Peril on the Royal Train (20 page)

‘I saw a light under the door,’ he said. ‘Am I disturbing you?’

‘No, no, come on in, Inspector.’

‘The trail has gone cold.’

‘I fear that it has,’ admitted Colbeck.

‘You should go home.’

‘I’m not ready for the comforts of The Angel Hotel just yet.’

‘I wasn’t referring to the hotel,’ said Rae, smiling. ‘I meant that you should go home to London. Your work is done here. For once, you failed.’

‘I disagree. I’ll only acknowledge failure when someone else succeeds and I don’t see any visible progress in your inquiry. Superintendent McTurk sought to steal a march on both of us but only managed to get himself dismissed. Like you, he believed that the NBR was behind the crash but neither of you has made a convincing case for that supposition. The meeting with Mr Weir yielded nothing.’

‘That’s not true, Inspector. It yielded a great deal of huffing and puffing.’

Colbeck grinned. ‘Yes, the gentleman was something of an expert at that.’

‘I didn’t simply challenge the fellow,’ said Rae, ‘I recruited him. In enraging him, I turned him into a detective. He might have denied that the NBR was in any way implicated but the notion would have pecked away at him. When his fury abated, the first thing he’d have done is to initiate an inquiry of his own, searching through the employees of the NBR to see if any of them – from whatever motive – was in some way linked to the crash. He doesn’t want evil men in his employ. In other words, Alastair Weir will have done what neither you nor I could have contrived. In the course of his hunt, he’ll turn the NBR upside down.’

Colbeck was impressed. ‘That was very clever of you, Inspector.’

‘My opinion is unchanged. This was the work of a commercial rival.’

‘Why limit your interest to the NBR?’

‘I haven’t done so. Other companies are also under suspicion.’

‘What about Lackey Paterson?’

‘I’m inclined to discount him. He’s the man on whom
you
pin your hopes.’

‘I wouldn’t go so far as to say that,’ returned Colbeck, ‘but he remains a figure of interest. We can place him near the site of the crash and the fact that he worked at the quarry means that he’d have access to gunpowder.’

‘On that score, I must correct you. I’m sorry to muddy the waters of your theory but you’ll have to abandon it. Paterson did not steal gunpowder from the quarry – in fact, he didn’t steal it from anywhere.’

‘How do you know that?’

‘A report came in from Perth,’ said Rae, relishing the chance to unsettle Colbeck. ‘The gunpowder was taken from an army barracks.’

They talked under a lamp post less than fifty yards from Telfer’s. There was no danger of another escape attempt from Paterson. He was too drunk and too exhausted. Paterson was in a deplorable state, filthy, wild-eyed and unshaven. Leeming found it hard to believe that the man had once been entrusted with the difficult job of driving a train. Since his days with the Caledonian, Paterson had clearly gone into decline. After introducing himself, Leeming got him to confirm his name.

‘Why did you run away?’ he asked.

‘I thought ye were one of ’em.’

‘Who are you talking about?’

‘They’re after me for money,’ confessed Paterson. ‘I ran up some debts. It was no’ ma fault. It just happened tha’ way. It was the reason I left Glasgow.’

‘We know that you went to work at a quarry.’

‘Aye, I did. I liked it there.’

‘So why did you leave?’

‘I had some rotten debt collector on my tail,’ said Paterson. ‘He followed me a’ the way there. Since I was earning a wage again, he wanted money for one of my bleedin’ creditors. He demanded a lot more than I owed.’

‘There was a train crash not far from the quarry.’

‘Aye, I read aboot tha’. It was terrible. They’ve a newspaper at Telfer’s if ye’re lucky enough to get hold of it. Before ye read it, ye’ve to make sure that nobody’s used it to wipe his arse.’

Leeming was taken aback. Paterson had not become evasive at the mention of the crash. His pity seemed genuine. Crumbs of bread were embedded in the bristles on his chin. He reeked of beer. His clothes were ragged. Leeming wondered what sort of twilight world the man inhabited.

‘I believe that you knew a man named Jock Laidlaw,’ he said.

Paterson sneered. ‘Aye, I ken the cocky devil.’

‘He was killed in the crash.’

‘It was the one guid thing to come out of it.’

‘Did you dislike the man that much?’

‘No, Sergeant, I
hated
the swine. I’m glad he was killed. I hope Jock Laidlaw died in agony. I’m just sorry I wasnae there t’enjoy it.’

