Inspector Colbeck's Casebook (12 page)

‘That book tells the story of my life,’ he bleated, ‘and it’s been a good, honest life with the LNWR. Being a pay clerk puts you in a very responsible position. I was always keenly aware of that.’

As they listened to his sad tale, Colbeck and Leeming were very sympathetic. Grosvenor made no excuses. A lapse on his part had led to the disappearance of a large amount of money. Angry scenes had occurred among men expecting him to pay them their weekly wage. The pay clerk had endured abuse and threats of violence. When the full account had been given, Colbeck had a first question.

‘Do you have
any
idea who might have taken your bag, sir?’

‘No, Inspector, I don’t. They were all my friends – at least, I thought so.’

‘What happened when you reported the theft?’

Grosvenor shuddered again. ‘They looked at me as if it was
my
doing.’

‘I’m asking what immediate steps the management took.’

‘They got hold of every railway policeman they could and stationed them at all the exits. Nobody could have left the area with that bag of mine. As for the men I’d just paid
before
I was tricked,’ said Grosvenor, ‘they were all searched to make sure they didn’t have more money on them than they were supposed to.’

Leeming studied his notebook. ‘You say you were in the carriage shed.’

‘That’s right.’

‘So it would have been easy for someone to sneak up behind the carriages.’

Grosvenor shrugged. ‘I suppose so.’

‘Tell us about the men you paid at that point,’ said Colbeck. ‘What did they do when they had their money?’

‘They counted it. One of them accused me of short-changing him but I took no notice. Someone always does that. They like to have a laugh at me.’

‘In other words, that group of men would have been distracted.’

‘Once they had money in their hands,’ said Grosvenor, ‘they began talking about how they were going to spend it. Some of them owed money to others and there was one man who takes bets. I tried talking to them but nobody
listened.’ He snapped his fingers.
‘That’s
when it must have happened.’

‘Thank you, sir. You’ve been very helpful. I must now ask you to take us to the place where the crime was committed.’

Grosvenor was aghast. ‘But I’ve been suspended. They won’t let me in.’

‘They’ll do what I tell them,’ said Colbeck, firmly. ‘If they want their money found, they’ll have to.’

‘Do you really think you’ll ever get it back?’ asked Grosvenor, a faint glimmer of hope making him stand to his feet. ‘Do you?’

‘Yes, I do. From what you’ve told us, nobody could have left the premises with a distinctive leather bag. What criminals usually do in such situations is to hide their booty somewhere, wait until the coast is clear then slip back to reclaim it. In short, sir,’ Colbeck told him, ‘the money and the ledger are still there. Our task is to find it before the thief or thieves come back to reclaim it.’

The best moment of their visit to the engine shed was when David and Albert were allowed to stand on the turntable when it was in action. It was a wonderful thrill for them. They could not believe that it only took two men to push a large, heavy, solid lump of metal in a complete circle. Having seen the locomotive drive headfirst onto the turntable, they watched it drive headfirst off. Andrews had been given a lot of help from old friends, who let the boys onto the footplates of their respective engines, but he was conscious that the manager was now looking askance at him. He therefore led his two young charges towards the exit. Madeleine and Estelle joined them.

‘I can’t thank you enough, Mr Andrews,’ said Estelle.

‘Yes,’ chirped the boys in unison. ‘Thank you, Mr Andrews.’

‘Now you know what being an engine driver is like,’ said Madeleine.

‘We haven’t finished yet,’ said Andrews. ‘There’s the carriage shed to see next. We got a whole range of carriages in there, including some that are used by the royal family.’

‘Father’s had the privilege of driving the royal train,’ recalled Madeleine. ‘It was a real feather in his cap.’

‘Do you still
have
the feather, Mr Andrews?’ asked David, innocently.

She smiled. ‘It wasn’t a
real
feather, David. It’s just an expression.’

‘
I
knew that,’ said Albert, scornfully.

The carriage shed was a large rectangular building with chutes – long ventilators – in the roof to carry smoke out of the shed from locomotives in steam. Carriages of all kinds abounded. Those reserved for the royal family commanded most interest and Estelle was as eager to see them as her sons. Andrews lifted the boys up one by one so that they could peer through the windows and see the luxurious interiors. The contrast with standard carriages – even those with the words First Class emblazoned on their doors – was stark.

After a while, however, the boys started to lose interest as they walked up and down the long parallel lines of rolling stock, all of it painted in the distinctive colours of the LNWR and bearing its insignia. Albert decided that it was time to have some fun. Pushing his brother in the back, he tore off in the opposite direction.

