Edward Marston - Timetable of Death

‘I thoroughly enjoyed my visit. The Hall itself and the church nearby are exceptional.’

‘I was referring to your meeting with Mr Burns.’

‘He was quite exceptional as well, in his own way,’ said Colbeck. ‘He’s a first-rate gardener and an outstanding cricketer. Few of us have two such strings to our bow.’

‘What did you make of him, Inspector?’

‘I have something to find out before I make a final judgement.’

‘Is he a credible suspect?’

‘Why do you ask that?’

‘I’d like to pass on the observation to Mr Haygarth. He wants to know about every stage of your investigation.’

‘Then you may tell him that we are still gathering evidence across a wide front. Given the fact that he worked for Mr Quayle and fell out with him, Mr Burns must be considered as — how shall I put it — a person of interest to us. What was your estimate of him, Mr Cope?’

‘I’ve never met the fellow and nor has Mr Haygarth.’

‘So you’ve never seen Gerard Burns playing cricket?’

‘It’s a game I have no time to watch, Inspector.’

Colbeck glanced at a framed photograph on the wall of the Derby Works.

‘There’s another reason why I like this place,’ he said. ‘It’s a railway town but quite unlike most of the others. Places like Crewe, Swindon and Wolverton have their works near the heart of the town, and so does Ashford in Kent. Yours is on the outer edge of Derby.’

‘Other industrial developments got here first, Inspector.’

‘I’d value the opportunity to take a look around the works.’

‘You won’t find any murder suspects there.’

‘I just want to satisfy my curiosity, Mr Cope.’

‘Then I’ll ensure that you’re made welcome there. Will Sergeant Leeming want to accompany you on a tour of inspection?’

‘No,’ said Colbeck with a laugh. ‘He doesn’t share my enthusiasm for rail transport. In any case, he’ll be back in London by now.’

Cope was astonished. ‘What’s he doing there?’

‘He’s widening the search.’

‘You seem to have strange methods of investigation, Inspector.’

‘They usually bring gratifying results, I assure you.’

‘There’s something I wish to say,’ said Cope, clearing his throat for what was plainly a rehearsed speech. ‘Donald Haygarth is part of the backbone of this company. He’s essential to its future success. Since he is the person to profit most from the unfortunate demise of Mr Quayle, it’s only natural that some people would name him as a suspect. I know that Superintendent Wigg has done so. I can see it in his eyes.’

‘The superintendent has made no secret of the fact.’

‘He needs to understand that nobody is more committed to unmasking the killer than Mr Haygarth. It was he who sent for you , Inspector.’ He hunched his shoulders interrogatively. ‘Do you think he’d be rash enough to do that if he had any blood on his hands?’

He paused for an answer that never came. Early in his career, Colbeck had been summoned to solve a murder by the very man who’d committed it and who was certain that he would be absolved from suspicion by making contact with Scotland Yard. Ultimately, his hopes had been dashed. There was no proof so far that Haygarth was attempting the same sort of bluff but he had certainly not been eliminated as a possible suspect working in conjunction with others.

‘What is your next step, Inspector?’ asked Cope.

‘I’m going to pay a visit to Ilkeston.’

‘Why do you need to go there?’

‘There’s an alibi that needs to be checked. It’s one of those tedious jobs that a murder investigation always throws up but it can’t be ignored.’ He looked Cope up and down. ‘Tell me, sir, would you say that you had a good memory?’

‘I have an excellent memory, as it happens.’

‘And would you describe yourself as honest?’

Cope bridled. ‘I find that question rather offensive,’ he said. ‘Speak to anyone in this building and you’ll find that I’m known for my honesty.’

‘Gerard Burns would think differently.’

‘What has he got to do with it?’

‘If your memory was as sound as you claim, you’d remember. You once approached him on Mr Haygarth’s behalf to entice him away from his job by offering him more money. Has that slipped your mind?’

‘I deny it flatly,’ said Cope, standing his ground.

‘Are you claiming that Burns has made a mistake?’

‘No, Inspector, I’m claiming that he’s told you a downright lie. But, then, what can you expect from an unprincipled rogue who wormed his way into the affections of one of Mr Quayle’s daughters?’

‘When we spoke about him in Mr Haygarth’s presence, you insisted that his name was new to you. How is it that you’ve suddenly become aware of his reason for leaving Mr Quayle?’

Cope held firm under Colbeck’s accusatory gaze. ‘I, too, have been making enquiries,’ he said. ‘You’re not the only one who can do that, Inspector.’

The anomaly had been pointed out to him many times. Victor Leeming was one of the bravest detectives at Scotland Yard, justly famed for his readiness to tackle violent criminals and for his disregard of personal injury. His courage had earned him many commendations and won him promotion to the rank of sergeant. Yet when he had to spend time alone with Edward Tallis, he had an attack of cowardice. Taking a deep breath and pulling himself to his full height, he knocked on the superintendent’s door and received a barked command to enter. Leeming went into the room and closed the door gently behind him. Head bent over a document he was perusing, Tallis kept him waiting. When he finally looked up, his eyes widened.

‘Is that you, Leeming?’ he demanded.

‘Yes, sir.’

‘What the devil are you doing here?’

‘Inspector Colbeck sent me to deliver this report,’ said Leeming, stepping forward to put the envelope on the desk then jumping back as if he’d just put food through the bars of a lion’s cage. ‘He sends his regards.’

‘Does he, indeed?’

Tallis opened the letter and read the report with a blend of interest and exasperation. His grunts of disapproval were warning signals. Leeming was about to become the whipping boy yet again.

‘So,’ said Tallis, glaring at him, ‘the Inspector is scouring the Midlands for an unusual top hat and you have been amusing yourself by pushing a wheelbarrow uphill. Is that the sum total of your achievements?’

‘There’s more to it than that, sir.’

‘Then why is there little else in the report?’

‘The missing top hat and the wheel marks of a barrow in the churchyard might turn out to be useful clues.’

‘Then again, they might not.’

‘We shall see, Superintendent. Does the inspector make no mention in his report of Gerard Burns, one of our suspects?’

‘Yes, he does,’ said Tallis, ‘but Colbeck seems more interested in telling me about his ability as a fast bowler than about his potential as a killer. And what’s this nonsense about a search for Miss Lydia Quayle?’

‘The inspector believes that she will give us information that can’t be obtained elsewhere. In the shadow of a murder, you expect a family to retreat into itself but, in this case, they’ve shut us out completely. Inspector Colbeck called at the house and had short shrift from Stanley Quayle. He’s the elder son. You’d have thought he’d have wanted to help those of us who are trying to catch the man who murdered his father but he’s shown no interest. His sister may be able to tell us why.’

‘Lydia Quayle had a disastrous relationship with this fellow, Burns.’

‘That’s why it’s important to find her, sir.’