The Silver Locomotive Mystery (8 page)

‘Very well, Martha,’ he said, reluctantly shifting his gaze from Carys Evans with whom he had been exchanging a secret smile. ‘Although why you should be bothered with them, I really don’t know. They no longer exist as far as I’m concerned. If I bump into either of that dreadful pair, I shall cut them dead.’

‘Winifred hasn’t got the courage to appear in public.’

‘Forget the egregious woman.’

‘After what happened – how can I?’

‘She’s not here – be grateful for the fact.’

‘Oh, I’m more than grateful,’ said his wife as she took her seat beside him. ‘I’m delighted. The thief who stole that coffee pot of hers deserves congratulations. He’s wiped that haughty smile off her ugly face.’ She smiled triumphantly.
‘I feel wonderful. I don’t think I’ve ever been so ready to enjoy a performance. Wherever she is, I hope that Winifred is in pain.’

‘What do we do, Inspector?’ asked a querulous Winifred Tomkins.

‘I suggest that the ransom is paid,’ said Colbeck.

Tomkins was scandalised. ‘Pay twice for the same thing?’ he said in alarm. ‘That goes against the grain.’

‘Nevertheless, sir, it’s what I advise. And, if I might correct you, the full price for the item has not yet been paid. Mr Kellow was to have collected the balance. All that you have parted with is a deposit.’

‘Fifty pounds is not a trifling amount.’

‘Much more is now required. I’d urge you to pay it.’

‘You mean to let the thief get away with it?’

‘He’s a murderer as well as a thief, Mr Tomkins, and he will be arraigned for both crimes. Until we arrest him, you must comply with the demands in the ransom note.’

‘I refuse to bow to his wishes.’

‘Then you can wave farewell to any hope of recovering the item.’

‘Don’t say that, Inspector!’ exclaimed Winifred. ‘I can’t bear such a thought. Superintendent Stockdale led us to believe that you would retrieve that coffee pot for us.’

‘I’m endeavouring to do just that, Mrs Tomkins.’

Neither she nor her husband was persuaded. They remained hurt, fearful and sceptical. Colbeck and Leeming had been summoned to the house to be shown the anonymous ransom note. The inspector was completely
at ease in the sprawling mansion but his sergeant was perturbed. Leeming always felt intimidated by the sight of wealth and, since their arrival, had been shifting his feet and holding his tongue.

‘Have the money ready for tomorrow, sir,’ suggested Colbeck.

‘I might as well toss it on a fire,’ said Tomkins, sullenly.

‘At least I’d get my property back,’ his wife put in.

‘Winifred, it’s not worth twice the asking price.’

She shot him a look. ‘It is to me.’

‘You won’t lose a penny of the money, Mr Tomkins,’ said Colbeck, ‘and you’ll have the satisfaction of seeing the thief put behind bars. The person to thank will be my sergeant.’

Leeming was taken aback, ‘Me, sir?’ he said.

‘Yes, Sergeant, you will be involved in the exchange. All that the note has told us is how much money is required. The details of the exchange will come tomorrow.’

‘Then why can’t you lie in wait to catch the thief when he delivers the message here?’ asked Tomkins.

‘This person is far too clever to be caught that way. We’re dealing with someone who plans ahead very carefully. When the exchange is made, for instance,’ prophesied Colbeck, ‘it will be somewhere in the open so that the sergeant can be watched.’

‘What then, Inspector?’ said Leeming.

‘You ask to see the coffee pot before you hand over the money, and when you see no deception is involved – you make the arrest.’

‘Where will you be?’ wondered Tomkins.

‘A respectable distance away, sir,’ said Colbeck. ‘At the
slightest sign of a police ambush, the exchange will be cancelled and the coffee pot will disappear forever.’

‘No!’ shrieked Winifred.

‘Sergeant Leeming is an experienced detective. It’s not the first time he’s been in this situation. He’ll know what to do.’

‘A lot of money is at stake here,’ Tomkins reminded him.

‘Not to mention my coffee pot,’ added his wife.

‘Don’t worry,’ said Leeming, pleased to be given such a pivotal role. ‘The money and the coffee pot will be returned when I catch him.’

Colbeck looked at the ransom note. ‘Why do you assume that you’ll be dealing with a man? I’m no expert on calligraphy,’ he went on, passing the note to Leeming, ‘but I’d say that was definitely a woman’s hand – wouldn’t you?’