‘Catch me!’ he shouted.

David accepted the challenge and hared after him, ignoring his mother’s plea to come back to her at once. The boys were completely out of control now, racing around what was a kind of enormous, gloomy labyrinth. High spirits suppressed until now suddenly had free rein. Albert ducked under couplings, climbed in and out of open carriages and somehow managed to keep ahead of his brother. Eventually, he ran out of breath and crawled under a carriage to hide. David walked up and down the avenues of rolling stock until he heard the telltale giggle of his younger brother.

Estelle was apologising profusely to the others for her children’s naughty behaviour. Madeleine waved the apologies away but Andrews was annoyed, blaming himself for not having exerted enough authority over them. His voice reverberated around the building.

‘Come back here this minute!’ he bellowed.

There was a long pause then a contrite David finally appeared.

‘We’re sorry, Mr Andrews,’ he said, penitently, ‘but you have to come and see Albert right now. He’s found something.’

When he heard what had happened, Victor Leeming was torn between anger and delight, feeling the need to admonish his sons for their bad behaviour while at the same time filled with paternal pride. Quite by accident, they had found the bag stolen from the pay clerk and hidden beneath a carriage. Restored to the manager, its contents were found to be intact. When he and Colbeck reported to the superintendent, Leeming was congratulated.

‘Your sons are to be commended,’ said Tallis. ‘They did
what a whole bevy of railway policemen failed to do.’

‘Thank you, sir,’ said Leeming with a grin.

‘However, we can’t rely on a pair of obstreperous lads to solve
all
our crimes for us. Coincidences like this rarely occur.’

‘My sons are not really obstreperous, sir.’

‘Boys will be boys,’ said Colbeck, tolerantly.

‘That’s a matter of opinion,’ said Tallis. ‘There are times when boys should be
prevented
from being boys, if you take my meaning. Valuable as their contribution was, of course, all that they did was to find the stolen bag. The thief is still at liberty.’

‘He won’t be for long, sir.’

‘What makes you say that, Inspector?’

‘We hope to make an arrest tonight.’

‘How can you be so specific? It may be days or even weeks before the thief returns to reclaim the bag from its hiding place.’

‘That
would
have been the case, sir,’ said Colbeck, ‘had it been undiscovered. I suggested to the manager that the thief needed an incentive to come immediately.’

‘I don’t understand.’

‘They’re going to offer a reward,’ explained Leeming.

‘It’s a very tempting reward,’ added Colbeck, ‘but, then, it will never have to be paid. What it will do is to convince the thief that he needs to change his plan. Instead of making off with all the money in the pay clerk’s bag, he can get a large proportion of it by way of a reward and appear completely innocent of the crime. That will have an irresistible appeal to him.’

‘What a clever idea, Colbeck!’ said Tallis.

‘I do have one from time to time, sir.’

Top hats and frock coats would have been an encumbrance in the carriage shed. The detectives had therefore chosen rough garb that allowed freedom of movement. There was poor light during the day. At night the shed was plunged into total darkness. They used a lantern to find their way to the right place then took up their positions nearby. It was several hours before anyone came and they were beginning to think that their vigil had been futile. Then they heard footsteps approaching stealthily and a lantern flashed in the darkness. Someone approached the hiding place and bent down to crawl under the carriage. Retrieving the leather bag, he came out again and stood up with a quiet chuckle. Colbeck spoilt his moment of triumph.

‘Hello,’ he said, letting his lantern spill out its light. ‘We had a feeling that we might see you here tonight. It’s my duty to place you under arrest, sir.’

Shocked for a moment, the man quickly recovered and tried to dart off but he ran straight into Leeming’s shoulder and bounced backward. The sergeant grabbed him and held him tight. Colbeck held the light up to the man’s face.

‘The game is up, sir.’

‘No, no,’ gabbled the other, ‘you don’t understand. I didn’t
steal
the bag. I stumbled on it earlier today and wanted to claim the reward.’

Colbeck took the bag from him and opened it wide. It was full of ballast.

‘I doubt if you’ll get much in the way of reward for this,’ he said.

It was not until he came back from Scotland Yard the following day that Madeleine learnt the full story. Colbeck
explained that the thief was an employee of the company who had stalked the pay clerk for weeks until his opportunity finally came. Ben Grosvenor had now been completely vindicated and restored to his post.

‘When he saw that his ledger was unharmed,’ said Colbeck, ‘he was like a child on Christmas Day. He won’t be robbed again. On my advice, he’s going to fit a chain to the bag and attach it to his belt. The next time someone tries to steal his money, they’ll have to take the pay clerk with it.’

