The Stationmaster's farewell

due course, he will tell you that he has a suspect in mind who swore that he’d kill the stationmaster. In short, there is someone in this city with a motive and means to commit this crime. All that he had to do was to create the opportunity. What do you say to that?’

Mrs Rossiter was incapable of speech. Puce with rage, she rose to her feet and emitted a high-pitched cry of anguish, pointing to the coroner as if he’d just betrayed her then turning her fury on the superintendent. She was shaking violently all over. As the cry soared to become the sustained screech of a wild animal, she suddenly fell silent, went limp and collapsed on the floor in a heap.

The inquest was adjourned while she was given medical attention.

The detectives took the opportunity to go outside for some fresh air. They could hear members of the railway staff talking excitedly about Mrs Rossiter.

‘What was your opinion of the lady, Victor?’ asked Colbeck.

‘I thought she was raving mad, sir.’

‘I felt sorry for her. She just can’t acknowledge that her friend is dead. Not that I think their friendship was all that close,’ he went on. ‘When she made that claim, there were gasps of astonishment from people who knew her. From everything we’ve heard today, we have a very clear idea of the sort of person the stationmaster was. When he was not on duty, he liked nothing better than gardening and birdwatching, things that are done on one’s own. Do you think that Mrs Rossiter would have any appeal for a man like that?’

‘Frankly,’ said Leeming, ‘she would not. I don’t wish to be unkind but I fancy that she’d scare most men away — me among them.’

‘Who else caught your eye?’

‘Mr Woodford was the only one who seemed to know what he was talking about, though he was far too full of himself for my money. The others were too tongue-tied for the most part, especially that young girl.’

‘They might be more forthcoming if they were questioned in less daunting surroundings. They’re still very shocked by what happened. The girl was Dorcas Hope, who works as a waitress under Mrs Rossiter. I’d like to know what she thinks of the manageress.’

‘I think she’d be too frightened to tell you, sir.’

Steel came over to join them. ‘The inquest is not without its drama, is it?’

‘No,’ said Colbeck. ‘Have you been convinced yet that the victim simply has to be Mr Heygate?’

‘I’m waiting for the coroner’s verdict.’

‘That hasn’t stopped you searching for Bagsy Browne, though.’

‘No,’ replied Steel. ‘If we find him and he’s guilty, he’ll be hanged. If he turns out to be innocent, we’ll run him out of Exeter.’

‘Is this rogue the only suspect?’ wondered Leeming.

‘I suppose that he is at the moment.’

‘At times like this, the inspector always asks cuo benny.’

‘Actually,’ said Colbeck, ‘it’s cui bono? but I’m sure that the superintendent is familiar with the phrase. Who stands to gain? In the sense that it will assuage his lust for revenge, it will obviously advantage Browne. What about other possibilities?’

Steel pondered. ‘I suppose that Mr Woodford will be a beneficiary,’ he said at length. ‘He’s almost certain to be promoted to the position of stationmaster. Indeed, when he was giving evidence, he was acting as if the job was his already.’

‘Do we know how he and Mr Heygate got on?’

‘I understand that there’d been some tension between them. Not that you’d have guessed it from the way that Woodford behaved in there. He presented himself as Heygate’s best friend.’

‘Then why didn’t he show more grief?’ asked Leeming.

Colbeck pursed his lips. ‘Why didn’t he show any grief?’

‘I still think that Bagsy Browne may be our man,’ said Steel.

‘But only if the victim really was the stationmaster. If it’s someone else, Browne is in the clear. In any case,’ continued Colbeck, thinking it through, ‘he would have needed access to Mr Heygate. That was impossible during the day because there were so many people about. After work — if we accept the testimony of Mr Woodford — the stationmaster went in search of an owl. How would Browne have known where he was going?’

‘He could have been lurking near the house and followed him.’

‘Where would the murder have taken place?’

‘At some lonely spot in the woods, I daresay.’

‘Why was his head repeatedly battered when one blow would surely have killed him?’

‘Ah,’ said Steel, ‘I can answer that. It’s Bagsy’s signature. He does nothing by half-measures. I’m amazed that he left the head on the shoulders.’

‘Let’s go back to that cui bono,’ advised Leeming. ‘I’ve just thought of someone else who stands to profit and that’s his brother, Michael Heygate. According to the coroner, he’s the only relative. And there seems to have been no love lost between the two brothers. What sort of man is Michael Heygate, Superintendent?’

‘Make up your own mind, Sergeant,’ said the other. ‘The gentleman will be called as a witness when the inquest resumes.’

When they filed back into the room, there was no sign of Agnes Rossiter. She’d been given smelling salts to revive her, then was examined by a doctor. Although he could find nothing physically wrong with her, she was sent home for the day. The coroner’s court quickly filled up and more evidence was taken. Eventually, it was the turn of Michael Heygate, younger brother of the deceased. He’d been sitting beside his wife throughout the inquest and she squeezed his arm in encouragement when he was called. His appearance caused a little consternation because there was such an obvious likeness to the stationmaster. Indeed, some people found the similarity so close that it stirred up their grief and they had to avert their gaze.

Heygate had his brother’s bulk and even sported a walrus moustache but he had none of the stationmaster’s good humour. He was terse and rather churlish. After identifying himself, he said that he’d seen his brother alive on 4th November.

‘At what time would that be?’ asked the coroner.

‘It was early evening,’ said Heygate. ‘We stayed the night so that we could go to the bonfire next day. We made a point of seeing Joel.’

‘How did he seem to you?’

‘He was much as usual — calm and polite.’

‘Did you see him at the station?’

‘No — it was at his house.’

‘How long were you there?’

Heygate shrugged. ‘Not long — ten minutes, maybe.’

‘Did you often see each other?’

‘Of course — Joel was my brother.’

‘Did he say where he was going on the evening in question?’

‘Not to me, he didn’t.’

‘There was no mention of an owl?’

‘No.’

‘He didn’t discuss his hobby with you?’

‘No.’

‘And you never saw him after that evening?’

‘Not until I saw the dead body — if it really is him, that is.’

‘You’re not sure?’

‘No.’

‘Can you suggest the name of anyone who may have harboured a grudge against your brother?’

Heygate shook his head. ‘Everyone liked him.’

‘Did he ever talk about threats made against him?’

‘No.’

‘Tell us about the conversation you had with him that evening.’