The Silver Locomotive Mystery

‘Yes, Miss Kellow. It’s also where Inspector Colbeck is staying and you’ll need to speak to him before you’re allowed to see the body.’

She looked anxious. ‘He won’t try to stop me, will he?’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Mr Dalrymple said I was entitled as next of kin.’

‘That’s true.’

‘Then why do I have to speak to Inspector Colbeck?’

‘He’s in charge of the investigation.’

‘Has he caught the man who killed my brother yet?’

‘I think that highly unlikely, Miss Kellow,’ said Leeming, ‘but we will certainly do so in the fullness of time. The inspector will leave no stone unturned to find the person we’re looking for.’

They joined the passengers thronging around the exit, the fierce hubbub making any further conversation difficult. Though he was barely ten years older, Leeming felt more like a parent to her and had a father’s reluctance to expose her to anything as unpleasant as viewing the corpse of a murder victim. Yet Effie had a kind of inner strength which had made her insist on coming to Cardiff and he hoped that it would sustain her through the ordeal.

‘Have you been to Wales before?’ he asked.

‘I haven’t been anywhere,’ she said, dully.

‘Where were you born?’

‘Watford – we moved to London when I was a child and I’ve been there ever since. Hugh was going to take me to Margate this year,’ she went on, brightening momentarily. Her face crumpled. ‘That won’t happen now. I’d always wanted to go to Margate.’

‘It sounds as if he really looked after you, Miss Kellow.’

‘Oh, he did, sir. Hugh was much more than a brother to me.’

Leeming wondered how she would cope without him. Her future was bleak. Effie Kellow seemed doomed to spend the rest of her life in service. With the death of her brother, her one real escape route had been blocked. For such an attractive woman, there was the possibility of marriage but it would only to be to someone on the same social level. The one consolation was that, according to her, Effie had a very considerate employer. Leeming knew of many cases where rapacious householders had taken advantage of female members of staff who had been forced to comply rather than risk dismissal. He was relieved that she had at least been spared that torment.

To the sergeant’s relief, Colbeck was at the hotel when they got there. It meant that Leeming no longer felt in loco parentis. Colbeck was interested to meet Effie and he put her at ease immediately by agreeing to let her identify the body of her brother.

‘Thank you, Inspector,’ she said, grasping his hand.

‘Sergeant Leeming will doubtless have warned you what to expect,’ he said, looking at his colleague. ‘The body was viewed by someone who travelled with your brother on the train but I’m not sure how much credence can be placed on his identification.’

‘I’m the only person who ought to have seen Hugh.’

‘Granted, Mrs Kellow, but we had no means of getting in touch with you. Fortunately, the reward notice and newspaper report came to your attention.’

‘Can I see him now, sir?’

‘Are you sure you wouldn’t like some refreshment first?’ offered Leeming. ‘It must be a long time since you’ve eaten and you must be hungry – I know that I am.’

‘I suggest a meal afterwards, Sergeant,’ said Colbeck.

Leeming read his meaningful glance. If she viewed the corpse on a full stomach, there was always the possibility that Effie Kellow would be violently sick. It had happened many times with other relatives of murder victims. Leeming mimed an apology to Colbeck.

‘Where is my brother?’ she asked.

‘We’ll take you to him at once,’ said Colbeck.

‘I have to see him, Inspector.’

‘I understand.’

‘It’s the only way to put my mind at rest.’

Leeming squirmed inwardly. He feared that the sight of her brother’s corpse would have exactly the opposite effect.

Clifford Tomkins had spent many years regretting his decision to marry Winifred Armitage. At the time, of course, she had seemed like a good catch, a handsome young woman from the landed gentry with a vivacity kept just inside the bounds of convention. Unlike any other female of his acquaintance, she had shown a sincere interest in his work and been willing to live in Merthyr, the greatest iron town in the world, a noisy, dirty, over-crowded, rough and ready place that would have deterred many potential wives. She had produced five children, gaining weight and losing more of her dwindling appeal after each birth, and devoted herself to spending increasing amounts of his vast wealth. As he looked at her now, in the wild-eyed and bellicose state to which she reverted so easily, he could not believe that her beauty had ever ensnared him or that he had foolishly endured a lengthy and highly regulated betrothal in order to wed her.

‘I must have that coffee pot back, Clifford!’ she asserted.

‘You will, my dear,’ he soothed.

‘Otherwise, I’ll be the laughing-stock of Cardiff.’

‘Nobody will laugh at a brutal murder.’

‘They all knew how much store I set by it. How they must be rejoicing now! Lady Pryde will be cackling, Carys Evans will be clapping her hands and the rest of them will be taking immense pleasure out of my misfortune.’

‘You do them wrong, Winifred,’ he told her. ‘Your friends will have genuine sympathy for you. Lady Pryde might wrest some cruel enjoyment out of your predicament, perhaps, but Carys and the others will all feel sorry. They know how much that coffee pot meant to you.’

‘There’d be nothing else like it in the whole of Wales.’

‘You always did have a sense of originality, my dear.’

He gave a noncommittal smile. They were in the drawing room of their house and Tomkins was forced to listen to yet another outburst of self-pity from his wife. A silver coffee pot in the shape of a locomotive struck him as a rather bizarre and totally unnecessary object to commission, especially at such a high price. But it was an opinion he would never dare to vouchsafe to his wife.

‘We must put our trust in this Inspector Colbeck,’ he resumed.

‘I’m not sure that I can, Clifford.’

‘Why not?’

‘Well, I don’t have much faith in a man who doesn’t even bother to call on us. If he is in charge of the investigation, it was his duty to inform us in person of the loss we sustained. Instead of doing so, he sent that oaf, Superintendent Stockdale.’

‘Be fair to the man,’ said Tomkins, remembering the occasion when Stockdale’s discretion had saved him from being exposed as a client of a certain brothel in the town. ‘The superintendent is no oaf. He does a difficult job very well even if he is somewhat heavy-handed at times.’

‘He let us down,’ she accused.

‘I don’t think so.’

‘The crime occurred not long after noon yet it was hours before we were told about it. We should have been contacted at once.’

‘You can understand the delay, my dear. Stockdale had a murder on his hands. That took precedence over the theft. He was probably waiting for Inspector Colbeck to arrive before he took any major decision.’

She was enraged. ‘Whose side are you on?’

‘It’s not a question of sides, Winifred.’

‘Then why are you defending the superintendent?’

‘I’m defending nobody, my dear.’

‘You’re the one person I felt I could rely on,’ she said, hotly. ‘When my property