Edward Marston - Railway to the Grave

‘Is that why he kept the secret to himself?’

‘Probably – but it’s not his only secret. This is where the mystery comes in. The colonel stopped coming to Doncaster. Without warning and with no explanation, he stopped.’

‘Did you try to make contact with him?’

‘Yes,’ said Kinchin, ‘I wrote two or three times but I didn’t even get a reply. It was as if he’d cut the band out of his life altogether. It was very upsetting. To be honest, I felt like a jilted lover. I wondered if he’d taken against me for some reason.’ He gave a hopeful smile. ‘Do you happen to know why he lost interest so suddenly?’

‘I’m afraid that I don’t, sir,’ said Leeming, ‘but I’d be interested to find out. Can you give me an exact date when he deserted you?’

Since the rector’s obstinacy with regard to the funerals had caused the Tarleton family such distress, Colbeck drove over to the house to alleviate their anxiety. He decided against giving them full details of his visit to the rectory because he didn’t want to add to their grief and felt that they should, in any case, wait until Skelton made a public acknowledgement of what he’d done. The family needed reassurance and that was why Colbeck was ringing the doorbell.

Lottie Pearl answered the door and let him in. They had gathered in the drawing room after dinner. Colbeck was introduced to Lawrence Doel and was pleased to see how her husband’s arrival had lifted Eve’s spirits. There was also a marked difference in her brother’s bearing. Adam Tarleton had contrived to look as if he was bereaved. Declining the offer of a seat, Colbeck told them that he’d simply come to pass on information that it was important for them to hear.

‘I’ve just come from the rectory,’ he said. ‘You’ll be relieved to hear that there’ll be no more squabbling over the colonel’s funeral.’

‘There you are,’ declared Tarleton. ‘I brought the rector to heel. All it needed was a few harsh words from me.’

‘There’s rather more to it than that, sir, but I think the full story best left untold at the moment. If you attend church tomorrow, you need fear no awkwardness. The Reverend Skelton will not be taking the service. He’s instructed his curate to take his place.’

‘I’m so relieved to hear that,’ said Eve. ‘I was terrified that Adam would create a scene.’

‘I was looking forward to it,’ said Tarleton.

‘Thankfully,’ observed Doel, ‘it won’t be necessary. You always were a trifle too belligerent, Adam.’

‘I got the result we all wanted.’

‘Believe that, if you wish,’ said Colbeck, ‘but your intervention was more likely to anger him than cow him into submission. When I arrived earlier, he’d already written his sermon for tomorrow and had not relented over the proposed burial of your stepfather.’

‘Then what changed the old goat’s mind?’

‘Listen to the inspector, Adam,’ said Doel. ‘He’s told us all we need to know for the time being and I, for one, am very grateful. The service tomorrow should be a dignified event that’s not marred by any histrionics from you. In view of the tragedies, we should expect a large congregation.’

‘I think I can guarantee that, Mr Doel,’ said Colbeck. ‘There’ll be family friends coming over from Northallerton and perhaps from even farther afield. I know that Mr and Mrs Reader will be there and I fancy you can count on Mr Everett and his wife being present.’

‘Good,’ Tarleton blurted out. ‘I need to speak to Everett. He can give us some hints about the terms of the two wills.’

‘Adam!’ exclaimed his sister. ‘Can’t you think of anything else?’

‘It means a lot to me, Eve.’

‘It means a lot to everyone involved,’ said Colbeck, ‘but you’ll have to wait until the formal reading of the wills. Having met Mr Everett, I doubt if he’s a man to divulge any details beforehand.’

‘All I’m asking for is a rough indication of what I’ll get.’

‘Then you’re asking too much,’ said Doel with unforced authority. ‘Eve is right. The last thing you should be thinking about now is the possibility of your own pecuniary gain. Apart from being indecent, it has a mercenary smack to it.’

‘Let’s hear no more about the subject,’ decreed Eve.

Tarleton offered a reluctant apology and lapsed back into what he felt was the acceptable pose for someone grieving over the loss of parents. Colbeck was not convinced by his performance. To Adam Tarleton, he could see, the funerals were an irritating obstruction in the way of his inheritance.

‘Well,’ said Colbeck, ‘I’m sorry to have disturbed you but I felt that my news might provide you with some solace.’

‘It’s done exactly that, Inspector,’ said Eve.

‘We can’t thank you enough, sir,’ added her husband.

‘In that case,’ said Colbeck, ‘I’ll take my leave. I’ll be seeing you all again tomorrow at St Andrew’s. It’s comforting to know that there will now be no danger whatsoever of any trouble at the church.’

Moonlight filtered down through the yew trees and drew intricate patterns in the churchyard. Standing at its centre was a large, stone cross that acted both as a cynosure and as a kind of nocturnal sentry. A bird was perched on the cross but it flew away with a disgruntled squawk when somebody walked towards it through the gravestones. The man checked to see that nobody else was about then he tied a rope around the cross, securing the other end to the pommel of his saddle. Slapping his horse on the rump, he made it jump forward. At first it was checked by the solidity of the cross but a second slap made it pull with more vigour. With a resounding crack, the stone split at the base of the upright and toppled onto the grass. Undoing the rope, the man put it away in his saddlebag.

He then returned to the plinth on which the cross had stood. Chiselled into it was the name of the benefactor who had donated the money for the erection of the cross. The man lowered his breeches and urinated, taking careful aim at the name of Colonel Aubrey Tarleton.

Because the bar was too full and noisy to allow a private conversation, the detectives adjourned upstairs to Colbeck’s room. Leeming was eager to hear about the dramatic confrontation at the rectory and sorry to have missed the sight of such an outwardly respectable married couple exposed as the authors of malign letters. Colbeck described what had happened and how the rector had been compelled to accept that resignation was his only course of action. He also told the sergeant about his visit to the house to pass on the welcome tidings that the Reverend Skelton would not be taking the service next morning. Colbeck recalled that Adam Tarleton had made no effort to conceal his selfish preoccupation with the wealth he was due to inherit.

‘The young man may have a shock coming,’ he said.

‘Why is that, Inspector?’

‘He’s working on the assumption that he’ll get half of whatever has been bequeathed, and that may not be so. Instead of looking to the future, Mr Tarleton should remember the past. A stepfather he consistently defied is unlikely to be overgenerous to him. Nor will his mother have looked kindly on a son who became estranged when he could no longer have such ready access to her purse. Mr Tarleton may end up with far less than he anticipates.’

‘That would serve him right,’ said Leeming. ‘Well, it sounds as if your evening was more interesting than mine.’

He went on to talk about his abrasive few minutes with the railway policeman and how Hepworth had withdrawn rather hastily when the poison-pen letters were mentioned. Colbeck was curious about the way the man had reacted.