In defiance of its record of catastrophe,
Macbeth
was a huge success. There were none of the anticipated mishaps – no falling scenery, no actors taken ill onstage, no sudden failure of the gas footlights and no unfortunate accidents in the auditorium. Laughter was confined to the scene featuring the Porter. At all other times, the audience was in the grip of a searing tragedy. Nigel Buckmaster excelled himself, letting the poetry soar to its full height, committing a foul murder yet somehow managing to retain a degree of sympathy. Kate Linnane was the personification of evil, giving a performance of equal range, brilliance and intensity. The rest of the cast was competent but completely eclipsed by the two principals. When the curtain call was taken before rapturous applause, it was Macbeth and Lady Macbeth who occupied the centre of the stage, he bowing low and she dropping a graceful curtsey,
both of them lapping up their due reward for minute after ecstatic minute. They had brought the spectators to their feet. In her costume as Lady Macduff, Laura Tremaine tried at one point to come forward but she was thwarted by Kate Linnane who simply stepped sideways, swished her dress and made the younger actress retreat back into anonymity. No other woman would be allowed to steal one moment of the leading lady’s glory.

When the curtain finally fell, Buckmaster turned to blow a kiss of thanks to the entire cast. They dispersed happily to the dressing rooms. The actor-manager took the trouble to catch up with Laura.

‘Well done, Miss Tremaine!’ he congratulated. ‘I couldn’t fault you this evening.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ she replied, excitedly.

‘Your Lady Macduff was a minor triumph.’

Laura giggled with pleasure and went off with the others. Kate Linnane was less complimentary as she walked past Buckmaster.

‘A minor triumph!’ she said, acidly. ‘Miss Tremaine was a positive embarrassment. I’ve seen better Lady Macduffs in the ranks of amateurs!’

‘One has to offer encouragement,’ he said.

‘She should be encouraged off the stage altogether.’

Flouncing off into her dressing room, she slammed the door behind her. Buckmaster knew better than to follow her.

Jeremiah Stockdale joined them in their hotel room to report his findings and to review the situation. Colbeck had asked for a bottle of whisky and three glasses to be sent up.
Resigned to spending at least one night in Cardiff, Leeming sipped his drink and confided his worries.

‘Do you think that someone should be looking after Miss Kellow?’ he said, concernedly. ‘Not one of us, of course,’ he went on. ‘That would be quite improper. But there must be a female member of staff whom the manager could recommend.’

‘I think she’s best left on her own, Victor,’ said Colbeck. ‘She’s very volatile at the moment. Company might unsettle her. She wants to be alone to mourn in private.’

‘When will she go back to London?’

‘That’s up to her but she won’t budge without her brother.’

‘The body is now with an undertaker,’ said Stockdale. ‘Tegwyn Rees has finished with it so it will be ready to leave tomorrow.’

‘Then we may have to call on you, Superintendent. Somebody must accompany Miss Kellow back to London and Victor will be involved here. Could you spare a man to go with her?’ asked Colbeck. ‘It’s not right for a grieving sister to travel alone with her brother’s coffin. We have a duty of care here.’

‘Consider it done,’ said Stockdale. ‘I know just the man – Idris Roberts. He’s spent the whole day tramping around chemists’ shops so he’ll appreciate a job where he can sit down. Yes, and I’ll make sure that Idris is not in uniform,’ he decided. ‘We don’t want this girl to look as if she’s under arrest.’

‘Did Constable Roberts find anything of interest?’

‘I’m afraid not, Inspector. Some of the chemists would supply the most venomous poison to a total stranger but
none would ever admit it. They all swore that nobody had bought sulphuric acid.’

‘Perhaps it was brought from London,’ said Leeming. ‘As I explained, I’m fairly certain the man we’re after is Stephen Voke.’

‘Then he must be here in Cardiff,’ said Colbeck.

Stockdale ruffled his beard. ‘I thought you told us a delivery man had seen someone leaving by the rear exit around the time of the murder and hurrying off towards the station.’

‘I’m beginning to think that he was laying a false trail. The man with the large bag
wanted
to be seen heading that way. Had he left by the front entrance like every other guest, nobody would have thought it unusual enough to remember. Someone behaving suspiciously at the rear of the hotel, however,’ argued Colbeck, ‘was expecting to be noticed by someone.’

Leeming had made up his mind. ‘Stephen Voke is still here and so is that coffee pot.’

‘Don’t forget the woman in the case, Victor.’