‘You had a fight with him once, I gather.’

‘I tried to,’ said Paterson, ruefully, ‘but that big bugger, McTurk, dragged me off him and reported me. It was unfair – Laidlaw kept his job and I was kicked out.’

‘Did that make you angry with the Caledonian Railway?’

‘No, it made me even angrier with Laidlaw. I wanted to tear out his black heart and stuff it down his throat.’

‘Yet you used to work together at one time. Why did you fall out?’

Paterson lowered his head. ‘That’s ma business.’

‘You wanted revenge against him for some reason, didn’t you?’

‘Aye, I did.’

‘And since you’d been a driver as well, you knew his shift patterns.’

‘Ye’re talkin’ nonsense, man.’

‘You knew he’d be on that particular train at that particular time. That’s why you developed a scheme to block the line and cause that crash. You admitted it a moment ago,’ reminded Leeming. ‘You said you were
glad
he was killed. Because that was the whole point of the crash, wasn’t it? You could get your own back.’

It slowly dawned on Paterson that he was being accused of murdering the man he detested. He shuttled between anger and fear, furious that he was considered a suspect and afraid that the police would concoct false evidence against him. Having no means to defend himself, he fell back on honesty.

‘I’ll tell ye what happened,’ he said, visibly simmering. ‘I’d a lovely wife.’

‘I’ve met the lady,’ Leeming told him.

Paterson was maudlin. ‘Maggie meant everything in the world to me.’

‘That’s not the story I heard. According to Mrs Paterson, you gambled away most of your wages and got turned out of your house. You ended up in the Gorbals then walked out on her – but not before you used your fists on her.’

‘Ye don’t understand what she did to me.’

‘She didn’t offer you violence, I know that much. How could she?’

‘Ye met her, ye say?’

‘I went there twice. She had the baby in her arms. You should be
proud
of your child, Mr Paterson.
I
would be, in your shoes.’

Paterson lurched forward. Summoning up all his energy, he swung a fist at Leeming but the latter ducked beneath the blow with ease. He moved quickly to turn Paterson round, slam him against the wall and put handcuffs on him. His captive was contrite. When he faced Leeming again, his eyes were full of tears.

‘Ye shouldn’t have said it, Sergeant.’

‘Said what?’

‘It was cruel of ye, mahn.’

‘What did I say to upset you?’

‘Can ye no’ guess?’

‘I showed sympathy for your wife’s plight, that’s all.’

‘Maggie brought it on hersel’, I tell ye.’

‘No wife deserves that kind of brutal treatment.’

‘Are ye married, then?’

‘I’m very happily married.’

‘And do ye have bairns?’

‘Yes,’ said Leeming, ‘we have two children.’

Paterson suddenly thrust his face inches away from Leeming’s nose.

‘How do ye ken they’re
yours
?’ he asked with a wicked grin. ‘How can ye prove that ye’re their father?’

Insulted by the question, Leeming was about to punch him. What stopped him was the realisation of what Paterson was trying to tell him. The man was not party to the train crash at all. Contriving such a thing was beyond him. But he did have reason to rejoice over the death of one of the victims.

‘Aye,’ confirmed Paterson. ‘When ma back was turned, Jock Laidlaw came callin’ at my hoose. Now d’you see why I wanted him dead? The bairn you saw Maggie holding was no’ mine. It was Laidlaw’s bastard.’

When the cab dropped him off at his house, Andrews was still in a state of high excitement. It had been a wonderful evening and he’d been feted. After he’d kissed his daughter goodnight, he waved off the cab and let himself into the house. The wine had flowed freely and he’d had more than his fair share of it. Andrews felt that he’d earned every last sip. He’d dedicated his working life to the LNWR and it was fitting that the general manager should pay tribute to that. Other drivers were there but he felt that he held the whip hand over them. Not only did he have a daughter who’d become an artist of note, he was the father-in-law of a well-known detective. As he collapsed into his favourite chair, he realised how lucky he’d been.

Piece by piece, he began to reconstruct the evening, starting with his arrival at the restaurant and his deferential treatment by the staff. It had been good to meet his fellow drivers, men who understood the hardship and the risks of working on the footplate in all weathers. Then there was the meal to savour once more. He’d not eaten so much good food since his daughter’s wedding. Though he hadn’t been seated near Renwick, he had been able to give the general manager some advice at the end of the evening even though it seemed to go largely unheard. All in all, it had been an occasion to look back on with utmost satisfaction and Andrews knew that it would vibrate in his memory for a long time.

