did not keep him long either. As soon as he learnt that Moses Haddon, a bricklayer, had been in bed for a week after falling from a ladder, he was able to remove his name from the list. In the case of both men, however, he took the trouble to ask if they could describe Amos Lockyer for him. Each man spoke well of the former policeman and said that he was short, stout and well into his fifties. They confirmed that the wound in his leg had left him with a rather comical waddle.
He owed a debt of gratitude to Madeleine Andrews for providing a possible link between Lockyer and Jacob Guttridge, and it gave him his first surge of optimism since they had arrived in Ashford. Relishing the memory of Madeleine's surprise visit to the town, he went on to question the next person, wearing a broad smile on his face.
She was in the kitchen when she heard the front door open and shut.
'Where have you been?' she asked, chastising her father with her tone of voice. 'Your dinner is getting cold.'
'I was held up, Maddy,' said Caleb Andrews, coming into the kitchen to give her a conciliatory kiss. 'We got talking about the murder of that prison chaplain and time just flew by.'
'Helped along by a couple of pints of beer no doubt.'
'A man is entitled to a few pleasures in life.'
Madeleine served the meal on to two plates and set them on the table. She sat opposite her father and passed him the salt. He shook a liberal quantity over his food.
'They all agreed with me, you know,' he said.
'You mean that they didn't dare to disagree.'
'The killer was someone who served time in Maidstone prison.'
'I'm not so sure, Father.'
'Well, I am,' he asserted, stabbing the air with his knife. 'For two pins, I'd give you the money to take a train to Ashford so that you can tell Inspector Colbeck what I said. He'd know where to look then.'
'Oh, I fancy that he can manage without your help.'
'I have this feeling in my bones, Maddy.'
'Save it for your workmates,' she advised. 'Robert is a trained detective. He knows how to lead an investigation and it's not by relying on suggestions from every Tom, Dick and Harry.'
'I'm not Tom, Dick or Harry,' he protested. 'I'm your father and, as such, I've got connections with this case. I told them all that Inspector Colbeck had come calling here.'
'Father!'
'Well, it's true, isn't it?'
'I don't want you and your friends gossiping about me.'
'What am I supposed to tell them – that you've taken the veil?'
'Don't be silly.'
'Then stop pretending that you and the Inspector are not close. You're like a locomotive and tender.' He swallowed a piece of meat. 'Well, maybe not that close.' He winked at her. 'Yet, anyway.'
Her gaze was steely. 'You're doing it again, aren't you?'
'It's only in fun, Maddy.'
'How would you like it if I stopped cooking your meals for you and told you it was only in fun?'
'That would be cruel!'
'At least, you'd know how I feel.'
'Maddy!' She picked at her own food and he watched her for a moment. 'Look, I'm sorry. I let my tongue run away with me sometimes. I won't say another word about him. I promise you.' He sliced up his beans. 'What have you been doing with yourself all day?'
'Oh, I had a very quiet time,' she said, determined to conceal from him where she had been. 'I cleaned the house then read for a while.'
'Did you work on the painting?'
'A little.'
'When are you going to give it to him?'
'When it's ready, Father. And,' she told him, pointedly, 'when you're not here to embarrass me.'
'I wouldn't embarrass you for the world.'
'You've done it already since you walked through that door.'
'Have I? What did I say?'
'I'd rather not repeat it. Let's talk about something else.'
'As you wish.' He racked his brain for a new subject. 'Oh, I know what I mean to tell you. When you read the paper this morning, did you see that Jake Guttridge was being buried today?'
'Really?'
'I bet he was there as well.'
'Who?'
'The killer. The man who strangled him on that excursion train. I'd bet anything that he turned up at the funeral just so that he could get in a good kick at the coffin. It's exactly the sort of thing that he'd do.'
Madeleine ate her dinner, not daring to say a word.
Because they had been asked to bring someone back with them, Victor Leeming and George Butterkiss travelled in the cart that had taken them to Lenham on their first journey together. This time it smelt in equal proportions of fish, animal dung and musty hay. The potholes made an even more concerted assault on the Sergeant's buttocks and he was glad when they finally reached Charing, a charming village on the road to Maidstone. His aches and pains increased in intensity when he learnt that they had gone there in vain. The farmer for whom Amos Lockyer had worked told them that he had sacked the man months earlier for being drunk and unreliable.
Hearing a rumour that Lockyer had taken a menial job on the staff at Leeds Castle, they rode on there, only to be met with another rebuff. After only a short time in service at the castle, Lockyer had failed to turn up for work and vanished from his lodging. Nobody had any idea where he could be. George Butterkiss drove his unhappy passenger back towards Ashford. The road seemed bumpier than ever.
'Why is the Inspector so keen to speak to Amos?' asked Butterkiss.
'I don't know,' said Leeming.
'Does he want him to help in the investigation?'
'Possibly.'
Butterkiss beamed. 'It will be wonderful to work alongside him once again,' he said. 'Amos Lockyer, me and two detectives from the Metropolitan Police. A quartet like that is a match for any villain.'
Conscious that he would have to listen to his zealous companion all the way back, Leeming gritted his teeth. When rain began to fall, he swore under his breath. It was the last straw.
'We'll be soaked to the skin,' he complained.
'I know what Amos would have done at a time like this,' said Butterkiss, remaining resolutely cheerful. 'Never let things get on top of you – that was his motto. If Amos was sitting where you are, Sergeant, do you know what he'd suggest?'
'What?'
'That we sing a song to keep up our spirits.'
'Don't you dare!' warned Leeming, turning on him. 'I don't want my spirits kept up after this wild goose chase. If you sing so much as a single note, Constable Butterkiss, you'll be walking all the way home.'
Adam Hawkshaw waited until it was quite dark before he opened the door of his lodging and peeped out. The rain was easing but it was still persistent enough to keep most people off the streets that evening. When he saw that nobody was about, he pulled down his hat, stepped on to the pavement and pulled the door shut behind him. Hands in his pockets, he walked swiftly off into the gloom.
Robert Colbeck was beginning to get worried. He had expected Leeming and Butterkiss to be back hours
