Edward Marston - Railway to the Grave

‘Thank God!’ she murmured.

When they stopped at the cottage, it did not take Colbeck long to establish that its female owner was completely unaware of what Bruntcliffe had been doing in the name of revenge. He bade her farewell. The three men headed back towards Northallerton on horseback. Leeming was thankful that they moved at a more sedate pace and glad that they had a prisoner to show for their efforts. At the same time, he was depressed by the realisation that the killer was still at liberty and that they had very little evidence as to his identity. When they reached the town, they handed Bruntcliffe over to one of the constables and watched him being charged before he was shut away in the lock-up. Back in the saddle, Leeming passed on the fruits of his meditation.

‘It has to be Sergeant Hepworth,’ he concluded.

‘We shall certainly take a closer look at him,’ agreed Colbeck. ‘What better way to conceal your guilt than by joining in the search for a woman whom you actually murdered?’

‘No wonder he offered his services to us, Inspector.’

‘Yes, he wanted to know exactly how the investigation went. That way, he could always stay one step ahead of us.’

‘I think we should arrest him immediately,’ said Leeming.

‘We don’t want to make another mistake, Victor. Let’s be absolutely sure of our facts before we accuse him of anything.’

‘But we know he sent those letters. His son told us.’

‘Sam Hepworth would change his story the moment his father gave him a clip around the ear. No, we must proceed with caution. Hepworth is a railway policeman. He’s familiar with the way that suspects are questioned. We mustn’t show our hand too early.’

‘He’s our killer, sir. I know it.’

‘You felt the same about Adam Tarleton.’

‘What that man did was sinful,’ said Leeming, bristling, ‘and I was revolted that we should learn about it on the Lord’s Day. How could any man hand over a woman like that to a friend? Does he have no moral scruples?’

‘You didn’t speak to the lady in question,’ Colbeck told him, ‘but I did. Let me simply say that Bruntcliffe and Tarleton were, in my opinion, not the only guests to share her bed. Where young men are concerned, she appears to be very compliant.’

‘Then I’m glad I stayed outside.’

On the ride from Northallerton, they took the identical route used by Miriam Tarleton, going past the spot where they believed the murder had taken place. They paused for a while so that Colbeck could reconstruct the ambush in his mind. Dismounting from his horse, he went to inspect the wheel marks made in the ground. After looking in both directions, he climbed back into the saddle.

‘It has to be the place,’ he said. ‘They’d be screened from view at this point. Whoever intercepted her had to be someone she knew, someone whose presence wouldn’t alarm her in any way.’

‘Sergeant Hepworth.’

‘It’s possible.’

‘It’s probable, sir. Who could be less likely to alarm her than a policeman?’

Colbeck grinned. ‘I know a policeman who alarms you, Victor.’

‘I’m not talking about the superintendent. Mrs Tarleton must have known Hepworth. Everybody else does and he’s not a man to hide his light under a bushel. If she met him here,’ argued Leeming, ‘the lady would have been reassured by the sight of that uniform.’ He gave a short laugh. ‘I wonder if he ever takes it off.’

‘I fear that he may sleep in it,’ said Colbeck.

‘Hepworth must have known Mrs Tarleton would be walking that day on this particular route.’

‘Yet his name wasn’t on that list.’

‘What list?’

‘It was the one that Mr Reader gave us when he brought that card from the rector’s wife. It was compiled by Mrs Reader and contained the names of all those who were definitely aware of the routine followed by the colonel’s wife. Hepworth wasn’t on the list.’

‘That’s irrelevant. He’s a watcher, sir. If she’d been his target, he’d have kept her under observation for some time.’

‘Yes,’ conceded Colbeck, ‘I can imagine him doing that.’

They continued on their way to the village. Having returned the hired horses, they went back to the Black Bull. Colbeck first washed off the dirt he’d picked up during the fight then he changed his apparel. He asked the landlord where his least favourite customer lived and they were directed to a cottage on the outer fringe of South Otterington. It was a small, low residence for a tall, bulky man and they understood why there was no room for Sam Hepworth to play with his soldiers. They knocked on the door but there was no response. When Leeming peered through a dusty window, half-hidden by ivy, he could see nobody inside. Colbeck led the way around the side of the cottage and they saw that someone was at home, after all. A red-faced girl with a mop of brown curls was pegging out some washing on a line. There was an air of morose resentment about her as if the chore were a punishment inflicted by an unkind parent. Even though she saw them over the fence, she carried on with her job.

‘Are you Ginny Hepworth?’ asked Colbeck.

‘Could be,’ she returned, cheekily.

‘We know for a fact you are,’ said Leeming, annoyed by her rudeness. ‘We met your brother in the churchyard this morning.’

‘Our Sam’s always there.’

‘We’d really like to talk to your father.’

‘Our Dad’s not ’ere.’

‘Do you know where he is, Ginny?’

‘Out with our Mam, like – they goes walkin’ of a Sunday.’

‘And they’ve left you to do all the work, I see,’ said Colbeck. ‘That was very unfair of them. This should be a day of rest. When will they be back?’

‘No idea.’

‘Do you know who we are?’

‘Whole village knows.’

‘Then perhaps you’d tell your father that we’d like to speak to him at the Black Bull. You might also tell him,’ said Colbeck, adding the information by way of bait, ‘that we’ve made an arrest.’

‘I see,’ she said, pegging the last item on the line before folding her arms. ‘Who you got, then?’

‘We’ll tell your father.’

‘You used to work at the big house, didn’t you?’ said Leeming.

‘Aye – I were treated bad.’

‘How did you get on with the colonel?’

‘Colonel were the worst.’

‘So you didn’t like him?’

‘No, I were thrown out.’

‘But your father spoke up for you. He told us so.’

‘Aye, that’s right. Our Dad told colonel off, like.’

‘And he probably wrote to him, didn’t he?’ Her eyelids narrowed with suspicion. ‘Like any good father, he’d have wanted to defend his daughter. I’ll wager that he sent a letter of complaint. I admire him for doing so. From what he said, it seems to me that you were dealt with very shabbily.’

‘I were – by the colonel and Mrs Withers, at any rate.’

‘Did your father get a reply to his letters?’

‘No, he didn’t.’

‘How many did he send, Ginny?’

‘Three.’ She brought a hand to her mouth but it was far too late to stop the word popping out. Her cheeks went crimson. ‘It were not my fault. I did as I were told.’

‘We’re not blaming you for anything,’ Colbeck reassured her. ‘And there’s no need to mention this to your father. It’s not something we’re bothered about. It’s just that he’s given us some help so he deserves to know that we’ve got a man in custody.’

Ginny relaxed. ‘When will ’e be ’anged?’

‘Oh, there’s a long way to go before any execution.’

‘Our Dad took me to Northallerton once to see a man being ’anged there. There were a big crowd, like. We all cheered.’