But I still worry for you, Maddy.’ He pulled on his pipe. ‘Do you remember what you once said to me?’

‘I’ve said lots of things – but you take no notice of them.’

‘This was about Inspector Colbeck. I felt that he was dragging his feet and keeping you waiting. You made an odd comment.’

‘Did I?’

‘Yes, Maddy. You said that there were times when it seemed as if his mind was elsewhere. He was distracted and rather sad. It was almost as if he was mourning someone.’

‘You’re right,’ she recalled. ‘I did say that.’

‘And do you still believe it?’

‘I don’t think so. It was just a feeling I had at the time.’

‘Suppose that there
was
someone in his past?’ said Andrews, tentatively. ‘He’s a handsome man with good prospects. You weren’t the first woman to notice that. I just wonder if he’s been disappointed in love and that that’s made him very cautious.’ He shifted his pipe to the other side of his mouth. ‘Has he said anything to you on the subject?’

She was firm. ‘No, Father.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes, I am.’

‘There hasn’t been anyone else, then?’

The question was like the jab of a needle and it hurt. Madeleine could not muster a reply. She had always felt slight concern about Colbeck’s earlier life, especially as he seldom talked about it. Once they had become formally
engaged, her anxiety about his past had vanished. Her father had now awakened it. It was as if an old wound had been reopened and it was smarting. When she tried to dismiss the whole thing from her mind, it remained stubbornly in place like a tiny stain on a carpet that she could always see out of the corner of her eye. It was worrying. Rising abruptly from her chair, she headed for the kitchen.

‘I’ll get your supper,’ she said, briskly.

Edward Tallis was halfway through one of his pungent cigars. It was a signal that he was under stress once more. When he entered the superintendent’s office, Colbeck could barely see him through the fug. He waved a hand to disperse some of the smoke.

‘Do you mind if I open a window, sir?’ he asked.

‘Please do,’ urged Tallis, stubbing out the cigar in an ashtray. ‘I smoke far too many of these things.’

‘That’s your privilege, Superintendent.’

‘They help me to relax and that’s something I always need to do after an interview with the press. I’ve had a posse of journalists in here, hounding me for details of the investigation and demanding to know why we’ve made no arrests as yet.’

Colbeck opened the window and took in a lungful of clean air. A light breeze blew in, making the smoke swirl and eddy. He walked back to the front of the desk. It was evening and, after his visit to Manchester, he had come straight to Scotland Yard this time instead of calling on Madeleine beforehand.

Tallis glowered at him. ‘I am in need of good news, Inspector.’

‘Then you’ll be pleased to know that we have identified Irene Adnam as the woman implicated in the murder of the two policemen.’

‘Do you know where she is?’

‘No, sir.’

‘Have you any idea where she might be?’

‘Not at the moment,’ confessed Colbeck.

‘Then how can this possibly be construed as good news?’

‘It will enable us to turn the press from our enemies into our friends.’ Tallis gave a mirthless laugh. ‘Yes, I know that they often take a hostile attitude towards you, sir, but they are our best means of tracking down Miss Adnam. If we issue a description of her, it can be published in every national newspaper and in provincial editions in places like Birmingham, Wolverhampton and Manchester.’

‘I want to be persuaded that we have the right person first.’

‘I spoke with her father. He lives in Deansgate.’

‘That’s a very deprived part of Manchester, as I recall.’

‘Mr Adnam has fallen on hard times.’

Colbeck described his meeting with the man and explained how astounded he’d been to learn that his daughter had been involved in criminal activities for a number of years. He absolved Adnam of any blame. All that he could be accused of was being too naive. Irene had been so plausible that he believed the lies she was telling him. Once he’d been confronted with the truth,
he’d condemned his daughter’s crime spree and readily answered all of Colbeck’s questions. As a result, the inspector had a record of all the times she had visited her father and a list of the places at which she claimed to have worked.

‘In other words,’ said Colbeck, ‘she still has sufficient care for Mr Adnam to want to relieve his distress.’

