The Silver Locomotive Mystery (15 page)

‘I do and I do not,’ said Buckmaster, uneasily. ‘There
is
someone who could step into Kate’s shoes but she’s young and untried. What if she lets us down? How can I scale the heights if I am held back by a Lady Macbeth who is floundering in the part?’

‘Would the understudy happen to be Miss Tremaine?’

Buckmaster blinked. ‘How did you know that?’

‘I had the good fortune to meet the young lady when she gave me a playbill in the street,’ said Colbeck, smiling at the memory. ‘I was taken with her patent dedication. To lose Miss Linnane in this manner is very troubling but your predicament may not be as serious as you fear. I have a feeling that Miss Tremaine will rise to the occasion.’

Laura Tremaine was torn between delight and quiet terror. The message had simply told her to come at once to the actor-manager’s hotel for a rehearsal of her role as an understudy. The thought that she might actually play Lady Macbeth opposite Nigel Buckmaster gave her a dizzying thrill. It was beyond anything she had ever dreamt about, expecting
to occupy lesser parts for many years before even being considered for a leading role. Yet it now seemed possible. There had been no explanation as to why Kate Linnane was unable to repeat her triumph that evening but Laura knew that she would never yield up a part lightly, especially to someone she openly despised. She tried to put the other actress from her mind. Kate’s loss was Laura’s gain. She needed to seize the unexpected chance of greatness.

With opportunity, however, came fear and uncertainty. Was she ready? Did she have enough talent to be an adequate substitute for such an experienced actress? Would she let everyone down? Could she remember the lines and repeat the correct moves? She had watched Kate Linnane play the part often enough but that was not the same as taking it on herself. Would Laura Tremaine – whatever her fantasies about theatrical glory– be able to hold her own against a titan of the stage like Nigel Buckmaster? The challenge was both exhilarating and daunting. She would not simply be fulfilling her ambition of taking a leading role, she would be doing so as one of the most famous wives in world drama. In the course of that evening, pretty, young, shapely, well-spoken, respectable Laura Tremaine had to undergo a veritable transformation. Shedding the sweetness of Lady Macduff, she had to turn herself into a murderous fiend.

As she sat patiently in the hotel foyer, she felt the sheer weight of expectation. The whole company would depend on her. Her friends would will her to succeed while her enemies – and she had one or two in the company – would pray for her to fail. Every move she made and every gesture she gave would be subjected to intense scrutiny. And what
would happen when Kate Linnane came back to reclaim her rightful role? However well she had played it, Laura would get neither thanks nor praise. Once the imperious leading lady had returned, her understudy would have to slink back into obscurity. It was a thought that made Laura resolve to make the most of her opportunity. She would play Lady Macbeth as if the part had been expressly written for her.

Nigel Buckmaster strode into the hotel and she jumped to her feet obediently. He did not even look at her as he went past.

‘Come to my room,’ he said. ‘We have much work to do.’

Laura followed him up the stairs as if floating on air.

Jeremiah Stockdale did not have a large force at his disposal but he managed to deploy over a dozen men in the search for the missing actress. They questioned anybody who lived or worked in the vicinity of the hotel. It was when one of the constables went to the railway station that firm evidence was at last obtained. Stockdale passed on the information to Colbeck at the police station.

‘They caught a train to London.’

‘Are you sure about that?’ said Colbeck.

‘The stationmaster remembered them clearly – a startling young woman and a man in a cloak who had her by the arm. They got into a first class carriage.’

‘That sounds like Miss Linnane.’

‘One of the porters saw them as well. He thought they were a husband and wife who’d just had a quarrel because the woman was very tense and the man brusque.’

‘I’m still surprised that she made no resistance, Superintendent. Miss Linnane is very self-possessed. I can’t imagine her letting anyone make her do something against her will.’

‘Maybe the porter was right,’ suggested Stockdale. ‘The man could have been a jealous husband who suddenly leapt out of her past. Or it might have been someone who was blackmailing her. He didn’t need to have a weapon because he was holding some guilty secret over her. That’s why she went with him. Forget what Mr Buckmaster told us,’ he said, airily. ‘In my experience, an actress is a lady with a very colourful history.’

‘It’s not a profession renowned for its saints.’

Stockdale chuckled. ‘Sinners are far more interesting.’

‘What steps have you taken?’

