Leeming had long ago learnt an important lesson about Edward Tallis. The worst time to enter his room was when you were the bearer of bad tidings. Knowing that he was about to cause distress to the superintendent, Leeming hovered outside the door for minutes before finally plucking up the courage to knock.
‘Come in!’ roared an unwelcoming voice.
Leeming opened the door. ‘Good day to you, sir.’
‘What on earth are you doing here, Sergeant?’
‘I was told to deliver a report in person. The body of Mrs Tarleton was found during the night.’
Tallis sat up with interest. ‘How and where?’ he demanded. ‘Close the door, man, and sit down. I want to hear all the details. What state was the body in?’
‘I’ll come to that, sir,’ said Leeming, shutting the door and perching on the edge of a chair. ‘What happened was this.’
On the train journey back, he’d spent a considerable time rehearsing what he was going to say and, on Colbeck’s advice, had made some notes so that he had the sequence of events in order. Faced with Tallis, however, and hit by a steady stream of questions from the hectoring superintendent, he faltered. Forgetting certain details, he repeated others unnecessarily and beads of sweat began to break out on his forehead. He expected a reprimand for being so confused but Tallis had no criticism to offer. Grateful that the news had been delivered to him, he rose to his feet.
‘I’ll return to the village this very evening,’ he declared.
‘That’s the last thing you must do, sir.’
‘Now that we have a body, the investigation has moved on.’
‘And it will move on even further if Inspector Colbeck and I are allowed to continue on our own. We are impartial observers. You are not, sir. You suffered the agonies of one inquest,’ said Leeming. ‘Do you really wish to endure a second one?’
Tallis pondered. ‘Probably not, if I’m honest,’ he conceded.
‘Then spare yourself, sir. Put your trust in us.’
‘I just feel that I should be there.’
‘That means you’d want your room at the Black Bull,’ thought Leeming, moaning inwardly. ‘I’m not going back to the Swan. I’d rather sleep in a tent than put up with that place again. It was unhealthy.’ He saw the pile of papers on the desk. And spoke aloud. ‘You look as if you’re busy, sir.’
‘I am,’ said Tallis. ‘We’ve had assaults, robberies, damage to property and a case of arson to investigate. Then there’s an alleged rape in Hyde Park.’ His voice became a whisper. ‘When Miriam – Mrs Tarleton, that is – was examined, was there any evidence of sexual interference?’
‘There was none whatsoever, sir.’
‘Thank heaven for that!’
‘And nothing was stolen from her.’
‘Apart from her life, of course – that’s the most monstrous theft of all.’ Tallis stared at the mound of papers. ‘By rights, I should stay here to supervise the investigation of these crimes. But I feel that I have an obligation to some dear friends.’
‘The only obligation you have is to see the colonel’s name cleared and to make sure that his wife’s killer is caught. The best way you can do that,’ Leeming went on, amazed at the confidence now surging through him, ‘is to leave everything to us. As long as you’re there, you’ll be holding us up without meaning to do so.’
‘There may be some truth in that, Leeming.’
‘Does that mean I can go back there alone?’
‘Yes, it does. Here, I’m desperately needed; there, I’ll be nothing but a handicap.’ He sat down again. ‘I’ll stay. But I’ll want regular reports,’ he warned, ‘even if you have to send them by telegraph.’
Leeming got up. ‘We’ll keep you fully informed, sir.’
‘Thank you. I appreciate your coming here like this.’
‘It was no trouble at all,’ said the sergeant as something jogged his memory. ‘By the way, did you know that there’s a village in the North Riding that’s named after me? It’s called Leeming.’
Tallis scowled. ‘Does this have anything to do with the case in hand?’ Leeming shook his head. ‘Then get out of here and don’t introduce irrelevant material into a police report again. I don’t care if there’s a herd of sheep named after you. It’s beside the point.’ He banged the table. ‘Well, don’t just stand there, man. Clear off.’
As he fled through the door, Leeming gave a smile of relief. The superintendent was back to something like his old self. His anger was reassuring. Tallis might not be interested in a village called Leeming but the sergeant knew someone at home who would be. When he left Scotland Yard, he was brimming with joy.
Margery Withers led him to the room for the second time and took the opportunity to gather information from Colbeck.
‘Is it true that nothing will now be confiscated?’ she asked.
‘That’s right,’ said Colbeck. ‘When a verdict of suicide while the victim is non compos mentis is reached, no seizure is exercised on his property. Everything will pass to his heirs.’
‘Oh, I’m so pleased to hear that.’
‘The evidence given was honest and compelling. On the basis of that, the correct verdict was unavoidable. Unhappily, that’s not always been the case at inquests.’
‘What are you talking about, Inspector?’
‘Fraud, Mrs Withers, the impulse in some people to tell the most outrageous lies in order to get every penny left behind by a deceased relative. No family wants to admit that any member of it was so unhappy with his or her life that suicide was the only option left to them. It would be a terrible stigma,’ said Colbeck. ‘So they’ll go out of their way to convince a jury that someone who’s perfectly sane was, in fact, completely mad. That way, they gain sympathy and lose nothing of the inheritance.’
‘That’s criminal, Inspector.’
‘It’s the way of the world, I fear.’ He looked around. ‘This really is a fine collection. Some of it should be in a museum.’
‘Young Mr Tarleton has talked of selling some items.’
‘What’s that you’re saying about me, Mrs Withers?’ asked Adam Tarleton, coming into the room. ‘And why are you in here?’
‘It was at my request, sir,’ explained Colbeck.
‘And what could possibly interest you in this place?’
‘I wanted to see the firearms again.’
‘I have the keys if you wish to open any of the cabinets,’ said Mrs Withers. ‘The colonel entrusted them to me.’
Tarleton laughed. ‘What she means,’ he said, ‘is that he told her where they were hidden. I wasn’t supposed to know, you see. The shotguns were out of bounds to me. My stepfather thought that I was too irresponsible to be given a loaded weapon.’
‘Did you mind that?’ asked Colbeck.
‘I minded very much, Inspector. It was one of the many ways in which he sought to keep me down. Will you require the keys?’
‘No, I don’t think so.’
‘There you are, Mrs Withers,’ said Tarleton, rounding on her. ‘You can leave them in their hiding place – but only until I ask for them.’ He waved a hand. ‘Off you go.’
‘Yes, sir,’ she said, withdrawing quickly.
‘So, Inspector, what did you wish to see?’
‘Those boxes behind you, sir,’ said Colbeck, pointing to the shelf. ‘It looks to me as if your stepfather was very methodical. Everything seems to have been clearly marked.’
‘He was obsessed with order. Even little things annoyed him. If any of the knives and forks were not perfectly aligned on the dining table, for instance, he’d castigate one of the servants for hours.’
‘Yes, you had more of them in the old days.’
‘In the old days,’ echoed Tarleton, ‘we had money.’
‘Where did it all go?’
‘I’m hoping to find that out myself, Inspector.’ He moved aside. ‘But don’t let me come between you and your