‘She must be the one seen waiting for young Mr Voke in Hatton Garden. The two of them are in this together. They plotted to steal that coffee pot then sell it back to the owner.’

‘They certainly didn’t try to get rid of it here,’ said Stockdale. ‘My men called on every jeweller and silversmith in Cardiff. None of them had been offered that coffee pot – not even Wlaetislaw Spiridion.’

Leeming grinned. ‘He doesn’t sound very Welsh to me.’

‘This is a cosmopolitan place. Walk around Cardiff and
you’ll bump into many nationalities. If you want a real Welsh town, you’ll have to go up the valleys.’

‘Let’s turn our minds to the morrow,’ said Colbeck, pensively. ‘Miss Kellow must be on the earliest possible train with Constable Roberts. I don’t think it’s good for her to spend too long in the hotel where her brother was killed. I’ll have to rely on you, Superintendent, to organise the release of the coffin.’

‘I’ll have it conveyed to the station and put into the guard’s van,’ said Stockdale. ‘Where must it be delivered in London?’

‘Mr Voke has volunteered to pay for the funeral,’ said Leeming. ‘If the coffin is taken to his shop in Wood Street – I’ll give you the address before you leave – then he can engage an undertaker and arrange the funeral service.’

‘What about the sister?’

‘I daresay she’ll go back to her workplace in Mayfair.’

‘Miss Kellow will be out of the way,’ said Colbeck. ‘As long as she stays here, she poses a problem. I suggest that you see her off at the station, Victor. I could see how much she trusted you.’

‘I wish that I could go back with her, sir.’

‘You’re needed here to hand over the ransom money.’

‘That’s worth staying for,’ said Leeming, lifted by the thought. ‘I like to be in the thick of things. And having seen what that villain did to Hugh Kellow, I want the chance to meet him face to face.’

‘I still think you should let me surround the Tomkins residence with my men,’ said Stockdale, anxious to be involved. ‘They can hide in the trees. When the killer delivers
the second ransom note, we arrest him and force him to tell us where that coffee pot is kept.’

‘Always respect your opponent,’ warned Colbeck, ‘He or she is far too slippery to be caught so easily. Remember how much planning went into the exercise. Its success would never be sacrificed by a silly mistake like that. No,’ he continued, ‘my guess is that a total stranger is paid to deliver the second note. Your men would be arresting an innocent person, Superintendent.’

‘And they wouldn’t be able to tell you anything useful about the man who asked them to carry the message,’ said Leeming, ‘because they’d have no idea who he is. We had a case like this last year in London. The person who delivered the ransom note on that occasion was a child, picked at random off the street.’

‘I can see that I’d better leave it to you, Sergeant,’ said Stockdale. ‘As long as you promise that you’ll give the bastard one good punch from me.’

‘I will, Superintendent.’

‘Don’t be so sure, Victor,’ said Colbeck. ‘What if, as I fancy, you may be dealing with a young woman? You’re far too chivalrous to strike a member of the fair sex.’

‘I’ll clap handcuffs on her and make her lead us to Stephen Voke. He’s behind the whole thing. I’m certain of it.’

‘I agree with the inspector,’ said Stockdale, downing some whisky. ‘Only a very attractive woman could have tricked Mr Kellow into that hotel room. I think he was tempted by her blandishments. And that raises an interesting possibility.’

‘What’s that?’

‘Mr Pugh happened to mention something to me when
I arrived this evening. It may have nothing to do with the crime, of course, and the manager clearly thinks so. But it is an odd coincidence.’

‘Tell us more,’ said Colbeck.

‘Well, what you’re looking for is a beautiful woman who has a passion for silver. I know that because I’ve often seen her wearing it in some form or other. Around the time of the murder,’ Stockdale went on, ‘there was someone in this hotel fitting that description perfectly. The manager remembers seeing her leave.’

‘Who is she, Superintendent?’

‘Miss Carys Evans.’

When the performance of
Macbeth
was over, Carys Evans mingled with the other guests at a reception given by the mayor and mayoress. Nigel Buckmaster and Kate Linnane joined them on behalf of the company, wallowing in the unstinting praise from all sides. Carys managed to speak to the actor-manager alone for a couple of minutes and he was clearly drawn to her. Their conversation was interrupted by the arrival of his leading lady, smiling benignly but unable to hide the proprietary glint in her eye. Carys observed that, when Lady Pryde cornered Buckmaster, Kate made no effort to intervene. An obese, waddling, over-dressed, middle-aged woman with a braying voice offered no threat.