‘I sent two of my men after them on the next train. They can make enquiries at Paddington. It’s the second time Idris Roberts has been there this week.’

‘Of course,’ said Colbeck. ‘He was the constable who took Effie Kellow back to London. Was the body delivered to Mr Voke?’

‘Yes, Inspector – Idris saw to that. After they’d talked about funeral arrangements, he escorted Miss Kellow to her brother’s lodgings and made sure that she got the books she was after.’

‘What then?’

‘He gave her money for a cab to Mayfair and caught the train back to Cardiff. He was sad to leave her. She was so downcast.’

‘The only thing that will lift her spirits is if we catch those
responsible for her brother’s murder. With luck and with the active cooperation of Mrs Tomkins,’ added Colbeck, hopefully, ‘I expect to do that this very evening.’

Winifred Tomkins did not even tell her husband that there had been a change of plan. The letter she had found outside her house had given her fresh instructions and she was determined to obey them. Her husband would only have tried to stop her or insisted that she showed the latest missive to Inspector Colbeck. She refused to do that. She had an inner conviction that the only way to get her hands on the silver coffee pot was to pay the excessive amount of money demanded. Her father had bequeathed her over eighty thousand pounds. It seemed appropriate that some of that inheritance should be spent on an item that would keep his memory fresh in her mind.

Clifford Tomkins was surprised when she ordered the carriage that afternoon. He followed her out of the house.

‘Where are you going, Winifred?’

‘I thought I’d call on Carys Evans,’ she said.

‘Is she expecting you?’

‘I promised to take tea with her one day this week.’

‘Would you like me to come with you?’

‘Don’t be silly, Clifford. You’d only be in the way.’

‘We haven’t really spoken since you came back from the bank,’ he said, worriedly. ‘What did the manager say?’

She shot him a withering look. ‘You’ll have to ask him.’

‘I hope you said nothing to my detriment. I’m held in high regard at the bank.’ She climbed into the carriage and
closed the door after her. ‘Do you still mean to go through with the exchange this evening?’

‘I’ll see you later, Clifford.’

‘When shall I expect you back?’

Ignoring his question, she gave the coachman a signal and they pulled away. Once clear of the house, she felt strangely elated. There was an element of danger but it was offset by a sense of adventure. Everything she had done in her adult life had been guided by her relationship with her husband. For once she was doing something entirely of her own volition, something that he would have strongly opposed. It was a small victory and the coffee pot would forever be an emblem of that victory. She was content.

They went for a mile before they reached the designated spot, a stand of trees on the road to Fairwater. Winifred ordered the coachman to stop and the carriage rolled to a halt. Though she could see nobody, she was certain that she was being watched. She suddenly began to tremble with fear, realising how vulnerable she was. The coachman was with her but he was a slight man and unarmed. He would be no match for a desperate criminal ready to commit murder.

‘Mrs Tomkins?’ called a man’s voice.

‘Yes, yes,’ she answered aloud. ‘It’s me.’

‘Please get out of the carriage.’ She did as she was told. ‘Do you have the money with you?’

‘I do – every penny of it.’

A young man stepped out from behind a tree, his face largely obscured by the brim of his hat. Winifred gasped when she saw that he was holding a pistol in his hand.

‘Let me have the money,’ he said.

‘I want to see my coffee pot first,’ she insisted, amazed that she had the courage to say the words. ‘I’m ready to pay for it.’

‘Then here it is.’

He reached behind the tree and pulled out a large leather bag. Opening it up, he tilted it towards her so that she could see the silver locomotive nestling inside. It glinted in the late afternoon sunshine. Winifred was overwhelmed with joy.

‘Here, here,’ she said, holding out the money. ‘Count it if you must but please let me have my coffee pot.’

‘All in good time, Mrs Tomkins,’ he said, closing the bag. ‘I’ll want rather more than the money from you.’ He turned the pistol on the coachman and barked a command. ‘Get down before I shoot you!’

The coachman jumped down instantly to the ground. The man used the weapon to motion them off behind the trees then he ordered Winifred to give him the money. When she did so, her hands were shaking so much that she dropped some of the banknotes. She scrambled to pick them up. Without bothering to count them, he thrust the money into his pocket then told her and the driver to turn their backs. The next thing they heard was the departing carriage.

‘We’ll have to walk back,’ protested the coachman.

