Edward Marston - Timetable of Death

‘Please look after those for me, Superintendent.’

‘Where are you going, man?’

‘You’ll soon see.’

A locomotive had been driven onto the turntable and stood there throbbing with latent power. Cope was speaking to the fireman who gave an affirmative nod. It was the signal for Colbeck to hurry over to them. After taking instructions, he and the fireman went to one side of the turntable while two other railwaymen went to the other. After rocking the vast wheel to and fro for a little while, they put all their strength into a heave. To the amazement of the watching Tallis, four men were making a locomotive of immense weight turn as if it were made of paper. They pushed on until it had completed a semicircle then locked it into position so that it could drive frontwards out of the shed again. Colbeck was overjoyed to have been part of the operation. Ignoring the fact that the fireman’s hand was covered in coal dust, he shook it gratefully.

Tallis was both bewildered and annoyed, mystified by what Colbeck had done and infuriated that he was holding the inspector’s hat and coat. There was worse to come. A steam whistle suddenly went off only yards away and Tallis was so startled that he took a few injudicious steps away, only to get his foot jammed under a rail and to fall backwards on the ground. His yell of anguish brought Colbeck running over to him. Picking up his discarded hat and coat, he bent over the superintendent.

‘Are you all right, sir?’ he enquired.

‘No, I’m not,’ howled Tallis. ‘Thanks to you, I may have broken my ankle. Why did you ever bring me to this hellhole?’

‘The visit has paid a handsome dividend, sir.’

‘Is that how to describe my injury?’

‘Didn’t you see what happened?’ asked Colbeck with controlled excitement. ‘I just discovered how to solve this murder.’

It was strange. Lydia Quayle had been living in London for a few years yet nobody in her family asked her about the sort of existence she led there. Their minds were instead fixed on the murder inquiry and on the imminent funeral of the victim. Even her mother showed no curiosity in where she’d been and what she’d been doing. The mood in the house was sombre. Faces were drawn and voices low. Lydia found it oppressive. Having left her sister alone for so long with their mother, Agnes began to feel territorial, insisting that it was her place to maintain the bedside vigil and refusing to be supplanted by Lydia. She therefore returned to her accustomed position and left her sister free to reacquaint herself with her brothers. Before she did that, Lydia made her way to her father’s study so that she could look at the portrait of the man who’d become such an ogre in her perception. Almost bursting out of the gilt frame, Vivian Quayle seemed horribly lifelike with his abiding sense of achievement and his air of unassailable confidence. Even though she knew that he was dead, Lydia felt a cold hand run down her spine.

She was struck anew by the incongruity of a room with many bookshelves yet few books. It was so different from the well-kept library that she shared with Beatrice Myler in London. There was no place for paintings or decorative objects there. Every shelf was occupied by a book of some sort and piles of them stood on the table and on the window sill. Beatrice was far too self-effacing even to consider the idea of having her portrait painted. Lydia’s father, by contrast, filled the room with his personality.

‘What are you doing in here?’ asked Lucas.

He’d entered so quietly that she twitched in surprise at the sound of his voice.

‘I’m sorry, Lydia. I didn’t mean to give you a shock.’

‘Being back in this house has given me a series of shocks, Lucas.’

‘There haven’t been many changes.’

‘In my opinion, there have been lots. It may look the same to you but it seems vastly bigger than I remember. That could be because I’ve been used to a much smaller house, of course. It’s gloomier and less welcoming here than in the past. Then there’s mother,’ she said with a note of self-reproach. ‘That’s the major change. If I’d know she was so unwell, I’d have come sooner.’

‘I did urge you to do that in my letter.’

‘I’m ashamed to say that I didn’t even read it properly. Father was alive then and … well, let’s just say that his presence kept me away.’

‘We missed you, Lydia.’

‘You did — and I’m grateful for that. Stanley would never have bothered to track me down and Agnes is already showing signs of her old envy.’

He took her by the shoulders and placed a gentle kiss on her cheek.

‘It’s a tonic to see you again.’

‘Thank you, Lucas.’

‘I wish we could have met in other circumstances.’

‘That would have been impossible,’ she explained. ‘It took a dreadful event like this to bring me back. I’d never have returned to Father’s deathbed. I’m here for the family, not for his sake.’

‘I understand.’

‘I don’t think that you do, Lucas.’

‘Then make me understand.’

‘I didn’t come to burden you with my troubles. I just want to take my place alongside you all during this time of trial.’

‘We’re delighted to see you,’ he said, releasing her. ‘Stanley may appear distant but he’s always had difficulty showing his emotions. In her own way, I’m certain, Agnes still loves you enough to want you here. As for Mother …’

‘What does the doctor say about her?’

‘He’s not very sanguine.’

‘She seems to have shrunk and lost all her spirit.’

Lucas nodded. ‘It’s only a matter of time.’

In the wake of the visit to the Derby Works, the priority was to get medical attention for Edward Tallis. He was evidently in distress and could not place much weight on one foot. Maurice Cope felt obscurely responsible for the mishap and wanted to make amends. He sent for a doctor to attend the patient then helped Colbeck to support the superintendent as he was taken to an office. Cope withdrew and left them alone. Tallis was in obvious pain but bore it well. His anger was reserved for the blast of the steam whistle that had caused the accident.

‘It’s my own fault,’ he confessed. ‘I should never have been misguided enough to go into that mechanical Hades. It was one long, cruel, ear-splitting obstacle course.’

‘One has to keep one’s eyes peeled,’ said Colbeck.

‘I only came because it gave me an opportunity to appraise Haygarth and that cringing, over-polite henchman of his. I endorse your opinion of both of them.’

‘Let’s not worry about that now, sir. Your injury takes precedence.’

‘I’ve had far worse.’

‘Indeed, you have, Superintendent. In Exeter, you were stabbed in the arm.’

‘Such things happen in the line of duty.’

Though Tallis was trying to brush the incident aside, Colbeck remembered the bravery he’d shown in trying to foil the escape of a prisoner. On that occasion, too, the superintendent had been more concerned with the inconvenience caused by the injury than the associated pain.

‘You forget that I was in the army,’ said Tallis. ‘One is almost bound to suffer injuries in action. Like any trained soldier, I learnt to shrug them off.’

‘You’re much older now, sir.’

‘What’s that got to do with it?’

‘Nothing,’ said Colbeck, seeing his eyes flash. ‘Nothing at all.’

Cope popped into the room to see if the patient was comfortable and to issue another string of apologies that the accident had occurred. Since he’d been in charge of showing the two men around, he felt that he was partly to blame. After treating them both to an ingratiating smile, Cope went out again.