Inspector Colbeck's Casebook (9 page)

BOOK: Inspector Colbeck's Casebook
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It was in the early hours of the morning when a figure crept stealthily around to the rear of the house. There was enough moonlight to help him find his way to a particular window. Since the curtains had been left slightly open, he was able to make out the shape of a body in the bed. Making as little noise as possible, he inserted a knife and flicked the catch on the sash window. He then lifted the window up and stepped cautiously through it, intending to grab the pillow to smother the patient to death. When he approached the bed, however, he found that he’d have a lot more resistance than he’d expected. A man leapt suddenly out of bed, grappled with him then flung him hard against the wall
before felling him with a vicious right hook. As he collapsed to the floor, the visitor heard the door open and someone came in with an oil lamp to illumine the scene.

‘Well done, Victor!’ said Colbeck. ‘Put the handcuffs on him.’

 

Having driven to the police station in the trap borrowed from the doctor, they left their prisoner in custody and went on to the hotel. After explaining the purpose of their visit to the duty manager, they went upstairs and roused the occupants of one room by pounding on the door. It was Beatrice Moyle who opened it a few inches, blinking in bewilderment when she saw the detectives. Colbeck gave Leeming the privilege of arresting both her and Humphrey Welling on a charge of conspiracy to murder. The prisoners were given time to dress then taken off to the police station to join their accomplice. As they left the building, Leeming wanted clarification.

‘However did you link Mr Welling with Mrs Moyle?’ he asked. ‘They just didn’t look like a married couple. Welling was so much older.’

‘So was her real husband, Victor. The lady is obviously drawn to more mature men. Unfortunately, marriage to Rufus Moyle did not live up to her expectations. She was a neglected wife in a house that reflected his personality and not hers.’

‘There was that portrait of him.’

‘It was only one of the indications that told me he was a strutting peacock.’

‘Then there was the fact that they had no children.’

‘I did say that she was a neglected wife and I meant it
in the fullest sense. Mr Welling may not have seemed the ideal replacement but he was rich, indulgent and knew how to talk to a woman. How they first met,’ said Colbeck, ‘I don’t know but I believe there was genuine love on both sides. There had to be because that’s what drove them to the extreme of murder.’

‘Welling could have found out from Mrs Moyle when exactly her husband would be travelling to Sheffield,’ said Leeming. ‘He made sure that he shared the same compartment and his servant did the rest.’

‘Oddly enough, I rather liked Welling. He was an engaging companion and his love of cricket almost won me over. But he was also a ladies’ man whereas Moyle – remember the portrait and the attention to his appearance – sought company among his own sex.’

‘I can never understand people like that, sir.’

‘You don’t have to, Victor. You can simply bask in your glory.’

‘What glory?’

‘Don’t be modest,’ said Colbeck, patting him on the back. ‘You made three arrests in succession – Welling, his servant and Mrs Moyle. That’s what I’d call a hat trick.’

Having spent so many years in the army, Edward Tallis knew the importance of a disciplined way of life. As far as possible, he kept everything to an unvarying routine, leaving for work at precisely the same time every morning and organising each day in a similar manner. No matter how busy he was, he always found time for a brisk walk around noon to maintain fitness and to disperse the stink of cigar smoke that always clung to him. After leaving Scotland Yard that morning, he walked along Victoria Street. He was a big, straight-backed man with a moustache that he liked to stroke as if it were a favourite cat. His stride was long and his speed impressive. Few people could keep pace with him.

Tallis was about to cross a side street when he became aware of commotion to his left. Farther down the street, people were yelling and jeering at someone. Unable to see the object of their scorn, Tallis walked towards the crowd. They were gathered around the window of a butcher’s shop,
howling abuse at a man who’d just emerged from the alley that ran alongside the building. Leading the verbal assault was the butcher himself, a solid man in a long apron that almost touched the floor.

‘Bugger off!’ he shouted, waving a fist. ‘Take that lousy cur of yours away or I’ll be after the pair of you with my cleaver!’

Other people felt obliged to add their own threats and some of the worst insults came from women. Tallis’s voice rose above the hubbub.

