mansion both in London and in the country, a retinue of servants and a courier who went with him on his travels. In all, he defrauded people out of over two hundred thousand pounds.’
‘That’s amazing!’
‘It explains why the colonel killed himself on the railway.’
‘Does it, Inspector?’
‘I think so,’ said Colbeck. ‘It had already killed him financially. Walking on that railway track was a form of obituary. I had the feeling from the very beginning that he was making a statement.’
The woman still lolled in bed but Michael Bruntcliffe had put on his shirt and breeches. They were in a large cottage set on a hill that offered views across miles of beautiful countryside. Sunshine flooded in through the window to gild the woman’s half-naked body. She smiled lazily up at him. Bruntcliffe sat on the bed and reached out to stroke her cheek. He was about to lean forward to kiss her when he caught sight of something through the window. Getting quickly to his feet, he stared out. Two riders had appeared in the middle distance. He watched them getting closer and closer before making his decision.
‘I have to go,’ he said, grabbing his boots. ‘Get dressed and tell them nothing. I can’t say when I’ll be back.’
Before she could even speak, he’d picked up his coat and run down the stairs. Minutes later, he was mounting his horse.
Bruntcliffe was on the run.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Victor Leeming was in great discomfort. While Colbeck found the ride bracing, the sergeant was squirming in the saddle as he sought the position that would bring least agony. He was also sweating from every pore and struggling to keep the bay mare parallel with the other horse. They had left the track now and were making their way across an undulating plain towards the cottage on the hill.
‘Are you certain this is the place?’ asked Leeming.
‘It has to be, Victor. It’s the only dwelling for miles.’
‘Mr Tarleton might have deliberately sent us astray.’
‘Why should he do that?’
‘To get us out of the way so that he could make his escape.’
‘I’ve told you,’ said Colbeck. ‘He was not party to the murder. Had he been so, he’d have turned tail the moment that he realised that we knew he’d been in touch with Bruntcliffe.’
‘He must be involved in the murder somehow,’ argued Leeming. ‘What’s that Latin tag you’re always quoting at me?’
‘ Cui bono? Who stands to benefit?’
‘The answer is Adam Tarleton. He’ll certainly benefit.’
‘So will his sister but I’m not accusing Mrs Doel of killing their mother, am I? Forget them for the moment. The person of real interest to us is Bruntcliffe.’
As if on cue, a horseman suddenly emerged from the stable ahead of them, kicking his mount into a gallop and heading off in the opposite direction. Colbeck didn’t hesitate. Flicking the reins and digging in his heels, he set his own horse off at full speed. Leeming was terrified to coax a faster pace out of the mare so he settled for following the others at a gentle canter. Bruntcliffe was over a hundred yards ahead of the pursuing Colbeck, stinging the horse with his whip to keep it running at full pelt. Every so often, he tossed a worried glance over his shoulder. Colbeck was slowly gaining on him, riding hell for leather and ignoring the fact that his hat had blown off. In his experience, flight was usually a confession of guilt. If Bruntcliffe had been innocent, he would have stayed at the cottage to be interviewed by the detectives. That thought made Colbeck even more resolute. He recalled the appalling state of Miriam Tarleton’s body when it was unearthed in the woods. The man responsible for her death simply had to be caught, tried and hanged.
As Colbeck surged on with his frock coat flapping in the wind, Leeming was almost half a mile behind him. The gap between quarry and hunter slowly and inexorably closed. When it was down to forty yards, Bruntcliffe became desperate. Unable to outrun the pursuit, he opted for a different method of escape, wheeling his horse in a tight circle so that he headed straight at Colbeck. The inspector could see what the intention was. Bruntcliffe wanted to knock him from the saddle, take his horse by the reins and ride off with both animals. Slowing his mount with a sharp tug, Colbeck reacted instinctively. As the other man came at him with his whip raised, Colbeck slipped his feet from the stirrups and raised an arm to ward off the blow. The moment that Bruntcliffe struck, he was knocked from the saddle as Colbeck lunged across at him and tackled him around the waist. The two of them fell to the ground with a thud and rolled over on the grass, leaving the horses to run on without riders.
Both were dazed by the impact but Colbeck was the first to recover. Staggering to his feet, he took his captive by the collar and hauled him upright. Bruntcliffe was ready to fight. As his head cleared, he swung a fist drunkenly but it was easily parried. By way of retaliation, Colbeck punched him hard in the stomach then caught him with an uppercut on the chin. The resistance was over. Dazed by the blow, Bruntcliffe slumped to the ground. It gave Colbeck the time to examine the grass stains on his coat and trousers. As he hit the other man from the saddle, he’d also torn a sleeve open. That was irritating to a dandy like him. He was grateful that he’d collected a change of apparel during his short visit to London.
Bruntcliffe rubbed his bruised chin and looked up at him.
‘How did you know that it was me?’ he asked, sullenly.
‘You gave yourself away by bolting like that.’
‘What else was I supposed to do? Wait to be arrested? Adam told me that two detectives had come from London. When I saw the pair of you coming towards the cottage, I guessed who you might be.’
‘I am Inspector Colbeck,’ said the other, offering a hand and pulling him to his feet. ‘Michael Bruntcliffe, I’m placing you under arrest for the murder of Miriam Tarleton.’
Bruntcliffe was staggered. ‘What did you say?’
‘I think you heard me clearly, sir.’
‘I had nothing whatsoever to do with the murder. I’ve never even met Adam’s mother. Why should I want to kill her?’
‘It was in order to get your revenge on the colonel.’
‘Ah,’ said Bruntcliffe, sourly, ‘that’s a different matter.’
‘Is that why you were running away?’ asked Colbeck, thinking about the incident in the churchyard. ‘You pulled down that cross last night, didn’t you?’
‘It was only because that venomous old bastard put it there.’
‘Didn’t you think of the offence it would cause?’
‘What about the offence the colonel caused me?’ rejoined Bruntcliffe. ‘Do you know what it’s like being locked up in prison for something that was simply a joke?’
‘You deserved the sentence you got,’ said Colbeck. ‘Painting out public signs could put people in danger. If they can’t read a warning, they can’t exercise caution.’ He grabbed him by the throat and pulled him close. ‘What else did you do to get your revenge on the colonel?’
‘I did nothing at all.’
‘I think you did, Mr Bruntcliffe. I think you sent him some of those evil letters he received. You wanted to goad and taunt him. You wanted to make him suffer, didn’t you?’ He tightened his grip until the other man spluttered. ‘Didn’t you?’
‘Yes,’ admitted Bruntcliffe, baring his teeth. ‘That’s exactly what I did. I wanted to torment him.’
‘Those letters helped to push him towards suicide.’
‘Then I’m glad I sent some of them.’
‘Let’s see if you still feel the same when we take you to court.’
‘I confess that I sent the letters and pulled down that cross, Inspector,’ said Bruntcliffe with gabbled sincerity, ‘but I swear, in the name of God, that I didn’t murder Adam’s mother. On the day that it happened, I wasn’t even in the county. I was in Lincoln. That’s the truth.’
