The Stationmaster's farewell

‘Go on.’

‘He’s given money for the restoration of the cathedral and the building of some churches. His philanthropy is remarkable. For instance, he gave ten thousand pounds to found a theological college here in the city.’

‘I feel that there’s a qualification coming.’

‘There is. Mr Quinnell, as you discovered, is both arrogant and objectionable.’

‘I couldn’t have summed him up better.’

‘Beside the bishop, however,’ said Steel, bluntly, ‘he looks like a saint.’

‘Where on earth are they?’ demanded the bishop, pacing the room. ‘I sent for them ages ago. They should have been here by now.’

‘I thought I heard the doorbell being rung only a moment ago,’ said Barnes.

‘Well, it’s not before time. Go and meet them, Ralph. Acquaint them with my displeasure and bring them here.’

‘Would you like me to remain?’

‘Yes, I’d like your assessment of this detective from London. We’ve already taken Superintendent Steel’s measure and found him wanting. Let’s see if the Metropolitan Police employ worthier individuals.’

Barnes left the room and intercepted the visitors in the hall. He told them that the bishop was fretting over the delay then conducted them to the library. When they entered, the bishop had his back to them. He swung on his heel to confront them and struck a pose. After he’d been introduced to Colbeck, he offered the two men a seat then settled into the high-backed leather chair behind the ornate desk. Barnes was left to hover in the background.

‘What time is the next train to London?’ rasped Phillpotts, fixing Colbeck with a stare. ‘Whenever it is, I suggest that you catch it.’

‘That won’t be possible, Bishop,’ said Colbeck, smoothly. ‘Sergeant Leeming and I will remain in Exeter until our work is done.’

‘We don’t need you, man.’

‘That decision does not lie in your hands. We are here as a result of a direct appeal from the chairman of the South Devon Railway.’

Phillpotts snorted. ‘Quinnell is an idiot.’

‘That’s something on which we can agree,’ said Steel under his breath.

‘Unfortunately, he’s an idiot who has substantial power and that makes him dangerous. I am responsible for the spiritual life of the diocese and it must take precedence over everything else.’

‘I beg leave to doubt that,’ said Colbeck.

‘Damn your impertinence!’

‘This crime is related to the railway and I will treat it as such.’

‘When it has such religious significance? Open your eyes, Inspector. The murder was carried out in the cathedral close. There’s an interpenetration of the sacred and the profane here.’

‘That may be a coincidence, Bishop. There’s a possibility that the victim was killed elsewhere and concealed beneath the bonfire because it was a convenient way of disposing of the body.’

‘That’s nonsense!’

‘It’s something we have to consider,’ argued Steel.

‘This outrage is far more to do with the Church than the railway. That’s why we don’t need anyone from Scotland Yard to poke his nose into our affairs. I suggest that you pack up and leave, Inspector.’

‘I’m not answerable to you, Bishop,’ said Colbeck, stoutly.

‘The superintendent will agree with me. This is a local matter.’

‘But it will test us to the limit,’ conceded Steel. ‘I’ve never handled a case of this complexity before, whereas the inspector is a renowned expert. It would be folly to scorn his assistance.’

Phillpotts recoiled as if from a blow. ‘You dare to accuse me of folly?’

‘I was thinking of myself, Bishop.’

Colbeck was grateful for the superintendent’s support but he was not sure if it was genuine or simply a means of annoying the bishop. Having been in charge of the police force for a decade, he reasoned, Steel would have had many battles with Henry Phillpotts and did not take kindly to being hauled before him like an errant schoolboy summoned to the headmaster’s study for punishment.

‘The superintendent has done exactly what I would have done,’ said Colbeck, ‘and deserves praise. He’s removed the body, set up an inquest and — I see from the handbills on display — had “wanted” posters printed. The railway company is offering a handsome reward for information leading to the arrest of the person or persons who perpetrated this crime. In addition to that,’ he went on, ‘he’s already identified a prime suspect.’

‘Is this true?’ asked the bishop, shifting his gaze to the superintendent.

‘My men have been searching for the fellow all day,’ replied Steel, ‘and I’ve alerted other police stations in the county.’

‘Who is this villain?’

‘He’s a rogue who goes by the name of Bagsy Browne.’

Phillpotts started. ‘Isn’t that the man caught urinating on my lawn?’

‘He did rather more than urinate, Bishop,’ recalled Barnes, uncomfortably.

‘There — that proves my point. This murder was intended to ridicule me. Browne is an irredeemable rascal who spurns the very existence of God. What better way to taunt me than by slaughtering someone in the shadow of the cathedral?’

‘You’re forgetting who the victim is,’ said Colbeck, pointedly. ‘You are still alive, Bishop, but the stationmaster is not. He was the one who aroused the ire of this suspect — and we must bear in mind that he is only a suspect at this stage — so our concern should be for him. I discern nothing in this crime that relates directly to you or indeed to the Almighty.’

‘I endorse that,’ said Steel. ‘If Bagsy Browne was the killer, it was a simple act of revenge. All that Guy Fawkes Night means to a man like that is an excuse to get horribly drunk and attack my officers. He’s almost illiterate, Bishop. He’s never heard of the Gunpowder Plot or the part it plays in our history.’

Phillpotts was adamant. ‘The man was trying to get back at me.’

Rising to his feet and using the voice he’d trained to reach every corner of the cathedral, he treated them to a long diatribe against the evils of atheism as embodied in the suspect. Pretending to listen politely, Colbeck soon came to the view that Steel’s verdict on the bishop had been correct. He posed a problem. Quinnell might be disagreeable but at least he was supporting the investigation. Henry Phillpotts not only wanted to control it himself, he was trying to send it off in the wrong direction altogether. The sermon only served to make Colbeck more determined to stay and solve the crime. As the booming voice kept assaulting his ear, he was simmering with quiet anger. The bishop was undoubtedly sincere and, as his extensive library showed, he was a cultured man. But he was also sanctimonious and supercilious, treating them like commoners dragged into the palace to be chastised by royalty. Retribution was needed. Colbeck felt that it would be a pleasure to prove to Phillpotts that he was wrong, misguided and absurdly self-absorbed. It gave the investigation a new edge.

CHAPTER FOUR

Old habits died hard. Though he’d finally retired from the London amp; North Western Railway after a lifetime’s service to it, Caleb Andrews was unable to enjoy a more leisurely existence. He still woke early every morning and he still ended the day by drinking at the pub near Euston station that he’d frequented with other railwaymen for decades. Over foaming pints of beer, he loved to hear where his friends had been and what incidents had occurred in the course of their work. Known for his irascibility and forthrightness, Andrews had mellowed. He no longer argued for the sake of argument. Nor did he remind those who’d been on the footplate beside him of dire mistakes they’d made in their early days. He was a short, sinewy man with a fringe beard and a wealth of experience behind him. Among other railwaymen, he felt appreciated.

When he got home that night, there was a distinct lack of appreciation.

‘What time do you call this, Father?’ challenged Madeleine.