‘No matter,’ she said, hurrying over to the leather bag. ‘We have what we came for – I’d have walked a hundred miles to get this.’

Opening the bag, she took out the silver locomotive to gloat over it but the moment she felt the object, she knew
that it could not be silver. It was far too light. Now that she could see it properly, she observed that the workmanship was poor and the detail wanting.

‘We’ve been tricked!’ she bellowed. ‘This is made of
tin!
’

Nigel Buckmaster was impaled on the horns of a dilemma. He had always planned to entice Laura Tremaine into bed at some time in the future yet, now that they were alone in a hotel room, he held back from taking advantage of her. Recognising her obvious talent, he felt that he could develop her potential to the point where she was capable of taking on major roles. Eventually, he had hoped, she would replace Kate Linnane as his leading lady and as his mistress. Laura had the same freshness, the same burning ambition and the same eagerness to work hard at her craft that Kate had once possessed. She also had two things that the older woman now lacked – a readiness to obey his every wish and the incomparable beauty of youth.

As he looked at her now, beaming up at him with undisguised infatuation, he had a fierce urge to take her. What held him back was the thought that a large audience would be gathering that evening to watch him repeat his magical performance as Macbeth. An hour’s pleasure with
Laura Tremaine was an hour’s less rehearsal time. It might also stir up her emotions in a way that would adversely affect her performance onstage. Buckmaster was in a quandary. Should he surrender to lust or put the needs of the company first? Should he drown his anxieties in sensual abandon or prepare a young actress for the biggest test of her career?

While not understanding its implications, Laura could see the indecision dancing in his eyes. She was troubled.

‘Is something wrong, Mr Buckmaster?’ she asked.

‘Yes,’ he replied with a deep sigh. ‘I’m afraid that there is, alas.’ He lowered his voice. ‘I must tell you this in the strictest confidence. I know that I can rely on your discretion.’

‘I won’t breathe a word, sir.’

‘I will give out that Miss Linnane is indisposed but the truth of the matter is that she has been abducted.’

‘Abducted!’ she echoed in alarm.

‘Have no fear,’ he said, allowing himself to take her reassuringly by the shoulders. ‘You are not in any danger. I’ll see to that. A search is being conducted for Miss Linnane and I have every confidence that she will return to us. Until then,’ he said, letting his hands slide gently down her arms, ‘you must step into the breach. We owe it to our audience to carry on and we owe it to ourselves to rise above this temporary setback.’

Laura was resolute. ‘I am ready, Mr Buckmaster,’ she said. ‘I’ll do anything you ask of me.’

Desire coursed through him again and he had to fight an impulse to enfold her in his arms and enjoy that first, long, tender, exploratory kiss. She was ready to play Lady Macbeth but was she ready to be his? Buckmaster
controlled himself. The time to make that decision was after that evening’s performance and not before. If they could wrest success out of misfortune, they could celebrate together. He became businesslike, moving the furniture to the margins of the room to create a space.

‘Are you nervous?’ he asked.

‘A little,’ she confessed.

‘There’s no need to be. If we can harness your talent properly, you will play the part to perfection. I have no qualms.’

‘Thank you, Mr Buckmaster.’

‘You know the lines – I’ve been through them with you often enough – but what we do need to address are the deeper aspects of the character. Lady Macbeth is no mere monster. She’s a complex woman whose emotions need to be understood and communicated to the audience.’

‘Miss Linnane does that superbly.’

‘I mean this as no disrespect to a fine actress,’ he said, ‘but we must dismiss Kate Linnane from our minds. It is Laura Tremaine who will play Lady Macbeth now. That and that alone is all that concerns us. This afternoon, we’ll rehearse at the theatre with the rest of the company. What I wish to do now in the privacy of this room is to go through your scenes line by line. Think of me as Macbeth, your loving husband. I want you to grow towards me in every way.’

‘Yes, Mr Buckmaster.’

‘You must convince
everyone
that you are truly my wife.’

Laura quivered with pleasure. Under his direction, she was ready to throw herself body and soul into a role she had always coveted. Aspiration momentarily got the better of her.
She was glad that Kate Linnane had been abducted and had no sympathy for her. If anything, she felt a suppressed glee. Laura believed that it was her destiny to replace the other actress and she intended to do it on a permanent basis.

‘Here I am, sir,’ she said, spreading her arms in a gesture of submission. ‘Instruct me.’

