Blood on the Line

‘Did they say why?’

‘They were moving on there when they left here and wanted to spy out a good hotel.’

‘So when they left here, they went on to Birmingham.’

‘Yes, they said they were visiting his relatives.’

‘Why didn’t they stay with them?’

‘There was no room, apparently. The house was too small. Besides, Mrs Salford – Irene Adnam, that is – confided to me that she preferred to stay in a hotel.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘That was the curious thing, Inspector.’

‘Go on,’ he encouraged.

‘Well, she treated me with respect, of course, but she did tend to order the staff around. It was almost as if she’d never dealt with servants before and wanted to make the most of it. She could be quite sharp with them at times.’

‘What else can you tell me about them, Mrs Darker?’

Gwen was an observant woman and was able to give Colbeck enough detail to make it absolutely certain of the real identity of her two guests. He was astonished to learn that they’d attended church on Sunday but less surprised to hear that Jeremy Oxley had been seen consulting a copy of Bradshaw. Railway timetables were as important to him as they were to Colbeck. Trains were his means of escape after a crime. He’d stayed in Coventry until the day before the robbery. Once he struck in Birmingham, he and Irene fled instantly with the takings. It was while he was in hiding in Wolverhampton that he’d been caught. Colbeck did not believe for a moment the claim that the couple were going to stay with Oxley’s relatives. They did not exist. As in all his previous robberies, he had chosen the right moment to make his move then ran swiftly away from the scene of the crime. It was a time-honoured pattern.

When she came to the end of her tale, Colbeck thanked her profusely and told her that the information she’d been able to give him had more than justified his visit to Coventry. Gwen was gratified. Horrified to have given accommodation to ruthless criminals, she was desperate to help somehow in their capture.

‘I’ll never forget her face,’ she said. ‘It was truly beautiful.’

Colbeck thought about Helen Millington, the woman whom Irene Adnam resembled in every way. He recalled the delicate loveliness of her features, the exquisite splendour of her hair and the honeyed softness of her voice. He could see her, hear her and inhale her fragrance. He could actually feel her presence.

‘Yes,’ he said at length. ‘She is beautiful – very beautiful.’

There was safety in numbers. As long as they were in a crowd, Oxley and Irene would not be recognised from the description in the newspapers. To passers-by, they looked like any other young middle-class couple, walking arm in arm along the pavement. When they adjourned to a restaurant, they found that the other diners were far too preoccupied with eating their food to take any notice of them. Irene began to voice her concerns.

‘What if the inspector doesn’t turn up?’ she asked.

‘He’ll be there,’ said Oxley with confidence. ‘Colbeck can’t resist a challenge.’

‘I thought you’d never met him.’

‘I haven’t. My case never came to court.’

‘Then how will you recognise him?’

‘He’s the dandy of Scotland Yard, by all accounts. I’ve seen it mentioned in newspaper reports. He likes to dress a little better than other detectives. Well, his days as a peacock will soon be over.’ He patted the gun concealed in his belt. ‘I’m going to put a bullet into Beau Brummell.’

‘I still think it’s too dangerous, Jerry.’

‘Leave the thinking to me.’

‘So many things could go wrong.’

‘Not if we hold our nerve. I thought we were already in the clear but I reckoned without Colbeck. Somehow the clever devil found out your name. All at once, I can hear his footsteps coming up behind us.’

‘So can I,’ she admitted. ‘I’m scared.’

Oxley made her drink some wine to steady herself, then he assured her that one decisive strike would be their salvation. Once the man leading the investigation had been killed, it would lose its shape and thrust. Nobody could replace Robert Colbeck. Irene was slowly convinced of the necessity of committing another murder. A second anxiety then came to the fore.

‘Gordon and Susanna will be upset at the way we left so abruptly,’ she said. ‘I feel embarrassed about going back there.’

‘I’ll smooth their ruffled feathers.’

‘What if they read today’s newspaper?’

‘They don’t have it anymore,’ he pointed out. ‘I took it with us and we know that they very rarely buy a paper. If they did, they’d already have seen that I was wanted by the police.’

‘They’re bound to suspect something, Jerry.’

‘They’ll keep their suspicions to themselves, Irene. They know what’s at stake. The law doesn’t condone euthanasia. Gordon is well aware of what will happen if he’s exposed as a killer. Susanna will be charged as his accessory.’

She pursed her lips. ‘I can’t say that I approve of what they did.’

‘Well, I do,’ he argued. ‘When I’m old and ailing and in constant pain, I’d love some kind doctor to put me out of my misery. What about your father? Didn’t you tell me that he’s failing badly and coughing up blood? Euthanasia might be the answer for him as well.’

‘I daren’t even think about it.’

‘We all have to die sometime.’

‘Let’s not talk about my father,’ she said, reaching for her wine again. ‘He’s always on my conscience.’

She might have added that Constable Arthur Wakeley was on her conscience as well but she didn’t want to admit it. Oxley was not only capable of shrugging off the murders he’d committed, he was calmly planning another. She wondered if she would ever acquire the same immunity to guilt.

‘Coming back to Gordon and Susanna,’ he said, ‘there’s one thing we must always remember. Gordon not only dispatched a number of wealthy old ladies to heaven, he got paid for doing so in their wills. He called it an incidental bonus. If he’d been so high-minded about what he was doing, he’d have refused the money.’

‘What are you saying, Jerry?’

‘For all his blather about performing a sacred duty, Gordon is really the same as us. He has clear criminal tendencies. He was quick to learn that there’s money in euthanasia.’

‘It’s helped them to lead an entirely new life.’

‘They’ll do nothing to jeopardise it, Irene,’ he told her. ‘That’s why you have no call to fret about them. They’d never report us – even if they saw me shoot Inspector Colbeck.’

Less than forty minutes after arriving at Coventry station, he was standing on the platform again. Colbeck’s was a distinctive figure and, as the train steamed in on time, its driver recognised him. A hand waved excitedly from the footplate and Colbeck knew that it must belong to his future father-in-law. Not wishing to delay the departure of the train by speaking to Andrews, he stepped into a compartment and spent the journey reflecting on what he had learnt from Gwen Darker. As the train finally reached its terminus, Colbeck walked briskly along the platform to the locomotive. Overjoyed to see him, Andrews introduced his fireman.

‘Don’t shake hands with him,’ he cautioned. ‘His hands are covered in coal dust.’

Sowerby grinned inanely. ‘So you’re the Railway Detective,’ he said in wonderment. ‘Have you caught them yet?’

‘We are well on the way to doing so,’ said Colbeck.

‘It all happened on our train, you know,’ said Andrews.

‘So Madeleine tells me.’

‘In a sense, we’re working on this case together.’

‘You’ve certainly been of great assistance today, Mr Andrews,’ said Colbeck, checking his watch. ‘You’ve brought the train in six minutes early.’

‘Caleb likes his beer at the end of the shift,’ said Sowerby with a chuckle. ‘That’s why we made such good