The Railway Detective Collection: The Railway Detective, the Excursion Train, the Railway Viaduct (The Railway Detective Series) Read online

  Policemen were already on duty, guarding the room where the victims lay and questioning other occupants of the building. There was no sign of Polly Roach. Additional lamps had been brought in so that the attic room was ablaze with light. When the detectives entered, the grisly scene was all too visible. In spite of the number of times he had seen murder victims, Leeming was inclined to be squeamish but Colbeck had no qualms about examining the dead bodies at close range. Both were partly clothed, their garments spattered with blood. The sheets and pillows were also speckled.

  After inspecting the corpses for some time, Colbeck stood up.

  ‘At least, they did not suffer too much,’ he observed.

  ‘How do you know that?’ asked Leeming.

  ‘Both of them have wounds on the back of their heads, Victor. I think that they were knocked unconscious before their throats were cut. One neat incision was all that it took. The killer knew his trade.’

  ‘So I see, Inspector.’ He looked at the face of the dead man and quailed slightly. ‘Do you think it’s William Ings?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Colbeck, sifting through the items on the floor. ‘He matches the description that Mrs Ings gave me and nobody who lives in the Acre dresses quite as smartly as he did. This man is an outsider.’ Picking up a jacket, he searched the pockets and found a small brown envelope. ‘This confirms it,’ he said.

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘An empty pay packet from the Post Office. His very last wages.’

  ‘Does he have a wallet on him?’

  ‘That appears to have been taken,’ said Colbeck, putting the jacket aside. ‘It must have contained money. Judging by the way that it was emptied all over the floor, so did that bag.’

  Leeming was annoyed. ‘We’ve lost one of our suspects to a thief.’

  ‘This was not the work of a thief, Victor.’

  ‘It must have been. They were obviously killed for the money.’

  ‘Not at all,’ contradicted the other. ‘The young lady died because she had the misfortune to be with Mr Ings at the time. He was the target. In my opinion, the murder was directly connected to the train robbery. He was silenced because he knew too much. Since Ings no longer had any need of it, his paymaster took the opportunity to repossess the hefty bribe that must have been paid to him.’

  ‘These men are more dangerous than I thought,’ said Leeming.

  ‘They’ll go to any lengths to cover their tracks.’

  ‘Does that mean the other accomplice is at risk?’

  ‘Yes, Victor,’ said Colbeck. ‘Unless we can find him first.’

  ‘And how do we do that?’

  ‘To be honest, I’m not sure.’ He glanced at the policeman by the door. ‘Who discovered the body?’

  ‘A woman named Polly Roach, sir,’ replied the man.

  ‘I’ll need to speak to her,’ said Colbeck, recalling that Mulryne had mentioned her name. ‘I’ve reason to believe that she knew at least one of the victims. Where is she?’

  ‘Being held at the station, Inspector. I must warn you that she’s very jittery. Walking in on this has upset her badly.’

  ‘I daresay that it has. A lot of people are going to be upset when they learn what happened here tonight. The person I feel sorry for is the man’s wife,’ said Colbeck with a sigh. ‘I’m not looking forward to breaking the news to Mrs Ings.’

  Maud Ings was about to retire to bed when she heard the click of her letterbox. Taking the lamp, she went to the front door to investigate and saw a small package lying on the doormat. Puzzled as to what it might contain, she picked it up and read the bold capitals that ran across the front of it – FROM YOUR HUSBAND. She was even more mystified. She put her lamp on the hall table so that she could use both hands to open the package. As she peeled back the brown paper, she found, to her utter astonishment, that it was covering a sizeable wad of five pound notes. The arrival of such unexpected bounty was too much for her. Overcome with emotion, she burst into tears.

  ‘I want results, Inspector,’ shouted Tallis, rising angrily to his feet. ‘I want progress, not this incessant litany of excuses.’

  ‘We could not foresee that William Ings would be murdered.’

  ‘Perhaps not, but you could have prevented the crime by reaching him before anyone else did.’

  ‘That’s what I attempted to do, sir,’ said Colbeck.

