Edward Marston - Blood on the line

‘Another dead end,’ he groaned.

Colbeck raised a hand to silence him, then he lifted the lantern higher and went off to take a closer look at the quarters. As his eyes adjusted to the half-dark, he could see the privations that the crew endured while the passengers travelled in relative comfort. Colbeck stopped in his tracks. Somebody was there. He could neither see nor hear anybody but he was certain that he was not alone. Slipping a hand under his coat, he removed the pistol from its holster and held it in readiness. When he inched forward, he did so with slow, quiet, deliberate footsteps. He did not get far. His toe suddenly stubbed against something and he looked down to see the dead body of a man splayed out on the floor. The corpse was almost naked and smeared with blood.

‘Over here!’ he called.

‘What have you found, sir?’ asked Leeming, coming forward until he saw the body. ‘Is that Oxley?’

‘No,’ said Colbeck. ‘It’s a member of the crew.’

He held the lantern low so they could see that the man’s skull had been smashed to a pulp. Behind the body was a pile of discarded clothing of a kind that looked incongruous in the crew’s quarters. There was a well-cut frock coat, fashionable trousers, a silk waistcoat, a cravat and a pair of patent leather shoes. An abandoned top hat completed the outfit. Colbeck assessed the situation at once.

‘Oxley has disguised himself as a member of the crew,’ he said in exasperation. ‘He’s probably left the ship already.’

Retirement day had left Caleb Andrews with mixed feelings. As he celebrated with other railwaymen that evening at the pub near Euston they’d made their own, he was simultaneously buoyed up with delight and afflicted with remorse. Physically, he was ready to leave a job that made such heavy demands on his time and energy. His old bones, he told them, were crying out for a rest. Emotionally, however, his ties with the footplate were too strong to be easily broken. He could simply not imagine a life without the challenge, responsibility and sheer excitement of driving a locomotive. His departure from the LNWR was thus a confused jumble of gains and losses and it was far too early to weigh them against each other.

Over a week later, there was a more formal gathering of friends with whom he’d worked over the years. Held on a Sunday afternoon at his home, it had been organised by Madeleine who provided the refreshments. Only those who were not on duty that day were able to attend, but there were over a dozen guests crammed into the house in Camden. Men who habitually came home from work with the day’s grime on their hands, face and clothing were now in their best suits. Their faces gleamed and their hair was neatly combed. Over a drink and an unlimited supply of food, they exchanged anecdotes about Andrews and the room was filled with laughter.

Madeleine was pleased to see how much respect they had for her father. She knew most of those present. They included Gideon Little, her most ardent admirer at one time. Promoted to the rank of driver, Little was now married and had two small children. There was no longer any embarrassment between Madeleine and him. He obviously nursed no resentment against her because she had once rejected his advances. There was a mood of general hilarity in the house. She made sure that glasses were regularly filled and more food offered as soon as anyone’s plate was empty.

Dirk Sowerby joined her in the kitchen, his big, muscular body looking out of place in a smart suit. He accepted a cake from her.

‘You’ve done wonders with the food, Madeleine,’ he said.

‘I wanted to be part of the celebration,’ she told him, ‘and to see what his friends really think of Father.’

‘He’s the best driver in the LNWR.’

She smiled. ‘That’s what he keeps telling me. Father has never been one for hiding his light under a bushel.’

‘We’ve had some rare old arguments, Caleb and me, but it’s always a pleasure to work alongside him. But let’s forget your father for a moment,’ he said, moving closer and lowering his voice. ‘Is it true that Inspector Colbeck sailed to America on a steamship?’

‘Yes, it is.’

‘That’s always been one of my ambitions.’

‘Father mentioned that to me.’

‘To be honest, I’d wanted to run off to sea and join the navy but somehow I finished up on the railway. It’s not the same. On the other hand,’ he said with a vacuous grin, ‘it’s probably a bit safer.’

‘Lots of accidents happen on the railways, Mr Sowerby.’

‘That’s true but they’re not usually fatal. If a ship goes down in the middle of the ocean, then the chances are that everyone on board will drown. Not that that would have put me off, I hasten to say,’ he added. ‘Steamships, in particular, are less likely to founder. They’re not at the mercy of the wind and the waves in the way that a wooden sailing ship might be.’ His eye kindled. ‘How long will the inspector be away, do you think?’

‘I’ve no idea. It’s been well past a month so far.’

‘Then he could be on the way home already.’

‘I doubt it,’ said Madeleine. ‘He had to wait until another vessel reached New York and that was a sailing ship.’

‘When he does come back,’ said Sowerby, biting a piece off the cake, ‘could you ask him what it was like, please? I mean, I’d love to know in detail what sailing on a steamship is like. You could pass on the information to Caleb.’

Andrews came into the kitchen. ‘What’s that you’re saying about me behind my back, Dirk?’

‘I want to learn about steamships.’

‘I’ll find out all I can,’ promised Madeleine.

‘Thank you.’

Popping the remains of the cake into his mouth, Sowerby went back to the others. Andrews, meanwhile, helped himself to another cucumber sandwich. He nibbled at it before nodding with satisfaction.

‘You’ve done me proud, Maddy,’ he said.

‘You deserve it.’

‘If this is what it’s like, I’ll retire more often.’

‘I can’t promise to do this every Sunday,’ she said, laughing.

‘Everybody is saying how wonderful you look.’

‘It’s always nice to have compliments.’

‘I hope that it means you’re feeling better,’ he said, probing. ‘You’ve been very subdued this past month or so. We both know why.’

‘I’m fine now,’ she said, blithely.

He put a hand under her chin. ‘Are you happy?’

‘I’m very happy, Father.’

‘Then let’s make sure we keep it that way.’

Grabbing two more sandwiches from the table, he put them on his plate and went off to rejoin his friends. A roar of laughter greeted a comical remark he made as he entered the room. Left alone in the kitchen, Madeleine could now abandon the pretence of being happy. Having to maintain a permanent smile for their guests had taken a great effort. Behind the mask, she was worried and dispirited. She kept taunting herself with memories of disasters that had taken place at sea and feared for Colbeck’s life. What irked her was that there was no way to verify his safe arrival in New York or to confirm that he’d managed to capture the two fugitives without being injured.

She spared a thought for Estelle Leeming, having to cope alone with two children while her husband was out of the country, but at least the Leemings had married and started a family. She and Colbeck had taken neither of those life-changing steps. If anything happened to him, all that she would have to remember him by were a series of pleasant reminiscences. Madeleine yearned for something more. But the main cause of her discontent was the comment he’d made before they parted. Colbeck vowed to explain everything once the case was closed. Until then, he was devoting all of his attention to it and she was the loser as a result. What was it about the investigation that made it so important to him? Why had he not confided in her?