Madeleine did. Landscapes and seascapes had no appeal for her and she lacked the eye for figurative painting, but there were few people who could bring a train so vividly to life on a canvas in the way that she did. It was a gift.
‘I’m surprised that he hasn’t been in touch with me,’ said Andrews, looking over her shoulder. He nudged her elbow. ‘You’ve got the wrong colour on that carriage, Maddy.’
‘I haven’t finished painting it yet.’
‘I thought the inspector would be banging on my door by now.’
‘Why on earth should he do that, Father?’ she asked. ‘In the first place, Robert may not even be responsible for the investigation. And even if he is, how could he possibly know that you drove the train on which murder was committed?’
He gave a grudging nod. ‘There is that, I suppose.’
‘You’ll just have to wait.’
‘Well, it won’t be for long,’ he said, ‘because I’m certain that he’ll be in charge of the case. The LNWR would be mad not to ask for him. It’s only a matter of time before he discovers that I was on the footplate this morning. That will bring him running.’
‘But you didn’t see anything of interest.’
‘Yes, I did. I saw those two policemen with their prisoner.’
‘Can you describe him?’
‘Well, he wasn’t young but, then again, you couldn’t call him an old man. As for the villain’s face, I must have been thirty-odd yards away, Maddy, so I can’t really help you.’
‘Then you won’t be able to help Robert either.’
Andrews was deflated, fearing that his offer of assistance might be turned down by Colbeck. Slumping into his chair, he racked his brains for any tiny details that he might be able to pass on in the hope of ingratiating himself with the Railway Detective. When none came to mind, he was tempted to invent some. Madeleine, meanwhile, had resumed work at her easel. He looked across at her.
‘Have you set a date yet, Maddy?’
‘You know that we haven’t,’ she replied.
‘Then it’s high time that you did.’
‘There’s no real urgency.’
‘There may not be for you,’ he complained, ‘but what about me? How can I retire when I still have you to support? I told Dirk Sowerby about it this morning. He refused to believe that I’d finally turn my back on the railway but I can’t wait to do it.’
‘You could retire tomorrow, if you wished.’
‘Not while I’ve got a daughter to feed and clothe.’
‘I don’t need you to support me anymore, Father,’ she said. ‘Now that I can sell my work, I have a fair amount of money coming in. You can’t use me as an excuse.’
It was true. Madeleine’s income – albeit irregular – had enabled them to buy all kinds of additional items for their little house in Camden. It had also transformed her wardrobe. When she and Colbeck went out together, she always dressed well and did not look out of place on his arm. It would be a wrench to leave the house in which she was born and brought up, but she was confident that her father could cope now that he’d finally got over the death of his wife. How he would fill his day during his retirement was another matter. Madeleine did not want him spending too much time at the marital home. She and Colbeck would value their privacy.
‘There’s lots of things I can do when I leave the LNWR,’ he said, giving his imagination free rein. ‘I could take an interest in gardening, learn to paint just like you, travel the country by train, get married again, have a stall in the market, write my life story, go to church more often or decorate the house. My real ambition, of course, is to work side by side with my son-in-law.’
‘You’re too old to join the police force, Father,’ she pointed out.
‘We’d have an unofficial arrangement. Whenever he had a tricky case, he’d tell me the full details and I’d advise him what to do. I think I’d make a wonderful detective, Maddy. Why don’t you mention that to the inspector? He might be grateful for my help.’
Madeleine suppressed a grin. ‘Then again, he might not.’
‘But my instincts are sharp.’
‘Robert is well aware of your instincts, Father,’ she said, turning to offer a gentle smile. ‘If he felt he could make use of them, I’m sure that he would. You’ll just have to wait. In the meantime, I think that you should just let him get on with his job.’
Two of the policemen who’d been aware of the exact train on which the prisoner would be travelling were on duty together. Colbeck and Leeming met them on their beat and interviewed them. Like Riggs, they were not receptive to the idea of detectives from London taking over the search for the killers of their former colleagues. When they realised why they were being questioned, they became indignant at the suggestion that they might unwittingly have given away the information that told Oxley’s accomplice when and where to strike. Their language became ripe. Roused by their aggressive attitude, Leeming had to control an urge to hit one of the men. Colbeck calmed all three of them down before apologising to the policemen. It was clear to him, he told them, that they were in no way implicated. After ridding themselves of some more bad language, they stalked off to continue their beat.
‘That leaves only one man,’ noted Leeming.
‘Yes,’ said Colbeck, ‘Constable Toby Marner.’
‘I hope he’s a little more helpful than those two.’
‘Nobody likes to be accused of a crime, Victor, even if it’s an unintentional one. Their intemperate reaction was forgivable.’
‘I’d have forgiven them with a punch on the nose.’
‘Save your strength for the real villain – Jerry Oxley. The one thing we can guarantee is that he’ll put up a fight.’
They went to the address they’d been given and knocked on the door of a shabby house in one of the rougher districts of the town. The woman who answered the door was Toby Marner’s landlady. She told them that they might find him at the Waterloo, a nearby public house. Colbeck asked her some questions about her lodger and was told that he’d been a good tenant.
When they located the seedy pub, they had no difficulty in picking out the man they were after. Sitting alone in a corner, the tall, rangy Marner was wearing his uniform and hat but he was not the image of sobriety expected of a law enforcement officer. His eyes were glazed, his cheeks red and he was quaffing a pint of beer as if his life depended on it. The detectives joined him and introduced themselves. It took Marner a few moments to understand what they were saying.
‘What do you want with me?’ he asked, slurring his words.
‘We need your assistance,’ said Colbeck. ‘According to Sergeant Riggs, you were told on which train the prisoner would be travelling this morning. Is that true?’
Marner was defensive. ‘I wasn’t the only one.’
‘We’ve spoken to the others. We’re satisfied that none of them passed on the information to anyone else.’
‘Neither did I.’
‘Are you sure?’ pressed Leeming.
‘I’m very sure.’
‘Well,
Marner tensed. ‘Are you calling me a liar?’
‘We just want to solve this mystery,’ said Colbeck, adopting a quieter tone. ‘As you’re well aware, two of your fellow policemen were murdered this morning on a train. You must have known them well.’
‘I did, Inspector.’ There was a sob in his voice. ‘Bob Hungerford was my brother-in-law. We joined the police force together.’
‘Then you have a special reason to want his killers arrested.’
‘Yes, I do.’