  ‘Yes,’ snarled Tallis, ‘by employing that Irish maniac, Mulryne. Whatever possessed you to do that? The fellow is a confounded menace. When he was in the police force, his notion of making an arrest was to beat the offender to a pulp.’

  ‘Brendan was simply too zealous in the execution of his duties.’

  ‘Zealous! He was uncontrollable. I’m told that it took four officers to subdue him this evening. Was that another example of his zeal?’ asked Tallis with heavy sarcasm. ‘Why ever did you turn to him?’

  ‘Because he knows the Devil’s Acre from the inside.’

  ‘He’ll know a prison cell from the inside before I’m done with him.’

  ‘There were extenuating circumstances about the brawl,’ said Colbeck, ‘and, when the time is ripe, I’d like to speak up on Mulryne’s behalf. The reason that I engaged him is that he’s a good bloodhound. He did, after all, find the woman with whom William Ings had been living. Her name was Polly Roach. She was the person who raised the alarm tonight.’

  ‘What did she have to say for herself?’

  ‘She was very bitter when I questioned her earlier. Mr Ings had promised to take her away from the Acre to start a new life with him. Polly Roach offered him something that he could not find at home.’

  ‘I was in the army, Inspector,’ said Tallis, darkly. ‘You don’t need to tell me why married men visit whores. Our doctor was the busiest man in the regiment, trying to cure them of their folly.’ He sat down again behind his desk. ‘Now, tell me in detail what this Polly Roach said.’

  Standing in front of him, Robert Colbeck gave him a terse account of his interview with the woman who had found the dead bodies and who had provided confirmation that one of the victims was William Ings. Wreathed in cigar smoke, Tallis listened in stony silence. His eye occasionally drifted to the newspapers that lay on his desk. When Colbeck finished, the Superintendent fired questions at him.

  ‘Do you believe this woman?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Did you find any witnesses?’

  ‘None, sir.’

  ‘How many people live in that tenement?’

  ‘Dozens.’

  ‘Yet not one of them saw or heard a stranger entering or leaving the premises? Is the place a home for the blind and deaf?’

  ‘People in the Devil’s Acre do not like assisting the police.’

  ‘So why did you rely on someone like Mulryne?’

  ‘Brendan is the exception to the rule.’

  ‘He’s a liability,’ said Tallis, acidly. ‘Whatever you do, make sure that the newspapers don’t get hold of the fact that you sought his help. I’ll have enough trouble keeping those reporters at bay when they ask me about the murder.’

  ‘Would you rather I spoke to them, sir?’

  ‘No, it’s my duty.’

  ‘Of course.’

  ‘Yours is to find these villains before they commit any more crimes. What’s your plan of campaign?’

  ‘Courtesy must come before anything else, Superintendent.’

  ‘In what way?’

  ‘Mrs Ings has a right to be informed of the death of her husband,’ said Colbeck. ‘It was far too late to call on her tonight. It would only have given her additional distress if she’d been hauled out of bed to be told that her husband had been murdered.’

  ‘While lying between foul sheets beside some pox-ridden whore.’

  ‘I’ll try to put it a little more diplomatically than that, sir.’

  ‘And then what?’

  ‘It seems that the driver of the train has recovered somewhat, sir, so I intend to visit him to see if he
can give us any useful information.’ Colbeck remembered that he would be seeing Madeleine Andrews again. ‘I think that it’s very important for me to question the man.’

  Tallis narrowed his eyes to peer at him through the cigar smoke.

  ‘We are dealing with armed robbery and brutal murder, Inspector,’ he reminded him. ‘What the devil are you smiling about?’

  Caleb Andrews was well enough to sit up in bed and sip tea from the cup that his daughter had brought him. Still in pain, he moved his limbs very gingerly. His pugnacity, however, had been restored in full. Now that his mind had cleared, he had vivid memories of the moment when his train was ambushed, and he was anxious to confront the man who had knocked him down with a pistol butt. Madeleine came into the room to see how he was and, as they talked, she tidied the place up.

  ‘Why are you wearing your best dress?’ he wondered.

  ‘I always like to look smart, Father.’

  ‘But you usually save that one for church. Is it Sunday?’

