‘I’ve already written it down,’ said Colbeck, taking a sheet of folded paper from his pocket. ‘This combines what I was told by the woman’s father and by her former employer, Mr Holte.’ He handed it over. ‘But it will not be as accurate as I could wish. According to Mr Adnam, she was fond of play-acting as a child and was skilled at changing her appearance.’
‘The hangman will change it even more,’ said Tallis, sourly. After glancing at the paper, he looked up at Colbeck. ‘What about Sergeant Leeming and Constable Peebles?’
‘They took part in the search and visited two addresses while I was in Deansgate. For obvious reasons, their efforts were in vain.’
‘I was really asking how they got along together.’
‘There was no friction between them, sir. Why should there be?’
‘I sensed that the sergeant was very unhappy to be forced to work with a new recruit. Leeming was less than welcoming to him. Is that a fair assessment?’
‘He might have had a few reservations about Constable Peebles, sir, but they disappeared in the line of duty. While they were on their way to a house in Manchester, they were set on by four ruffians.’
Tallis was alarmed. ‘Was either of them hurt?’
‘No,’ replied Colbeck. ‘They turned the tables on their attackers and put them to flight. Victor – Sergeant Leeming – was very complimentary about the way that the constable had fought. Any slight differences that might have existed between them have now been eradicated.’
‘That’s good to hear. Mutual respect is vital in this department.’
‘In the case of Constable Peebles, it’s rather more than respect.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘It transpires that he’s been following the cases that we’ve been handling on the railways. As well as discharging his duties as a policeman in A Division, he somehow found time to compile a scrapbook of our successes. He draws inspiration from them.’
‘I find no fault in that.’
‘Neither do I, sir,’ said Colbeck. ‘My only worry is that he may let admiration blind him to our shortcomings. None of us is infallible.’
‘Quite so – Homer sometimes nods.’
Tallis scowled. ‘What heathen tongue is that?’
‘It’s the Latin you just translated. I think it was rather astute of you to pick up on my use of the word “blind” and mention Homer, the famous blind poet.’
‘It just came to me,’ said Tallis, relishing praise for something that was entirely coincidental. ‘So we are celebrated in a scrapbook, are we? I find that heartening.’
‘I think you should, Superintendent,’ said Colbeck, tongue in cheek. ‘After all, any triumphs we have to our credit have been secured under your aegis. Your control of our efforts has been decisive. I know that you loathe the press,’ he went on, ‘but they have trumpeted our successes from time to time. Your name is probably on every page of the constable’s scrapbook.’
Tallis’s broad grin was like the beam of a lighthouse.
It was the tranquillity that she appreciated most. Irene had never had such a peaceful night. Even in a hotel, the hustle and bustle of city life could be heard outside the windows. Then there was the ever-present noise of trains hurtling along. That, too, had gone. In its place were gentler sounds that allowed her to sleep undisturbed. She awoke refreshed and happy. Irene at last felt safe.
‘How long are we going to stay here?’ she asked.
‘Until they stop searching so hard for us,’ replied Oxley. ‘In the wake of a murder, the police will do all they can to find the suspects. The longer the hunt goes on, however, the fewer resources they can devote to it. Other crimes are being committed and they’ll demand attention. We simply have to wait until we fade into the past.’
‘We mustn’t outstay our welcome, Jerry.’
‘Don’t you like it here?’
‘I love it – but we can’t impose on Gordon and Susanna.’
‘They say that we can stay as long as we like.’
She was worried. ‘Do they know what we did?’
‘No, Irene,’ he told her. ‘They don’t know and won’t ask.’
‘Shouldn’t we tell them?’
‘We’ve told them all they need to know by turning up here. We need a hiding place. They’re intelligent enough to work out why.’
It was glorious weather. They were seated on a rustic bench in the garden, listening to the insects buzz and watching the birds hop from branch to branch among the trees. It all served to intensify Irene’s ambition to live in such a place and to stop being on the move all the time.
‘All we have to do is to copy what they did,’ resumed Oxley. ‘Gordon and Susanna showed us how it was done. When he was in danger of being exposed in Bradford, Gordon fled here to the house he’d bought in readiness. The police searched everywhere for them but to no avail. Mind you,’ he added with a chuckle, ‘they did take the precaution of changing their names.’
‘Do you mean that they’re not Dr and Mrs Younger?’
‘I mean exactly that, Irene. I’ll let you into a secret.’ He put his lips close to her ear. ‘Gordon and Susanna are false names as well.’
‘What are their real names?’
‘They don’t exist anymore. They have new identities, a new house and a new life. Gordon is not a retired doctor anymore. Everyone here thinks that he used to be an archaeologist. His hobby is poking around in old ruins, so it’s not a complete lie.’
‘I can see why they’ve never been caught,’ said Irene, admiringly. ‘The police are looking for a doctor and his wife, not an archaeologist with a totally different name.’ A question nudged her. ‘But what about birth certificates and such like?’
‘You can always get forgeries, if you have enough money.’
‘I used to forge my own references.’
‘There you are,’ said Oxley, slipping an arm around her. ‘You’re a woman of many talents, Irene.’
‘I had to be. I wasn’t going to spend my life in domestic service. One day at the beck and call of someone else taught me that.’
They heard a rattle of cups and turned to see a servant bringing out a tray. Susanna followed and Gordon shambled after her, his pate gilded by the sun. Seated in a semicircle, the four of them were soon enjoying a cup of tea.
‘Do you have any plans for today?’ enquired Younger.
‘None at all,’ replied Oxley.
‘How well do you know London?’
‘I know it extremely well.’
‘I don’t,’ said Irene. ‘I’m a Manchester lass. I’ve never really had the chance to take a proper look at London.’
‘Then we can remedy that for you,’ said Younger.
‘Yes,’ said his wife. ‘The nearest station is about a mile away. We can catch a train to Euston from there and spend the afternoon exploring. What would you like to see, Irene?’
Her reply was instant. ‘Buckingham Palace,’ she declared. ‘I’ve always wanted to see that. When I was a little girl, my father promised that he’d take me there one day but he never did.’ She looked from Susanna to Gordon. ‘Can we go to Buckingham Palace, please?’
‘We can go wherever you like,’ said Younger, indulgently. ‘I’d like to put in a plea for St Paul’s cathedral.’
‘Don’t forget Trafalgar Square,’ his wife reminded him. ‘Irene must see Nelson’s statue. What about you, Jerry?’ she continued, turning to him. ‘Where would you like to go?’
‘Oh, there’s only one place I’d choose,’ he told her.
‘And where’s that?’