Tallis was harsh. ‘That won’t stop her from being hanged,’ he promised. ‘A few good deeds are heavily outweighed by the bad ones. Irene Adnam is evil. She and Oxley are clearly birds of a feather.’

‘They’ll be hiding somewhere until the hue and cry passes. The only way to smoke them out is by using the press.’

‘I’ll summon the hungry jackals in the morning.’

‘Send word to them now, sir,’ urged Colbeck. ‘The sooner we have the nation looking for this pair, the better. If we hurry, we might catch the later editions.’

‘I’d prefer to make a concerted effort tomorrow, Inspector. That way we can ensure that national and provincial newspapers carry the information at the same time. The wider the coverage, the more chance we have of flushing them out of cover.’ Reaching for a pencil, he moved the oil lamp closer so that it shed its glow over the pad in front of him. ‘I’ll need an exact description.’

‘I’ve already written it down,’ said Colbeck, taking a sheet of folded paper from his pocket. ‘This combines what I was told by the woman’s father and by her former employer, Mr Holte.’ He handed it over. ‘But it will not be as accurate as I could wish. According to Mr Adnam,
she was fond of play-acting as a child and was skilled at changing her appearance.’

‘The hangman will change it even more,’ said Tallis, sourly. After glancing at the paper, he looked up at Colbeck. ‘What about Sergeant Leeming and Constable Peebles?’

‘They took part in the search and visited two addresses while I was in Deansgate. For obvious reasons, their efforts were in vain.’

‘I was really asking how they got along together.’

‘There was no friction between them, sir. Why should there be?’

‘I sensed that the sergeant was very unhappy to be forced to work with a new recruit. Leeming was less than welcoming to him. Is that a fair assessment?’

‘He might have had a few reservations about Constable Peebles, sir, but they disappeared in the line of duty. While they were on their way to a house in Manchester, they were set on by four ruffians.’

Tallis was alarmed. ‘Was either of them hurt?’

‘No,’ replied Colbeck. ‘They turned the tables on their attackers and put them to flight. Victor – Sergeant Leeming – was very complimentary about the way that the constable had fought. Any slight differences that might have existed between them have now been eradicated.’

‘That’s good to hear. Mutual respect is vital in this department.’

‘In the case of Constable Peebles, it’s rather more than respect.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘It transpires that he’s been following the cases that we’ve
been handling on the railways. As well as discharging his duties as a policeman in A Division, he somehow found time to compile a scrapbook of our successes. He draws inspiration from them.’

‘I find no fault in that.’

‘Neither do I, sir,’ said Colbeck. ‘My only worry is that he may let admiration blind him to our shortcomings. None of us is infallible.’

‘Quite so – Homer sometimes nods.’

‘Quandoque bonus dormitat Homerus.’

Tallis scowled. ‘What heathen tongue is that?’

‘It’s the Latin you just translated. I think it was rather astute of you to pick up on my use of the word “blind” and mention Homer, the famous blind poet.’

‘It just came to me,’ said Tallis, relishing praise for something that was entirely coincidental. ‘So we are celebrated in a scrapbook, are we? I find that heartening.’

‘I think you should, Superintendent,’ said Colbeck, tongue in cheek. ‘After all, any triumphs we have to our credit have been secured under your aegis. Your control of our efforts has been decisive. I know that you loathe the press,’ he went on, ‘but they have trumpeted our successes from time to time. Your name is probably on every page of the constable’s scrapbook.’

Tallis’s broad grin was like the beam of a lighthouse.

It was the tranquillity that she appreciated most. Irene had never had such a peaceful night. Even in a hotel, the hustle and bustle of city life could be heard outside the windows. Then there was the ever-present noise of trains hurtling
along. That, too, had gone. In its place were gentler sounds that allowed her to sleep undisturbed. She awoke refreshed and happy. Irene at last felt safe.

‘How long are we going to stay here?’ she asked.

‘Until they stop searching so hard for us,’ replied Oxley. ‘In the wake of a murder, the police will do all they can to find the suspects. The longer the hunt goes on, however, the fewer resources they can devote to it. Other crimes are being committed and they’ll demand attention. We simply have to wait until we fade into the past.’