‘I’m so glad that it all worked out well in the end,’ said Madeleine. ‘Estelle was so upset when the boys went running off like that.’

‘Victor has been very strict with them. They won’t do it again, I fancy. But you’ll be interested to know that their little adventure has had an unexpected result.’

‘What’s that, Robert?’

‘They’ve changed their minds,’ replied Colbeck. ‘When they went into that carriage shed, they both wanted to be engine drivers. When they came out, David and Albert were determined to become detectives.’

‘How does Victor feel about that?’

‘He doesn’t know whether to encourage their ambition or do his best to thwart it. I suggested that there was one simple way to test the strength of their resolve.’

‘What’s that?’

Colbeck’s smile blossomed into a grin. ‘Victor could introduce the boys to Superintendent Tallis.’

Friendships forged in battle had the strongest bonds of all. That, at least, was what Edward Tallis believed. When his closest army comrade had committed suicide in Yorkshire, Tallis had been shocked both by his death and by the bizarre circumstances surrounding it. He had led an investigation into the case and been grateful when Colbeck had exposed a startling family secret that explained the gruesome event. As he boarded the train at Dover, Tallis recalled the incident. It was a paradox. Having gone to a funeral on the coast of Kent, he came away thinking about one in Yorkshire. He’d just paid his respects at the grave of his cousin, Raymond Tallis, who’d held a senior position in the port until his retirement. Tallis remembered playing with him when they were boys and enjoying his company. Yet they’d drifted apart as adults and had not seen each other for twenty years or more. Tallis was keenly aware of the fact. He kept asking himself why he felt no real sense of bereavement at the
passing of a blood relative yet was still haunted by the death of an old army friend.

Having found an empty first-class compartment, he settled back in his seat. So preoccupied was he that he didn’t hear the door opening and shutting or realise that he now had company. Nor was he aware of the din of departure and the sudden lurch forward. It was only when he felt a consoling hand on his arm that he noticed the man opposite.

‘Please accept my sincere condolences,’ said the stranger.

Tallis blinked. ‘Oh – thank you, sir.’

‘I can see that you’re troubled and won’t intrude further.’

‘No, no, it’s not an intrusion, I assure you.’

‘You are in mourning,’ said the man. ‘I merely wanted to offer a word of comfort.’

‘It is most welcome.’

Tallis’s companion was an elderly clergyman with sparkling eyes set in a wrinkled face and a well-trimmed white beard. His voice was low, melodious and soothing. He exuded kindness and understanding. Tallis’s spirits lifted a little.

‘I’m the Reverend Paul Youngman,’ said the clergyman, smiling benignly, ‘though it’s a misnomer for someone as old as me.’

Tallis shook the hand offered to him. ‘Edward Tallis, at your service.’

‘Dover is an unlovely town. Seaports often are. What took you there?’

‘I attended a funeral.’

‘They can be harrowing events. In the course of my ministry, I’ve had the misfortune to attend hundreds. Grief can eat away at the strongest of us. I’ve seen it destroy
some people.’ He settled back in his seat. ‘Was it a family member?’

‘No,’ Tallis heard himself saying. ‘It was a friend from my army days.’

‘I had a feeling you’d served Queen and Country. Military life does tend to leave its mark on a man.’

‘I was proud to wear a uniform – and so was Colonel Tarleton.’

Youngman was impressed. ‘So he was a colonel, no less!’

‘He was an example to us all.’

And before he could stop himself, Tallis began to talk about the respect and affection in which he held his former army colleague. Colonel Aubrey Tarleton was exhumed from his grave in Yorkshire and reburied in Dover in place of a dead cousin. Grief that had lain dormant for years now bubbled up inside him. He at last felt able to let it out. Living quite alone, he’d had nobody with whom he could share his sorrow and had therefore bottled up his emotions. In the presence of the Reverend Youngman, they were uncorked. There was something about the clergyman that enabled Tallis to talk freely and unselfconsciously about the loss of his friend. What he didn’t do, however, was to describe the way in which the colonel had died. A death was a death. Youngman didn’t need to be told that Tarleton had deliberately walked along a railway track so that he could be killed by a train.

It was a lengthy recitation. When Tallis finally stopped, he was overcome by a sense of gratitude. A complete stranger had helped him to pour out his heart and achieve a measure of relief. The pain inflicted by his friend’s death was no longer so sharp.

‘I can’t thank you enough,’ he said.

‘All that I did was to listen.’

‘A sympathetic ear was exactly what I needed.’

