‘It’s the only way I can get over the shock of it all,’ she said, then she seemed to dismiss Kellow entirely from her mind. Her manner was conversational. ‘Will you be staying long in Cardiff, Inspector?’
‘I’ll be here until the case is solved.’
‘Then you’ll have the time to visit the Theatre Royal.’
‘I’ll make a point of doing so,’ said Colbeck. ‘On my way there yesterday, I was given a playbill by one of the company – a charming young lady named Miss Tremaine.’
Kate frowned. ‘She has some decorative appeal on stage, I grant you,’ she conceded, ‘but she’s far too wooden to be an actress. Handing our playbills is more suitable employment for her.’
Colbeck heard the note of contempt in her voice. For the second time, he had a surge of sympathy for Laura Tremaine. While the actor-manager and leading lady enjoyed the luxury of the Railway Hotel, Laura would be staying in some squalid boarding house in the suburbs, dreaming, probably in vain, of the time when she would take leading parts in the classical repertoire. One thing was clear. The young actress would get neither help nor encouragement from Kate Linnane. The only person in whom she was interested was herself.
‘Thank you, Miss Linnane,’ he said, getting up. ‘You’ve been very helpful. I’ll intrude on you no longer.’
‘Having you here has reassured me greatly.’
‘I’m glad to hear that.’
‘If this case is left in the hands of bumbling local policemen, it would never be solved.’
Colbeck sprang to his friend’s defence. ‘You do Superintendent Stockdale a disservice,’ he said with polite firmness. ‘He’s extremely competent and polices this town well.’
‘I found him a trifle vulgar,’ said Kate.
‘We must agree to differ on that score.’
She produced her most bewitching smile. ‘I suspect that we’d agree on most other things, Inspector.’
She offered her hand and he placed a token kiss on it before letting himself out. Colbeck felt as if he had been watching a performance rather than having a normal conversation. To a woman like Kate Linnane, even one person constituted an audience. As he walked along the passageway, he had the uncomfortable sensation of being watched and he threw a glance over his shoulder. Nobody was there yet he still sensed a presence. It was unsettling. When he turned the corner, therefore, he came to a sudden halt after a few steps then flattened his back against the wall. He inched his way towards the corner so that he could peer around the angle. He was just in time to see the shadowy figure of a man going into Kate Linnane’s room before closing the door behind him.
* * *
‘Where the devil have you been, man?’ roared Edward Tallis from behind his desk. ‘I expected you ages ago.’
‘I had some calls to make, Superintendent,’ said Leeming.
‘Your first call should have been here so that you could tell me what happened yesterday evening. Instead of that, you stay away for hours. You’d better have a very good reason for doing so.’
‘I visited the house where Mr Kellow lodged.’
‘Did you learn anything pertinent to the investigation?’
‘I believe so, sir.’
‘Well, spit it out,’ ordered Tallis. ‘And don’t stand there dithering like that – sit down.’
Victor Leeming obeyed, sinking on to the chair in front of the desk. It did not get any easier. No matter how many times he went into his superior’s office, he still felt like an errant schoolboy hauled up before a tyrannical headmaster. Tallis had the authority of a man who had spent most of his career in the army, commanding soldiers in war-torn parts of the Empire. Now in his fifties, he was beak-nosed, broad-shouldered and portly, a shock of grey hair contrasting sharply with the rubicund hue of his cheeks. A well-trimmed moustache decorated his upper lip like a third eyebrow. His rasping voice made his question sound like an accusation.
‘What have you done since you left here yesterday?’
‘I did as you instructed, sir,’ replied Leeming, ‘and called on Mr Voke. Some interesting facts emerged.’
Tallis issued a challenge. ‘Then interest me.’
The sergeant gave his report. Colbeck had taught him to keep a written account of every interview that he conducted so that it could be referred back to at a future date. Leeming had memorised what he had put down on paper yet – unsettled by the basilisk stare of the superintendent – he still stumbled over some of the words. When the report reached the point where Leeming had departed from Wood Street the night before, Tallis wanted to clarify one point.
‘And you’re sure that you warned Mr Voke that the duplicate set of keys had been stolen?’
‘Inspector Colbeck sent me there for that express purpose.’
‘Did you examine the premises before you left?’
‘No, sir,’ said Leeming.
‘It never occurred to you to advise him about the security of his premises?’
‘I didn’t think it was my place to do so. Mr Voke has had that shop for many years. He knows how to guard his stock. A silversmith would not remain in business if he didn’t lock all his doors at night.’
‘Locks can be opened,’ said Tallis.
‘Only by the right keys, sir,’ Leeming pointed out.
‘Someone appears to have had them.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘According to this,’ said Tallis, picking up a sheet of paper, ‘a Mr Leonard Voke reported a burglary at his premises during the night. It appears that his safe was completely emptied.’
‘I did tell him to be on his guard.’
‘You obviously didn’t tell him loudly enough. Nor did you have the sense to check every door to the premises to see if they could in any way be made more secure. Our task,’ he went on, sententiously, ‘is not merely to solve crime. We also exist to prevent it.’
Leeming was abashed. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘Since you chose to act on your own initiative this morning, the very least you could have done was to return to Mr Voke’s shop to check if anything untoward had happened during the night.’
‘I thought it was more important to visit Mrs Jennings.’
‘Was she Mr Kellow’s landlady?’
‘Yes, Superintendent,’ said Leeming. ‘She showed me his room.’
He gave an account of his visit to the house, hoping to receive at least a hint of praise for what he had learnt. Tallis, however, was unimpressed. Stroking his moustache, he pondered.
‘Mrs Jennings has told you little of practical use,’ he announced at length. ‘Your visit there was hardly productive.’
‘I learnt much about the murder victim’s character, sir.’
‘That brings us no closer to identifying his killer.’
‘I believe it does,’ argued Leeming. ‘It seems clear to me that the prime suspect is Mr Stephen Voke. He was fired by revenge. From what I can gather, Mr Kellow not only supplanted him as a silversmith, he also took young Mr Voke’s place in his father’s affections. That must have rankled with him.’
‘Yes,’ conceded Tallis, ‘I can detect a plausible motive there.’
‘Stephen Voke would also have known to whom that coffee pot locomotive was being delivered and had a very good idea as to when work on it would be completed. More to the point,’ said Leeming, ‘he would know his way around the premises in the dark.’
‘Then he needs to be brought in for questioning.’
‘That may be difficult, sir.’
‘Why – Mr Voke told you where his son worked.’
‘I called on the proprietor, Mr Solomon Stern. He didn’t speak well of Stephen Voke. Apparently, his work was very satisfactory at first but he became lax. Also, his timekeeping was poor. He began to arrive late and leave early. What annoyed Mr Stern,’ he remembered, ‘was that a young lady was always loitering outside the shop in the evening. As soon as he saw her, Stephen Voke left.’
‘Are you telling me that you never actually met Voke?’
‘He no longer works in Hatton Garden.’
‘Did his employer give him the sack?’
