Death at the Terminus, page 2
Maynard headed for the door. ‘I’ll see what I can do, Inspector.’
‘Listen,’ said Timms, waiting until Maynard had left the room, ‘you must make allowances for Gregory. This whole business has shaken him to the core. I apologise for his abrupt manner. As a rule, he is quite charming. While we’re waiting,’ he went on, ‘I can give you the salient details.’
‘Only the stationmaster can do that, sir,’ said Leeming. ‘What was the name of the guard, by the way?’
Timms squirmed. ‘To be honest … I don’t know.’
‘Didn’t you ask for it?’ said Colbeck in surprise.
‘Well … I didn’t have the opportunity.’
‘What happened to the body?’
‘It was removed yesterday.’
‘Was the guard married? Does he have a family?’
Timms shrugged. ‘I haven’t a clue.’
‘You have a strange lack of curiosity, Lord Mayor,’ said Colbeck. ‘A railway employee is killed in broad daylight, throwing this station into a state of confusion, yet you have no idea of his identity. Don’t you have any sympathy for the poor man?’
Timms took a deep breath before speaking. ‘Whoever he is,’ he promised, ‘I’ll make sure that the city will provide a plaque to honour him. We have high civic standards here.’ Thumbs inside his lapels, he struck a pose befitting his status. ‘When you think of York,’ he asked, ‘what is the first thing that comes into your mind?’
‘The Minster,’ replied Colbeck.
‘What about you, Sergeant?’
Leeming grinned. ‘Cocoa.’
Word of the explosion had spread throughout York. Ignorant of the facts, people were nevertheless quick to offer their theories as if speaking with authority. Sarah Scawin heard two of her employees doing just that in the reception area.
‘Don’t you have work to do?’ she asked, sharply.
‘Yes, Mrs Scawin,’ said the hall porter, dutifully. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘So am I,’ added the maid to whom he’d been talking. ‘Excuse us.’
Sarah’s eyes never left them until they had vanished. As the owner of the hotel close to the railway station, she always made her presence felt. She was a handsome, full-bodied woman in her late fifties, a watchful widow who had devoted herself to running the hotel that bore her name and reflected her character. It had a clientele that consisted largely of businessmen and commercial travellers, birds of passage who found its efficiency, its facilities, and its proximity to the station ideal for their purposes. Scawin’s Hotel was dwarfed by the Royal Station Hotel not far away, yet it was still able to compete effectively with its rival. The personality of its owner had much to do with its success.
As two people came in through the front door, she spread her arms.
‘Welcome back, Mr and Mrs Warburton!’ she said, smiling broadly.
‘That’s amazing,’ said the man, agog. ‘We’ve only stayed here once – a year or so ago – yet you’ve remembered our names.’
‘Guests deserve to be remembered – especially when they book in here a second time. I hope that you enjoy your stay.’
The Warburtons were an elderly couple with clear evidence of wealth. Sarah remembered something else about them.
‘You live in Holtby, I believe,’ she observed.
‘That’s right,’ said the husband. ‘We were driven here in our landau and intend to catch an early train tomorrow morning.’ He sighed. ‘If, that is, it’s still running.’
‘What’s going on here, Mrs Scawin?’ asked his wife, nervously. ‘The station seems to have come to a standstill with trains queuing up outside it, and policemen on duty everywhere. We found it rather intimidating.’
Sarah took a deep breath before speaking. ‘Why don’t you book in first?’ she suggested. ‘Then I’ll explain what happened at the station yesterday. It’s … rather distressing …’
In the course of their work, the detectives had dealt with many stationmasters and found them, as a rule, efficient and personable. In Frederick Staines, they sensed that they had found someone rather different. Tall and skinny with grey hair poking out from beneath his hat, he had a resentful look in his eye and a defensive posture. When he came into the office with Maynard, he was introduced to the detectives. After giving Timms a nod of recognition, Staines sounded hurt at being dragged away.
‘Should be out there,’ he said, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. ‘My job to sort this mess out.’
