The Silver Locomotive Mystery (17 page)

‘Mr Meyrick could not help us there. Neither could anyone at Solomon Stern’s shop. I visited the place myself. Mr Stern and his staff told me that they all knew the young lady by sight but not by name. What they did recall was Stephen Voke’s eagerness to leave the shop whenever she appeared.’

‘Could it be that
she
is the real culprit here?’ said Leeming.

‘The two of them are clearly in this together.’

‘Yes, I know, but I’m wondering if she is like Lady Macbeth, urging him on to a deed he might not otherwise have committed. As far as I know, Stephen Voke had no record of breaking the law before this happened. This young woman may have been the catalyst.’

Tallis was astounded to hear mention of a Shakespeare play on the lips of his sergeant and his use of the word ‘catalyst’ had also been arresting. Leeming was not known for his cultural interests. Tallis doubted if he had ever seen a Shakespearean tragedy performed. Yet here he was, making an interesting point with a valid cross-reference from the world of drama. Having impressed the superintendent, Leeming immediately gave the game away.

‘At least,’ he said, ‘that’s what Inspector Colbeck mentioned at one point but only because
Macbeth
was being staged at the theatre in Cardiff. Two members of the company actually travelled to the town in the same carriage as the murder victim.’

‘Evil is not solely a characteristic of the male sex,’ said Tallis, solemnly. ‘Women can be equally corrupt, if not more so. Stephen Voke would not be the first man driven to commit a murder at the behest of a scheming female. That’s not to excuse anything he’s done, mark you,’ he added, ‘but this accomplice of his may bear the greater part of the blame.’

Edward Tallis had a distrust of the opposite sex that sometimes threatened to spill over into misogyny. Leeming had heard his views on the subject a number of times. He feared that he was about to do so again but he was spared
another lecture. There was a firm tap on the door. In response to Tallis’s command, Robert Colbeck entered. After an exchange of greetings, the newcomer put a friendly hand on Leeming’s shoulder.

‘What are you doing here?’ he asked. ‘You should be at home, resting and being spoilt by your wife.’

‘That’s exactly what I told him,’ said Tallis.

‘He’s
earned
it, sir. Being so modest, he’ll not have told you about the bravery that he showed in Cardiff. In pursuit of a killer, the sergeant risked his life.’

‘Then he deserves congratulation.’

‘I want to be here,’ said Leeming, ‘taking part in the search for the man who gave me such a headache. When we catch up with him, I have a score to settle.’

‘That time will soon come,’ Colbeck told him.

He took a seat and delivered a succinct report on events in Cardiff. The other men were shocked to hear that Winifred Tomkins had spurned the assistance of the police and tried to deal directly with the thief. They both felt that she had been lucky to escape without physical injury and were angry that she had prevented Colbeck from being present at the exchange and therefore in a position to make an arrest. The report provoked Tallis into a familiar tirade.

‘That’s another aspect of the female character that appals me,’ he said, reaching for a cigar from the box on his desk. ‘Women do have a propensity to meddle, to get involved in things over which they can never have any control. Mrs Tomkins is a perfect example. With help on offer in the shape of Inspector Colbeck, she blithely decided to take matters into her own hands. She thought, in effect,
that she could do what a policeman is trained to do and she learnt that she had severe shortcomings.’ He bit off the end of the cigar. ‘When will women learn that they have no place whatsoever in the fight against crime? They’d only get in the way and invite injury.’ He lit the cigar and puffed hard on it. ‘Thank heaven we don’t have them here in the Detective Department to hinder us.’

‘I’ve never found that women hinder us,’ said Leeming, loyally. ‘If anything, my wife does the opposite. Estelle is a great help.’

‘Yes,’ added Colbeck, ‘and I disagree that they have no place in the fight against crime. The time will surely come when we are glad to welcome women into the police service.’

‘It had better not come in
my
time,’ grumbled Tallis.