‘What’s going on?’ he asked, the authority in his tone imposing an instant silence. ‘What is this fellow supposed to have done?’

‘Just look at him, sir,’ replied the butcher. ‘You can see that he’s a miserable good-for-nothing. I caught him sleeping in the yard at the rear of my shop. These people are my neighbours. We don’t want him here but he just won’t leave.’

‘You’re not giving him any chance to leave,’ argued Tallis. ‘How can he move when you’ve got him trapped here? If you all disappear, I’m sure that he’ll take the opportunity to be on his way.’ When they hesitated, his voice became peremptory. ‘Go home,’ he ordered. ‘I’m a detective superintendent in the Metropolitan Police. I’ll deal with this situation.’

Deprived of the pleasure of baiting the man, some complained and others rid themselves of a few expletives but they all drifted away under Tallis’s stern gaze. With a dark scowl, the angry butcher withdrew into his shop and slammed the door behind him. Tallis was at last able to take a proper look at the person who had been at the
centre of the rumpus. Tall, skinny and dishevelled, he was of indeterminate age. The lank hair that hung down from under his battered hat merged with his ragged beard. His clothing was tattered, his boots falling apart. What had enraged the crowd was his sinister appearance. One eye was closed shut and there was a livid scar down his cheek. Cowering behind him was a small, bedraggled dog with its tongue hanging out. The animal had been frightened by the crowd but the man had shown no fear, taking their invective on the chin as if used to such contempt.

‘What’s your name?’ asked Tallis.

‘Joel Anstey, sir.’

‘I fancy that you’ve been in the army.’

‘Yes, sir,’ said Anstey, saluting. ‘I was proud to serve Queen and Country.’

‘I feel the same.’ He stepped forward to examine the man’s face. ‘Where did you get those injuries?’

‘It was in the Crimea. A few weeks after we arrived there, I had my cheek sliced open by a Russian sabre. A year later, I lost my eye. But I don’t regret my days in the army, sir,’ he went on. ‘I spent the happiest years of my life in uniform.’ He gave a dry laugh. ‘Would it surprise you to know that I was considered handsome at one time? What woman would look twice at me now?’

‘And
did
you sleep in the butcher’s yard?’

‘No, sir – I merely climbed in there to see if he’d thrown out any old bones.’ He indicated the dog. ‘Sam is hungry.’

‘You look as if you both are.’

‘When the butcher found us, he threw a bucket of water over Sam.’

‘Well, you were trespassing.’

‘We did no harm, sir.’

Tallis sized him up. The man was articulate and respectful. There was no trace of self-pity. Evidently, he cared more for the dog than for his own welfare.

‘You sound as if you were born here in London,’ observed Tallis.

‘I was, sir – in the parish of St Martin-in-the Fields.’

‘There’s a workhouse just behind the National Gallery.’

‘I’m not so desperate as to go there,’ said Anstey with a flash of indignation. ‘Besides, they’d turn me away. I’m able-bodied and far too young. I’m still well short of forty.’

Tallis was taken aback because the man looked considerably older.

‘What was your trade, Anstey?’

‘Before I went in the army,’ replied the other, ‘I was a saddler but you need two good eyes to handle leather and, in any case, I’ve lost the trick of it. I’m not asking for money, sir,’ he insisted. ‘I just want work so that I can earn my keep and feed Sam properly. We need a helping hand, that’s all.’

Tallis was moved by his plea. Poverty and homelessness were ever-present in the nation’s capital. Untold thousands lived on the streets and scratched out a bare existence as best they could. Joel Anstey’s story was a familiar one but it somehow touched the superintendent at a deep level.

‘I’ll see what I can do,’ he said.

 

‘I’m surprised at the superintendent,’ said Madeleine. ‘I don’t wish to be unkind but he never struck me as a compassionate man.’

‘Tallis has the occasional impulse to help someone,’ said Colbeck with a smile, ‘and he’s a good Christian. Something about this person obviously spoke to him. When he asked me if we could find him a few days’ work, I said that we could.’

‘Why can’t this man tend the superintendent’s garden?’

