Edward Marston - The excursion train

'Good morning,' he said, breezily.

'Oh.' The butcher looked up at him, visibly shocked.

'You seem surprised to see me, Mr Hawkshaw.'

'I heard that you'd been shot last night.'

'Who told you that?'

'Everyone was talking about it when I got here this morning.'

'As you can see,' said Colbeck, careful to give the impression that he was completely uninjured, 'reports of the incident were false.'

'Yes.'

'Might I ask where you were yesterday evening?'

'I was at my lodging,' said Hawkshaw. 'On my own.'

'So there's nobody who could confirm the fact?'

'Nobody at all.'

'How convenient!'

The butcher squared up to him. 'Are you accusing me?'

'I'm not accusing anybody, Mr Hawkshaw. I really came to see how Emily was after that unfortunate business at the church.'

'Emily is well.'

'Have you seen her this morning?'

'Not yet.'

'Then how do you know she is well?'

'Emily doesn't want you upsetting her, Inspector.'

'Your stepsister was upset long before I came here,' said Colbeck, firmly, 'and I intend to find out why.'

Before Hawkshaw could reply, the detective went past him into the shop and knocked on the door at the rear. It was opened immediately by Winifred Hawkshaw. She invited him in.

'I was expecting you to call,' she said.

'Really? You can't have heard the rumour then.'

'What rumour?'

'The one that your stepson managed to pick up somehow.'

'I haven't spoken to Adam yet. I've stayed close to Emily.'

'That's understandable,' said Colbeck. 'Yesterday evening, when I was standing outside the Saracen's Head, someone tried to shoot me.'

'Good gracious!'

'Being so close, you must surely have heard the bang.'

'Now that you mention it,' said Winifred, pushing back a wisp of stray hair, 'I did hear something. And there was the sound of a horse and cart, racing down the high street. I was in Emily's room at the time, too afraid to leave her in case she woke up and tried to…well, you know. I stayed there until I was exhausted then went to my own bed.'

'How is Emily?'

'She's still very delicate.'

'She would be after that experience.'

'Emily doesn't remember too much of what happened.'

'Then I won't remind her of the details,' said Colbeck. 'Some of them are best forgotten. Has the doctor been yet?'

'He promised to call later on – and so did the vicar. Emily is unwilling to see either of them, especially the doctor. She begged me to send him away.'

'What about me?'

'I can't pretend that she was keen to speak to you, Inspector, but I told her that she must. Emily needs to thank you.'

'I'm just grateful that I came along at the right time.'

'So are we,' said Winifred, still deeply perturbed by the incident. 'But what's this about a shot being fired at you, Inspector? Is it true?'

'I'm afraid so.'

'Someone tried to kill you? That's terrible.'

'I survived.'

'Do you have any idea who the man was?'

'Yes, Mrs Hawkshaw,' he replied, 'but let's not worry about me at the moment. Emily is the person who deserves all the attention. Do you think that you could bring her down, please?'

'Of course.'

'Has she given you any idea why she went up that tower?'

'Emily said that she was afraid – of everything.'

Winifred went off upstairs and Colbeck anticipated a long wait as the mother tried to cajole her daughter into speaking to him. In fact, the girl made no protest at all. She came downstairs at once. When she entered the room, she looked sheepish. Winifred followed her and they sat beside each other. Colbeck took the chair opposite them. He gave the girl a kind smile.

'Hello, Emily,' he said.

'Hello.'

'How are you this morning?'

'Mother says I'm to thank you for what you did yesterday.'

'And what about you?' he asked, gently. 'Do you think I earned your thanks?'

'I don't know.'

'Emily!' reproved her mother.

'I'd rather she tell the truth, Mrs Hawkshaw,' said Colbeck. 'She's probably still bewildered by it all and that's only natural.' He looked at the girl. 'Do you feel hazy in your own mind, Emily?'

'Yes.'

'But you do recall what took you to the church?'

Emily glanced at her mother. 'Yes.'

'It was because you were so unhappy, wasn't it?'

'Yes, it was.'

'And because you miss your stepfather so very much.' The girl lowered her head. 'I'm not going to ask you any more about yesterday, Emily. I know you went up that tower to do something desperate but I think that you changed your mind when you actually got there. However,' he went on, 'what interests me more is what happened all those weeks earlier. You were attacked by a man named Joseph Dykes, weren't you?'

Emily looked anxiously at her mother but Winifred did not bail her out. She gave her daughter a look to indicate that she should answer the question. Emily licked her lips.

'Yes,' she said, 'but I don't want to talk about it.'

'Then tell me what happened afterwards,' invited Colbeck.

'Afterwards?'

'When you came running back here. Who was in the shop?'

'Father.'

'What about your stepbrother?'

'Adam had gone to Bybrook Farm to collect some meat.'

'So you only told your stepfather what happened?'

'Nathan was her father,' corrected Winifred. 'In every way that mattered, he was the only real father that Emily knew.'

'I accept that, Mrs Hawkshaw,' said Colbeck, 'and I can see why Emily should turn to him.' His eyes flicked back to the girl. 'What did your father say when you told him?'

'He was very angry,' she said.

'Did he run off immediately?'

'No, he stayed with me for a while.'

'Nathan said she was terrified,' explained the mother. 'He had to calm her down before he could go after Joe Dykes. By that time, of course, Joe had vanished.'

'Let me come back to your daughter,' said Colbeck, patiently. 'You were not to blame in any way, Emily. The chain of events that followed was not your doing. You were simply a victim and not a cause – do you understand what I'm saying?'

'I think so,' said the girl.

'You don't need to take any responsibility on to your shoulders.'

'That's what I told her,' said Winifred.

'But Emily didn't believe you – did you, Emily?'

'No,' muttered the girl.

'Why not?'

'I can't tell you.'

'Then answer me this,' said Colbeck, probing carefully. 'What happened afterwards?'

'Afterwards?'

'Yes, Emily. When your father got back to the shop after he'd failed to find the man who assaulted you. What happened then?'

A look came into her eyes that Colbeck had seen before. It was a look of sudden fear and helplessness that she had given when she felt that she was going to fall to her death from the church tower. The interview was over because Emily was unable to go on but Colbeck was content. He had learnt much more than he had expected.

Notwithstanding his dislike of rail travel, Victor Leeming had to admit that it was quicker and safer than riding beside George Butterkiss on a rickety cart that gave off such pungent odours. The journey to Wye was so short that he barely had time to admire the landscape through the window of his carriage. It was his third call that morning. Having spoken to two of the women and satisfied himself that they could not have been implicated in the crimes, Leeming was on his way to meet the last person on his list.

Wye was a quaint village with a small railway station at its edge. It took him only ten minutes to walk to the address that Butterkiss had given him. Kathleen Brennan lived in a tied cottage on one of the farms. When he knocked on the door, all that the Sergeant knew about her was that she worked there and brought produce in to Ashford on market days. Butterkiss had not warned him how attractive she was.