Colbeck could have told him that, in a sense, it already had because he had enlisted the aid of Madeleine Andrews on a number of cases and her contribution had always been valuable. Knowing that the information would only bring certain condemnation from Tallis, he held his peace and inhaled the aroma of the cigar. It reminded him of the faint whiff he had sniffed at Carys Evans’s cottage, evidence that Sir David Pryde was also a cigar smoker.

‘What has been happening while we’ve been away?’ he asked.

‘We’ve not been sitting on our hands,’ replied Tallis.

‘Do you have any news of Stephen Voke?’

The superintendent repeated what he had earlier told Leeming. Colbeck absorbed the intelligence before reaching a decision.

‘I’ll leave from Paddington first thing in the morning,’ he said.

Leeming was puzzled. ‘Are you going back to Cardiff, sir?’

‘No, that’s the one place he wouldn’t dare to show his face after all that’s happened. Stephen Voke left London with the intention of starting up in business elsewhere. One of the towns he considered,’ Colbeck went on, ‘was Cardiff. My guess is that he chose somewhere within relatively easy reach of Wales by rail. On the day that he and his accomplice left London, they would have needed to unload their luggage at the new abode before going on to Cardiff unencumbered.’

Tallis braced himself. ‘I fear that you’re about to spring another of your infamous theories on me, Inspector.’

‘It’s less of a theory than a piece of intuition, sir,’ said Colbeck. ‘I think that Stephen Voke would choose a town with a railway station so that he could be easily reached by potential customers. I know for a fact that he travelled to Cardiff to deliver an item he made for a client. If he’s in a small town, he’ll need custom from a wider circle. The search for him must therefore begin on the Great Western and on the South Wales Railways. Somewhere between here and Cardiff, I think we’ll find Stephen Voke settling into a new life.’

‘He could be in a different part of the country altogether,’ argued Tallis. ‘Railways go everywhere.’

‘I happen to know that he’s especially fond of Wales.’

‘I’m not surprised,’ said Leeming. ‘Wales has been very good to him. It’s given him a silver coffee pot, a large amount of money, a carriage and two horses. Those are rich pickings
for a few days’ work. I’ve learnt to rely on your intuition, Inspector,’ he declared, ‘so I’ll come with you tomorrow.’

‘You’re looking for a needle in a haystack,’ complained Tallis.

‘Perhaps, sir,’ returned Colbeck, ‘but it will be a very large needle in a very small haystack. When two people move into a new community for the first time, they are bound to get noticed, especially if one of them opens a shop as a silversmith. Mr Voke’s occupation narrows the search immediately. We’ll find them.’

‘It’s a pity we can’t call on the assistance of Superintendent Stockdale,’ said Leeming, wistfully. ‘He was a tremendous help to us in Cardiff and would like to see this case through to the end.’

‘No doubting that, Sergeant. Unfortunately, he’s preoccupied with another crime at the moment – a kidnapping.’

‘Oh – who was kidnapped?’

‘Miss Kate Linnane,’ said Colbeck, ‘the celebrated actress. She was due to play Lady Macbeth this evening. I sincerely hope that they manage to cope without her.’

They all knew. Laura Tremaine had given a competent performance at the rehearsal but it never took wing. Unable to conquer her nerves, she managed nothing more than a brave stab at the part. Nigel Buckmaster was the first to congratulate her afterwards but he knew that she was no Kate Linnane. He assured her that she would grow fully into the role in front of the audience but that prospect only served to increase her dread. Laura was going to take the stage as
the unworthy substitute of an actress who had brought real venom to the part. All that the new Lady Macbeth had achieved was petulance. While everyone in the company knew her deficiencies, they tried to ignore them. Laura received nothing but praise and encouragement.

As the time of performance drew near, her feelings of sheer inadequacy were intensified. Her dresser burbled away happily about the triumph awaiting her but Laura was not persuaded. Even during the rehearsal, when Buckmaster had given a deliberately muted version of Macbeth, she had been totally eclipsed by him. When he released his full power that evening, she would trail helplessly in his wake. Panic set in once again. Buckmaster tried to rally her, coming into her dressing room in his costume and false beard.