‘He doesn’t have one, Madeleine. He lives alone in a set of rooms. And as you know, Victor’s little house has no garden at all. That’s why Tallis turned to me.’ He put affectionate hands on her shoulders. ‘I didn’t think that you’d mind.’

‘I don’t, Robert,’ she said, ‘but I suspect that Draycott will.’

Colbeck groaned. ‘Ah, I was forgetting him.’

‘He likes to rule the roost in the garden.’

‘I’ll warn Anstey not to tread on his toes.’

‘Draycott can be very touchy.’

‘We’re not having him throwing his weight around, Madeleine. When all’s said and done, we pay Draycott’s wages. If we choose to let someone else work in the garden,’ said Colbeck, reasonably, ‘then nobody is in a position to stop us.’

‘I still foresee trouble.’

‘Keep the two of them apart – that’s the secret.’

 

When Anstey reported for work on the following day, he snatched off his hat and stood in front of Madeleine with his head bowed. Forewarned about his rather menacing appearance, she pretended not to notice his face and took him around to the garden with his dog. Long and fairly narrow, it featured a series of small, rectangular lawns edged with flower beds.

‘My husband likes a formal garden,’ she explained.

‘I can see that, Mrs Colbeck. It’s well looked after.’

‘The gardener pops in two or three times a week. His name is Draycott. There’s no telling if he’ll turn up today. What I’d suggest you do is to weed the patch at the far end. It’s hidden behind the trellis and is badly overgrown.’

‘What about a rake and such like?’

‘I’ll unlock the shed for you,’ she said, holding up the key. ‘Then I’ll see if I can’t find a bone for the dog as well as a bowl of water.’

‘His name is Sam,’ said Anstey, ‘and he’s as thankful as I am.’

‘That’s good to hear.’

‘I’m not afraid of hard work, Mrs Colbeck. I’ll soon prove that.’

Madeleine warmed to him. Though his facial injuries were unsightly, his voice and manner suggested a decent, honest man who’d fallen on hard times. Like Tallis, she was ready to offer a helping hand.

‘It’s never happened before,’ he said.

‘What hasn’t?’

‘Having a favour done by the police. Between you and me, I usually steer clear of them. Police don’t like the look of me. They’re always moving me on.’

Madeleine unlocked the shed and showed him the range of garden implements inside. After selecting a hoe and a rake, he walked to the end of the garden with the dog trotting after him. Coat off and sleeves rolled up, Anstey was soon at work. It was time for Madeleine to go up to her studio and she was soon absorbed in putting the finishing
touches to her latest painting. With a brush in her hand, she lost all track of time and her concentration was only broken when she heard the sound of a raised voice in the garden. Rushing to the window, she looked down to see Nathaniel Draycott, brandishing a sickle and berating his new assistant. Madeleine rushed off to separate them before the argument got out of hand.

 

Robert Colbeck spent the morning in court, giving evidence against a man he’d caught stealing a substantial amount of money from the railway company employing him. When he got back to Scotland Yard, he went straight to the superintendent to give his report. Embezzlement had been going on for almost a year and had only been halted by Colbeck’s intervention. Tallis was pleased to hear that a guilty verdict was almost guaranteed and that the man in question would face a long prison sentence.

‘Did you enjoy your time in court?’ he asked.

‘I always do, sir. I loved working as a barrister until I reached a point where I decided it was more important to catch criminals than simply prosecute them. I’d never trade my life at Scotland Yard for a return to the bar.’

‘I’m relieved to hear it, Colbeck.’

‘Will that be all, sir? The sergeant and I have suspects to interview.’

‘Then off you go,’ said Tallis, waving a hand. ‘No, wait,’ he added. ‘I meant to thank you for taking Anstey on.’

‘It’s only for a few days,’ Colbeck pointed out.

‘It makes no difference. It’s paid employment and it will boost his spirits. Do you know what his last job was?’

‘No, Superintendent, I don’t.’

‘He was earning nine pence a day breaking up stones with a sledgehammer. Anstey had to work alongside convicts. It was demeaning. That’s why he left.’

