Blood on the Line

‘Let me read the article.’

‘You’d find it too disturbing.’

‘Did she really shoot a policeman?’

‘Irene also helped to throw the body of another out of a moving train. Jerry was under arrest and she planned his escape. Those are the people who’ve been sleeping under our roof as if they didn’t have a care in the world.’

Susanna let out a yelp. All the time they’d been talking, she’d been carrying on unthinkingly with her embroidery. As full realisation dawned, and as the faces of Oxley and Irene were conjured into her mind, she jabbed the needle into her hand by mistake and drew blood.

* * *

The letter was addressed to Colbeck but the superintendent had no hesitation in opening it. If it was relevant to the investigation, he wanted to see it immediately. When he read it through for the first time, he felt that it might be a hoax, but a second reading made him change his mind. It contained too many details that only Jeremy Oxley could know. The missive was genuine. Intended for Colbeck, it invited him to meet with the man he was trying to catch so that they could ‘discuss matters of mutual interest’. The phrase made Tallis snort. He looked up at Leeming.

‘Who brought this?’ he demanded.

‘A young lad,’ replied the other. ‘He said that a gentleman had given him sixpence to deliver it.’

‘Did you take the money off him?’

‘No, Superintendent – he’s done nothing wrong.’

‘He’s consorting with a wanted man.’

‘The lad wasn’t to know that. He was picked at random. You could hardly expect Oxley to slip it under the front door himself. That would be taking far too big a risk.’

‘I don’t need to be told that, Leeming.’

‘It proves one thing, sir – Oxley has read today’s paper. It’s just as Inspector Colbeck predicted. He’s been seized by panic. He’s given himself away by revealing that he’s actually in London.’ He took a step towards the desk. ‘May I have a look at it, please?’

Tallis dithered for a few moments then handed it over to him. Leeming read it through twice before passing judgement. He put the letter back on the desk.

‘It’s him, sir, no question about it. He’s issuing a challenge.’

‘Unfortunately, it’s to the inspector and he’s not here, is he? No, he went charging off to Coventry on a whim.’

‘He felt that there was evidence to be collected there.’

‘This is evidence,’ said Tallis, snatching up the letter. ‘It’s evidence that Jeremy Oxley is here in the capital with that murderous doxy of his. It’s evidence that he has the nerve to taunt us.’

‘I’m not sure about that,’ said Leeming, thoughtfully. ‘I didn’t get the feeling that he was taunting us. There’s a note of desperation there. Look at it, Superintendent. There are blots and squiggles everywhere. That letter was dashed off in haste by a man who is losing his nerve.’

Tallis glanced at it again. ‘You could be right,’ he conceded.

‘Inspector Colbeck has been after this man for many years. He knows how Oxley’s mind works. He’d be able to read between the lines of that letter.’

‘Well, he can’t do that from Coventry,’ said Tallis, waspishly. ‘It’s one feat beyond even his extraordinary powers. Oh, where is the man when we really need him?’ he continued, banging the desk. ‘And what was all that nonsense about a dark lady?’

‘I daresay that he’ll tell us when he returns.’

‘And when will that be, pray?’

‘He’ll no doubt catch the fastest train from Coventry, sir.’

‘Damnation!’ roared Tallis, hitting the desk again as if trying to split it asunder. ‘I want Colbeck here now!’

* * *

Coventry was a pleasant town that had retained much of its medieval flavour. Centuries earlier, it had been one of the largest communities outside London but its thriving cloth trade had declined somewhat and it had lost its pre-eminence. It was the home of over thirty thousand souls, a number that swelled on market days when people poured in from the surrounding villages. Colbeck enjoyed his walk through twisting streets lined with half-timbered houses that dripped with character. The Sherbourne Hotel, named after the river on whose bank it was sited, was of more recent construction, a solid and symmetrical edifice that offered its guests comfort, privacy, good food and excellent views.

Gwen Darker was the owner’s wife but, since he was now disabled by chronic arthritis, she had taken over the running of the hotel. She was a short woman in her fifties with a soaring bosom and surging backside that made her seem bigger. Impeccably groomed, she wore a dress of red velvet splashed with silver buttons. Coils of pearls hung around her neck. When Colbeck introduced himself, she was amazed that he’d come from London to see her immediately on receipt of her letter. Leaving her assistant to take over, she led her visitor into a private room.

‘May I offer you refreshment, Inspector?’ she said.

‘Later, perhaps,’ he replied. ‘First of all, I’d like to establish that the two people I’m pursuing did actually stay here.’

‘There’s not a flicker of doubt about that, Inspector. They were here less than a fortnight ago. As soon as I read the report in the newspaper, I recognised them – and so did my husband.’

‘Did they book in here as man and wife?’

‘Yes, they called themselves Mr and Mrs Salford.’

‘That’s a suburb of Manchester,’ noted Colbeck, ‘so I can guess why it was chosen. Irene Adnam hails from Manchester.’

‘She did sound as if she came from further north.’

‘How long did they stay here?’

‘Almost a week,’ said Gwen, proudly, ‘and I thought that was a compliment to us. I mean, you don’t stay long at a hotel unless it treats you well. They did say that they might come back again one day but, in view of what I know about them now, they’ll get no welcome at the Sherbourne.’

‘What was your impression of them, Mrs Darker?’

‘They seemed to be a nice, quiet, respectable couple. I usually know if people are not really married and reserve the right to turn them away if they ask for a double room. In their case, I had no qualms. They looked as if they’d grown into a true partnership, the way that only married couples do.’

‘I understand.’

‘We don’t allow impropriety here, Inspector. We conduct our business on sound Christian values and we’d hate to get a name as a place that permitted any licence.’

‘It’s why the hotel obviously has such a good reputation.’

Colbeck had noticed on arrival that the lounge was full of guests, all patently happy with the facilities on offer. Prices were quite steep but they were matched by exceptional service. The place was spotlessly clean, well appointed and efficiently run. To stay there almost a week, Oxley and Adnam must have been able to foot a substantial bill. When they were not engaged in criminal activities, he concluded, they could afford to live in a degree of luxury.

‘How well did you get to know them?’ he wondered.

‘We exchanged a few words each day,’ said Gwen, ‘but they were not very talkative. They liked to keep themselves to themselves. Mr Salford – or whatever his real name is – told us that he’d worked in a bank for many years.’

‘That’s one way of putting it,’ said Colbeck, wryly. ‘What he really meant was that he was closely acquainted with the banking system. To be more exact, Mrs Darker, Oxley is linked to at least three bank robberies.’

‘You’d never have guessed it by looking at him. He fooled me completely, but then, so did the young lady. I’d marked them down as a harmless couple, not as a pair of vicious killers.’

‘What did they do all day?’

‘They took the train to Birmingham a couple of times.’