‘You can do it, Laura,’ he told her. ‘I know that you struggled this afternoon but that was your first attempt. Put those troubles behind you now. Destiny beckons. This is your moment.’

‘I feel sick,’ she admitted.

‘So do I and so do all of us. It’s one of the perennial hazards of this profession. The moment you step on to that stage, the discomfort will vanish in a flash. You’ll be Lady Macbeth in every particular.’

His words gave her enough confidence to believe that she might get through the performance without any real mishap but there was no question of matching him. Instead of being a steely wife exhorting him to commit murder, she would be making a polite request for him to assassinate a king. Her Lady Macbeth would have surface value but no depth. Nigel Buckmaster, the man she looked upon as a theatrical
paragon, would never forgive her. Instead of being the start of a brilliant career for her,
Macbeth
would bring her dreams to an end.

In the event, she never even got to utter a single word of her new role. With barely twenty minutes before the curtain was raised, Kate Linnane flung open the door of the dressing room and stormed in like an avenging angel. She eyed Laura with contempt.

‘How dare you!’ she exclaimed, eyes blazing. ‘What on earth are you doing in my costume?’

Afflicted by a blend of horror and relief, Laura was speechless.

‘Get this person out of my dressing room,’ ordered Kate, ‘and bring me my costume back.’

Laura was hustled out by the dresser and Kate slammed the door after them. Arms akimbo, she confronted the staring Macbeth.

‘Stop looking at me as if I’m Banquo at the feast,’ she said. ‘It’s me, Nigel. Do you really think I’d let some ambitious minx replace me as Lady Macbeth – never in a hundred years!’

‘We thought you’d been abducted,’ he gasped.

‘What ever gave you that absurd idea?’

‘I expected you for breakfast.’

‘I had an invitation to eat elsewhere,’ she explained, ‘and I could hardly refuse to see my brother.’

‘You went off with
brother
?’

‘Michael was in Cardiff for a few days on business and wanted to spend time with me. He’s in the audience right now. Oh, by the way,’ she added, ‘don’t worry about the time. I told them to hold the curtain for half an hour so
that I have some leeway to change.’

‘You did this on purpose, Kate,’ he said, glowering at her. ‘You staged the whole thing to give us a fright. According to the police, you were seen getting on to a train to London with a man in a cloak.’

‘It was my brother and we only went as far as Gloucester. That’s where he lives now. I always intended to return for the performance. Unless, that is,’ she went on, throwing down the challenge, ‘you’d prefer that little baggage, Miss Tremaine, to play Lady Macbeth. If that’s what you wish, Nigel, you can have her.’

It was a defining moment and he was quick to recognise it as such. Kate Linnane was too shrewd not to notice the designs he had on Laura Tremaine but she was not ready to be supplanted yet. To show her resentment and to let Buckmaster see how indispensable she was to the company, Kate had conspired with her brother to prove her point. In pretending to be abducted, she had produced all manner of alarums and excursions in the company. Buckmaster had been forced to promote Laura Tremaine into a role for which she was plainly not yet ready. The new Lady Macbeth would have marred the evening’s performance. At least, they had been rescued from that. Wanting to throttle Kate for the trouble and anxiety she had inflicted on him, Buckmaster instead embraced her warmly.

‘Welcome back, my love!’ he said, effusively. ‘I knew in my heart that you’d never let us down. I was rightly chastised. Let’s put all that behind us and give the audience a performance to remember.’

‘Are we friends again?’

‘We are and always will be, Kate, you wondrous creature!’

‘Good,’ she said, kissing him passionately. ‘If you kill Duncan for me, you may find the door of my hotel room unlocked again tonight. That’s the best place for us to settle our differences.’

Her friendship with Robert Colbeck had not only brought her intense pleasure, it had also broadened the mind of Madeleine Andrews in every way. Even before she met him, she had been interested in books but had never been able to find enough suitable reading matter. Colbeck solved that problem. From his own extensive library, he loaned her a whole series of volumes. While many were related to the history of railways, he took care to provide her with a variety of novels as well. As she sat at home that evening, reading by the light of the lamp, she realised why Colbeck had urged her to read
Dombey
and Son
. Two of the scenes in Dickens’ novel had been set in Camden and depicted the upheaval caused when the London to Birmingham line cut right through it. Madeleine had been a child when the railway had been built nearby but her father, who now travelled on it daily as an engine driver, had vivid recollections of the clamour and disruption. Charles Dickens was recreating it for her.

