‘There’s nothing much to tell.’
Heygate was laconic. As he recalled the meeting with his brother, however, he went out of his way to emphasise how close the two of them were. In view of what the coroner had told them, Colbeck found the claim unconvincing. He also wondered why, having come to Exeter with his wife, they didn’t spend the night at the stationmaster’s house. Michael Heygate concluded his evidence, then returned to his seat. Colbeck noticed the way that his wife immediately seized his hands in a gesture of congratulation. It was as if he’d just come through an important test. Mrs Heygate was a stringy woman in her forties with a face that looked plain in repose but that took on a kind of vulgar attraction when lit by a smile. As the inquest continued, the couple held hands.
Next to be called was the man who actually discovered the body in the embers of the fire. He freely admitted that the sight had made him vomit on the spot. What he would never forget, he said, was the image of the man’s boots, burnt to a cinder yet still clinging to the bottoms of his feet. He’d signalled to one of the policemen on duty and the alarm was raised. Superintendent Steel was the last person to be questioned, explaining the action he’d taken once the crime had been reported to him and how he’d later had the corpse moved from the cathedral close. There could be no doubt that an unlawful killing had taken place. He explained that they were following various lines of enquiry but that a prime suspect had been identified.
Though he seemed a trifle doddery, the coroner had missed no detail of the proceedings. His summing up of the evidence gathered was both lucid and comprehensive. Guided by him, the jury declared that the dead man had to be Joel Heygate and returned a verdict of unnatural death at the hands of one or more persons as yet unknown.
Colbeck left the room with Leeming and came out into a cold November day.
‘What would you do if you’d been the killer, Victor?’
‘I’d be hundreds of miles away by now, sir,’ replied Leeming.
‘I’m not sure that
As Colbeck was speaking, somebody brushed past his shoulder. Bagsy Browne had emerged from the courthouse wearing a long coat, a greasy cap and a scarf that covered the lower part of his clean-shaven face. He melted into the crowd.
CHAPTER FIVE
Most people outside the courthouse had started to disperse but Gervase Quinnell held his ground in order to speak to Michael Heygate. He’d never met the stationmaster’s brother before and he’d been struck by the physical resemblance between them. In character, however, there were clearly marked differences. Heygate and his wife had lingered in order to talk to the coroner. When they finally emerged, they saw that most people had now gone. One of the exceptions was Quinnell and he bore down on them with his features composed into a study in bereavement. He introduced himself with an air of condescension. Heygate, in turn, introduced his wife, Lavinia. Realising the man’s position in the South Devon Railway, they were deferential towards him.
‘Let me begin by offering my condolences,’ said Quinnell. ‘This is a tragedy, an absolute tragedy. It must have come as an appalling shock to you.’
‘It did, sir,’ agreed Heygate.
‘Michael and I still haven’t got used to the idea,’ said Lavinia.
‘The inquest has at least clarified the situation,’ Quinnell pointed out. ‘There was never a scintilla of doubt in my mind as to the identity of the victim. After all the evidence that was gathered today, even Mrs Rossiter must now admit that it was Joel Heygate.’ He lowered his voice. ‘By the way, I always got the impression that your brother preferred his own company. Is it true that he and Mrs Rossiter were close friends?’
‘He never mentioned her to us,’ said Heygate.
‘Was she ever at the house when you called?’
‘No, sir, she wasn’t.’
‘Then why should she claim to be rather more than a work colleague?’
‘I’ve no idea.’
‘I think that the occasion was too much for her. She was overwhelmed. The poor lady was clearly under great stress.’
‘My brother-in-law was happily married, sir,’ said Lavinia. ‘He never looked at another woman while his wife was alive and I’m sure he didn’t do so after her death. Joel was … not that sort of man.’
‘That was my feeling,’ said Quinnell, extracting his gold watch from a waistcoat pocket and glancing at it. ‘I can’t stay long. I have a meeting to attend fairly soon.’ He put the watch away and buttoned up his coat. ‘I just wanted to ask if you’d made any plans for the funeral.’
Heygate looked blank. ‘We couldn’t do that until we knew it was Joel.’
‘No, of course, you couldn’t.’
‘And we don’t know when the body will be released to us.’
‘I can expedite that,’ said Quinnell. ‘There’s no point in a post-mortem when the cause of death is so glaringly obvious. I’m sure that you’d like the funeral to be as soon as possible. I suggest that you talk to the undertaker about arrangements.’ The couple exchanged a worried glance. ‘No cost whatsoever will be incurred by you, incidentally. We — the railway company, I mean — will take care of any bills.’
Lavinia brightened. ‘That’s very kind of you, sir.’
‘He was a valued employee. It’s the least we can do.’
‘Thank you, sir,’ said Heygate, ‘it’s a load off our mind. We have very limited means. My wife and I were anxious about the costs incurred.’
Quinnell was grandiloquent. ‘There’s no need to be,’ he said, raising a gloved palm. ‘All will be taken care of, Mr Heygate — funeral and memorial service.’
‘What memorial service?’ asked Lavinia, mystified.
‘We never thought about that,’ admitted Heygate.
‘That’s because you don’t know how important a person your brother was in Exeter,’ said Quinnell. ‘He was widely admired and had a legion of friends. His popularity went well beyond the city. We’ve had dozens of letters of condolence from visitors from other parts of the county. They all remember the cheerful welcome they got when they stepped on to the platform. A memorial service is a means of letting the wider community express its feelings.’
Heygate was dubious. ‘Well … if you say so, Mr Quinnell,’ he said, uneasily. ‘Perhaps you can help us with something else,’ he went on. ‘As you may be aware, I’m Joel’s next of kin. There are no other close relatives so he’ll have left everything to me, I daresay.’
‘That’s a fair assumption, Mr Heygate.’
‘Would it be possible to have some of the contents of the house now?’
‘No, I’m afraid not.’
‘But they’ll be coming to us in due course.’
‘That makes no difference.’
Lavinia was piqued. ‘Why do we have to wait?’
‘There are legal obligations to observe,’ explained Quinnell. ‘To begin with, I’m not even sure if he made a will. Knowing what a careful man he was, I’m almost certain that he did but, if not, he’ll have died intestate. Complications can arise then.’
‘What sort of complications?’
‘You’ll have to ask your brother’s solicitor.’
Heygate was irritated. ‘What’s to stop us taking a few odds and ends now?’
‘The house is the property of the South Devon Railway,’ said Quinnell with quiet firmness, ‘and you don’t even have the right to cross the threshold as yet.’
‘Why not? What harm can it do?’
‘We have to follow the correct procedure.’
‘But there are things that Joel promised to us,’ said Lavinia, nudging her husband. ‘Isn’t that so,