‘We won’t keep you long,’ said Colbeck, ‘but we do need your help.’ He waited until Leeming had taken out his notebook and pencil. ‘To begin with, Mr Staines, please tell us the name of the murder victim.’
‘Jack Follis,’ grunted the stationmaster.
‘Was he good at his job?’
‘Yes, he was.’
‘We’ll need his home address so that we can contact his family.’
‘Jack had no family. Parents died years ago. No brothers or sisters.’
‘Was he married?’
‘Oh no,’ said Staines. ‘Jack was not the marrying kind.’
‘Where did he live?’
‘Here in York.’
He gave an address that Leeming wrote down in his notebook.
‘Now,’ said Colbeck, ‘what exactly happened?’
Staines was terse. ‘Wish I knew.’
‘You were there at the time.’
‘Doing my job.’
‘What about Mr Follis?’
‘Jack wasn’t.’
‘I don’t follow, Mr Staines.’
‘Should have been by the brake van.’
‘Then where was he?’ asked Colbeck.
‘Don’t know. Suddenly appeared and ran down the platform. Jumped into the brake van. It exploded with a loud bang. You can imagine the shock it caused.’
‘Frankly, Mr Staines, we can’t. It would help us if you’d be more specific. You’re in possession of information that will help us to catch the person who was behind this outrage. Don’t you care what happened on your watch?’
‘Yes,’ retorted Staines, clearly offended. ‘Love my station. Always have. Want to get back out there to get it running properly again.’
‘Well, you won’t do that if you obstruct the inspector,’ warned Maynard. ‘He needs all the facts – and he needs them more politely. Inspector Colbeck and Sergeant Leeming have come all the way from London to lead this investigation. If you can’t assist them in every way,’ he warned, ‘we will be looking for a new stationmaster.’
‘Sorry, Mr Maynard,’ said Staines, shaken by the threat. ‘Truth is, I’m very upset. Jack was a friend. Didn’t mean to be rude.’ His gaze shifted to Colbeck. ‘What else do you need to know, Inspector?’
‘Mr Follis should have stayed beside the brake van,’ said Colbeck. ‘Is that correct?’
‘It was his duty.’
‘So where did he go?’
‘Wish I knew.’
‘Has he wandered off before?’
‘No, not Jack.’
‘Are you quite sure?’
‘Yes, I am,’ said Staines, raising his voice. ‘If he had, I’d have reported him.’
Colbeck exchanged a glance with Leeming. They both knew that he was lying.
Sarah Scawin always let the duty manager run the hotel during his shift. It allowed her to float around the public areas, speaking to guests, encouraging her staff, sorting out any problems and – to use her own words – ‘keeping an eye on things’. When she drifted into the lounge, she expected to see four people on duty, but one was missing. At the sight of their employer, the remaining three smiled at her and got on with their work. Sarah, meanwhile, went into the room at the rear of the bar. A shapely young woman was seated in the corner, dabbing at her tears with a handkerchief. When she realised that she was not alone, she leapt apologetically to her feet. Sarah was sympathetic.
‘That’s quite all right, Mary,’ she said.
‘I’ll go back to work straight away, Mrs Scawin.’
‘No, you won’t. Our guests like to be served by a pretty young woman with a pleasant manner, not by someone who’s been crying her eyes out.’
‘I feel much better now,’ said Mary.
‘Well, you don’t look better.’
‘I’m sorry.’
Sarah put a consoling hand on her shoulder. ‘Who told you?’
‘One of the guests,’ replied the other. ‘He was on the station when it happened. Everyone seemed to know the name of the—’
‘Try not to brood on it, Mary.’
‘I can’t help it, Mrs Scawin.’
‘Then you’re no use to me, I’m afraid. Take the rest of the day off.’
Mary was shocked. ‘Are you giving me the sack?’
‘No, I’m simply saving you a lot of embarrassment. Everyone who comes into that lounge is talking about what happened. It will be sheer torture for you.’
‘Yes, Mrs Scawin, it will.’