Because she expected to hear Caleb Andrews’ footsteps
at any minute, she read on with her ears pricked. When a cab rattled down the street and stopped outside, her first thought, therefore, was that he had been injured at work and sent home. Putting the novel aside, she rushed to open the door only to see Colbeck paying the cab driver. Madeleine let out a cry of joy. Doffing his top hat, he gave her a kiss then followed her into the house. He noticed the book immediately.

‘Ah, you’ve started it, have you?’

‘Yes, Robert. It’s wonderful to see Camden portrayed in a novel. Thank you so much for recommending it.’

‘There are four railway scenes in all,’ he said, ‘and they’re very well-written. However, I’m not going to let Dickens come between us. I came here to see you and not to talk about him.’

‘I’ve missed you so much,’ she said, squeezing his hands. ‘What have you been doing and where have you been?’

‘I’ve been hunting a killer in Cardiff and he’s proving to be extremely elusive – so is the young lady, for that matter.’

‘What young lady?’

‘The one involved in the murder.’

They sat close to each other and he gave her a carefully edited version of the crimes he was investigating. Though she was intrigued to hear details of the case, Madeleine was also interested in the mention of Nigel Buckmaster’s theatre company.

‘You took me to see him playing Othello,’ she recalled. ‘I didn’t understand everything that was going on but I was deeply moved by Desdemona’s plight. She was such a helpless victim.’

‘Miss Kate Linnane excelled herself in the role,’ he said, ‘and, by all accounts, has been magnificent as Lady Macbeth. I only wish that I could have taken you to see it at Saturday’s matinee performance.’

‘Is there no hope of that, Robert?’

‘Probably not – this investigation may occupy me for some time. Besides, we might not, in any case, be able to see Miss Linnane in person. Before I left the town, we had a report that she’d been kidnapped and the police are still looking for her.’

Colbeck was unaware that the leading lady had now rejoined the company and he had been wondering how the young understudy had fared in her place. Madeleine was distressed to hear about the abduction and hoped that the actress would soon be found. She was also worried for Colbeck’s safety.

‘Murder, robbery and kidnap,’ she said in dismay. ‘Cardiff sounds like a very dangerous place.’

‘It pales into insignificance beside the rookeries of St Giles or Seven Dials,’ he told her, ‘and, though it could do with more men, it has an efficient police force. You’d feel quite secure walking alone down the main thoroughfares of Cardiff. With regard to the murder, of course, we’re not dealing with local criminals. The two people we have in mind came into the town from England to commit their crimes.’

‘What about the kidnap?’

‘I’m not in charge of that case, Madeleine.’

‘You must know something of the details.’

‘I’ve been too preoccupied with my own investigation to
pay much attention to the fate of Miss Linnane,’ he admitted, ‘but I have the feeling that she’ll soon be found. Jeremiah Stockdale, the police superintendent, is very capable. It will not be long before he tracks the lady down.’

Stockdale simmered with anger. Having paid a rare visit to the Theatre Royal to watch
Macbeth
, he had expected Nigel Buckmaster to be playing opposite an understudy. Instead, he was startled to see Kate Linnane appearing as Lady Macbeth at a time when Stockdale’s men were still out searching for her. It spoilt the performance completely for him. While the rest of the audience was captivated by the swirling drama, he remained wholly uninvolved. When rapturous applause echoed around the theatre at the end of the play, Stockdale did not join in. Instead of clapping together, his hands were bunched tight like those of a prize fighter. He was livid.

