setting and taken his measure. I think it’s time to see if Woodford was egged on by a Lady Macbeth.’
‘Who’s she?’
‘A character from Shakespeare — she incites her husband to murder.’
‘Is that what Lavinia Heygate did?’
‘It’s not beyond the bounds of possibility.’
‘What about Mrs Woodford?’
‘I’ll be interested to find out,’ said Colbeck.
It was difficult to copulate in the limited space of the cabin but Browne and Adeline eventually managed it. Flushed with drink and high on emotion, they held a joint celebration for her escape and his valedictory encounter with Joel Heygate. From her point of view, however, the event was tinged with sadness. It was all over. Now that he’d seen his enemy lowered six feet into the ground, there was nothing to keep Browne in Exeter. He was ready to move on. She recognised the signs.
‘When will I see you again, Bagsy?’ she asked, snuggling up to him.
‘I haven’t gone yet.’
‘It won’t be long before you do. I can sense it.’
He squeezed her. ‘There’s no fooling you, is there, Ad?’
‘I’ve a mind to head for Plymouth,’ she said. ‘The police will be looking for me, so I can’t stay here. I’ve a cousin in Plymouth who’ll take me in. If I dye my hair and change my name, nobody will know the difference.’
‘I will. Be sure to give me your cousin’s address before you go.’
‘What about you, Bagsy?’
‘North Devon is starting to call me,’ he said. ‘It must be years since I’ve seen Barnstaple. I might give it the privilege of my presence for a while.’
‘You’re a true rolling stone.’
‘That’s why I gather no moss, Ad.’
‘I don’t know,’ she teased, running a hand through the matted hair on his bare chest. ‘What do you call this, then?’
‘That’s my animal fur.’ He gave an involuntary shiver. ‘It’s getting colder. Let’s put our clothes on. If I stay like this any longer, my sweat will turn to ice.’
She looked around. ‘There are better places to spend our last night together.’
‘It was all I could find, Ad.’
‘I’m not complaining. It’s got the two things I enjoy most — plenty of brandy and plenty of Bagsy Browne.’
He embraced her with a guffaw then reached for his shirt. Even when they were dressed, it was still cold. He came to a decision.
‘There’s plenty of spare wood along the bank,’ he said, ‘and there are bits of the boat we can use as well. Let’s have a fire to warm us both up, shall we? I daresay that it will put us in the mood for another celebration, don’t you?’
The idea that Lawrence Woodford’s wife might be a latter-day Lady Macbeth was shattered the moment they met her. She was a small, skinny, nervous mouse of a woman totally devoid of any character or spirit. When the detectives called at the house, she hustled the children upstairs and stayed there for safety. Woodford invited the visitors into a parlour bare of ornament and smelling of the fish the family had eaten earlier that evening. Tellingly, the master of the house was still wearing his stationmaster’s uniform, clear proof that he remained on duty even at home and supervised the comings and goings of his family as if following a timetable.
‘We’re sorry to disturb you at this hour,’ said Colbeck, ‘but I wanted to congratulate you on your devotion to duty. It was so important to have a strong presence at the railway station on this day above all others.’
‘Thank you, Inspector.’
‘Let me add my congratulation as well,’ said Leeming. ‘It must have been a very difficult decision for you to make.’
‘It was,’ said Woodford. ‘I’d have preferred to go to the funeral, naturally, but something told me that Joel would have wanted me to take control at the station instead. I plan to visit his grave in due course to take my leave of him.’ He glanced at Colbeck. ‘Were you there?’
Colbeck explained that he’d attended the funeral but that Leeming had taken their injured superior back to London. Woodford remembered seeing the pair of them boarding the train and had been curious about Tallis’s sling. When he heard that the wound had been inflicted by Browne, he was livid.
‘That man is a menace,’ he declared.
‘He does appear to be,’ said Colbeck.
‘First of all, he murders Joel, then he rescues his mistress from custody and stabs your superintendent in the process. Mr Tallis might have been killed.’
‘I don’t think that’s true, sir.’
‘Browne had nothing to lose.’
‘I’ve been reflecting on that,’ said Colbeck. ‘If he’d wanted to kill Mr Tallis then he could easily have done so. One thrust of the dagger into the heart would have been sufficient. But he deliberately stabbed him in the arm to disable him. It may be that Browne is not the desperate killer we all take him for.’
Woodford looked stunned. ‘Are you saying that he
‘I require more evidence.’
‘How much more evidence do you need, Inspector? Bagsy Browne is the bane of our police force. He’s been in and out of prison for years. Heavens!’ exclaimed Woodford, ‘it wasn’t long ago that he beat up one of the warders and left him in a pool of blood. If that isn’t evidence of this man’s murderous intent, what is?’
‘He didn’t
‘That’s two victims he spared,’ added Colbeck.
‘If you knew Browne as well as we do,’ said Woodford with growing vexation, ‘you’d realise that he was capable of anything. He once threw a firework at the bishop and relieved himself on the lawn in full view of his palace.’
‘That sounds more like horseplay than proof of homicidal leanings.’
‘If you don’t believe me, talk to Superintendent Steel. He has no doubt at all that Joel was battered to death by Bagsy Browne. He’d threatened to kill Joel and carried out that threat. You don’t need to be a detective from Scotland Yard to see the facts that are staring you in the face.’
‘Thank you for your advice on the art of detection,’ said Colbeck, ironically. ‘We’ll bear your words in mind. They’ll provide useful guidance to us. Let me come to the question that really prompted this visit,’ he continued. ‘When I mentioned the existence of Mr Heygate’s diary, you denied all knowledge of it.’
‘That’s true. I had no idea that he kept a diary.’
‘May I suggest you think again, sir?’
‘I’ve no need to do so, Inspector.’
‘Then perhaps you’ll explain to us why you claimed never to have heard about the diary when, in fact, Miss Hope had told you about it earlier?’
For a second, Woodford was caught off balance. He recovered swiftly.
‘Miss Hope is mistaken.’
‘She remembers the talk she had with you very well.’
‘The girl is imagining things.’
‘She strikes me as very level-headed for her age.’
‘Who are you going to believe, Inspector?’ challenged Woodford, jabbing a finger at him. ‘Do you believe a clumsy waitress who can barely remember what day of the week it is, or do you believe a man whose integrity has earned him the right to take charge of the entire station? It’s her word against mine.’
‘Indeed, it is,’ said Colbeck, smoothly. ‘There’s just one problem.’
‘What’s that?’
‘I don’t believe that Dorcas Hope could tell a lie if she tried.’ He rose to his feet. ‘Come on, Sergeant,’ he said. ‘We stayed long enough. I think we’ve learnt what we came for, don’t you?’
‘It’s no fun being a waitress,’ said Leeming. ‘I should know. I tried it. I have a lot of respect for Miss Hope.
