Edward Marston - Ticket to Oblivion

‘What did you make of Mr Kee?’

‘Is he a friend of yours?’ asked Dean, cautiously.

‘No, he’s far from it, Sergeant.’

‘Then my impression was that he didn’t tell me the full truth, sir. Like you, I’m used to listening to people giving long accounts of crimes and I’ve learnt to pick out the wheat from the chaff. In fairness,’ he went on, ‘there wasn’t much chaff with Mr Kee’s story but I thought I detected some.’

‘I think that you’re about to confirm my own reservations,’ said Colbeck. ‘What seemed perverse to me was that he should try to hide in a ditch which was difficult to get out of when he would have had far better protection behind the hedge on the other side of the field.’

‘That’s exactly what I was about to say, Inspector. Mr Kee gave me the precise location so I rode out there to investigate the site. Nobody would choose the ditch over the hedge.’

‘What did you infer from that?’

‘Well,’ said Dean, rubbing the side of his nose with a finger, ‘I think he was behind that hedge but was somehow prevented from interfering. He lied to us.’

‘You’ve sound instincts, Sergeant.’

‘Thank you, sir. But I discovered something else that may help you. When I drove back to the railway station, I timed the journey. The stables which they’d used are very close. Mr Kee gave me the exact time of the murder and the kidnappers would have gone immediately to the station. Allowing time for them to return what they’d hired,’ said Dean, reaching for a sheet of paper on his desk, ‘I had a rough idea of the first train they’d be able to catch.’

‘They certainly wouldn’t have wanted to linger in Crewe,’ said Colbeck, ‘because they’d know the murder would soon be reported by Kee.’

Dean handed over the paper. ‘This is a list of trains that left here in the hour after they’d returned to the stables. My guess,’ said Dean, ‘is that, before they met up with Mr Tunnadine, they’d already booked tickets.’ Colbeck scanned the list. ‘Is that of any use to you, Inspector?’

‘It’s invaluable. I congratulate you.’

‘Thank you, sir.’

‘I think I know exactly the train that they took.’

‘How did you work that out, sir?’

‘It was my first thought,’ said Colbeck, ‘and you’ve given me the evidence to buttress it. The men we’re after are former soldiers — Captain Whiteside and Sergeant Cullen. They’ve extracted a substantial amount of money out of two separate people, one of whom they shot dead. What they need now is a hiding place.’

‘That’s true.’

‘They’ve chosen somewhere they think we’re unlikely to find them.’

‘Have you worked out where it might be?’

‘I think so. Our superintendent searched army records to identify these two individuals. They’re deserters who live on their wits. Manus Cullen was born in Dublin. This is the train they caught,’ decided Colbeck, tapping the sheet of paper. ‘It would have taken them to Holyhead. They were on their way to Ireland.’

Choppy water made the crossing very unpleasant. The one time that Imogen and Rhoda had been afloat before was on the placid surface of a lake where the pull of the oars caused the only ripples. The sea was altogether more aggressive, hurling its waves at the side of the vessel as if indignant that anyone should dare to ride upon its back. Both of them felt so sick that all they could think about was the heaving of their stomachs. Terence Whiteside, on the other hand, suffering no discomfort, was very much aware of their escape attempt and vowed that they wouldn’t be given a second chance to get away. While they were on board, of course, there was no possibility of flight but he nevertheless separated them so that they could not devise a plot. He and Imogen sat side by side in a tiny cabin while Cullen and Rhoda were seated on deck together. As long as the women were kept apart, they’d never try to run away.

They were in sight of the Irish coast before Imogen’s queasiness slowly abated. She finally found her voice again.

‘Why did you have to kill Mr Tunnadine?’ she asked.

‘I didn’t do so, Imogen,’ he reminded her. ‘It was the sergeant who fired the shot. Mr Tunnadine disobeyed his instructions, you see. He not only had a weapon on him, he brought an accomplice who hid behind the hedge ready to shoot at me. His name was Alban Kee. After he’d knocked the gentleman out, the sergeant relieved him of his business card as well as the two weapons he carried. In other words,’ he argued, ‘Tunnadine had planned to have us killed by his accomplice. We acted in self-defence.’

‘What you did was appalling.’

‘Your memory is letting you down, Imogen.’

‘You both deserve to be hanged.’

‘We’ve escaped the noose before,’ he said with a laugh, ‘and will no doubt do so many times more. But I obviously need to remind you of some of the things you said in your letters. You didn’t love Tunnadine. In fact, you grew to dislike him intensely and feared being married to him. I was a far more acceptable bridegroom.’

‘That was before I knew your true character.’

‘Oh, you still have a lot to learn about me yet, Imogen,’ he warned. ‘We are going to live together in a fine house as man and wife — except that our union will not be blessed by the church. Don’t let that trouble you. “Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds.” You’ll be a wife in reality if not in the eyes of God.’

‘Never!’ she said, recoiling from him. ‘I hate you for what you did.’

He chuckled. ‘Then I’ll have to woo you all over again, won’t I?’

‘I’d die sooner than let you touch me.’

‘That’s not a practical alternative for you at the moment,’ he said, seizing her arm. ‘You’ll do exactly what I want when I want it. At the same time, naturally, your maid will be obliging the sergeant. We were annoyed when you tried to escape from that hotel in Anglesey but we were also rather pleased.’

Imogen was astonished. ‘Pleased?’

‘Yes, it showed that the pair of you had more spirit than we’d imagined. That was an interesting discovery. I like spirit in a woman. All my previous “wives” have had that, Imogen,’ he told her with a grin. ‘Take heart from the fact that you’ll be keeping up a noble tradition.’

Madeleine Colbeck was not looking forward to the short voyage. While she was delighted to be working alongside her husband, the prospect of sailing across what looked like a turbulent sea was rather forbidding. Her anxieties were negligible compared to those of Victor Leeming. He was squirming in sheer terror. Even though he’d once sailed with Colbeck to New York and back, he was no experienced sailor. In fact, that voyage had made him resolve never to leave dry land again but he had no choice. His only hope was that a mistake had been made and that the fugitives had not, after all, fled to Ireland. He and Madeleine stood on the windswept quay and watched the waves pounding remorselessly away. Gulls wheeled and dipped in the air above them, their piercing cries making conversation difficult for Leeming and Madeleine. They were surrounded by scores of other passengers who’d made the journey to Holyhead.

It was a long time before Colbeck eventually returned. Madeleine was relieved to see him at last and Leeming was praying that he’d tell them their visit to Ireland was unnecessary. In fact, however, he was waving something in his hand.

‘I’ve booked our passages,’ he said. ‘We’ll be sailing within the hour.’

‘The sea is far too rough, sir,’ protested Leeming.

‘You’ll soon get used to that once we’re aboard, Victor.’

‘Are you sure that they went to Ireland?’ asked Madeleine.