‘Dry your eyes and slip away quietly. The others will cope.’
‘What about tomorrow?’
‘That depends on how you feel. More to the point,’ said Sarah, ‘it depends on how you choose to look at what happened. I can understand why you’re grieving now but things may look very different tomorrow. You may realise that, in fact, there may be a benefit for you in this tragedy. You’ve been spared any further pain …’
Mary was startled. ‘How can you say that?’
‘Wait and see.’
But the other woman didn’t even hear her. A fresh supply of tears was already coursing down her cheeks. She was inconsolable.
CHAPTER FOUR
They were seated in the office, ignoring the sounds of trains and passengers moving around outside. After the stern reproach from Maynard, the stationmaster was on his best behaviour, answering all the questions put to him by Colbeck and hoping that the interrogation would soon finish. Leeming had filled several pages of his notebook.
‘Let’s come to the important question,’ said Colbeck. ‘Do you have any idea who might have been behind this incident?’
‘Yes, I do,’ replied Staines.
‘Well?’
‘I blame the Irish.’
‘Do you have a large Irish community here?’
‘Yes, we do,’ explained Timms, ‘and they have been troublesome. In the wake of the potato famine twenty years or so ago, they started coming to this country in large numbers.’ He wrinkled his nose. ‘York had more than its fair share of them.’
‘You can’t blame people for trying to better themselves,’ said Leeming. ‘Many who stayed in Ireland died of hunger.’
‘Why should they pick on the railway?’ asked Colbeck.
‘We’re an easy target,’ said Staines. ‘They’ve tried to sneak on to trains without buying a ticket, or been caught trying to steal things, or simply turned up drunk and started a fight here. Some of them know how to behave themselves but there’s a hard core that love to cause mischief.’
‘Is there strong Fenian sentiment among them?’
‘Yes, Inspector,’ moaned Timms. ‘We’ve had clear evidence of it.’
‘Most of them live in the Bedern area,’ added Staines. ‘It’s one of the poorest parts of the city. Large families are crammed into filthy slums. The place stinks.’
‘We’ve tried to improve conditions,’ said the lord mayor, defensively, ‘though I’m not sure that they deserve it.’
‘Everyone deserves basic amenities,’ Colbeck put in.
‘Our resources are limited, Inspector.’
‘I’ve heard that excuse before.’
‘In the last census, over forty-five thousand people were recorded living in York. That number places a huge responsibility on me and my council.’
‘What about you, sir?’ asked Colbeck, turning to Maynard. ‘A serious crime has occurred on your railway. Who would you blame?’
‘I’m wondering if we should point the finger elsewhere, Inspector,’ said the other, thoughtfully. ‘Anarchists have been busy across the north. They cause damage for the sheer pleasure of it.’
‘They tend to exist in small cells, don’t they?’
‘It only takes one of them to fashion a bomb.’
‘And we are a sitting target,’ complained Staines. ‘This is not simply a terminus, it’s a badly designed station. Trains come in one way then back slowly out. There’s also a lot of coupling and uncoupling of engines, and that slows everything down even more.’
‘You’d have been watched,’ said Colbeck. ‘Nobody was acting on the spur of the moment. The bomber – if that’s what he was – knew when and where to strike.’
‘How do we catch the devil?’ asked Maynard.
‘First, we need to gather more information, sir. Masses of people were milling about before the explosion. Some were close enough to the brake van to be injured by burning splinters of wood. One or more of them must have seen something suspicious.’
‘They’ll have to be contacted.’
‘The best way to do that is to offer a reward for information leading to the arrest of the person or persons responsible,’ said Colbeck. ‘How soon could you have posters printed and put up?’
‘It could be done in a matter of hours,’ promised Maynard.
‘And I’ll make sure that a reward notice is in tomorrow’s newspapers,’ said Timms. ‘First of all, however, we must arrange some accommodation for you.’
‘That’s my responsibility, Neville. I was the person who had the sense to summon help from Scotland Yard.’ Maynard turned to the detectives. ‘I’ll book rooms for you at the Royal Station Hotel.’
