involved. Just tell me this – am I right?’
‘You are, Inspector.’
‘So he did invest money with Leybourne?’
Reader winced. ‘He invested a great deal of money.’
‘Thank you, sir. That’s all I need to know at this stage.’
Colbeck had no time to question him further because he had just received a signal from Leeming. The Tarleton family were on the move. Having received kind words and commiseration from several people, they were at last ready to begin the walk home. Mrs Withers and Lottie Pearl had left ahead of them. Colbeck moved smartly to detach Adam Tarleton from the group.
‘Excuse me, sir,’ he said. ‘Can we trouble you for a moment?’
Tarleton was brusque. ‘It’s highly inconvenient.’
‘Nevertheless, we must insist.’
‘I don’t have to talk to you if I don’t wish to, Inspector.’
‘Of course you don’t,’ said Colbeck, evenly, ‘but I’d advise you to humour us. If you don’t, Mr Tarleton, we’ll be obliged to arrest you for perverting the course of justice.’
‘I’ve done nothing of the kind!’ retorted Tarleton.
‘You told us you hadn’t seen Michael Bruntcliffe for years,’ said Leeming, ‘yet, according to one of the warders, you went to see your friend in prison not long before his release. Your name will be recorded in the visitors’ book, sir, so there’s no point in denying it.’
Tarleton chewed his lip. ‘It’s true,’ he conceded, ‘but it slipped my mind. You have to understand that I’m mourning the deaths of the two people I cared for most in the world. I’m consumed with sorrow. I simply can’t think about anything else.’
‘You thought about going for a ride the other day.’
‘I had to fight with the rector about funeral arrangements.’
‘That wouldn’t have taken you long, sir,’ resumed Colbeck, ‘yet you were away for several hours. Meanwhile, your sister was moping at the house. It doesn’t sound to me as if you were burdened by sorrow.’
‘What are you getting at?’ demanded Tarleton.
‘We want to know why the man you claim you haven’t seen for years – Michael Bruntcliffe – was out riding with you that day. Think before you speak,’ he cautioned as Tarleton was about to bluster, ‘because we have a reliable witness who saw the two of you together. It’s strange that you never mentioned the fact when we talked to you later on.’ He moved a step closer. ‘What are you hiding, sir?’
‘Nothing at all,’ said Tarleton, angrily.
‘Where is he?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Where is he?’ asked Colbeck, grasping him so tightly by the arm that he let out a cry of pain. ‘Where is Michael Bruntcliffe?’
‘Standing outside a church is not the place to question him, sir,’ said Leeming, producing a pair of handcuffs from inside his coat. ‘Let’s arrest him and have done with it. Then I can put these bracelets on his wrists.’
‘No,’ pleaded Tarleton, ‘don’t do that. What will everyone think? I’ll tell you where Michael is but please don’t arrest me today of all days. It would break my sister’s heart.’
‘Will you give me your word that you’ll remain in the area?’
‘Yes, Inspector – I must stay here. There’s the inquest tomorrow, then the two funerals. After that, the wills are going to be read.’
‘I don’t trust him, sir,’ said Leeming.
‘Put the handcuffs away,’ ordered Colbeck.
‘If he’s not in custody, he might make a run for it.’
‘He’s not stupid enough to do that, Sergeant. He knows that we’d go after him. Besides, Mr Tarleton has an important engagement in Northallerton that he can’t possibly miss. He wants to hear the details of his inheritance.’ Leeming secreted the handcuffs inside his coat. ‘Now, sir,’ continued Colbeck, ‘where is your friend?’
‘He’s some distance away, Inspector,’ said Tarleton.
‘We can hire a trap.’
‘You’d be better off on horseback. It’s quite remote.’
Leeming blenched. ‘Horses! I’m not happy about that.’
‘We’ll do whatever’s necessary,’ said Colbeck, eyes locked on Tarleton. ‘I’m waiting, sir. Where is Michael Bruntcliffe?’
Although he was a religious man, Edward Tallis did not treat the Sabbath as a day of rest. After attending a Communion service that morning, he returned to Scotland Yard and worked through some of the files on his desk. It was almost noon when he lit a cigar, sat back and began to reflect on events in the North Riding. Convinced that his friendship with the colonel would give him insights denied to others, he longed to take an active part once more in the investigation. He found himself almost wanting Colbeck and Leeming to fail so that he had an excuse to hasten to Yorkshire in order to take charge of the case. Things were moving too slowly for his liking and he had the feeling that his detectives were holding back some of the evidence they’d so far uncovered. That was irksome. The only way to know exactly what was going on was to be in South Otterington. On the next day, he resolved, he would catch the first available train.
When he put the files away in his desk, he realised that they had been standing on the Sunday newspaper. He picked it up and sighed as he glanced at the headlines on the front page. A fire had destroyed a house in Islington and its three occupants had been burnt to a cinder. As soon as it was confirmed as a case of arson, Tallis had sent two detectives to the scene. While they had worked hard to gather evidence, they were still no nearer to discovering who the culprit had been. The newspaper article mocked them for their slowness and quoted someone who felt that a fire should be lit under the detectives to provide some stimulus. Tallis was used to ridicule in the press but it nevertheless continued to hurt, especially – as was the case here – when his own name was mentioned.
Not wishing to read any more of the article, he turned the page in search of something less infuriating. He looked up and down the columns until he saw something that caused him to stop. It was not an offensive article this time but a broadside from Yorkshire. Now here’s a murd’rous tale of woe, See a hero misbehave. For it shows a valiant soldier go By railway to the grave.
Howling with rage, he tore the page out and used his cigar to set it alight, holding it between his fingers until it was reduced to a few black, curling, disintegrating wisps of paper. When the flame eventually burnt his hand, he did not even feel the pain.
On the way to the church, Mrs Withers and Lottie Pearl had walked behind the family. The situation was reversed on the return journey. Knowing that some people might be invited back to the house, they wanted to get there well in advance. Earlier that morning, the two of them had prepared refreshments and they began to set them out on trays in the kitchen. Both of them wore aprons over their black dresses. When she heard the front door open, the housekeeper put her head out to see how many guests were there. Only four people had returned with the family. The odd thing was that Adam Tarleton was not with them. Mrs Withers was about to withdraw into the kitchen when he came into the house, shot her a look of disapproval and followed the others into the drawing room.
‘There are seven of them in all,’ she told Lottie.
‘Who have they brought back?’
‘Mr and Mrs Reader – they followed in their trap.’
‘Oh, I like them,’ said Lottie. ‘I only met them once but they were very pleasant to me. Is it true that Mrs Reader paid for all those lovely flowers in the church?’
‘She’s a very kind lady.’
‘Who else is in there?’
‘Mr and Mrs Everett,’ replied the housekeeper.
‘I don’t know them.’
‘Mr Everett is the family solicitor. He was also a good friend of Colonel Tarleton. They used to go shooting together.’
‘Oh,’ sighed Lottie, her face screwed up in anguish. ‘I think it’s so cruel, killing those poor birds like
