The Stationmaster's farewell

‘It’s an occupational risk, I’m afraid.’

‘My wife has still never got used to it. What about yours, sir?’

‘I’m not actually married yet,’ corrected Colbeck, ‘but Madeleine has known me long enough to realise that there’ll be sudden absences on my part. Fortunately, it’s a price she’s prepared to pay.’

‘At least she understands what you do. I tell Estelle very little of what we get up to. It would worry her sick if she knew the kinds of dangers we face — best to keep her ignorant.’

‘I can’t do that with Madeleine because she’s actually been involved in some of our assignments. She knows the hazards that confront us.’

‘What if the superintendent finds out that she’s helped us in the past?’

‘I’ll take great care to ensure that he doesn’t find out, Victor. You know his opinion of women. He scorns the whole sex. Mr Tallis would never admit that there are times in an investigation when female assistance is vital. We’ve seen it happen with our own eyes.’

The detectives had first met Madeleine Andrews when her father was badly injured during the robbery of the train that he was driving. What had begun for Colbeck as a chance meeting had developed into a close friendship, then slowly evanesced into a loving partnership. Madeleine had been able to offer crucial help during a number of cases and it had drawn them even closer together.

‘Did you send Miss Andrews a note before we left?’ asked Leeming.

‘It was rather more than a note.’

‘She’ll be upset that you’re going away when the wedding is in sight.’

‘That’s unavoidable,’ said Colbeck, flicking a speck of dirt from the arm of his coat. ‘Madeleine will be too busy to pine, however. She has work of her own to keep her busy and, now that her father has retired, she has company throughout the day. Time will pass quickly.’

‘It seems to be dragging at the moment,’ muttered Leeming.

‘Address your mind to the case in hand.’

Leeming obeyed and sat up. ‘What do you think we’ll find in Exeter?’

‘I daresay we’ll find a lot of commotion. A stationmaster is an important figure in a city like that. His death will have shocked everyone. The other thing we’ll find, of course, is an unwelcoming police force. They’ll object strongly to our barging in on their murder — and rightly so. We’ll have to win them over.’ He winked at Leeming. ‘I’ll leave you to do that, Victor.’

‘My ugly mug will never win friends, sir.’

‘It won the hand of a lovely young woman.’

Leeming smiled nostalgically. ‘That was different.’

‘I think you’re unaware of your charms,’ teased Colbeck.

‘I know what I see when I look in the mirror to shave every morning.’

The sergeant had no illusions about his appearance. He was a sturdy, bull-necked man with the kind of unprepossessing features more suited to a desperate criminal. Though wearing much the same attire as Colbeck, he somehow looked scruffy and disreputable. Beside the inspector, most men would be outshone. He was tall, slim and elegant with exaggerated good looks and a stylishness that marked him out as the dandy of Scotland Yard. He might have been a minor aristocrat sharing a compartment with a bare-knuckle boxer who’d mistaken it for third class.

‘There is something else we can expect,’ predicted Colbeck.

‘What’s that, sir?’

‘We’ll get interference from the Church.’

‘How do you know?’

‘The bonfire was held in the cathedral close, Victor. A cathedral presupposes a bishop. He’ll be mortified that a heinous crime was committed on his doorstep, so to speak. As well as a grudging police force, we’ll be up against an angry bishop who’ll be barking at our heels throughout.’ An image formed in his mind. ‘Try to imagine Superintendent Tallis in a cope and mitre.’

Leeming gurgled.

As soon as the telegraph was received at Torquay railway station, it was sent to the bishop’s palace. Henry Phillpotts was taking tea with his wife and secretary when the telegraph was handed to him. When he read it, he spluttered.

‘What’s wrong, Henry?’ asked his wife.

‘Was there trouble at the bonfire celebrations?’ guessed Barnes.

‘Trouble!’ echoed the bishop. ‘I’ll say there was trouble. Foul murder was committed. The body of the stationmaster was found among the embers.’

‘That’s dreadful!’ said his wife, bringing both hands to her face.

‘It’s an unforgivable stain on the cathedral close, my dear. How dare someone abuse our hospitality in that way! It’s a desecration. And there’s another thing,’ he said, handing the telegraph to his secretary. ‘Why wasn’t I told earlier? Why did Mr Quinnell wait until late afternoon before having the grace to apprise me of these distressing details? He should have been in touch at once. So should the police and so — I regret to say — should someone at the cathedral. Heads need to be knocked together over this outrage.’

‘Calm down, Henry,’ advised his wife.

‘There’ll be dire repercussions. We must return to Exeter immediately.’

‘Is that necessary?’

‘Yes, my dear, it is.’

‘But I do so love having you here.’

Deborah Phillpotts was a gracious lady in her seventies with a poise and refinement that belied the fact that she’d borne eighteen children. She’d married Phillpotts when he was vicar of a parish in County Durham. It was not long before he was appointed chaplain to the bishop and she knew that he was destined for higher things. Married for over half a century, she’d been a devoted wife and mother, supporting her husband at all times and enjoying the fruits of his success. Belonging as they did to the clerical aristocracy, they lived in a style comparable to that of the Devonshire nobility. It gave both of them a patrician air.

Having read it, Ralph Barnes passed the telegraph back to the bishop.

‘Heygate was a decent fellow,’ he said. ‘I liked him. When his wife and child were killed in an accident, he coped with the situation bravely. In some ways, I suppose it’s a relief that they’re not alive to suffer this terrible blow.’

‘I’m more concerned about the terrible blow to us, Ralph,’ said Phillpotts. ‘It’s deliberate. He was killed outside the cathedral for the express purpose of defiling consecrated ground and taunting me.’

‘I’m not sure that you should take this too personally, Bishop.’

‘How else can I take it?’

‘We need to know more details of the case. All that the telegraph gives us are the bare bones, as it were. What have the police discovered and who is this Inspector Colbeck from Scotland Yard?’

‘I don’t know and I’m not sure that I want someone from London coming to lead the investigation. This is a local matter that must be sorted out promptly by local means. We don’t want news of this horrendous crime to be disseminated throughout the whole country.’ He rose to his feet. ‘If only we had a police superintendent in whom I could place more trust.’

‘I thought that the fellow had been doing quite well,’ remarked his wife.

‘He has,’ agreed Barnes. ‘Superintendent Steel has made the most of limited resources and achieved a degree of success.’

‘Then why is Exeter such an unruly city?’ challenged Phillpotts.

‘It’s no worse than many cities of an equivalent size.’

‘It feels worse, Ralph. We have too many ruffians stalking the streets.’

‘And too ready a supply of beer to stir them up.’

Phillpotts flicked a dismissive hand. ‘That’s a separate issue. What concerns me about Steel is that he’s not a true gentleman.’

‘It’s difficult to remain gentlemanly when dealing with the scum of society.’

‘You know what I mean, Ralph — he doesn’t show me due deference.’