‘If you don’t mind,’ said Colbeck, ‘we’d prefer to stay at the smaller hotel next door to the station. That will suit us.’
‘May I ask why?’
‘Big hotels tend to be impersonal. We prefer somewhere with character.’
‘As you wish, Inspector.’
‘Before that, however, we’d like to see the exact spot where the brake van was when it exploded. Would you be so good as to conduct us there, Mr Staines?’
‘Yes, of course,’ said the stationmaster, partially mollified.
‘Then let’s go, shall we?’
Staines opened the door and led the detectives out on to the platform. Timms looked at his companion with a quizzical expression.
‘What do you make of them?’ he asked.
‘The inspector is obviously a man of great experience and so is the sergeant.’
‘I was less impressed.’
‘Why?’
‘The one is a dandy and the other looks as if he’s never been taught how to dress properly. Frankly, they don’t inspire confidence. We’re dealing with a very strange couple, Gregory.’
‘They get results,’ said Maynard. ‘that’s all I care about. The local police have been dithering for hours. Colbeck talks as if he knows exactly what to do.’
Madeleine Colbeck had a full life, dividing her time between family and friends while pursuing a career as an artist. Having delivered her latest painting of a railway scene, she was enjoying a break from her studio and finding moments when she could rest. She was relaxing in an armchair when she had an unexpected visitor. Madeleine was thrilled to see Lydia Quayle being shown into the house by the maid. After hugging her friend, she took her into the drawing room.
‘I hope that you don’t mind my dropping in, Madeleine,’ said Lydia.
‘Of course, not – you couldn’t be more welcome.’
‘Thank you.’
‘As it happens, you’ve caught me at the perfect time. I finished my latest commission and am having a rest from cleaning oil paints off my hands.’
‘You deserve a break from time to time. How is Helena Rose?’
‘She’s as lively as ever,’ said Madeleine, smiling fondly. ‘Well, you can see for yourself in a while. She’s in the nursery with my father. Helena will be overjoyed to see Aunt Lydia.’
‘Watching her grow up has been a real joy for me.’
‘Oh, I’ve got some news for you,’ said Madeleine. ‘Robert has gone to York to investigate a murder there. He sent someone here with a message for me.’
Lydia laughed. ‘Am I supposed to guess who the messenger was?’
‘You already know. It was Detective Constable Hinton.’
‘How is Alan?’
‘He looks much better than he did when he came back from that assignment in the Black Country. That beating he took there would have put a lot of men off returning to such a dangerous job, but not Alan Hinton.’
‘Did he … mention me?’
‘As if you need to ask!’ teased Madeleine. ‘He asked how you were and wanted to pass on his love and best wishes.’
Lydia smiled. ‘That was kind of him.’
Tall, poised and beautifully dressed, she had striking good looks. At an early stage of her time in London, she had been troubled by a stalker. Alan Hinton had not only come to her assistance, he’d traced and arrested the man responsible. It had been the start of a friendship that had deepened over time.
‘There’s no need for me to ask what Alan wants, is there?’
‘He wants to be up in York, working with Robert and Victor Leeming. It’s a case that involves someone blown up in a brake van.’
Lydia pulled a face. ‘How dreadful!’
‘Yes,’ said Madeleine. ‘Estelle was horrified when she heard that. It’s a case that could keep them away for a long time – and it’s Albert’s birthday next week.’
‘Oh no!’
‘The thought that Victor might miss the celebrations really upset her.’
‘I don’t blame her.’
‘Albert will be really hurt if his father isn’t there.’
‘Is he the one who wants to be an engine driver?’
‘He’s changed his mind about that, Lydia.’
‘What does he want to be now?’
‘A policeman.’
‘Like father, like son.’
‘Estelle has warned him that it will be a hard life, but it hasn’t put the lad off. Mind you, it didn’t put Estelle herself off. When she fell in love with a policeman, she was happy to marry him.’