There was no point in accosting them there. Nigel Buckmaster and Kate Linnane would be surrounded by admirers the moment they stepped out of the building. Among those rushing to the stage door would be the Town Clerk, who had come to worship at the feet of the leading lady yet again. There would be dozens like him, lonely and impressionable men enthralled by the beauty, passion and nobility of Lady Macbeth. Stockdale had to bide his time. Pushing his way through the milling crowd outside, he strode purposefully back in the direction of St Mary Street. He had a lengthy wait. It was almost two hours before the actor-manager and his leading lady finally returned to the Railway Hotel. Stockdale ambushed them in the foyer.

‘I wonder if I could have a word with you?’ he asked in a voice that made it clear they had no alternative.

‘Why, it’s
you
, superintendent,’ said Buckmaster with a flamboyant gesture. ‘I didn’t recognise you out of your uniform. You cut a fine figure in evening wear, I must say. Was this transformation brought about for any particular occasion?’

‘Yes, sir – I attended a performance of
Macbeth
.’ The others traded an uneasy glance and began to mouth excuses. ‘Perhaps we should discuss this in private,’ Stockdale said, interrupting them. ‘I promised the manager that I wouldn’t arrest you in public.’

Buckmaster goggled. ‘
Arrest
!’

‘We’ve done nothing wrong,’ protested Kate.

‘That’s exactly the point, Miss Linnane,’ said Stockdale. ‘Nothing wrong was done. I have been investigating a crime that never actually took place.’ His smile was glacial. ‘Shall we go upstairs?’

Followed by the superintendent, Macbeth and Lady Macbeth went up to Buckmaster’s room. They were not acknowledging an ecstatic audience now nor were they garnering praise from their enthusiastic well-wishers at the stage door. They were compelled to produce a very different performance and it was one they had never rehearsed. When they reached the room, Buckmaster unlocked the door with his key. After helping Kate remove her cape, he took off his top hat and cloak before turning up the gaslight to brighten the room. Taking a stance in the middle of the carpet, he launched into his defence.

‘We are deeply sorry, Superintendent,’ he said, one hand
to his breast. ‘Common courtesy dictated that we should have told you of Miss Linnane’s miraculous escape from her kidnapper. The truth of the matter is that we simply didn’t have the time. Twenty minutes before the curtain was due to rise, Miss Linnane burst into the theatre and announced that – in spite of the appalling trial she’d had to undergo – she would honour her commitment to the company and take on her role. I’m sure you’ll agree that she did so with the brilliance we’ve come to associate with her.’

‘Thank you, Mr Buckmaster,’ said Stockdale, curtly, ‘but I’ve heard enough speeches from you this evening and I don’t propose to listen to any more – even though you no longer wear that kilt.’ He turned to Kate. ‘What have you to say, Miss Linnane?’

‘I’m still haunted by the memory of it,’ she claimed, looking anguished. ‘I was snatched from my room, forced to travel to London and kept in a dark cellar for hours on end. When I managed to escape, I hastened back to Cardiff to play the part for which I’d been engaged. All else went from my mind.’

‘Who abducted you?’

‘It was a crazed fellow who has been stalking me for months, Superintendent. When he saw his opportunity, he pounced.’

‘Then I must ask you the question that Inspector Colbeck first put,’ said Stockdale. ‘Why did you not resist and call out? You almost screeched down the walls of the castle on stage tonight so I know that your lungs are in good order. What happened to your voice during the kidnap? Did he threaten to kill you if you raised the alarm?’

‘Yes, yes,’ she said, clutching at the suggestion. ‘That was it.’

‘Now you know the full story,’ concluded Buckmaster, ‘so you must excuse us. We are very tired and Miss Linnane has been through a very harrowing day.’

‘So have my men,’ said Stockdale. ‘Constable Roberts and Constable Parker made a totally unnecessary trip to London in pursuit of this mythical kidnapper and several other policemen went searching for witnesses in Cardiff itself. I put it to you, Miss Linnane, that this whole episode was devised by you for some personal reason, as a result of which the Cardiff Borough Police were needlessly distracted from pursuing real criminals.’

‘I was abducted!’ she cried, falling back on defiance.

‘Do you subscribe to this lie, Mr Buckmaster?’

‘I stand by what Miss Linnane has told you,’ said the actor.