Winifred Tomkins was inconsolable. The humiliation of having paid out a substantial amount of money for a worthless object was like a stake through the heart. After trudging all the way back home, she took to her bed. Her husband was infuriated by what he heard. He sent immediate word to the police station. Colbeck and Stockdale arrived to find him still aflame with righteous indignation.

‘It’s not my fault!’ he asserted, arms flailing. ‘I take no blame at all for this, gentlemen. I did warn my wife. I did caution her against rash behaviour.’

‘Then why didn’t you stop Mrs Tomkins going?’ asked Colbeck.

‘I was deceived, Inspector. I was never shown that second letter. How was I to know that the instructions had been changed?’

‘You would surely have been told of the new arrangements had you provided the money required, sir. That seems to be the crux of the matter here. Mrs Tomkins only acted on her own because you refused to supply the sum demanded.’

Tomkins reddened. ‘I won’t be criticised in my own house!’

‘Inspector Colbeck is only pointing out the true facts of the situation, sir,’ said Stockdale. ‘There was a loss of
trust between you and Mrs Tomkins. She was driven to act unilaterally and has paid the penalty. The financial loss incurred is hers.’

‘And mine,’ insisted Tomkins. ‘Who do you think paid for the carriage and horses? I’m the victim of a robbery as well.’

‘But you did not have to face a loaded pistol.’

‘That’s beside the point, man.’

‘I don’t agree, sir,’ said Colbeck. ‘Mrs Tomkins has lost more than her money. She underwent a frightening ordeal. That was why it was imperative for trained police officers to be with her at the time of the exchange. Had I been hidden in the carriage, I could have waited for the moment to catch the man off guard and overpower him. Nothing would have been stolen then and Mrs Tomkins would not have been tricked by this.’

He indicated the coffee pot locomotive that stood on the table. It had a clear resemblance to the item commissioned but could never withstand close inspection. Made of tin, it looked cheap and hastily finished. There were sharp edges on it everywhere.

‘Look at it,’ said Tomkins, trying to grab the locomotive and pricking his finger in the process. ‘It’s utterly useless.’

‘Not to me,’ said Colbeck. ‘It’s further proof that the man we’re looking for is a silversmith. This was deliberately fashioned so that it could be used as a decoy. Mrs Tomkins, I daresay, was only given a glimpse of it from a distance.’

‘The villains have made quite a haul,’ noted Stockdale. ‘They not only pocketed three times the value of the coffee pot, they still have the object themselves.’

‘Don’t forget the contents of Mr Voke’s safe in London,’ Colbeck reminded him. ‘The thief now has enough stock and capital to set himself up in business as a silversmith. That makes me even more convinced of his identity.’

‘Who is he, Inspector?’ demanded Tomkins.

‘We believe that he may be Mr Voke’s son and that he has a female accomplice with some knowledge of the town. He’s a clever man, Mr Tomkins. He exploited your wife’s determination to have that coffee pot at all costs and it may even be that she was not the only victim of a decoy. The superintendent and I discussed this on the way here,’ said Colbeck. ‘At the time when Mrs Tomkins was handing over that money, the police force was distracted.’

‘Yes,’ explained Stockdale. ‘The leading lady from the theatre company has been kidnapped. It’s a possibility that the crime was committed in order to divert our attention away from events here. Only time will tell.’

‘My feeling is that the two things are unrelated,’ said Colbeck, ‘but the coincidence is strange. The abduction needed immediate attention from the superintendent and his men.’

‘Why
me
?’ cried Tomkins. ‘What have I done to deserve it? Why has all this disaster been visited upon me?’

‘I’d say that you’ve come off rather lightly, sir,’ remarked Stockdale. ‘It’s Mrs Tomkins who’s really suffered here.’

‘Then there’s Sergeant Leeming,’ added Colbeck, ‘who was assaulted in your place. As for Miss Linnane, victim of a kidnap, we can only guess at the horrors she has been put through. Compared to others, sir, your problems have been relatively small.’

‘That’s all
you
know!’ said Tomkins under his breath.

He was thinking of the difficulties that lay ahead, of the reproaches that were to come when his wife recovered and of the permanent damage done to their marriage. Winifred thought his behaviour had been unforgivable and she was a woman who harboured grudges forever. In failing to support her at a time of need, he had guaranteed himself years of bitter recrimination. Only the restitution of his wife’s money and of the silver coffee pot could save him from sustained misery.