‘Then I’m glad to be of service,’ said Youngman with a supportive smile. ‘It’s the only ministry I can offer at my age, you see. I’m too old to tend a flock so I look for people who might be helped by what meagre gifts I possess. It was not accident that brought me into this compartment, Mr Tallis. I saw you standing on the platform at Dover in a state of unmistakable anguish.’

‘Was it so obvious?’

‘It was to me, sir, because I am well acquainted with the signs.’

‘And is this what you do on the railway?’

‘It’s what I endeavour to do,’ replied Youngman. ‘You might call it my mission in life. Since my wife died, I’ve been liberated from domestic concerns so I can dedicate myself to the service of people I encounter on trains. It’s not just those in mourning who catch my attention. Sometimes I give help of a more practical nature. When a woman is travelling with more children than she can easily control, I lighten her load by diverting and entertaining them. Then again, I do offer medical help of sorts. Unlike our Lord Jesus,’ he went on, modestly, ‘I’m no miracle worker but I do know how to stem the bleeding on a wound or put salve on a bruise.’ He tapped the valise by his side. ‘I always carry bandages, ointments and a small bottle of brandy. May I offer you a tot, Mr Tallis?’

‘No, thank you.’ Tallis raised a hand. ‘You provide a comprehensive service,’ he said, admiringly. ‘I wonder that you can afford to travel so often by train. If you do
so a great deal, you must incur appreciable costs.’

‘I do, Mr Tallis. Fortunately, one or two railway companies have recognised the value of my work and allowed me to travel on their lines without charge. Also, passengers I’ve been able to help have contributed to my mission. No, no,’ he protested as Tallis reached for his wallet. ‘That was not a plea for money. My service is free to all. You are under no obligation whatsoever.’

‘Even missionaries must eat.’

‘Unhappily, that’s true.’

‘Go on,’ urged Tallis, offering him a five-pound note. ‘Take it.’

‘Your generosity is overwhelming.’

‘I could never repay what you did for me, Reverend.’

‘Thank you very much,’ said Youngman, taking the money. ‘This will buy me a lot of train tickets to continue my ministry on the railways of England.’ He looked up as the train began to slow. ‘Ah, this must be Ashford station. I’m getting off here to visit the former archdeacon of my diocese. Because he’s crippled with arthritis, he’s largely immobile but he does help to fund my work.’

‘I wish you every success,’ said Tallis, shaking his hand again.

‘Bless you!’

The train slowed to a halt as it came into the station and Youngman got out. Tallis was amazed at how much better he felt after the conversation. The missionary had not only softened his pain, he’d left him much more reconciled to the death of his friend. Five pounds, Tallis felt, had bought him a peace of mind that was priceless.

There was no peace of mind for Robert Colbeck. During the two days that Tallis was away in Kent, the inspector had become acting superintendent. There had been times in the past when Colbeck had been ambitious enough to want a promotion but having finally achieved it – albeit for a short time – he realised that it gave him nothing like the satisfaction of being closely involved in the hunt for criminals. He was fettered to a desk in the superintendent’s office, filtering reports, issuing orders, monitoring investigations already in motion and answering directly to the commissioner. Increased power bought greater responsibility and cut him off from the relative freedom he enjoyed as an inspector. After one hour as a superintendent, his respect for Tallis had shot up.

Victor Leeming had a parallel experience because he was temporarily the replacement for Colbeck as inspector. Contented as a sergeant, he felt hopelessly at sea when taking charge of an investigation. When he had a free moment, he seized the opportunity for a meeting with Colbeck.

‘I was never destined to be an inspector, sir,’ he admitted.

‘You may well be promoted one day, Victor.’

‘I know my limitations.’

‘They can’t be any worse than mine,’ said Colbeck. ‘A different case comes through that door every twenty minutes or so and I have to separate the wheat from the chaff. How the superintendent copes with the pressure of work, I can only guess. He must have the most remarkable constitution.’

‘I don’t think it can compare with yours, Inspector. Oh, I’m sorry, sir,’ said Leeming, quickly. ‘You’re a superintendent now.’

Colbeck’s laugh was mirthless. ‘I feel more comfortable as an inspector.’

‘And – if truth be told – I feel better as a sergeant.’

‘This charade will not continue for much longer.’

In fact, it was already over. Tallis had returned to Scotland Yard, made the commissioner aware of his presence then headed for his office. When he opened the door, he was annoyed to see Leeming loitering there and Colbeck seated behind his desk. The familiar rasping tone came into his voice.

‘What the devil are you doing in here?’ he demanded.

‘I was just going, sir,’ said Leeming.

‘Then go!’

