memory. ‘It was like a red hot poker going into my flesh.’
‘I hope you make a complete recovery.’
‘Thank you, Mr Thornhill.’
‘Did you recognise the man?’
‘I’ve never seen him before in my life.’
‘What possible reason could he have to attack you?’
‘I don’t know,’ said Follis with weary humour. ‘My sermons are not
‘The man who shot at me was driven by a grudge. It had become an obsession. He could think of nothing else. At least, I know that he’s safely under lock and key and has no accomplice. Unfortunately, that’s not the situation with you.’
‘I don’t follow you, Mr Thornhill.’
Well,’ said the other, ‘if your attacker escaped, he might come back to try again. Or he might have a confederate, sworn to the same foul purpose. Grudges never disappear – they get stronger with the passage of time. Acquire a bodyguard quickly,’ he urged. ‘You could be in serious danger.’
Follis felt as if the bullet had hit him all over again.
It was not the first time that Josie Murlow had spent the night in a police cell. On previous occasions, however, she had been hauled before a magistrate, fined then released. Legal process would take a very different route this time. Until her trial, she would remain behind bars. She had spent a miserable night, alternately bemoaning her fate and raging against the men who had, in her opinion, driven Dick Chiffney to his grotesque death. Her temper was fiery. When she was given food, she hurled it back at the policeman who had brought it.
Hearing of her conduct from the custody sergeant, Tallis decided to interview her where she was. He and Colbeck were shown to Josie’s cell. The superintendent had no time to introduce himself. As soon as she saw Colbeck, she flung herself at the bars and reached a hand through in a vain attempt to grab him.
‘You killed Dick Chiffney!’ she screeched.
‘That’s not true,’ said Colbeck.
‘You’re nothing but a murderer!’
‘Control yourself, woman!’ ordered Tallis in a voice that compelled obedience. ‘Do you want to be restrained?’ he asked. ‘Do you want to spend the rest of your time here in chains? Do you want my officers to hold you down and feed you through a tube? Is that what you want?’ Cowering in her cell, Josie shook her head. ‘Then let’s have no more of this unacceptable behaviour.’ He stood to attention. ‘My name is Superintendent Tallis and this, as you well know, is Inspector Colbeck.’
‘Good morning,’ said Colbeck. ‘When we brought you back to London on the train, you were in no mood for conversation. That was understandable. Today, however, we must establish certain facts.’ He met her withering glare. ‘Do you know where Mr Chiffney had been before he came to Brighton station?’
She was surly. ‘Dick said he had a job to do.’
‘Did he tell you what that job entailed?’
‘No – he wouldn’t tell me anything.’
‘Then let me enlighten you,’ Colbeck continued. ‘Mr Chiffney was lurking outside the town hall so that he could shoot a clergyman named Mr Follis. He fired a pistol at him from close quarters.’
She was jolted. ‘Dick would never do a thing like that.’
‘There were several witnesses, Miss Murlow. I was close to the scene myself. That’s why I hailed a cab and hurried to the station. We’d seen you waiting there and knew that Mr Chiffney would come.’
‘You’re wrong,’ she said, waving an arm. ‘Dick didn’t even know that I was in Brighton. He told me to keep away.’
‘Why did he do that?’ asked Tallis.
‘He thought I’d distract him from…what he had to do.’
‘And what was that?’
Josie shrugged. ‘I don’t know, sir.’
‘I fancy that you do. You’re an accessory to attempted murder.’
‘I’m not, sir, I swear it!’
‘Who was Mr Chiffney working for?’ asked Colbeck.
‘He never told me the man’s name.’
‘But you did know he was being paid by someone?’
‘Oh, yes,’ she said, ‘Dick showed me the money he got for the first job he did though he wouldn’t tell me what it was. As for that man’s name, I don’t think Dick knew it himself.’
‘So you’re not aware what that “first job” actually was?’
‘No – Dick vanished and I thought he’d run out on me. When he came back, he had lots of money. He said there’d be even more when he did something else in Brighton.’
‘It’s time you learnt what Chiffney did first of all,’ said Tallis, ‘then you might not hold his memory so dear. Did you know that there was a train crash on the Brighton line last week?’
‘Of course – everyone was talking about it.’
‘The man who engineered that crash was Chiffney.’
‘No!’ she exclaimed, refusing to believe it. ‘Dick would never cause a train crash. I know him. He liked working on the railway. Why should he want to do something as terrible as that?’
‘You’ve already given us the answer,’ said Colbeck. ‘He did it for money. He did it because he was out of work. He did it because he was dismissed by the company and wanted to get his own back.’ Josie staggered back in horror. ‘There seem to be lots of things that Mr Chiffney forgot to tell you, don’t there?’
Josie’s mind was racing. They had no reason to lie to her. The man she had been mourning had set off to commit murder for their mutual benefit. The thought that he had already caused the deaths of several other people turned him into a complete monster and she quailed as she recalled the intimacies they had shared in the wake of the train disaster. Josie had coupled with the Devil himself. She felt ashamed and corrupted. The sight of Chiffney, carved to pieces on a railway line, no longer enraged her. In the light of his crime, it was a fitting end. She elected to forget Chiffney altogether. He belonged to her past. All she worried about now was saving her own skin.
‘It’s not very much,’ she said, ingratiatingly, ‘but I’ll tell you all I know.’
Victor Leeming was in good spirits. Now that the investigation was nearing its end, his chances of being at home for his wife’s birthday had improved. Despatched to the Navy Office by Colbeck, he had gathered the information they needed and could now return. Before he did so, however, there were still gifts to be bought for Sunday and he might never have such a good opportunity again. It would not take long. If he were caught attending to family business while still on duty, Leeming knew that Superintendent Tallis would suspend him instantly. Colbeck would take a more tolerant view. He realised how much the sergeant loved his wife.
Leeming consulted a list he drew from his pocket. It had been compiled from records at the Navy Office. Somewhere on the list, he believed, was the name of the man who had hired Dick Chiffney to orchestrate a train crash. The consequences had been horrendous. The sergeant had visited the scene with Colbeck. Both men had been shocked by the scale of the disaster. Leeming remembered the sight of the wreckage, the smell from the bonfires and the groans of agony from the remaining victims. Suddenly, the purchase of his wife’s birthday presents no longer seemed important. It was put aside until after the arrest of the man who had conceived the tragedy. His capture was paramount.
Leeming hurried away. The investigation took precedence. He and Colbeck had to return to Brighton. Besides, the town did not merely harbour a wanted man. It had shops.
Until he woke up the next morning, Ezra Follis had not realised he had so many friends. Cards, flowers and gifts of all kinds had flooded in from the most unlikely sources and there was an endless queue of people waiting to see him. Since he was still weak, he only agreed to see selected visitors and limited their time at the bedside. The bishop, the dean and the churchwardens were the first to be allowed in. Of the others, only Ellen Ashmore, Amy Walcott and a handful of close friends were permitted a few minutes each.