  ‘You know that it isn’t,’ she said, repositioning the two china dogs on the mantelpiece. ‘Are you sure that you’re well enough to speak to Inspector Colbeck?’

  ‘Yes, I think so.’

  ‘I can always send word to Scotland Yard to ask him to postpone the visit. Would you like me to do that?’

  ‘No, Maddy. I want to see him today. Apart from anything, I want to know if he’s caught anybody yet. Those men deserve to be strung up for what they did to my locomotive.’

  ‘Frank Pike still has nightmares about that.’

  ‘I don’t hold it against him.’

  ‘His wife told me that he’s racked with guilt.’

  ‘Frank always was a sensitive lad,’ said Andrews, fondly. ‘None of us likes to go off the road like that. It’s the thing a driver hates most.’

  ‘You forget about your fireman,’ she said, adjusting his pillows to make him more comfortable. ‘All you have to worry about is getting better. Have you finished your tea?’

  ‘Yes, Maddy.’

  ‘Then I’ll take the cup downstairs with me.’

  ‘What time is Her Majesty due to arrive?’

  Madeleine was baffled. ‘Her Majesty?’

  ‘That’s what all of this in aid of, isn’t it?’

  ‘All what?’

  ‘Your best dress, tidying up my room, clearing my cup away, putting on something of a show. At the very least, I expect a visit from Queen Victoria.’

  ‘Stop teasing me, Father.’

  ‘Then tell me why you’re making such an effort,’ he said with a lopsided grin. ‘You even changed the bandaging on my wounds so that I looked a little better. Why did you do that? Are you going to put me on display at the Great Exhibition?’

  Seated in her armchair, Maud Ings received the news without flinching. It was almost as if she had expected it. Colbeck spoke as gently as he could be but he did not disguise any of the salient details from her. It was only when he told her the name of the other murder victim that she winced visibly.

  ‘And how old was this Kate Piercey?’ she asked.

  ‘Somewhat younger than your husband.’

  ‘Is that why he ran off with her?’

  ‘Does that matter, Mrs Ings?’

  ‘What was she like?’

  ‘I did not exactly see her at her best,’ he said.

  Colbeck saw no point in telling her that the woman to whom William Ings had first gone was Polly Roach. The widow had enough to contend with as it was. To explain that he had abandoned one prostitute and immediately shared a bed with another would only be adding further to her misery. Bitter and bereaved, Maud Ings nevertheless had some sympathy for the man who had betrayed her. Colbeck did not wish to poison any last, lingering, pleasant memories of their marriage.

  ‘I’m sorry to be the bearer of such sad tidings,’ he said.

  ‘It was kind of you to come, Inspector.’

  ‘This has been a shock for you, Mrs Ings. Would you like me to ask one of the neighbours to come in and sit with you?’

  ‘No, no. I prefer to be alone. Besides,’ she said, ‘our neighbours were never fond of William. I don’t think many tears will be shed for him in this street.’

  ‘As long as you are not left alone to brood.’

  ‘I have the children. They are my life now.’

  ‘Family is so important at a time like this, Mrs Ings. Well,’ he said, relieved that there had been no outpouring of grief, ‘I’ll intrude no longer. You’ll be informed when the body is ready to be released.’

  ‘Wait!’ she said, getting up. ‘Before you go, Inspector, I need your advice. I can see that I’ve been living on false hope.’

  ‘False hope?’

  ‘Yes. Last night, before I went to bed, a package was put through my letterbox. Inside it was almost two hundred pounds.’

  ‘Really?’ Colbeck was curious. ‘Was there any note enclosed?’

  ‘No,’ she said, ‘but there was something written on the paper. I still have it, if you’d like to see it.’

  ‘I would, Mrs Ings.’ He waited as she lifted the cushion of her chair to take out the brown paper in which the money had been wrapped. When she handed it to him, he read the words on the front. ‘At what time did this arrive?’ he asked.

  ‘It must have been close to eleven o’clock,’ she replied. ‘I thought at first that William had brought it. But, by the time I had unbolted the door and opened it, there was nobody to be seen in the street. Having the money gave me the best night’s sleep I’ve had since he left.’ Her face went blank. ‘I was misled. From what you’ve told me, it obviously could not have been delivered by my husband.’