The evening had concluded with a ride home in a cab during which he’d boasted about the way he’d been tacitly acknowledged as the finest engine driver in the room. Madeleine had told him something about Isobel Renwick but he’d only half-listened. He tried to cudgel his brain to remind him what she’d said but only a few words emerged. They were enough to make him sit bolt upright. There’d been a burglary. Something was left in a safe. Andrews got to his feet and stumbled to the kitchen. Running the tap, he sprinkled cold water on his face. It brought him to his senses. After drying his face, he headed quickly for the front door.

Madeleine had also been reflecting on the evening and deciding that it had not really fulfilled its promise. Given what she’d been told by Isobel Renwick, it was not altogether surprising. It was up to the general manager and his wife to set the tone and they’d been lacklustre and preoccupied. Luckily, her father hadn’t noticed and had been able to luxuriate in the occasion. Madeleine was grateful for that. He had been an honoured guest and she’d never seen him happier. She suspected that he would be talking about the event for several years.

As it happened, he wanted to talk about it there and then. Before she could retire upstairs to bed, she heard someone ringing the doorbell persistently. A servant admitted Andrews and he bustled into the drawing room.

‘Thank God you’re still up, Maddy,’ he said.

‘What’s the trouble, Father?’

‘Tell me what you told me in that cab.’

‘I simply said that it was a very pleasant evening.’

‘No,’ he went on, ‘it wasn’t that. You talked about a burglary.’

‘Yes,’ she recalled. ‘I spoke to Mrs Renwick. She told me that someone broke into the house the night before and opened the safe.’

‘That was the bit I meant. Repeat it for me.’

‘I just have.’

‘There was something else,’ he insisted. ‘It was about what was
in
the safe.’

‘Oh, yes,’ said Madeleine. ‘They thought it rather odd that the thief only took the money. He left Mrs Renwick’s jewellery even though that was probably worth a great deal. Her husband was relieved that nothing else was taken. He had some important documents locked up in there. One of them was something to do with Her Majesty the Queen.’

He snapped his fingers. ‘I know what it must be, Maddy. The royal family go to Balmoral every spring. You must remember the time when your old father had the privilege of driving the royal train as far as Carlisle.’

‘Yes, I do. I was so proud of you.’

‘In the interests of safety,’ he said, breathlessly, ‘details of the date and time of departure are kept secret until the last moment. Because the train will be travelling on LNWR track for much of the journey, Mr Renwick is informed well in advance.’

‘Calm down, Father. There’s no need to get so agitated.’

‘But there is, Maddy. Can’t you hear what I’m telling you?’

‘Frankly,’ she admitted, ‘I can’t.’

‘What if the burglar came in search of that document from the palace?’

‘That’s impossible.’

‘Is it? Just think for a moment.’

‘The only thing taken was the money. All the documents were untouched.’

‘I wonder,’ he said, enlarging on his theory. ‘The burglar wanted to make it
look
like a robbery when it wasn’t. That’s why he stole the money. He didn’t need to take the document about the royal train because that would’ve given the game away.’

Madeleine was still mystified. ‘What game are you talking about, Father?’

‘The royal family could be in danger.’

‘You’re letting your imagination run away with you.’

‘Hear me out,’ he begged, taking her by the shoulders. ‘As the general manager, Mr Renwick would have details in that safe of when the royal train was due to leave. The burglar must have known that. He came in search of the information. And he didn’t need to steal the document,’ he pointed out. ‘If he had, then they’d change the date and time of the royal visit to Scotland as a precaution.’

‘My God!’ she exclaimed. ‘I begin to see what you mean.’

‘All that the burglar was after was a look at the details. Once he had those, he’d got what he came for. In other words, he knows exactly when the royal family will be heading for Balmoral.’ He beamed at her. ‘Wasn’t it clever of me to work that out, Maddy? It comes from having a son-in-law who’s a detective.’

‘Oh, I do hope you’re wrong, Father.’

‘I’m sure I’m right. I’ve driven the royal train, remember. I know the precautions they take. A pilot engine travels fifteen miles ahead to make sure that the line has been kept clear. That’s how careful they are.’