‘We are glad to see you back, Superintendent.’

‘Well, I’m not glad to see you masquerading as an inspector when you are so ill-fitted for the post. Now get out and return to a rank more suited to your scant abilities as a detective.’ Leeming fled and closed the door behind him. ‘The same goes for you, Colbeck.’

‘You are unfair on the sergeant, sir,’ said Colbeck, vacating the chair, ‘and, by the same token, I was unfair to you. I underrated the amount of work you are forced to do and can only admire the skill with which you habitually do it.’

‘Thank you,’ said Tallis, savouring the compliment.

‘Your return has brought nothing but relief to the sergeant and me.’

‘I had a feeling that you’d bitten off more than you could chew.’

‘The promotion was not sought, Superintendent.’

‘Nor was it deserved in my view,’ said Tallis, airily. ‘What were you doing before you tried to replace me?’

‘I was leading the investigation into that forgery.’

‘Then please wrest control of it from Leeming. If he’s in charge, we’d have to wait until Christmas for an arrest.’

‘That’s where you’re wrong, sir,’ said Colbeck, smoothly. ‘Victor has already made two arrests in connection with the case. By the end of the week, he and I will have brought the investigation to a conclusion.’ He opened the door then turned round. ‘Welcome back, Superintendent.’

It was ten days before the first report came in. Tallis hardly looked at it, feeling that it was too trivial a matter for the Detective Department. When there were major crimes in the capital, he could not deploy men to look into an alleged fraud committed on a train near Brighton. The second report was also ignored. If someone was foolish enough to be taken in by a confidence trickster on an excursion train to Portsmouth, it was their own fault. Tallis had far more important matters to occupy his time. It was the third report that made him sit up. Someone complained that he had been inveigled into giving money to a retired clergyman for a project that turned out to be a fake.

Tallis refused to believe that it could have been the Reverend Paul Youngman. That man had glowed with sincerity. Attuned to pick out criminals, Tallis had heard no warning bells during his time on the train from Dover. Another person, posing as a clergyman, must have been responsible for the crime. Youngman was above reproach and he remained so until someone filed a complaint that actually named the old clergyman who’d talked him into contributing to a restoration fund for the tower at a church which – on investigation – turned out never to have existed.

There was no denying the fact. Tallis had been the victim of deceit. The five pounds he handed over suddenly seemed like five hundred pounds and he felt robbed. The Reverend Paul Youngman’s mission was to line his own pockets under the guise of helping others. It pushed Tallis’s blood close to boiling point. Though his instinct was to send his detectives in search of the man, he feared that it would expose him to scorn. Of all people, a detective superintendent should not have been taken in by a plausible rogue in a dog collar. He could imagine the sniggers he’d have to endure. There was only one way to appease his fury and that was to pursue the man himself. Tallis was determined. His mission was to catch the bogus missionary.

Madeleine Colbeck had a pleasant surprise when her husband arrived home earlier than she’d expected. Abandoning work in her studio, she hurried downstairs to greet him with a kiss then ushered him into the drawing room.

‘The superintendent has let you leave early for a change,’ she said.

‘He’s quite unaware of what I did, Madeleine, because he hasn’t been at Scotland Yard today. In fact, we’ve seen very little of him since last weekend. It’s meant that Victor and I could get on with our work unimpeded.’

‘Where has Mr Tallis gone?’

‘Nobody seems to know.’

‘A building full of detectives and not one of you has any idea of his whereabouts?’ she teased. ‘What does that say about Scotland Yard?’

‘It says that we don’t question his absence – we simply relish it.’

‘Have you been taking on the superintendent’s mantle again?’

‘No, Madeleine,’ he said with a self-effacing laugh. ‘I learnt my lesson. I already have the job that I covet. Trying to rise higher would be a form of setback.’

‘That doesn’t make sense, Robert.’

‘Put bluntly, Edward Tallis is better at the job than I could ever be.’

‘But you’ve just said that he’s deserted his post this week. Why?’

He took her into his arms. ‘It is a mystery, my love.’ He kissed her on the lips. ‘And I don’t propose to let it come between me and my dinner.’

Tallis became more and more frustrated. He made such little progress that he began to doubt his abilities as a detective. Time away from Scotland Yard meant that unread reports piled up on his desk. More to the point, requests from the commissioner were ignored. That was unforgivable. When he finally did turn up, he was summoned by the commissioner to explain himself and had to resort to a series of unconvincing white lies. Once he’d survived a withering reprimand, he went to his office and worked hard to clear the accumulated reports and correspondence. He then sent for Robert Colbeck.