Murder on the Brighton Express

‘He just wouldn’t listen.’

‘A common fault of the male gender, I fear,’ he conceded. ‘We’re always deaf to sound advice about our health.’ He became serious. ‘The truth of it is that I felt something of a fraud with all that bandaging on. Those lying in hospital were the real victims. Some have lost limbs in the crash and Mr Bardwell has been blinded. I’m embarrassed when people offer sympathy to me. I don’t deserve it.’

‘You deserved every ounce of it,’ she said, softly. ‘I saw what other people didn’t see. I watched you struggling as you went up those stairs. I heard you groaning in pain during the night. You put on a brave face for your parishioners but I know the truth.’

‘Thank you, Mrs Ashmore,’ he said, touching her gently on the shoulder. ‘I have no secrets from you.’ He adjusted the cap slightly. ‘I wonder if I should wear this when I go to that meeting.’

‘I think your own hat would be more suitable.’

‘It’s not an ecclesiastical function. I’ll be speaking to the good citizens of Brighton about the future of their fair town. It will be a talk and not a sermon.’

‘You can hold an audience wherever you speak.’

‘I’m not sure how some of them will cope with the shock. They’re expecting to hear Giles Thornhill and they get the Rector of St Dunstan’s instead. We’re as different as chalk and cheese.’

‘I’ve always preferred cheese,’ she said with a half-smile. ‘Now, off you go into the dining room and I’ll serve breakfast.’

He looked at the clock on the wall. ‘I’ve got the verger coming at eight-thirty and the dean at nine. Then the ladies of the sewing circle will be descending on us. I must remember the smoking cap for that because Mrs Gregory is certain to be among them. No sooner do they go than I have to discuss the implications of holy matrimony with those delightful young people whose banns will be read for the first time next Sunday.’ He smiled apologetically. ‘We’ll needs lots of cups of tea, I’m afraid.’

‘That’s what I’m here for, Mr Follis.’

‘And how grateful I am to have you!’ he said. Follis breathed in deeply then exhaled with a broad smile. ‘You know, I really do feel so much better. I can even face the dean with equanimity in spite of the criticism I’m certain to incur from him. He always has some rebuke for me. If my recovery continues,’ he went on, chirpily, ‘I might even change my mind about Thursday.’

‘You mean that you’ll stay overnight in London?’

‘I mean exactly that, Mrs Ashmore.’

‘Very good, sir,’ she said, obediently.

‘Do you have any objection to that?’

‘It’s not my place to object, Mr Follis. You must do whatever you wish. You’ll never hear a word of complaint from me.’

She turned away so that he could not see her disappointment.

The day began early at Scotland Yard. Summoned to the superintendent’s office, Colbeck saw the morning newspapers strewn across his desk. Tallis was embittered.

‘Is there any profession more abhorrent and untrustworthy than that of journalism?’ he asked, scowling. ‘They pour their poison into the unsuspecting minds of the British public and warp their judgement. Our press is nothing but an instrument of torture.’

‘I think that’s a gross exaggeration, sir,’ said Colbeck.

‘Then you’ve not read the morning editions.’

‘I’ve not had time, superintendent.’

‘This one,’ continued Tallis, slapping a newspaper, ‘suggests that we’re causing widespread distress among both survivors of the crash and relatives of the victims by daring to suggest that foul play was an element in the disaster. The author of this vicious article claims that we are the ones guilty of foul play by persisting with an investigation that is wrong-headed and redundant. What do you say to that?’

‘We’ll have to make the gentleman eat his words, sir.’

‘Gentleman!’ bellowed the other. ‘I see nothing gentlemanly in this brutal prose. We are being soundly cudgelled, Inspector. You are traduced by name and I by implication. In trying to uphold the law, we are mocked unmercifully.’

‘I always ignore such censure,’ said Colbeck.

‘Well, I don’t, I can tell you. Newspaper editors should have statutory restraints imposed upon them. They should not be allowed to trade freely in sly innuendo and outright abuse. They should be prevented from holding up the Metropolitan Police Force to mockery.’

‘With respect, sir, it’s our job to do that.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘By appearing to make mistakes,’ said Colbeck, ‘we lay ourselves open to ridicule. The only way to stop that happening in this case is to solve the crime at the heart of it.’

‘According to the newspapers, there is no crime.’

‘Then I’ll enjoy reading them when we make an arrest and prove that Captain Ridgeon’s assessment of the crash was both hasty and misguided. Nobody is entitled to unstinting praise,’ he went on, reasonably. ‘We have to earn it. It’s annoying to be pilloried in the press but we can rectify that.’

‘I want an abject apology from every editor,’ demanded Tallis.

‘That may be too much to ask, Superintendent.’

‘Confound it, man – it’s their duty to help us!’

‘They’d argue that it’s their duty to report events in as honest and unbiased a way as they can. Sadly, that’s not always the case but it’s no use fulminating against them. Unless they print something defamatory, there’s little we can do.’

‘I can write strong letters of denial.’

‘That would be pointless at this stage, sir,’ said Colbeck. ‘In a war of words, the press always has more ink. Besides, in order to defend what we’re doing, you’d have to reveal some of the evidence we’ve gathered and that would be imprudent. Those responsible for that train crash have already been warned that we are after them. If they realise how close we are, they may bolt altogether.’

Tallis stood up. ‘How close are we, Inspector?’

‘I anticipate significant progress by the end of the day.’

‘You thought we’d achieve that by matching Mr Shanklin’s handwriting with that on a funeral card.’

‘I was too optimistic,’ admitted Colbeck.

‘And are you being too optimistic today?’

‘No, sir – I’m being much more cautious.’

Tallis opened a box on the desk and took out a cigar, cutting the end off it before thrusting it into his mouth and lighting it. He puffed vigorously until the cigar began to glow and acrid smoke curled up to the ceiling.

‘We need that significant progress, Inspector,’ he said. ‘It’s the only way to stop these jackals from snapping at our heels.’

‘Never be upset by press criticism,’ advised Colbeck. ‘There’s a very simple way to avoid it.’

‘Is there?’

‘Yes, Superintendent – cancel the newspapers.’

Before Tallis could muster a reply, Colbeck bade him farewell and left the office. Victor Leeming was waiting for him in the corridor. Having read one of the morning newspapers, he knew how violently the superintendent would react and was grateful that he had not had to confront him. He was surprised how unruffled Colbeck was.

‘What sort of mood was he in?’ asked Leeming.

Colbeck grinned. ‘Mr Tallis wants us to bring him the head of every journalist who has attacked us,’ he said. ‘I think he’d like to stick them on poles and throw paper darts at them.’

‘I’d throw more than paper darts, Inspector.’

‘The most effective missile would be an arrest, Victor.’

Colbeck took the sergeant into his office so that they could talk without interruption. He gave Leeming an abbreviated account of his conversation with Tallis then turned his attention to the day ahead.