‘Then perhaps you’d explain something to me, sir. When Miss Linnane returned to Cardiff after her dramatic escape from a dark cellar, why didn’t you inform us immediately of her return?’

‘I told you – we didn’t have time.’

‘The performance was delayed by half an hour. That gave you plenty of time to send someone to the police station. One of your underlings could run the distance in less than five minutes.’

‘We are actors, Superintendent,’ said Buckmaster, grandly. ‘The play must always come first. Our public awaited us.’

‘I’ve been awaiting you as well,’ said Stockdale, grimly, ‘and I got into conversation with the manager while I did so.
Mr Pugh is a shrewd gentleman. He suggested that it was unlikely that anyone would simply charge in off the street and drag Miss Linnane out. To begin with, how would this fellow know where to find her room? Mr Pugh had the answer to that. He wondered if the kidnapper was already staying here as a guest.’ Kate clenched her teeth. ‘He allowed me to look through the register and do you know what I found? There’s someone who booked in two days ago by the name of Michael Linnane.’ The two of them wilted under his glare. ‘Do I need to say anything more?’

After a night at home in the bosom of his family, Victor Leeming looked much happier and healthier. The bandaging around his head obliged him to wear his top hat at a rakish angle and he collected some curious stares as he and Colbeck walked along the platform at Paddington Station, but he was unperturbed by the attention. When they found an empty carriage, they removed their hats then sat down opposite each other. Leeming’s good humour was not only occasioned by the fact that he was hoping to arrest the man who assaulted him. He was relieved that they would not be staying away overnight and that he could return to the comforts of the marital couch in due course.

‘I’ve been looking at a map of where we’re going,’ he began.

Colbeck patted his pocket. ‘I’ve brought one with me, Victor.’

‘The one I saw had part of South Wales on it and what puzzled me was this. Why didn’t they build a railway bridge across the River Severn? That would have been the most direct route.’

‘The most direct and the most sensible,’ agreed Colbeck, ‘which is exactly why it was suggested when the line was first mooted. There was a proposal for a long bridge across the river west of Gloucester. Local objection, alas, was so powerful that the scheme had to be abandoned. The line was diverted through the Forest of Dean so Mr Brunel had no need to bridge the Severn. His engineering skills were, however, put to the test.’

‘Yes, Inspector – I saw the viaducts at Chepstow and Newport.’

Colbeck was amused. ‘You’re improving, Victor. There was a time when you hardly looked out of the window of a train.’

‘I’m usually too busy praying that we’ll arrive safely.’

‘Accidents on the railway are not that common.’

‘Tell that to the passengers on the Brighton express,’ said Leeming. ‘The ones who survived the crash last year, that is.’

It was a case that still troubled Leeming. The express had been involved in a head-on collision with a ballast train. He remembered the devastation caused. Though the accident had been deliberately engineered, Leeming’s fears were not stilled. Whenever he was tugged along at high speed by an iron monster breathing fire and pulsing with energy, he thought about the Brighton express and longed for the more leisurely days when the stagecoach was the principal mode of transport.

‘Where do we start, Inspector?’ he asked.

‘In Gloucester,’ replied Colbeck. ‘It’s a cathedral city with a pleasant aspect. It could well attract two refugees from London.’

‘You can see why they told nobody where they were going.’

‘They wanted to cut their ties with the past and start afresh. At least, that’s the way it looks. There was nothing to keep Stephen Voke in London and we must assume that the same is true of the young lady who went with him.’

‘All that we have is her Christian name – Bridget.’

‘I’m not convinced of that,’ said Colbeck. ‘If she did set out to entrap Hugh Kellow, she might well have given a false name. I’ve also been thinking about those ransom letters sent to Mrs Tomkins. Two of them were written by a woman but the others – in block capitals – could just as easily have been penned by a man.’

‘What do you deduce from that, sir?’

‘I’m not sure. It worries me.’

‘Perhaps the young woman was not even in Cardiff at the time the last two letters were sent,’ observed Leeming. ‘The only person involved in the exchange was a man. He was operating alone.’