The Silver Locomotive Mystery

‘I don’t hold with that sort of thing,’ said Leeming, bluntly.

‘There’s no law against it, Sergeant.’

‘Sometimes I think there should be.’

Stockdale laughed. ‘Then I’d have to lock up half the town.’

‘The superintendent is right,’ said Colbeck. ‘One cannot legislate against certain things. One has to live and let live – even though the consequences may be fatal, as in this case.’

Leeming was puzzled. ‘What do you mean?’

‘Tell me what you see in here, Victor.’

‘I see what we all see. The murder victim was battered then acid was poured down his throat. What surprises me is that Mr Kellow didn’t put up more of a fight. He looks like a healthy young man yet there’s no real sign of a struggle.’

‘That’s what troubled me,’ admitted Stockdale. ‘He must have been surprised. I know that he was supposed to be returning to London today but this room was, in fact, reserved in his name. My theory is that Mr Kellow came in here to rest, took off his hat, coat and shoes then lay down on the bed. Someone caught him off guard. Once he murdered his victim, the killer took everything of value and escaped through the window.’

‘Yes,’ said Colbeck, ‘I noticed how easy it would have been to climb on the roof of that shed below. It could well have been a means of escape. But,’ he added, crossing to kneel beside the bed, ‘there’s another explanation that occurs to me.’ He peeled back the cuffs of the dead man’s shirt. ‘It’s just as I thought. He was tied up. You can still see the marks of the rope on his wrists.’

Stockdale was upset. ‘I should have noticed that myself.’

‘You were only looking for things that fitted your theory.’

Leeming scratched his head. ‘The killer must have been a strong man,’ he noted, ‘if he could overpower and tie up his victim. Why didn’t Mr Kellow scream his head off? That’s what I’d have done in the circumstances.’

‘I very much doubt it, Victor,’ observed Colbeck with a smile. ‘You would never have been in those circumstances. Your wedding ring would have saved you from illicit sexual contact. What I believe may have happened is this,’ he went on, thinking it through. ‘Mr Kellow is a young man with a day off in a strange town. He was probably lured in here by a woman who persuaded him to let her tie him up so that she could tease him to heighten his pleasure.’ Leeming was shocked. ‘Once she had him in that condition, either she or a male accomplice took full advantage of him.’

‘That’s disgusting!’ protested Leeming.

‘It happens all the time in Butetown,’ said Stockdale, wearily. ‘Foreign sailors come streaming off their ships after months at sea and run straight to the arms of the nearest whore. After a drunken night of passion, they wake up to find they’ve been robbed of every penny. The only difference here is that poor Mr Kellow will never wake up.’

‘A trap was set,’ concluded Colbeck. ‘That’s why I incline to the notion that there were two of them. They knew when Mr Kellow was coming to Cardiff and what he would be carrying. He simply had to be enticed away from his errand. This room was booked by a man, giving his name as Hugh Kellow. When his female accomplice had rendered their victim helpless, he committed the murder and they fled.’ He turned to Stockdale. ‘The body can be moved now, Superintendent. I’ll want an autopsy.’

‘Of course, Inspector,’ said Stockdale.

‘I’ll need to speak to the manager then I’d like some time with Mr Buckmaster and Miss Linnane. They must have talked at length to Mr Kellow.’

‘What about me, Inspector?’ asked Leeming.

‘You must go straight back to London,’ said Colbeck, ‘but I’m not sending you there simply to spend the night with your wife. You must call on Leonard Voke as a matter of urgency, acquaint him with the details of this sorry business and find out who else knew that his assistant would be travelling to Cardiff today with an item of great value in his possession. Oh, there’s one other thing, Victor.’

‘Is there?’

‘Warn him.’

‘You think that he’s in danger?’

‘No,’ replied Colbeck, ‘but his stock may be at risk. Since he was given the important task of delivering that coffee pot, Hugh Kellow was obviously a trusted employee. He would almost certainly have had keys to the silversmith’s premises. Tell Mr Voke that they are missing.’

CHAPTER THREE

Madeleine Andrews was so engrossed in studying her sketchbook that she did not even hear the familiar footsteps on the pavement outside the little house in Camden. When her father let himself in, therefore, she looked up in alarm as if an intruder had just burst upon her. She smiled with relief at the sight of Caleb Andrews, back home from another day as a driver on the London and North West Railway.

‘You took me by surprise, Father,’ she said.

‘It’s not often I do that, Maddie,’ he said, taking off his coat and cap before hanging them on the back of the door. ‘In any case, I’m the one who should be surprised. I was expecting to find the place empty. You were going out with Inspector Colbeck this evening.’

‘Robert sent a note to cancel the arrangement.’

‘Did he give a reason?’

‘He had to go to Cardiff at short notice.’

‘That means the Great Western Railway,’ said Andrews with a sneer, ‘and Brunel’s Great Big Mistake of installing a broad gauge. If only he’d had the sense to use a standard gauge on his track, life would be so much simpler for all of us.’

‘That’s one way of looking at it,’ she said.

‘It’s the only way, Maddie.’

‘Mr Brunel would argue that the LNWR and other companies were at fault when they chose a narrower gauge. If everyone else had fallen into line behind him, there’d be no argument.’

‘Stop provoking me.’

‘I was trying to see it from his point of view.’

‘In this house,’ he declared, stamping a foot, ‘Isambard Kingdom Brunel doesn’t have a point of view. I work for a rival company.’

‘Then I won’t show you this,’ she said, closing her sketchbook.

‘What was it?’

‘A sketch I made of a locomotive in the Firefly class.’

‘That’s one of Daniel Gooch’s designs,’ he said with grudging admiration. ‘It’s a good, reliable engine and it’s stayed in service. The train that took Inspector Colbeck to Wales might even have been from the Firefly class. You should be drawing our locomotives,’ he added with sudden petulance, ‘not those of our competitors.’

‘I draw what catches my eye, Father.’

Putting her sketchbook aside, she got up and went into the kitchen to set out their supper on the table. She was disappointed that Robert Colbeck was unable to see her that evening but she was accustomed to such last- minute changes of plan. He worked long and uncertain hours at Scotland Yard. Close friendship with the Railway Detective meant that she had to tolerate his sudden departures and unforeseen commitments. Madeleine had her work to console her. It was Colbeck who had discovered her artistic talent and encouraged her to develop it to the point where it began to have commercial value. Not for her the tranquil landscapes and dainty water colours of other female artists. Her subject was the railway system and in her father, who had spent a whole working life on it, and Robert Colbeck, who was its devotee, she had two continual sources of inspiration.

When he drifted into the kitchen, Andrews was smoking his pipe. He was a short, sinewy man in his fifties with a wispy beard salted with grey. His workmates knew him for his irascibility but he tended to mellow when at home. Since the death of his wife, his daughter had taken care of him, feeding him, nurturing him and keeping him from despair. As he watched her now, bending over the table, he was reminded so vividly of his wife that his eyes moistened. Madeleine had the same quietly attractive features, the same clear complexion and the same auburn hair. He had to remind himself how different they really were in character. Madeleine was far more gifted, more