‘We must catch these devils!’ he shouted.

‘We’ll endeavour to do so, sir,’ said Colbeck, ‘but, in losing your wife’s confidence, you made our task much more difficult. Had I been present at the exchange, there was a good chance of catching the man we’re after.’

‘You can’t be certain of that outcome.’

‘I accept that, Mr Tomkins. That’s why I had another line of defence. If the killer had escaped from me, he and his accomplice might well have tried to leave the town by train with their booty.’

‘I’d have been waiting for them at the railway station,’ said Stockdale, ‘and I was expecting to do just that this evening. I was unaware that the exchange would take place so soon.’

‘It all comes back to your failure to stand by your wife, sir. You forced her to take independent action and two dangerous criminals have slipped through our fingers as a result.’

‘I refuse to acknowledge any responsibility,’ insisted Tomkins.

‘I can only tell you how we view it,’ said Colbeck, looking
him in the eye, ‘and I venture to suggest that your wife will see it in exactly the same way.’ Tomkins swallowed hard. ‘Now could I please trouble you to give me the second letter that arrived here today? It might just confirm a worrying little thought I have at the back of my mind.’

It was much more testing than Laura Tremaine had thought. When she had rehearsed the role of Lady Macbeth before, she had simply copied the way that Kate Linnane had played the part. Now that it was hers, Nigel Buckmaster insisted that she put her individual stamp on it and he worked hard to bring that about. She did the letter-reading scene over twenty times before he was satisfied with the interpretation and he went over every syllable of her famous speeches to tease out their meaning and emotional impact. Laura was humbled and exhausted by the exercise but she was also uplifted. Somewhere inside her was the performance of her lifetime and Buckmaster was slowly bringing it out of her. Hours glided by as they exchanged iambic pentameters.

‘That’s enough!’ he decreed at last. ‘I think we have earned some refreshment. It is time for the royal couple to feast.’

‘Thank you!’ she said, overjoyed at his approval.

‘We have made great strides and we’ll make even more when we rehearse with the full company. I am beginning to have a real sense of you as my wife, my lady, my lover.’

‘My performance owes everything to you.’

‘We must complement each other in every possible way.’

‘Yes, Mr Buckmaster.’

‘Oh, I think we can dispense with formalities in private,’
he said, slipping an arm around her shoulders. ‘Feel free to use my Christian name, Laura.’

‘I will, sir – I mean…Nigel.’

After a late luncheon, they adjourned to the theatre to meet the rest of the company. Actors thrived on rumour and superstition and the place was buzzing. Opinions varied as to whether Kate Linnane had been killed, wounded, dismissed, abducted or struck down by a crippling disease. What everyone knew for certain was that she would not be taking part in the play that evening. Conducting Laura to the stage, Buckmaster clapped his hands to silence the hubbub.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he said, scanning the faces below him, ‘I want no more idle speculation about Miss Linnane. All that you need to know is that she is unable to be here this evening. In her place,’ he went on, ‘I am delighted to tell you that we will have Miss Tremaine.’

There was a burst of spontaneous applause from most of the actors though one or two were less enthusiastic. Laura did not mind. Later that evening, she would be enjoying an ovation from a full audience, signalling the arrival of a new star in the firmament of British theatre. The moment for which she had secretly yearned had finally come. She would shine in one of the greatest tragic roles ever devised for an actress and she would do so in the company of the legendary Nigel Buckmaster. It was true bliss.

The euphoria lasted until she reached her dressing room. Cold reality then set in. As she looked at her costume, she knew that she could never hope to fill it with the same distinction as Kitty Linnane, especially at such short notice. Many of the things that Buckmaster taught her in his
hotel room had already vanished from her brain. There was simply too much to learn. Declaiming lines in private had been thrilling. Adapting her performance to those of the other characters in the play would be far more difficult. She suddenly felt her immaturity. Buoyed up by ambition, she had thought herself ready for anything. Now that she was there, now that she was in a dressing room that had so many vestiges of Kate Linnane, now that she took full measure of the challenge she faced, Laura was forced to admit that she was too young, inexperienced and ill-equipped for the role. Her mouth went dry, her stomach heaved and her heart was like a galloping horse. She was in the iron grip of stage fright.