said Colbeck, ‘he can persuade Bishop Phillpotts not to call in the army. Their presence would be a hindrance to us.’
He looked up as a train appeared in the distance, puffing smoke into the air and rattling along at a slowly diminishing speed. It eventually reached the station and drew up to a halt in front of them. Passengers waited to board the train while several people on it alighted. Tallis was amongst them.
‘Ah,’ he said, walking over to them, ‘I’m glad that you’re both here.’
‘What did you think of Dawlish, sir?’ asked Leeming.
‘I found it quite enchanting.’
‘Did you remember to look out for those pumping stations?’
Tallis bared his teeth. ‘Be warned, Leeming. If you so much as mention the atmospheric railway once more in my presence, you’ll be walking the beat in Whitechapel for the rest of your police career. Well,’ he said, ‘do either of you have good news to report?’
‘I’m afraid that we don’t, sir,’ said Colbeck, ‘but it’s not for want of trying.’
‘No,’ said Leeming, bitterly. ‘I’ve seen enough old sheds to last me a lifetime. And don’t ever tell me that a black cat brings luck.’
‘What are you on about?’ demanded Tallis.
‘It’s nothing, sir. Tell us your news.’
‘I learnt something that you failed to learn, Sergeant. It turns out that Michael Heygate actually knows our chief suspect, Mr Browne. He said that Browne had bought a fishing rod from them but I have doubts about that. The point is,’ said Tallis, beaming in triumph, ‘that I’ve established a link between two of our suspects. In short, they could have been working together.’
‘That’s an interesting possibility, sir,’ said Colbeck. ‘Michael Heygate might draw back from actually killing his brother but he could have engaged Browne to do so. It’s worth recalling that he knew the stationmaster would be going out that night and could easily have followed him.’
‘What about Mrs Heygate?’ asked Leeming. ‘I fancy that she might have a poisonous tongue when upset but I can’t see her involved in a murder.’
‘She’d condone anything her husband did. She’s under his thumb.’
‘I noticed that, sir.’
‘You must also have noticed that she’s far from grief-stricken.’
‘That was apparent at the inquest, sir,’ said Colbeck. ‘She was far more concerned with her husband’s performance as a witness than with her brother-in-law’s fate. Mrs Heygate can’t wait to reap the benefits from his death.’
‘Neither can her husband,’ said Tallis. ‘He asked when the will would be read. It never occurred to him that it might be an indelicate question. The funeral is on Monday, incidentally. Mr Quinnell is responsible for the arrangements.’
‘That gives us the weekend to solve the crime,’ said Colbeck. ‘Otherwise the bishop is going to flood the city with troops. Thanks to you, sir,’ he added, ‘we have a new line of enquiry. We must look for further evidence of collusion between Heygate and Bagsy Browne. Your trip to Dawlish has paid dividends.’
‘The first step is to apprehend Browne,’ said Tallis, crisply. ‘As soon as we do that, we can end this investigation and return to London.’
Bagsy Browne spent the morning considering his options. The one thing that never crossed his mind was the idea of vanishing from Exeter altogether. Being hunted gave him a thrill. He loved dodging the police. It would be time to move on before long but he couldn’t do so while Adeline was in custody. She was both friend and lover. Moreover, she’d provided a safe haven for him. When arrested by the police, she hadn’t given him away. Adeline had remained fiercely loyal. The very least that Browne could do was to show his gratitude. He was sitting in the back row of the church as he pondered. They wouldn’t search for him there. In any case, he’d adopted a new disguise. Wearing baggy old clothes and a greasy cap, he’d made himself look much older by hobbling along on a walking stick. In the event that he was recognised, it would be a useful weapon, though he also carried a dagger under his coat.
When he’d made his decision, Browne looked around to make sure that he was unobserved. Two other people were in the church, both of them knelt in prayer. He sidled across to the exit. Secured to the wall beside the door was a collecting box. It was the work of seconds to prise it open with the dagger and grab its contents. As he walked slowly along the street with the aid of the stick, the coins jingled in his pocket. Two policemen passed him on patrol but neither took any notice of the old man. He carried on until he reached the police station, a building with which he was only too familiar. Propping himself against a wall nearby, he waited patiently and smoked a pipe while doing so. It was over an hour before he saw what he wanted. A policeman was bringing out a prisoner, released after a night in custody. After issuing a stern warning to him, the policeman pushed the man away and went back inside the building.
Browne ambled across to intercept the man, who seemed only half-awake.
‘Drunk and disorderly?’ he asked.
The man tottered. ‘I can’t remember.’
‘There’s a woman locked up in there.’
‘Is there?’
‘You know there is,’ said Browne. ‘Tell me which cell she’s in and there may be money in it for you.’ The man’s face lit up. ‘There — that jogged your memory, didn’t it? I thought it would. Where is she?’
Adeline Goss was no stranger to police cells. She’d first been arrested for soliciting when she was only fifteen. After a night behind bars, she’d been let off with a fine. During a spell plying her trade in Totnes, she’d come to an arrangement with the custody sergeant, offering him her professional services in return for being released with no more than a caution. That would never happen in Exeter. Superintendent Steel was a man of integrity and moral probity. He’d stamp on any sign of corruption.
She felt cold, frightened and alone. Arrest for being a prostitute had happened too many times to hold any fear for her. But she was being held in relation to a vastly more serious offence now. The prospect of the gallows had been raised. It made her wonder if she’d been wise to offer Bagsy Browne refuge. He was an inveterate villain and had done some terrible things but she preferred not to know what they were. It was safer to remain ignorant of what he did. This time, it seemed, he’d gone too far and she was implicated. It was devastating. And yet he’d brought such joy into her life for the last week or so. He’d brought laughter and love and plenty of money into her squalid little room in Rockfield Place. That needed to be remembered.
When she’d been arrested, Browne had escaped but only because she had a hiding place for him. What would he do now? Would he flee the city? He’d obviously stayed long enough to take his revenge on a man who’d betrayed them to the police. What was his next step? On balance, she felt, he’d take to the road. She had to be realistic. Browne had talked of moving on and given no hint that he might take her with him. He was a free spirit. An ageing prostitute would be a handicap to him. Adeline had been abandoned. Nobody would help. The tears ran down both cheeks in rivulets. She was doomed.
Then something spun through the bars of the window and landed with a chink on the floor. She bent down to retrieve a small coin and held it in her palm.
‘Bagsy!’ she said to herself, and her heart lifted.
When the detectives called at Steel’s office, they were surprised by the news.
‘There’s been another murder?’ asked Colbeck.
‘Yes,’ said Steel. ‘We fished the body out of the canal.’
‘Who was the victim this time?’
‘That informant I told you about — Finbar Mulleady. And at least we know for certain who the killer is this time.’
‘Do we?’ said Leeming. ‘Who is he?’
‘It’s our old friend, Bagsy Browne.’
‘Do you have any proof of that, sir?’
‘Look at the evidence, Sergeant,’ said Steel. ‘Mulleady provides intelligence that leads to the arrest of Bagsy’s doxy, Adeline Goss. There’s nothing Bagsy hates more than what he sees as treachery. He silenced Mulleady for ever.’
‘But how did Browne know that this man was an informer?’ asked Colbeck.