‘I hope that he won’t find gardening beneath him.’

‘He’ll be very appreciative of the kindness you and Mrs Colbeck have shown him. He won’t have to rub shoulders with desperate criminals and he’ll be able to work in pleasant surroundings. After sleeping rough and being hustled from pillar to post, Anstey will find your house a haven of peace.’

 

Madeleine had difficulty calming down the two men. Anstey was plainly upset at being called an interloper while Draycott was throbbing with fury at the thought that he’d be supplanted. He was also livid that Sam had relieved himself in one of the flower beds. Madeleine explained that Anstey was there to do the kind of menial jobs that would actually help the gardener but Draycott was in no mood for appeasement. He was a short, squat man in his late fifties with a wrinkled face and an expression of permanent disapproval. Because he was so dependable, Colbeck and his wife tolerated his many idiosyncrasies and learnt not to interfere. As long as he was in charge, Draycott lapsed into a kind of contented cantankerousness. There was no whiff of contentment now.

‘If I
must
put up with this …’ he said, pointedly.

Madeleine was firm. ‘You must, Mr Draycott.’

‘Then I insist on telling him what to do.’

‘That seems fair enough to me. Don’t you think so, Mr Anstey?’

‘Yes, I do,’ said Anstey, guardedly.

‘You’re not to touch anything in the shed unless I say so,’ cautioned the gardener, ‘and that dog of yours is to be kept off the lawns and the flower beds.’

‘Yes, Mr Draycott.’

Anstey spoke through gritted teeth but he nodded politely when he was given a list of tasks. Since it was clear that the two men had hated each other on sight, Madeleine was having second thoughts about taking Anstey on but she did not wish to upset her husband or, indirectly, Edward Tallis. She stayed with them until a form of truce had been established. Draycott then announced that he had other gardens to visit and stalked off. Though Madeleine was glad to see him go, Anstey stared after him with muted hostility. During the fierce argument, his pride had been wounded. She sought to soothe his hurt feelings.

‘Don’t be put off by Draycott’s manner,’ she said, airily. ‘He’s always rather prickly, even with us at times. It’s just his way.’

‘I see, Mrs Colbeck.’

Anstey attempted a smile but there was no warmth in it. He was still simmering. In the irascible gardener, he’d clearly made an enemy.

 

For the rest of the day, Madeleine heard no more from him. Whenever she glanced through the window, she saw him working away at the various chores he’d been given by Draycott. She sent out refreshments on a tray and didn’t forget the promise of a bone and some water for Sam. Colbeck had suggested that he was paid at the
end of each day so that he had money in his pocket. Madeleine could see the pleasure Anstey felt as the coins were pressed into his hand. He and the dog went off happily.

When he got back that evening, Colbeck asked his wife what had happened. On hearing about the clash between Anstey and Draycott, he was disturbed.

‘It’s just as well that you were here to hold them apart,’ he said worriedly. ‘I know that Draycott has given us good service but I’m not having him threatening anyone with a sickle. When I next see him, I’ll have a word with him.’

‘I fancy that he won’t be around for a while, Robert. He loathed Anstey and may well wait until he’s gone.’

‘The superintendent is bound to ask after Anstey. What will I tell him?’

‘Say that he’s been an asset to us. He worked really hard.’

‘What about his brush with Draycott?’ asked Colbeck.

‘Oh, I shouldn’t mention that to him. It’s all in the past now. We won’t get any more unpleasantness like that.’

 

Joel Anstey arrived early the following morning so Colbeck had the opportunity of making his own estimation of the man. Though he wore the same clothes, Anstey had paid to have his hair cut and beard trimmed. He’d also bought a pair of second-hand boots. He removed his hat when he met Colbeck and thanked him time and again for taking him on. He promised that the dog would keep well away from the lawns and the flower beds. For his part, Colbeck was impressed by the man’s manner and by his willingness to work at a tedious job. Unlike many who lived on the streets,
Anstey could read, write and had served an apprenticeship in a reputable trade. Army life had equipped him with other skills.

BOOK: Inspector Colbeck's Casebook
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