Edward Marston - Timetable of Death

‘Thank heavens he’s gone,’ said Tallis. ‘I hate sycophancy.’

‘I undertake never to lapse into it,’ promised Colbeck with a smile.

‘Are you being ironic?’

‘It’s wholly foreign to my nature, sir.’

‘Poppycock!’

‘We haven’t really discussed your visit to Melbourne,’ said Colbeck, changing his tack. ‘What was your estimate of Gerard Burns?’

‘He was shifty and disrespectful. I’m fairly certain he’s the killer.’

‘Why didn’t you place him under arrest?’

‘I chose to stand off for a while,’ explained Tallis. ‘It transpires that the prime minister is arriving to stay at the house in a few days’ time, and he is justifiably proud of his gardens. I didn’t wish to incur Lord Palmerston’s displeasure by putting his head gardener in custody when we don’t yet have enough evidence for a jury to convict Burns.’

‘I’ll keep looking for that evidence, sir.’

‘You’ll have to, Inspector. I can’t dash around the countryside here. I need to be back in London with my foot up.’

‘That’s the best place for you,’ said Colbeck, suffused with a sense of relief.

‘You sound as if you’re glad that I had that accident.’

‘Then the pain may have distorted your hearing, Superintendent.’

It was not long before Cope entered with the doctor he’d summoned earlier. Colbeck took the opportunity to slip out and make his way quickly back to the hotel. Arriving in haste, he almost bounded up the stairs. When he let himself into his room, he expected a greeting from Madeleine but he was disappointed. Stretched out on the bed, she was fast asleep.

On his way back to the railway station, Victor Leeming caught sight of the vicar, talking to Superintendent Wigg. He waited until the conversation had finished. When the vicar walked away, Leeming moved in swiftly to intercept the other man. His attitude to the two superintendents was markedly different. While he tended to cower in front of Tallis, he was prepared to be more outspoken with Elijah Wigg.

‘What brings you here?’ he asked.

‘Someone has to solve this crime, Sergeant, and — for all your credentials — you and the inspector seem wholly unequal to the task.’

‘That’s because we’ve had so little help from the local constabulary.’

‘We can’t help if you don’t take us into your confidence.’

‘You know every move we’ve made, Superintendent.’

‘Yes,’ agreed Wigg, ‘but only because I’ve had reports from my men. Neither you nor Inspector Colbeck have had the courtesy to keep me abreast of every new initiative you’ve taken.’

‘Events sometimes move too fast for us to do that.’

‘That’s a lame excuse, Sergeant.’

Leeming was irritated. ‘When we need you, sir, we’ll call on you.’

‘And how long will it be before that happens?’ asked the other, teasingly. ‘My feeling is that time is running out for you. Haygarth’s patience will soon be exhausted. He’ll see that it was a mistake to bring you from London and he’ll hand the case over to someone who knows this county and its people far better than you ever could.’

‘You are right about that, Superintendent. There’s only so much I wish to know about Derbyshire and I’ve almost reached that point. But if you’re in the mood to solve a murder,’ said Leeming, daring to provoke him, ‘why don’t you start with the one that took place in this village three years ago?’

‘That case is under review.’

‘It’s good of you to be so honest about your blunders, sir. If the case remains open, you keep reminding people of your failure. Most constabularies try to bury their mistakes and flaunt their successes. That means they have to be on good terms with the editors of their local newspapers, of course.’

Wigg was roused. ‘What are you implying?’

‘I merely made an observation, Superintendent.’

‘If you bandy words with me, I’ll complain to the Inspector.’

‘Then I must make a confession,’ said Leeming. ‘The observation was not mine. I was only quoting what Inspector Colbeck said to me. He thought you were unhealthily close to a certain editor.’ He enjoyed Wigg’s irate gurgle. ‘By the way, did you know that Philip Conway is being moved away from Spondon?’

‘The movement of reporters is of no concern to me.’

‘It ought to be. Mr Conway has been far more useful to us in this village than any of the six constables who live here. He knows how to dig out the little secrets that people prefer to keep hidden.’

‘I don’t care two hoots about Conway.’

‘Then why did you have him shifted from this village?’

‘I did nothing of the kind,’ said Wigg, whiskers bristling.

‘Someone used his influence with the editor.’

‘I resent that charge, Sergeant. I’m on good terms with the Mercury because I know the important part that a newspaper can play in the war against crime. The facts that I provide for publication are there to inform and reassure people. Any responsible constabulary would do the same.’ He jabbed Leeming in the chest. ‘Take back that vile slur you made against me. I did not have Conway moved.’

‘Then we must be mistaken,’ said Leeming, feeling that he’d prodded the man far enough. ‘If I offended you, sir, I apologise. But we would be grateful to hear all the evidence you and your men have so far gathered.’

‘What I’m seeking is an exchange of evidence.’

‘I’ll pass on that request to the inspector.’

‘Please do so.’

‘Oh, and there’s something else I must pass on,’ added Leeming, getting in a valedictory dig. ‘Your brother sends his regards.’

Wigg spluttered. ‘Why bring Reuben into this?’

‘I called on him in Belper, sir. I thought you should know that.’

Word of Lydia Quayle’s return had spread quickly throughout the staff and it had reached the ears of John Cleary. He was puzzled by her reappearance after so long an absence. Since she was now inside the house, he didn’t expect to catch sight of her at all. He was therefore astonished when she came in search of him. He was polishing the phaeton at the time and saw her mirrored in the shining side panel. Cleary spun round to face her.

‘Good afternoon, Cleary.’

‘Oh, good afternoon, Miss Quayle — I heard that you were back.’

‘How long I’ll be staying, I don’t really know.’

‘While you’re here,’ he said, ‘you’re very welcome.’

It was a sincere comment. Cleary had always liked her because she’d treated him well during her time on the estate. Lydia found him pleasant, willing and very efficient. He was also quietly unobtrusive. Some of the servants were always courting attention in the hope of gaining favour but the coachman simply did as he was told. Cleary had a gift for fading into the background.

‘I’m rather surprised to see you out here,’ he said, tentatively.

‘Why?’

‘After all this time away, I’d have thought you had a lot to say to the rest of your family. They must have been wondering where you’ve been.’

‘They’re preoccupied with other things at the moment.’

‘Of course — I’m very sorry about what happened to your father.’ When she made no reply, he pressed on. ‘We all respected Mr Quayle. We can’t imagine that anyone would want to harm him in any way. Do the police have any idea who committed the murder?’

‘I believe that they have suspects in mind.’

‘That’s good.’

‘Inspector Colbeck has an excellent reputation.’

‘Yes, I met the inspector. I was impressed by him.’

Cleary was still trying to work out why she’d come to the stables in the first place. She seemed so uncomfortable and hesitant. For her part, Lydia was battling with demons from the past and trying to summon up her courage. During her time in London, she’d made a conscious attempt to put Gerard Burns out of her mind but he’d seeped back in the moment she’d seen their old haunts. Lydia did her best to sound casual but the question was nevertheless blurted out.