Edward Marston - Railway to the Grave

After brooding for a while, Tallis rose from his chair.

‘Thank you, Mr Everett,’ he said. ‘I’ll impose on you no longer.’

‘I’m always available to an officer of the law.’

‘Why do you think that Miriam Tarleton went missing?’

‘I prefer to reserve my judgement, sir.’

‘You mean that you’d rather sit on the fence.’

‘Fences are too precarious. I’d rather lurk in the shadows.’

‘It’s the best place for you,’ said Tallis, pointedly, and headed for the door.

‘One moment, Superintendent,’ called the other, opening a drawer in his desk and taking something out. ‘You may find this interesting.’

‘What is it?’

‘I’m afraid that it’s a fairly accurate reflection of what the people of Northallerton – and still more of South Otterington – are thinking and feeling. It’s a broadside entitled Railway to the Grave .’

Tallis wrinkled his nose. ‘What a revolting title!’

‘When I arrived this morning, this was on sale in the street.’

‘I’m surprised you’d bother with anything so tasteless.’

‘I wanted to see what the general mood was.’ He handed it over. ‘Read it for yourself. The poet will never rival Mr Tennyson but he has an earthy directness about his style.’

Gritting his teeth, Tallis read the opening stanzas. Now here’s a murd’rous tale of woe, See a hero misbehave. For it shows a valiant soldier go By railway to the grave. What drives a man to take his life Upon the iron rails? Is it to do with the death of a wife And the guilt that then prevails? Suicide is a fearful crime, Of darkest deeds, none chiller. When he lay crushed upon that line Had he simply killed a killer?

Tallis had seen enough. Spluttering with fury, he screwed the paper up and hurled it to the floor with disgust.

‘If I find the man who’s selling this detestable slime,’ he yelled, ‘I’ll tear him limb from limb!’

Agnes Reader’s account of the fateful day was protracted because she kept breaking down to sob. Colbeck and Leeming listened without ever daring to interrupt. She was a slight woman in her early forties with an attractive face distorted by pain and awash with tears. Having relived a harrowing experience, she ended on a pleading note.

‘Should I have done more?’ she asked. ‘After waiting and waiting for hours on end, should I have gone out to search for her there and then? Had I done so, would I perchance have saved Miriam’s life? Tell me, please, that I did all that I should have done.’

‘You’ve nothing to reproach yourself with, Mrs Reader,’ said Colbeck. ‘The likelihood is that Mrs Tarleton was killed shortly after she parted company with the colonel. Someone must have trailed them and – the moment he saw her unaccompanied – he struck.’

‘I have nightmares when I think about it.’

‘Your husband told us how fond you were of them both.’

Agnes gave a hopeless shrug. ‘They were our best friends.’

It was a sizeable house on the edge of the town with views of the fields over which anyone coming from South Otterington would have walked. The detectives were in the drawing room, seated opposite the vision of sadness that was Agnes Reader. Dressed in black out of respect, she had a black-edged lace handkerchief to wipe away her tears.

‘Mrs Reader,’ said Colbeck, gently, ‘I’m given to understand that Mrs Tarleton always took the same route here from the village.’

‘That’s true, Inspector,’ she replied. ‘It’s a well-worn path and the one that my husband and I have often taken when we’ve walked over there on a summer afternoon. When it’s too cold or rain is in the air, we travelled in the trap.’

‘Could you please show us the precise route?’

Colbeck had brought an ordnance survey map of the area and he unfolded it on a low table, smoothing it out with the flat of his hand. Agnes leant over to peer at it.

‘Here,’ she said, pointing at a spot beyond South Otterington. ‘This is the house. They would have left there and followed the track to the village. After that, they’d come this way.’ Her finger traced the journey. ‘When they reached this point here, Miriam would have parted from Aubrey – from the colonel – and kept to a path that zigzags its way before eventually straightening out.’

‘It’s not all open countryside,’ noted Leeming, interpreting the symbols. ‘There’s a wood marked here and I daresay there are odd copses dotted about.’

‘That’s quite right, Sergeant,’ she agreed.

‘In addition to that,’ said Colbeck, ‘there’d be bushes and trees along the margins of the fields and perhaps a hollow or two. There are probably several places where someone could ambush a passer-by. Did Mrs Tarleton have no fear of walking here alone?’

‘None whatsoever,’ said Agnes, ‘and the same goes for me. I’ve done that walk on my own many times and so had she. Neither of us had the slightest fear. This is a law-abiding part of the county. We can come and go in complete safety.’

‘That’s good to hear,’ said Leeming. ‘You couldn’t say that about some of the districts we visit in London. You take your life in your hands when you walk down some streets.’

‘The situation here is very different, Sergeant,’ said Colbeck. ‘The murder – if indeed that’s what it was – is all the more shocking for being such an unusual event. Mrs Tarleton was caught off guard.’

‘What could have been the motive, Inspector?’

‘We can’t hazard a guess until we find the body. Presumably, she’d have been carrying a handbag and wearing jewellery of some description. If all that is missing, then theft might be the motive.’

‘I don’t want to hear any other suggestions,’ said Agnes, hands to her ears. ‘I just pray that she was not molested in any way. I couldn’t bear that thought. My husband says that I must try to put it out of my mind the way that he does when he’s at work. But I find it impossible to do that. A few weeks ago we had two wonderful friends. One of them has disappeared and the other was mangled by a train. How can I put such horrors out of my mind?’

‘You can’t, Mrs Reader. You have too many emotional ties to the victims. It’s only right and proper that you should dwell on their deaths. I know that your husband feels the loss deeply as well. His position at the bank requires him to put on a brave face,’ said Colbeck, ‘but we could see that he was suffering inside.’

‘Bertram has been my salvation,’ she confided. ‘I don’t know how I would have borne up without him. He’s had to find the strength to keep both of us from sinking into absolute despair. And yes, he has suffered. He loved them as much as I did. He’s just better at hiding his feelings than I am.’

‘He told us that, on the day in question, he got back here to find you in great distress.’

‘He was late home that evening because he’d been to see a client in Darlington. By that time, I was sick with worry. Bertram wanted to ride over to the house to make sure that all was well and to put my mind at rest. For some reason,’ she admitted, ‘I wouldn’t let him. I convinced myself that, if anything unpleasant had happened to Miriam, her husband would have sent word. Oh dear!’ she wailed, a hand to her mouth. ‘I’ll have to go through it all again at the inquest tomorrow. I’m not sure that I’ll be able to manage it.’

‘I’m sure that you will, Mrs Reader,’ said Leeming.

‘And so am I,’ added Colbeck. ‘You’ve done splendidly here with us and you’ll do the same in public.’ He folded up his map. ‘We’ll intrude on your grief no longer.’

‘The pain is all the more searing because we don’t know what befell Miriam that day. Until the truth comes out, I’ll never be able to mourn her properly.’ She turned moist eyes upon Colbeck. ‘We’ve been everywhere but the search has so far been in vain. Is there any hope at all that you can find her, Inspector? Is there any hope that we’ll finally know the truth?’