Blood on the Line

superintendent was a terrier barking incessantly at their heels.

They were in Colbeck’s office and Peebles was diverted by some of the posters on the walls. They listed wanted criminals and the rewards that were on offer. He peered intently at them.

‘That’s one of the things I admire most about you and the inspector,’ he said, turning to face Leeming. ‘You never rely on informers or people in search of a reward. You solve your cases by hard work and deduction.’

‘It may be true up to a point,’ conceded Leeming. ‘I provide the hard work and the inspector supplies the deduction. But we take help from anyone we can. Inspector Colbeck is a great believer in picking up something useful wherever he can find it. He has a word for it.’

‘Serendipity.’

‘Yes, that’s right – serendipity.’

‘I think there’s far more to it than that,’ argued Peebles. ‘I’ve kept a scrapbook of your cases, you see. I cut out newspaper reports of them and paste them in. It’s taught me a lot about your methods.’

Leeming was uneasy. ‘Has it?’

‘Look at that train robbery, for instance. You were so thorough. You dealt with the railway company, the post office, the Royal Mint, a bank in Birmingham, a lock manufacturer in the Black Country and you infiltrated the Great Exhibition to make your first arrests.’ He grinned with frank adoration. ‘It was brilliant detective work.’

‘One thing led to another,’ explained Leeming.

‘You got through an immense amount of work between you.’

‘That’s certainly true.’

‘Then there was the severed head found on Crewe station.’

‘You don’t need to remind me of that.’

‘How on earth did Inspector Colbeck know that there was a connection with the forthcoming Derby? He even sailed off to Ireland at one point.’

‘He was acting on a sixth sense. It’s what he always does.’

‘Well, I don’t have that gift.’

‘Neither do I, Constable.’

‘The case that really intrigued me was the one that took you and the inspector to France. It all began when someone was killed on a train then hurled off the Sankey Viaduct. In fact—’

‘Let me stop you there,’ said Leeming, interrupting with both hands raised. ‘This may surprise you but we never look back at old investigations. We always have our hands full with new ones.’

Peebles was astonished. ‘You don’t keep a scrapbook?’

‘It would never cross my mind.’

‘But you should have a record of your triumphs.’

‘I’m not that vain, Constable.’

‘I keep a list of every suspect I’ve questioned and every arrest I’ve made,’ said Peebles. ‘Not that I’ve handled the sort of complex cases that you and the inspector do, of course. I’m still a raw beginner.’ He rubbed his hands. ‘I can’t wait to join the hunt for Oxley and his accomplice. When we catch them,’ he went on, face shining and buck teeth aglow, ‘we’ll have wonderful press cuttings. If you don’t wish to record your successes, I’ll happily do so.’

Leeming groaned inwardly. While they were involved in a difficult case, the last thing they needed was a self-appointed recording angel like Ian Peebles. Their every move would be enshrined in his scrapbook. It would make them far too self-conscious to do their job properly. Leeming was so alarmed at the prospect that he made a silent wish.

‘Come back soon, Inspector Colbeck – I need you.’

Colbeck had never been in a cotton mill before and he found the noise deafening. Ambrose Holte, the mill owner, occupied a large, almost palatial office that was insulated against the pandemonium. When Colbeck explained why he was there, Holte was more than ready to help. He was a beefy man of middle years with a pallid face and white hair that had retreated to the rear of his head like so much foam left on a beach by the receding tide. He had a strong Lancashire accent and a habit of keeping one thumb in his waistcoat pocket as he spoke.

‘Yes, I remember Irene Adnam very well,’ he said with rancour. ‘She robbed us of items worth hundreds of pounds.’

‘Female burglars are rare, thankfully.’

‘She didn’t break into the house, Inspector. She was already there, working as a governess to my youngest daughter.’

‘When did you begin to suspect her?’ asked Colbeck.

‘We never did,’ said Holte, ‘that was the trouble. She wormed her way into our affections until we trusted her completely. Alicia, whom she taught, doted on her.’

‘Did she come to you with good references?’

‘They were excellent, Inspector. It was only after she’d left that we learnt that they were forgeries. When the police tried to find the various addresses, they discovered that none of them existed.’

‘How would you describe Miss Adnam?’

Holte snorted. ‘I think she’s the most loathsome, duplicitous, black-hearted creature on God’s earth.’

‘You’re saying that with the advantage of hindsight,’ Colbeck reminded him. ‘Try to remember how she struck you when she first came for interview. What made you choose Irene Adnam?’

‘It was sheer folly!’

‘You didn’t think so at the time.’

‘No, Inspector,’ admitted Holte, jowls wobbling. ‘That’s correct. She seemed ideal for the position. Not to put too fine a point on it, I was beguiled by the cunning little vixen.’

Holte gave a clear and detailed description of Irene Adnam and she began to take on more definition in Colbeck’s mind. Her work as a governess had been above reproach and she had stayed long enough in Holte’s employ to become an auxiliary member of his family, taking her meals with them and joining them at church on Sundays. It was because he had placed such trust in her that Holte was so embittered when she turned out to be a thief.

‘What exactly did she steal?’ asked Colbeck.

‘She emptied my wallet and took some of my wife’s jewellery. But the bulk of the haul consisted of small items of silver. They’d be fairly light to carry and easy to sell to a pawnbroker.’

‘Oh, I think that Miss Adnam might have higher ambitions than relying on a pawnbroker. If she’s the seasoned criminal she appears,’ said Colbeck, ‘she’d probably deal with a fence who’d offer better terms. I don’t think she’d steal anything unless she knew exactly where she could get a good price for it.’

‘You could be right, Inspector. When I gave them a list of stolen items, the police visited nearly all the pawnbrokers in the city. They drew a blank. None of our property was recovered.’

‘Evidently she knew exactly what to take and when to take it.’

‘We were all fast asleep at the time.’

‘How did she know where everything was kept – your wife’s jewellery, for instance? Surely that was in a safe?’ Holte lowered his head, plainly discomfited. ‘I can’t believe that items of such value were not locked away.’

‘They were locked away, Inspector.’

‘Then how did she get her hands on them?’

‘Someone told her the combination.’

Colbeck was surprised. ‘She had an accomplice on the staff?’

‘He was a member of the family,’ said Holte, running his tongue over dry lips. ‘Not that he realised what he was doing at the time. I’m talking about my eldest son, Lawrence. He became enamoured of Miss Adnam. I warned him against it, of course, and urged him to pay for his pleasures like a gentleman. That way they don’t infect the family home.’ He sucked his teeth. ‘But Lawrence wouldn’t listen, I fear. He fell completely under her spell. When she asked if she could leave a few valuables of her own in our safe, he duly obliged by opening it.’

‘And she memorised the combination while he was doing it,’ guessed Colbeck. ‘She’s a calculating young lady, no doubt about that. I can see why you’re so anxious to see her caught.’

‘You can imagine the embarrassment this has caused me,’ said Holte, running a hand over his forehead. ‘It’s