interested to see where and how his superior lived. Tallis occupied the first floor of a large Georgian house in a square with a park at its centre enclosed by iron railings. As they entered the well-proportioned living room, Colbeck was surprised to see so much evidence of the older man’s religious devotion. There was a crucifix on one wall, marble angels at either end of the mantelpiece and three paintings of scenes from the New Testament. A leather- bound Bible stood on the desk in the window.
The air of piety was offset by an array of military memorabilia. There was a display cabinet filled with medals and small weaponry, a collection of sabres hanging on the walls and, in a dominant position over the fireplace, a portrait of the Duke of Wellington, the soldier Tallis most revered. A tall oak bookcase contained a few books on aspects of Christianity but it was largely given over to histories of various battles and the memoirs of those who’d fought in them. War, religion and the pursuit of criminals had been enough for Tallis. He sought nothing else from life.
Though he waved his visitor to a wing chair, Tallis offered him no refreshment. It was a signal that Colbeck would not be staying long. He was there on sufferance. Tallis sat opposite him, his features set in a permanent scowl. It was as if he were daring Colbeck to begin so that he could deny his request.
‘I’ve come of my own volition,’ said Colbeck. ‘I’m not here on behalf of anyone else – except Constable Peebles, that is.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I think that you should bear him in mind, sir.’
Tallis was stung. ‘How dare you!’ he cried. ‘Peebles has never been
‘Then why are you turning your back on him?’
‘I’m doing nothing of the kind, man.’
‘Yes, you are,’ argued Colbeck. ‘If you feel culpable for his death, you should feel an impulse to avenge it. In your shoes, I know that I would. Yet you’re actually walking away from the case. You are, in effect, letting his killer go free.’
‘I’ve lost the right to run this investigation.’
‘I don’t believe that and neither does the commissioner.’
‘It’s all over, Colbeck. I’m finished as a detective.’
‘You’re bound to feel guilty,’ said Colbeck. ‘I understand that. But the way to assuage that guilt is to lead the pursuit of Jeremy Oxley and his accomplice – not to abandon it.’
‘I’m accepting my punishment for failure.’
Colbeck laughed. ‘In that case, everyone in the department should resign, sir. I still squirm when I recall some of my failures and the same applies to others. Detection is not a perfectible art and never will be. The most that we can hope for is a reasonable amount of success. We simply don’t have the resources to solve every crime that’s committed,’ added Colbeck. ‘We have to select priorities and you are a master at doing that, sir. It’s your forte.’
‘It was, perhaps. That’s all past now.’
‘Is that what you wish me to tell the young lady?’
‘What young lady?’
‘The one who was betrothed to Constable Peebles – I believe that you spoke to her. When she gets over the initial shock of his death, she’ll want to know that we’re making every effort to apprehend his killer.’ His smile was quizzical. ‘Am I to tell her that you have no desire to take part in the search?’
‘That would be a gross misrepresentation.’
‘It’s exactly how it will appear to Catherine, sir.’
‘Nobody is more anxious to see Oxley brought to book than me. He’s a fiend in human shape and his accomplice is just as bad as him. They’ve now killed three policemen between them.’
‘I make the number four.’
‘There were two from Wolverhampton and one from London.’
‘You’re missing someone out, sir.’
He was perplexed. ‘Who’s that?’
‘Superintendent Edward Tallis,’ said Colbeck. ‘To all intents and purposes, he’s been killed as well. He’s withdrawn from the fight. He poses no threat to Oxley and is, in effect, posthumous.’
‘That’s babbling idiocy.’
‘I only describe the situation as I see it.’
‘And I’ve not withdrawn from the fight,’ said Tallis, vehemently. ‘I simply felt that I no longer deserve to hold the authority that I did.’
Colbeck sat back in the chair. Having planted a seed of doubt in Tallis’s mind, he sought to nourish it so that it would grow. He looked up at the portrait of Wellington whose stern eyes stared down either side of the famous hooked nose. Like Tallis, the Duke had never inspired great affection in those under his command but he did earn their respect. There was another similarity. Both men had a will of iron.
‘It’s a striking portrait,’ remarked Colbeck.
‘He was a striking man,’ said Tallis, ‘and merits the thanks of the whole nation for trouncing the French at Waterloo.’
‘Did he have an unblemished record of success?’
‘Nobody has that in the army, Colbeck. There are always minor setbacks and situations over which you have no control. The Duke was often hampered by scant resources but he nevertheless managed victories against superior numbers.’
‘That’s another parallel with you, then, sir.’
‘I’m no Duke of Wellington.’
‘Perhaps not, but you have some of his qualities. For example, you know how to get the best out of men under your command, especially when they are up against insuperable odds. You are a true leader, Superintendent.’
‘Stop using that title!’
‘Would the Duke have resigned when he met with a setback?’
‘He resigned because he had incompetent rivals alongside him. It was only when they realised how great a loss he was to the army that they restored him and put him in full command.’ Colbeck glanced at the portrait then stared at Tallis. ‘It’s presumptuous to compare me with the Duke. He was a genius. Besides, I’m no longer in the army.’
‘But you run the department with military precision.’
‘That’s just my way.’
‘Ian Peebles understood that, sir. He admired you greatly. I think he’d have expected you to atone for what you did by helping to catch his killer. Will you desert your post now of all times?’
Tallis was discomfited. His eyes went up to the portrait and he had to make an effort to turn them away. After weighing up what he’d been told, he turned away to ponder. Colbeck did not disturb his cogitations. It was minutes before Tallis broke the silence.
‘You say that there have been developments.’
‘Yes, sir,’ replied Colbeck, ‘I made two critical arrests this morning. In doing so, I solved a crime that’s been troubling the Bradford Borough Police for a number of years.’
Colbeck told him about the early morning visit to Willesden and how Gordon and Susanna Younger had been unmasked. They had provided an immense amount of information about the activities of Jeremy Oxley and Irene Adnam. Though he tried to remain indifferent, Tallis was patently intrigued by the sudden progress made. He wished that he’d been there to interrogate the two prisoners. His interest in the case was reawakened so much that he even tried to shift part of the blame onto Colbeck.
‘You must take some responsibility for what happened to Peebles,’ he said. ‘If you had not gone off on a wild goose chase to Coventry, you’d have been there to read your letter and to take the appropriate action. Constable Peebles would still be alive today.’
‘I wish that were true,’ said Colbeck, ‘but my trip to Coventry was not a wild goose chase. Mrs Darker, who runs the Sherbourne Hotel there, was able to identify two of her guests as Jeremy Oxley and Irene Adnam. She did so for the second time today.’
