Christian manner. In the event, his foresight had been unnecessary. His employers had taken charge.
There were no women inside the church, though some had gathered outside. Colbeck wondered what sort of a scene Agnes Rossiter might have created if she’d stormed in during the service. Thankfully, she was miles away and probably unaware of what was going on at St Olave’s. Seated near the back, Colbeck was able to keep an eye on Michael Heygate, the chief mourner and — though he didn’t realise it — a suspect in the investigation. To his credit, he seemed genuinely moved when the coffin was carried in and produced a black-edged handkerchief. Colbeck could not decide if he was seeing the natural bereavement of a brother or the delayed remorse of a killer. Lavinia Heygate was elsewhere. Colbeck suspected that she was more likely to be anticipating a much-needed inheritance than weeping for a dead brother-in-law.
The funeral oration was appropriately comforting and filled with praise for the deceased. It was given by a vicar who’d known and liked Heygate for many years and who was able to call on his memories of the stationmaster. He even found a moment to mention the canary. When the service was over, they moved out into the small churchyard for the interment, joined by those who’d been unable to get inside the building. Colbeck lingered on the fringes this time, anxious to have freedom of movement so that he could study the faces of those present. Most were bent in respect, eyes down and mouths tight-lipped. The majority of people wore funeral attire but there were a number of bystanders who’d simply come in their normal apparel. One of them was a chunky man in the simple garb of a gravedigger, his cheeks darkened by smudges of dirt and his hands filthy. He was holding his cap and kept his chin on his chest. What made Colbeck notice him was that he inched himself nearer and nearer to the grave, slowly burrowing his way through the mass of bodies.
When the burial was at last over, people began to disperse in small groups. Colbeck waited to take a closer look at the man who’d interested him. Before he could do so, however, he was spotted by Gervase Quinnell.
‘Good afternoon, Inspector,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry we meet on such a sad day.’
‘I must congratulate you on the arrangements for the funeral. They’ve done something to alleviate the general sadness.’
‘I wanted everyone to know that we prized his years of service.’
‘Nobody was left in any doubt about that.’
Taking him by the arm, Quinnell moved him aside. ‘Is it true what I hear about Superintendent Tallis?’
‘Yes,’ said Colbeck, ‘he’s returned to London to nurse his wound.’
‘Browne’s effrontery knows no bounds.’
‘Some would account it daring rather than effrontery, Mr Quinnell. I’m sure that Browne himself would. Nothing seems to daunt him.’
‘I think we should increase the amount of the reward again.’
‘That’s not the answer, sir,’ said Colbeck. ‘If anyone had the information we need, they’d have come forward by now. As it is, the one person who did tell us something of use has drowned himself by accident. He fell into the canal in a stupor. Superintendent Steel had a report from one of the more disreputable pubs that Finbar Mulleady spent the whole evening pouring beer down his throat and boasting that he was about to come into a very large amount of money. In other words,’ he concluded, ‘he’d have claimed your reward.’
‘If Browne had been caught, this man would have deserved it.’
‘But he hasn’t been caught as yet.’
‘He can’t elude you indefinitely, Inspector Colbeck.’
‘No, he can’t, and his time at liberty is fast running out.’
While talking to Quinnell, he’d been keeping one eye on the individual who looked like a gravedigger. He was talking to the two men who were leaning on their spades as they waited to fill in the grave. Colbeck saw them him pick up a handful of earth and toss it on to the coffin then spit after it.
‘Excuse me, sir,’ he said to Quinnell.
‘But I have several things to ask you, Inspector.’
‘They’ll have to wait.’
‘You can’t just dash off. It’s most unseemly.’
‘I think I’ve just seen Bagsy Browne, sir.’
Quinnell gaped in disbelief. ‘You’ve seen that villain
‘I believe so.’
Colbeck turned back to the grave but the man had now vanished. Pushing his way through the last of those still in the churchyard, he hurried across to the two gravediggers who were now shovelling more earth on to the coffin.
‘What happened to the man who was talking to you just now?’
One of them shrugged. ‘He just left, sir.’
‘Where did he go?’
‘Don’t ask us. We’ve never seen him before.’
Colbeck scoured the churchyard but the man seemed to have disappeared. He chided himself for not cornering him earlier when the crowd would have prevented his escape. All that he was left with was the nagging suspicion that he’d just let Bagsy Browne get away right under his nose. Colbeck was still searching when Steel joined him among the headstones.
‘Far be it from me to sound mercenary, Inspector,’ he said, ‘but I have to remind you of a small wager that we made.’
‘I remember it well — you owe me a sovereign.’
‘Bagsy Browne never came anywhere near the funeral.’
‘Oh yes he did,’ said Colbeck, ruefully. ‘And he got away before I could arrest him. On second thoughts,’ he went on, ‘it would be unfair to take any money from you. I won the bet but lost the putative killer. That being so, I’d like you to accept this by way of apology.’ Taking a sovereign from his waistcoat pocket, he gave it to Steel. ‘Be warned, Superintendent. I shall win it back before too long.’
It was evening before Michael Heygate was able to escape from the dozens of people who wanted to offer their condolences and tell him anecdotes about his brother. He repaired to a room at the Crown Inn where his wife was awaiting him. Lavinia had stayed away from the funeral in its entirety, pleading unbearable grief over the loss of a much-loved brother-in-law. Since most people didn’t know her, they accepted the excuse and offered their sympathy by way of her husband. When she let him into the room, there was little indication of sorrow on her part. Seizing her husband’s hands, she gave him a welcoming kiss on the cheek.
‘Well?’ she asked.
‘It’s over.’
‘You look exhausted.’
‘It was harrowing,’ he confessed. ‘In spite of all the bad things that happened between us, Joel was my only sibling. We grew up together as boys and liked each other in those days. It was only later that we drifted apart.’
‘Were there many people there?’
‘Half the city seemed to have turned out. There’ll be even more if we hold a memorial service.’ He put his top hat aside. ‘I can’t say that I’m looking forward to that. I’m going to have to wear a sad face again.’
She helped him off with his frock coat. ‘You need a rest, Michael.’
‘Thank heaven we didn’t have to pay for the funeral!’ he said. ‘It must have cost a fortune. The railway company did him proud.’
‘Forget your brother,’ she said. ‘It’s time to think about us.’
He lowered himself on to a chair. ‘I know, Lavinia.’
‘Was Joel’s solicitor there?’
‘Yes, he was.’
‘Did you manage to speak to him?’
‘I made a point of doing so.’
‘And?’ she pressed. ‘What did he say?’
‘Mr Lyman mumbled something about the law of probate and said that he’d be in touch with us in the fullness of time.’
Lavinia was annoyed. ‘Didn’t he tell you
‘It wasn’t the time and the place.’