  ‘I fear not. By that time, his body had already been discovered.’

  ‘Then who could have brought the money?’

  ‘The person who stole it from Mr Ings.’

  She was bewildered. ‘I do not understand, Inspector.’

  ‘I’m not certain that I do,’ he said, ‘but I can see no other explanation. That money was paid to your husband in return for vital information about the mail train. Somebody was clearly aware of his domestic situation. When your husband was killed, this person somehow felt that his widow was entitled to the money.’

  ‘So it is not really mine at all.’

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘It is money that was made from crime. I’ll have to surrender it.’

  ‘That’s the last thing you should do,’ advised Colbeck. ‘It was money that your husband earned from a source that has yet to be identified. It was not part of the haul from the train robbery so there is no onus on you to return it. In view of the situation,’ he went on, ‘I believe that you are fully entitled to hold on to that money. Nobody need know how it came into your hands.’

  ‘Then I am not breaking the law?’

  ‘No, Mrs Ings. You are simply inheriting something that belonged to your husband. Look upon it as a welcome gift. It may not bring Mr Ings back to you, but it may help to console you in your grief.’

  ‘I’ll not deny that we need the money,’ she said, looking balefully around the bare room. ‘But I find it hard to accept that the man who murdered my husband and stole money from him should bring it to me.’

  ‘It is an unusual situation, I grant you.’

  ‘Why did he do it, Inspector?’

  ‘It may have been an act of atonement.’

  ‘Atonement?’

  ‘Even the most evil men sometimes have a spark of goodness.’

  Maud Ings fell silent as she thought about the life she had shared with her husband. It was a painful exercise. She remembered how they had met, married and set off together with such high expectations. Few of them had been fulfilled. Yet, soured as her memories were by his recent treatment of her, she could still think of the dead man with a distant kindness.

  ‘You are right,’ she said, coming out of her reverie. ‘Evil men sometimes do good deeds. The problem is,’ she added with tears at last threatening to come, ‘t
hat good men – and William was the soul of goodness when I first knew him – sometimes do evil.’

  With his arm in a sling, it was impossible for Caleb Andrews to hold the newspaper properly so he had to rely on his daughter to fold it over in such a way that he could grasp it with one hand to read it. It had gone to press too early to carry news of the murder in the Devil’s Acre but there was an article about the train robbery and it was critical both of the railway policemen on duty that day, and of the Detective Department of the Metropolitan Police. Andrews saw his own name mentioned.

  ‘Have you read this, Maddy?’ he asked, petulantly. ‘It says that Driver Andrews is still unable to remember what happened during the ambush. I can recall exactly what happened.’

  ‘I know, Father,’ said Madeleine.

  ‘So why do they make me sound like an invalid?’

  ‘Because you are an invalid.’

  ‘My body may be injured but there’s nothing wrong with my mind. This article says that I’m still in a complete daze.’

  ‘That was my doing.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Some reporters came knocking on our door this morning,’ she explained. ‘They wanted to interview you about the robbery. I told them that you were in no fit state to speak to anyone and that your mind was still very hazy. I was trying to protect you, Father.’

  ‘By telling everyone in London that I cannot think straight.’

  ‘I had to get rid of the reporters somehow. I was not going to have them pestering you when you need rest.’

  ‘Yet you let this Inspector Colbeck pester me,’ he argued.

  ‘He is trying to solve the crime,’ she said. ‘Inspector Colbeck wants to catch the men who ambushed the train and did this to you. He knows that you were badly injured and will be very considerate.’

  Andrews tossed the newspaper aside. ‘If he reads this first, he’ll think that he’s coming to speak to a distracted fool who’s unable to tell what day of the week it is.’

  ‘The Inspector will not think that at all, Father.’

  Gathering up the newspaper, Madeleine put it on the table beside the bed. The sound of an approaching horse took her to the window and she looked down to see a cab pulling up outside the house. After a quick glance around the room, she adjusted her dress and went quickly out. Caleb Andrews gave a tired smile.