The Iron Horse

lose me as well. Besides, he needed the money. So he agreed to do what the man asked.’

‘Thank you, Miss Rimmer,’ said Colbeck, watching a tear trickle down her cheek. ‘You’ve been very helpful.’

‘Can I ask you a question now, sir?’

‘Of course.’

‘How was John killed?’

Robert Colbeck took a deep breath before speaking.

CHAPTER EIGHT

Madeleine Andrews was busy in the kitchen when she heard a knock on the front door. Since her father sometimes forgot to take his key with him, she assumed that it was he and went to let him in. Before she did so, however, she decided that it might be safer to see who was outside first. Tugging the curtain back an inch, she peered out into the gloom then let out a cry of joy. Silhouetted against a gas lamp was the familiar figure of Robert Colbeck. She opened the door at once and gave him a radiant smile.

‘I was hoping you were still up,’ he said, stepping into the house and embracing her. ‘I was relieved to see the light still on.’

‘I was waiting for Father. I have to cook his supper.’

‘Mr Andrews had better come soon.’

‘Why is that?’

‘It’s just starting to rain. I felt the first few spots as I got out of the cab. We’re in for a downpour.’

‘Father doesn’t mind a drop of rain,’ she said, shutting the front door. ‘He’s used to being out in all weathers. But how are you?’ she went on, standing back to take a good look at him. ‘And how is the investigation going?’

Colbeck whisked off his hat. ‘I’m fine, Madeleine,’ he said. ‘As for the investigation, we continue to gather evidence.’

‘Are you close to arresting someone yet?’

‘No, but we’re eliminating possible suspects one by one.’

‘Father still insists that it’s a crime of passion.’

‘In one sense, he’s right – it was certainly instigated by someone who has a passion for horseracing.’ An amusing thought struck him. ‘Perhaps we should change places.’

‘Who?’

‘Your father and I.’

Madeleine laughed. ‘What a ridiculous idea!’

‘Is it?’ he asked. ‘Mr Andrews clearly has a detective’s instinct and I’ve always wanted to be an engine driver.’

‘I think you’re both far better off doing the jobs you have.’

‘Perhaps you’re right – but what about you, Madeleine? How is your work going?’

‘I’ve all but finished my latest commission.’ She took him across to her easel and indicated the painting. ‘It’s a Crampton locomotive.’

‘I can see that,’ he said, recognising the distinctive features of Thomas Crampton’s design. ‘What puzzles me is why so few of them were made for this country and so many for France. When I crossed the Channel last year, I twice travelled on trains that were pulled by a locomotive just like that.’ He shot her a look of mock suspicion. ‘Don’t tell me you’re going to export this to France as well?’

‘Not unless the French start drinking tea.’

‘Tea?’

‘That’s where this may end up, Robert – on a tea caddy. It’s a design they want to put on hundreds of them. They intend to sell them at railway stations.’

‘I’d certainly buy one.’

She giggled and he leant forward to give her a kiss. When they sat beside each other, he put his top hat on her head in fun and it dropped down to her ears. They laughed as she took it off and set it aside. Not having seen her for a while, Colbeck was so pleased to be close to her again, reminded of all the things that had attracted him to Madeleine Andrews in the first place. Her vitality was a positive tonic to him. But he did not forget the main purpose of his visit.

‘Do you remember what I asked you?’ he said.

She responded eagerly. ‘About helping in the investigation?’

‘Yes, Madeleine – I may need to call on you now.’

‘That’s wonderful!’

‘You haven’t heard what I want you to do yet. I spent a long time at the stables owned by Hamilton Fido today. Then I was driven to an inn called the Shepherd and Shepherdess.’

Colbeck went on to tell her about his meeting with Bonny Rimmer and how devastated she had been by the news about John Feeny. Madeleine was sure that he had been as considerate as always when passing on bad tidings but there was no way that even he could have softened the blow on this occasion.

‘I feel so sorry for the poor girl,’ she said.

‘That’s why I want you to speak to her.’

‘Me?’

‘There’s only so much I can do, Madeleine,’ he explained. ‘As a detective from Scotland Yard, I must be very intimidating to her. I never felt that I reached Bonny Rimmer, and once she knew the hideous truth about how Feeny died she could not even speak. I left her in a complete daze.’

‘What do you think I can do, Robert?’

‘I felt that she knew more than she actually told me – not because she was deliberately holding anything back but because she was overwhelmed by the situation. Bonny is young and vulnerable. She could simply not cope with the information that the lad she loved had been killed.’

‘Very few women could,’ said Madeleine, ‘especially when they discovered that he’d been beheaded. It must have been horrifying for her. I’m surprised she didn’t faint.’

‘She came very close to it.’

‘I can see why you want me to speak to her instead.’

‘You’re a woman – that gives you an immediate advantage over me. You can draw her out more easily. Do nothing for a day or so. Bonny needs time to grieve and to get over the initial shock.’

‘And then?’

‘Go to the Shepherd and Shepherdess and meet her. Talk to the girl about her friendship with John Feeny. How close were they – did they ever think of marriage? Without realising it,’ said Colbeck, ‘Bonny Rimmer knows things that could be useful to me. I’d hoped you’d be talking to the woman who owned that hatbox but she’s yet to be identified. It may be more helpful if you spoke to Bonny.’

‘I’ll try, Robert.’

‘Thank you.’

As he leant across to kiss her again, they heard the scrape of a key in the lock and moved guiltily apart. They got to their feet. The door suddenly opened and Caleb Andrews darted in to escape the rain that was now falling outside. He closed the door behind him.

‘It’s teeming down out there,’ he said.

‘I managed to miss it,’ said Colbeck. ‘I hope it clears up before Derby Week begins.’

‘Why?’ asked Madeleine.

‘I can see you know nothing about horseracing, Maddy,’ said Andrews. ‘Heavy rain can affect the result of a race. Some horses prefer a hard, dry course. Others do best when the going is soft. If it rains on the morning of the Derby, the betting odds will change.’

‘True,’ agreed Colbeck. ‘Odysseus might drop back and Limerick Lad might replace him as favourite. Brian Dowd told me that his colt liked a soft, damp surface. They have a fair bit of rain in Ireland, by all accounts, so Limerick Lad is used to it.’

‘I’m going to bet on an outsider,’ said Andrews. ‘That way, if I do win, I’ll get a decent return on my money.’