‘I got in touch with my sister, of course. When I heard that Eve’s husband was abroad,’ said Tarleton, donning the mantle of a caring brother, ‘I went to her house to comfort her then brought her here.’ He became protective. ‘If you’re hoping to speak to her, you’re out of luck. I’m afraid that I can’t allow it. She needs time to mourn.’
‘You don’t seem to share that need, sir,’ said Leeming.
‘Each of us is dealing with the catastrophe in our own way.’
‘Yours involved going for a ride, we’re told.’
Tarleton was angry. ‘Is there any law against that, Sergeant?’ he asked. ‘If you must know, I went to the rectory to make our views known with regard to the two funerals. The rector is trying to stop my stepfather from being buried in the churchyard.’
‘Yes,’ said Colbeck. ‘I had an argument with him over that.’
‘I wasn’t prepared to argue. I simply stated our demand.’
‘There may be wrangling ahead, sir. The rector has an obsession about death by suicide. My advice is to go over his head and appeal to the archbishop. You’ll surely get his support.’
‘I want the bodies buried as soon as the second inquest is over. It’s frustrating to have an obstacle like this thrown in our way by Mr Skelton. Where’s his Christian forgiveness? He knows the verdict reached at the inquest. Our stepfather’s mind was unbalanced. Why can’t the rector accept that and show some compassion?’
‘Because he has another reservation,’ said Colbeck. ‘In the short time that I spent with the reverend gentleman, one thing became crystal clear. He’s convinced that the colonel killed your mother. It’s a secondary reason for denying him a place in the churchyard. When we catch the real killer, of course, that excuse will disappear.’
‘Do you have any suspects?’
‘We do, as a matter of fact. One of them is an old friend of yours, as it happens – Michael Bruntcliffe.’
‘Michael is no killer,’ snapped Tarleton.
‘He was furious when your stepfather sent him to prison.’
‘That doesn’t mean he’d commit murder. He does have a vengeful streak, I grant you, but it would express itself in very different ways.’
‘Can you give us an example, sir?’
‘Well, there was the business with that farmer years ago. When he prosecuted Michael for trespass, there was a hefty fine to pay. That irked Michael. He got his revenge by opening a gate at night and letting the farmer’s sheep wander off.’
‘Was he ever taken to court for that?’ asked Leeming.
‘No – they had no proof. But you take my point. If Michael wanted to get back at someone, there was always a touch of humour in what he did.’
‘I don’t find letting sheep out very amusing, sir.’
‘Neither do I,’ said Colbeck. ‘Some of them could have been attacked by dogs or even rustled. Mr Bruntcliffe could have cost the farmer a lot of money.’
‘Michael had the last laugh,’ said Tarleton. ‘It’s all that mattered to him. The farmer kept out of his way after that.’
‘When did you last see your friend, sir?’
‘Oh, it was years ago.’
‘So you didn’t keep in touch at all?’
‘Not really, Inspector.’
‘But you seem to have been good friends.’
‘We were for a time.’
‘Why did the friendship fall off?’
‘I left here and forged a new life for myself in London.’
‘Do you have any idea where Mr Bruntcliffe is?’
‘No,’ said Tarleton, ‘and I don’t care. Michael is part of my past. With the inquest pending and the funerals to organise, I’ve got enough to keep me fully occupied. I just don’t have time for old friends. To be absolutely candid, I want to forget all about the North Riding. I can’t wait to get away from here for good.’
While she was waiting for her father to come home, Madeleine was not idle. After preparing his supper, she read another chapter of Cranford then took out Colbeck’s letter once more and pored over it. Simply holding it in her hand gave her a thrill and its sentiments warmed her to the core. The village of South Otterington was clearly very different from the one in Cheshire evoked in such detail by Mrs Gaskell. Violent death did not disturb the even rhythm of life in Cranford. Colbeck had said little about the events in Yorkshire but she’d gathered something of what had been happening there from the newspaper reports. The description of the suicide had been horrific and she’d felt sick at the thought of Colbeck having to exhume a rotting body in the wood. He took such events in his stride and Madeleine wondered if the time would ever come when she could cultivate the same indifference to morbid tasks. When they were married, she felt sure, she’d learn a great deal from him and, in turn, teach Colbeck certain things.
Caleb Andrews returned slightly earlier than usual, having trotted much of the way to escape the rain that started to fall. He let himself into the house, kissed his daughter then took off his coat and hat. Before he could stop her, Madeleine had taken the newspaper from his pocket.
‘It’s on the back page,’ he told her. ‘Everybody up there thinks that the colonel shot his wife.’
‘Robert doesn’t think that. Sergeant Leeming told me.’
‘The local people knew the colonel, Maddy. They could turn out to be right. For once in his career, the inspector may have made a big mistake – apart from travelling on the Great Northern Railway.’
Madeleine laughed. ‘How else could he get there?’ she said. ‘In any case, he didn’t go all the way on the GNR. The stretch between York and Darlington is operated by the Great North of England Railway. Robert mentioned that in his letter.’
‘What about your letter to him?’ asked Andrews. ‘Did you manage to deliver it to Sergeant Leeming?’
‘Yes, I met him at King’s Cross.’
‘Does that mean you’ll be here for breakfast tomorrow?’
‘I’ll be here,’ she said, still reading the newspaper. ‘According to this article, the investigation is faltering. That’s not true.’
Andrews went into the kitchen to wash his hands. Madeleine followed him in so that they could eat their supper together.
He was in a teasing mood. ‘Did you do what I suggested?’
‘And what was that, Father?’
‘When you wrote your letter, I wanted you to tell him to get a move on with the wedding arrangements. I may be making some arrangements of my own in the near future.’ He wiped his hands dry. ‘I hope that you mentioned that to the inspector.’
‘You know quite well that I didn’t.’
‘Then you can put it in your next letter, Maddy, and there’s something you can add about that book he loaned you.’
‘ Cranford?’
‘That’s the one.’
‘I didn’t know that you’d read it.’
‘I’ve been reading a chapter a night after you’ve gone to bed.’
‘It’s so interesting, isn’t it?’
‘I thought it was boring.’
‘But it shows you the pleasures of life in a country village.’
‘If that’s all the pleasure you get, I’ll stay here in Camden.’
‘Well, I love the book,’ she said, levelly.
‘That’s because you’re a woman, Maddy,’ he told her, sitting at the table. ‘There’s nothing in it for a man. Tell the inspector you’d like something by Dickens next time, something with murder in it to add a little spice. That’s what I like to read late at night.’
It was dark by the time they reached South Otterington. After returning the horse and trap to the place from
