Edward Marston - Blood on the line

It was true. Madeleine’s income — albeit irregular — had enabled them to buy all kinds of additional items for their little house in Camden. It had also transformed her wardrobe. When she and Colbeck went out together, she always dressed well and did not look out of place on his arm. It would be a wrench to leave the house in which she was born and brought up, but she was confident that her father could cope now that he’d finally got over the death of his wife. How he would fill his day during his retirement was another matter. Madeleine did not want him spending too much time at the marital home. She and Colbeck would value their privacy.

‘There’s lots of things I can do when I leave the LNWR,’ he said, giving his imagination free rein. ‘I could take an interest in gardening, learn to paint just like you, travel the country by train, get married again, have a stall in the market, write my life story, go to church more often or decorate the house. My real ambition, of course, is to work side by side with my son-in-law.’

‘You’re too old to join the police force, Father,’ she pointed out.

‘We’d have an unofficial arrangement. Whenever he had a tricky case, he’d tell me the full details and I’d advise him what to do. I think I’d make a wonderful detective, Maddy. Why don’t you mention that to the inspector? He might be grateful for my help.’

Madeleine suppressed a grin. ‘Then again, he might not.’

‘But my instincts are sharp.’

‘Robert is well aware of your instincts, Father,’ she said, turning to offer a gentle smile. ‘If he felt he could make use of them, I’m sure that he would. You’ll just have to wait. In the meantime, I think that you should just let him get on with his job.’

Two of the policemen who’d been aware of the exact train on which the prisoner would be travelling were on duty together. Colbeck and Leeming met them on their beat and interviewed them. Like Riggs, they were not receptive to the idea of detectives from London taking over the search for the killers of their former colleagues. When they realised why they were being questioned, they became indignant at the suggestion that they might unwittingly have given away the information that told Oxley’s accomplice when and where to strike. Their language became ripe. Roused by their aggressive attitude, Leeming had to control an urge to hit one of the men. Colbeck calmed all three of them down before apologising to the policemen. It was clear to him, he told them, that they were in no way implicated. After ridding themselves of some more bad language, they stalked off to continue their beat.

‘That leaves only one man,’ noted Leeming.

‘Yes,’ said Colbeck, ‘Constable Toby Marner.’

‘I hope he’s a little more helpful than those two.’

‘Nobody likes to be accused of a crime, Victor, even if it’s an unintentional one. Their intemperate reaction was forgivable.’

‘I’d have forgiven them with a punch on the nose.’

‘Save your strength for the real villain — Jerry Oxley. The one thing we can guarantee is that he’ll put up a fight.’

They went to the address they’d been given and knocked on the door of a shabby house in one of the rougher districts of the town. The woman who answered the door was Toby Marner’s landlady. She told them that they might find him at the Waterloo, a nearby public house. Colbeck asked her some questions about her lodger and was told that he’d been a good tenant.

When they located the seedy pub, they had no difficulty in picking out the man they were after. Sitting alone in a corner, the tall, rangy Marner was wearing his uniform and hat but he was not the image of sobriety expected of a law enforcement officer. His eyes were glazed, his cheeks red and he was quaffing a pint of beer as if his life depended on it. The detectives joined him and introduced themselves. It took Marner a few moments to understand what they were saying.

‘What do you want with me?’ he asked, slurring his words.

‘We need your assistance,’ said Colbeck. ‘According to Sergeant Riggs, you were told on which train the prisoner would be travelling this morning. Is that true?’

Marner was defensive. ‘I wasn’t the only one.’

‘We’ve spoken to the others. We’re satisfied that none of them passed on the information to anyone else.’

‘Neither did I.’

‘Are you sure?’ pressed Leeming.

‘I’m very sure.’

‘Well, somebody let the cat out of the bag.’

Marner tensed. ‘Are you calling me a liar?’

‘We just want to solve this mystery,’ said Colbeck, adopting a quieter tone. ‘As you’re well aware, two of your fellow policemen were murdered this morning on a train. You must have known them well.’

‘I did, Inspector.’ There was a sob in his voice. ‘Bob Hungerford was my brother-in-law. We joined the police force together.’

‘Then you have a special reason to want his killers arrested.’

‘Yes, I do.’

‘Is there any chance that you might accidentally have divulged the details of Oxley’s transfer to anyone?’

‘None at all,’ said Marner, emphatically.

‘Not even to your landlady, for instance?’

‘I told nobody.’

‘What about other policemen?’

Marner became truculent. ‘I’ve given you my answer, so you can leave me alone. Go back to London and let us deal with this. Arthur Wakeley and Bob Hungerford were Wolverhampton lads through and through. This is our case.’

He was slurring his words even more now and almost keeled over at one point. When Marner reached for his tankard, Colbeck moved it out of the way. The policeman was outraged.

‘Give me my beer.’

‘I think you’ve had enough already,’ said Colbeck. ‘You can’t hold your beer because you’re not a drinking man.’

‘Who can afford to be on police pay?’ moaned Leeming.

‘Your landlady said that you very rarely go to a pub. That’s why she was so surprised when she saw you heading in this direction. Do you know what that tells me, Constable Marner? It tells me that you’re a man with a need to drown his sorrows.’

‘You’re right,’ said Marner. ‘I’m mourning the death of two good friends. Is there anything wrong in that?’

‘No,’ replied Colbeck, fixing him with a piercing stare. ‘I’d expect it — especially if you are somehow connected with those deaths. And I’m inclined to think that you are.’

‘That’s a filthy lie!’

‘You’re the one who’s lying and you know it.’

‘I want my beer back.’

‘It’s no good trying to block out the truth,’ said Colbeck, sternly. ‘It will always come out in the end. Do you know what I believe we should do? Instead of talking to you here, I think we should have this conversation at Constable Hungerford’s house. Your sister will be present then.’ He leant in close. ‘You’d never dare to tell lies in front of her, would you?’ Marner swallowed hard. ‘You wouldn’t be cruel enough to add to her grief by trying to deceive us.’ He stood up and gestured towards the door. ‘Shall we go?’

Marner remained in his seat, staring anxiously ahead of him as he thought about what might lay ahead. He chewed his lip and wrung his hands. They could see the terror in his eyes. When Leeming took him by the elbow, Marner let out a yelp and burst into tears.

‘Don’t take me to my sister,’ he begged. ‘Please don’t make me go there. After what I did, I just can’t face Mary. I’d die of shame.’

‘And what exactly did you do?’ asked Leeming.

Colbeck resumed his seat. ‘Let’s give him time to clear his mind, Victor,’ he advised, ‘then he’ll tell us the whole story. That’s right, isn’t it, Constable Marner?’