Blood on the Line

‘I believe it to be genuine,’ he decided.

‘The superintendent thought it was sent as a deliberate attempt to misinform us.’

‘Then he and I must agree to differ,’ said Colbeck. ‘If someone goes to the trouble of sending a letter all this way by a courier, then she does have something of value to tell us. There’s no mention of the reward here, Victor. That’s very encouraging.’ Folding the letter up, he slipped it into his pocket. ‘I’ll take the next train to Coventry.’

‘Will you get permission from Mr Tallis first?’

‘No, Victor. I’ll leave you to do that on my behalf. Persuade him that I simply had to dash off.’ He took his copy of Bradshaw from a drawer. ‘Now that he’s starting to appreciate your true value as a detective, he can hold no fears for you.’

Leeming was nonplussed. ‘What am I to say to him?’

‘Tell him that I’ve gone to see a dark lady.’

CHAPTER TEN

Tolerant by nature, Gordon Younger was nevertheless annoyed by the sudden departure of his guests. Without any explanation, Oxley and Irene had left without even drinking the tea they’d requested. What upset Younger most was the fact that they’d taken the newspaper with them. After the long walk to the station to get it, he felt that he at least had the right to read it. His wife was also distressed. She liked Oxley and had found Irene pleasant company. Having offered both of them hospitality, she’d expected gratitude. Yet during their hasty exit, there had been no whisper of thanks from their guests.

‘Have they gone for good?’ asked Younger.

‘They didn’t say.’

‘Have you looked in their room?’

‘No,’ she replied. ‘I’ll do that now.’

Susanna went upstairs and opened the bedroom door to peep in. Her guests had brought very little luggage with them but most of it was still there. She resisted the temptation to poke into a valise. It was private property. In any case, she and her husband had agreed never to look too closely into what Jeremy Oxley did. It was much more sensible to take him at face value. Whenever he came to them, he was invariably in trouble of some kind. Their job was simply to offer unquestioning help to a friend.

When she returned to the parlour, Gordon was on his feet.

His eyebrows arched. ‘Well?’

‘It looks as if they’re coming back.’

‘Then I’ll give Jerry a piece of my mind.’

‘Don’t start an argument,’ she said, querulously. ‘He’s always been well behaved with us but we know he has a temper.’

‘So do I, Susanna. Nobody is going to treat us like that.’

‘There’s probably an innocent explanation.’

‘You can’t excuse bad manners,’ he said, taking a stand. ‘If they want to remain here any longer, then they owe us a grovelling apology and a promise to mend their ways.’

‘Jerry is to blame. Irene simply does what she’s told.’

‘She was rude to us, Susanna, and I won’t stand for it.’

He paced up and down to relieve his anger, then he remembered something and looked at the clock on the mantelpiece. Reaching a decision, he headed for the door.

‘Where are you going, Gordon?’

‘Across the road,’ he said. ‘Martin Baber gets a copy of The Times most days. He’ll have finished with it by now.’

‘Jerry may bring our copy back.’

‘I can’t wait until he does that.’ He went out. ‘I only make the effort to get a paper once or twice a week, so I’m feeling deprived of news. I won’t be long.’

Susanna resumed her seat and thought about the time they’d spent with their unexpected visitors. They had been tense when they first arrived but had gradually relaxed. Irene, in particular, had loved the semi-rural location and the gardens. They had been quiet and undemanding guests, falling in with the daily routine of the Youngers. Oxley was a criminal and always at odds with the law, Susanna accepted that. It had been difficult for a person as law-abiding as herself but Gordon had pointed out that he knew the secret in their past. As a result, they had to maintain their friendship with him and make allowances for his irregular appearances on their doorstep. Oxley held the key to their continued existence under false names. They had to trust him as much as he clearly trusted them.

For that reason, she wanted to prevent any quarrel breaking out. By the time that they returned, she hoped, her husband’s ire would have subsided. Susanna was still going over details of their visit when her husband came back to the house. He waved the newspaper triumphantly in the air.

‘It’s pristine,’ he said. ‘I can catch up on almost a week of news that I missed. Martin hasn’t even looked at it yet. He’s had to go out at short notice. Rose said that we can keep the paper until he gets back.’

‘That’s kind of her.’

‘Such is the value of cultivating good neighbours, Susanna.’

‘Rose has a heart of gold,’ she said with a sigh. ‘There are times when I feel so guilty about having to deceive her and Martin.’

‘It’s not deception,’ he insisted. ‘We are Gordon and Susanna Younger now. We’ve grown into it and cast off our other identities like snakes shedding their skins.’

She pulled a face. ‘That’s a horrid comparison.’

‘Yet it’s an accurate one.’

As he settled down to read the paper, she reached for her embroidery. It was nearing completion now and she recalled how much and how wistfully Irene had admired it. Evidently, it was the sort of accomplishment she’d never had time to master. Putting the thimble in place, she extracted the needle and began work. She was soon interrupted. With a cry of horror, Gordon shook the paper.

‘This explains everything,’ he said.

‘What does?’

‘It’s a report of two policemen who were murdered in the Midlands. The police are hunting for two suspects – Jeremy Oxley and Irene Adnam.’ He was aghast. ‘We’re harbouring killers, Susanna.’

‘Irene was not involved, surely.’

‘According to this, she shot one man at close range.’

‘Dear God!’ she exclaimed.

‘No wonder he took my copy of The Times. He didn’t want me to see this. Now we know why they charged out of here.’

‘We must inform the police at once.’

‘Don’t be silly.’

‘It’s our duty, Gordon. They’re both guilty of murder.’

‘The same charge can be laid against me,’ he warned.

‘You released people from agony,’ she said. ‘That’s not murder.’

‘A jury would think otherwise. We have to be very careful, Susanna. If we start running to the police, our own secret will come out. That would be a catastrophe.’

‘Yet if we don’t report them, somebody else might. Martin and Rose must have seen them in the front garden.’

‘Yes,’ he agreed, ‘but they don’t know their names. There’s a description of the pair of them here but it could apply to thousands of other people of their age. Martin and Rose are not suspicious. They’d never think that their neighbours were hiding two people on the run from the police.’