The Silver Locomotive Mystery

commissioned but could never withstand close inspection. Made of tin, it looked cheap and hastily finished. There were sharp edges on it everywhere.

‘Look at it,’ said Tomkins, trying to grab the locomotive and pricking his finger in the process. ‘It’s utterly useless.’

‘Not to me,’ said Colbeck. ‘It’s further proof that the man we’re looking for is a silversmith. This was deliberately fashioned so that it could be used as a decoy. Mrs Tomkins, I daresay, was only given a glimpse of it from a distance.’

‘The villains have made quite a haul,’ noted Stockdale. ‘They not only pocketed three times the value of the coffee pot, they still have the object themselves.’

‘Don’t forget the contents of Mr Voke’s safe in London,’ Colbeck reminded him. ‘The thief now has enough stock and capital to set himself up in business as a silversmith. That makes me even more convinced of his identity.’

‘Who is he, Inspector?’ demanded Tomkins.

‘We believe that he may be Mr Voke’s son and that he has a female accomplice with some knowledge of the town. He’s a clever man, Mr Tomkins. He exploited your wife’s determination to have that coffee pot at all costs and it may even be that she was not the only victim of a decoy. The superintendent and I discussed this on the way here,’ said Colbeck. ‘At the time when Mrs Tomkins was handing over that money, the police force was distracted.’

‘Yes,’ explained Stockdale. ‘The leading lady from the theatre company has been kidnapped. It’s a possibility that the crime was committed in order to divert our attention away from events here. Only time will tell.’

‘My feeling is that the two things are unrelated,’ said Colbeck, ‘but the coincidence is strange. The abduction needed immediate attention from the superintendent and his men.’

‘Why me?’ cried Tomkins. ‘What have I done to deserve it? Why has all this disaster been visited upon me?’

‘I’d say that you’ve come off rather lightly, sir,’ remarked Stockdale. ‘It’s Mrs Tomkins who’s really suffered here.’

‘Then there’s Sergeant Leeming,’ added Colbeck, ‘who was assaulted in your place. As for Miss Linnane, victim of a kidnap, we can only guess at the horrors she has been put through. Compared to others, sir, your problems have been relatively small.’

‘That’s all you know!’ said Tomkins under his breath.

He was thinking of the difficulties that lay ahead, of the reproaches that were to come when his wife recovered and of the permanent damage done to their marriage. Winifred thought his behaviour had been unforgivable and she was a woman who harboured grudges forever. In failing to support her at a time of need, he had guaranteed himself years of bitter recrimination. Only the restitution of his wife’s money and of the silver coffee pot could save him from sustained misery.

‘We must catch these devils!’ he shouted.

‘We’ll endeavour to do so, sir,’ said Colbeck, ‘but, in losing your wife’s confidence, you made our task much more difficult. Had I been present at the exchange, there was a good chance of catching the man we’re after.’

‘You can’t be certain of that outcome.’

‘I accept that, Mr Tomkins. That’s why I had another line of defence. If the killer had escaped from me, he and his accomplice might well have tried to leave the town by train with their booty.’

‘I’d have been waiting for them at the railway station,’ said Stockdale, ‘and I was expecting to do just that this evening. I was unaware that the exchange would take place so soon.’

‘It all comes back to your failure to stand by your wife, sir. You forced her to take independent action and two dangerous criminals have slipped through our fingers as a result.’

‘I refuse to acknowledge any responsibility,’ insisted Tomkins.

‘I can only tell you how we view it,’ said Colbeck, looking him in the eye, ‘and I venture to suggest that your wife will see it in exactly the same way.’ Tomkins swallowed hard. ‘Now could I please trouble you to give me the second letter that arrived here today? It might just confirm a worrying little thought I have at the back of my mind.’

It was much more testing than Laura Tremaine had thought. When she had rehearsed the role of Lady Macbeth before, she had simply copied the way that Kate Linnane had played the part. Now that it was hers, Nigel Buckmaster insisted that she put her individual stamp on it and he worked hard to bring that about. She did the letter-reading scene over twenty times before he was satisfied with the interpretation and he went over every syllable of her famous speeches to tease out their meaning and emotional impact. Laura was humbled and exhausted by the exercise but she was also uplifted. Somewhere inside her was the performance of her lifetime and Buckmaster was slowly bringing it out of her. Hours glided by as they exchanged iambic pentameters.

‘That’s enough!’ he decreed at last. ‘I think we have earned some refreshment. It is time for the royal couple to feast.’

‘Thank you!’ she said, overjoyed at his approval.

‘We have made great strides and we’ll make even more when we rehearse with the full company. I am beginning to have a real sense of you as my wife, my lady, my lover.’

‘My performance owes everything to you.’

‘We must complement each other in every possible way.’

‘Yes, Mr Buckmaster.’

‘Oh, I think we can dispense with formalities in private,’ he said, slipping an arm around her shoulders. ‘Feel free to use my Christian name, Laura.’

‘I will, sir – I mean…Nigel.’

After a late luncheon, they adjourned to the theatre to meet the rest of the company. Actors thrived on rumour and superstition and the place was buzzing. Opinions varied as to whether Kate Linnane had been killed, wounded, dismissed, abducted or struck down by a crippling disease. What everyone knew for certain was that she would not be taking part in the play that evening. Conducting Laura to the stage, Buckmaster clapped his hands to silence the hubbub.

‘Ladies and gentlemen,’ he said, scanning the faces below him, ‘I want no more idle speculation about Miss Linnane. All that you need to know is that she is unable to be here this evening. In her place,’ he went on, ‘I am delighted to tell you that we will have Miss Tremaine.’

There was a burst of spontaneous applause from most of the actors though one or two were less enthusiastic. Laura did not mind. Later that evening, she would be enjoying an ovation from a full audience, signalling the arrival of a new star in the firmament of British theatre. The moment for which she had secretly yearned had finally come. She would shine in one of the greatest tragic roles ever devised for an actress and she would do so in the company of the legendary Nigel Buckmaster. It was true bliss.

The euphoria lasted until she reached her dressing room. Cold reality then set in. As she looked at her costume, she knew that she could never hope to fill it with the same distinction as Kitty Linnane, especially at such short notice. Many of the things that Buckmaster taught her in his hotel room had already vanished from her brain. There was simply too much to learn. Declaiming lines in private had been thrilling. Adapting her performance to those of the other characters in the play would be far more difficult. She suddenly felt her immaturity. Buoyed up by ambition, she had thought herself ready for anything. Now that she was there, now that she was in a dressing room that had so many vestiges of Kate Linnane, now that she took full measure of the challenge she faced, Laura was forced to admit that she was too young, inexperienced and ill-equipped for the role. Her mouth went dry, her stomach heaved and her heart was like a galloping horse. She was in the iron grip of stage fright.

They were true. All those stories about bad luck attending any production of Macbeth had some foundation. Laura had never believed the tales before but the facts were inescapable. They were doomed. The company had been struck by a triple disaster. Murder had greeted their arrival in the town, their leading lady had been kidnapped and Laura Tremaine had been cast as Lady Macbeth. She could turn out to be the biggest disaster of them all.

Robert Colbeck wanted to eliminate one possible suspect before he left Cardiff. Though he doubted if she would condone a murder, he still wondered if Carys Evans was in some way linked to the series of crimes.