Caleb Andrews was deadly serious about his new friendship and it was disturbing. Madeleine had never known him take such care with his appearance. He was not due to visit Binnie Langton’s house until the afternoon, yet he was all spruced up in his best suit and kept stopping in front of a mirror to comb his hair and stroke his beard. Someone who jokingly criticised Colbeck for his vanity was now leaving himself open to a similar charge. Madeleine worried that her father had been far too quick to bestow his affections on a woman he knew too little about.
‘Perhaps I should come with you,’ she said.
‘What would be the point of that?’
‘I’d like to meet Mrs Langton.’
‘All in good time, Maddy,’ he said. ‘I want to enjoy the pleasure of being alone with her for once. That’s how we can really become acquainted.’
‘Things are moving too fast.’
‘They have to at our age. We’re not like you and Inspector Colbeck. Both of you are young enough to take your time. We don’t have years to spare.’
It was a sobering reminder of her long courtship. Madeleine had always known that she’d marry Colbeck one day but she’d been kept waiting far longer than she’d anticipated. Indeed, the delay was so protracted that her father — though talked out of it by Madeleine — had toyed with the notion of asking if Colbeck really did intend to lead her to the altar. His daughter was an attractive woman with many admirers. If one man was keeping her waiting, Andrews argued, perhaps it was time she looked elsewhere. Madeleine had disagreed. Her love for Colbeck was far too deep for her even to entertain the idea of befriending another man, but it hadn’t stopped her from wondering if and when they could at last set the date for their wedding.
‘I’ve done this before, remember,’ said Andrews, back in front of the mirror again. ‘I know how to choose a wife. Your mother was the light of my life, Maddy. I couldn’t wish for a better wife. I’m not pretending that Binnie could match her in any way but … I feel the need for female company. Is that such a crime?’
‘No, Father, it isn’t.’
‘I hoped that you’d be happy for me.’
‘I would be if I knew more about the lady.’
‘I like her — that’s all you need to know.’
‘And is she just as fond of you?’
He chortled. ‘I think it’s safe to say that.’
‘Have you told her about me?’ asked Madeleine.
‘What a silly question! Of course I’ve told her about you. She wanted to know everything about me and she was very excited when I told her that the famous Railway Detective was going to be my son-in-law.’ He took her gently by the shoulders. ‘Try to stop worrying, Maddy. I’m not some lovesick young man with his head in the clouds.’
‘I just don’t want you to make a decision you’ll later regret.’
‘I haven’t made any decision yet.’
‘Then why are you dressed as if you’re going to church?’
He stood back and spread his arms. ‘I want to make a good impression,’ he said. ‘Think of all those years when I came home with the filth and stink of the railways on me. That’s all in the past, Maddy. I’m going to be well groomed and smartly dressed from now on — just like a certain person I could mention.’
Madeleine smiled. ‘You could never look as elegant as Robert.’
‘I couldn’t afford it, for a start.’
‘But you do look nice, Father. I hope that Mrs Langton appreciates you.’
‘There’s no doubt about that,’ he said with another chortle. ‘Binnie is full of appreciation. She’s going to make a cake for me. Apparently, she’s a very good cook.’
‘What time will I expect you back?’
‘I haven’t gone yet.’
‘I need to know when to prepare dinner.’
‘I’m sorry, Maddy, I can’t say when I’ll be back. I’m only invited for tea but, if things develop in the way I hope, I may stay a lot longer. Expect me when you see me. That’s my advice.’
Madeleine’s anxiety was intensified.
Preoccupied as he was with the search for a killer, Colbeck never forgot that he was due to get married at the end of the month. Whenever he passed a church or caught a glimpse of the cathedral, he felt a surge of pleasure. In the weeks leading up to the event, it would have been far more convenient for him to be working in London, but crime popped up in all parts of the railway network and he would travel anywhere to grapple with it. Morning started with breakfast at the Acland Tavern. Mercifully, Tallis was late getting up, so Colbeck and Leeming were able to enjoy the meal without his invasive presence. They also had the opportunity to discuss domestic concerns.
‘I miss Estelle and the children so much,’ said Leeming.
‘You could always keep in touch by letter.’
‘It’s not the same as seeing them in the flesh, sir. Well, it must be the same for you and Miss Andrews.’
‘It is,’ said Colbeck, resignedly. ‘I’d love Madeleine to be here with me but that’s wholly impractical.’
‘I know the feeling. When I went to Dawlish yesterday, I had this sudden desire to show it to my family. I could just imagine stepping off the train and giving them their first look at that lovely beach. Then they could feed the ducks on the brook.’ He pulled a face. ‘There are no beaches where we live and there isn’t a duck for miles.’ He munched a piece of toast. ‘It makes you think, though, doesn’t it?’
‘Think about what?’
‘Well, marriage and the happiness it can bring. There’s nothing to compare with it. I’m blessed in my wife and, from what you told me about the stationmaster’s house, it’s obvious that he was happily married as well.’ He took a noisy sip of tea. ‘I wouldn’t say the same about his brother. Michael Heygate and his wife were together but you’d never say they were contented with each other. They both seemed miserable and it wasn’t because they were in mourning.’
‘Marriage affects people in different ways, Victor,’ said Colbeck. ‘You and Estelle have set a good example. Others are not so fortunate in their choices.’
‘You certainly are, sir. Miss Andrews will make an excellent wife.’
‘No question about that. I like to think that I may be a worthy husband.’
‘It’s something you have to work at,’ said Leeming, sagely. ‘But I wish you both well. Estelle was delighted that you’d invited us to the wedding. It’s not often she has an excuse to dress up in her finery.’ He took another bite of toast. ‘Have you changed your decision about the superintendent?’
‘No, I haven’t. He’d be embarrassed if we sent him an invitation and it would certainly be declined. In his company, it’s safer to pretend that the wedding is not actually happening. That reduces the risk of friction.’
Leeming rolled his eyes. ‘There’s always friction when he’s around.’ He choked on his toast as he saw Tallis enter the room. Colbeck patted him on the back to help him clear his throat. ‘Talk of the devil! Here he is.’
They manufactured a smile apiece to greet Tallis. Annoyed that they’d started without him, he sat in the vacant seat at the table.
‘Why didn’t one of you call me?’ he demanded.
‘We felt that you needed your sleep, sir,’ said Colbeck.
‘I’m always up at the crack of dawn in London.’
‘Country air can be very soporific.’
‘What does that mean?’ asked Leeming.
‘It encourages you to sleep, Victor.’
‘I never need any encouragement to do that, sir.’
‘I’m here now,’ said Tallis, ‘that’s the main thing. We can discuss our plans for the day.’ He broke off when the waiter arrived to take his order. As soon as the man withdrew, Tallis became businesslike. ‘We need to split up so that we can maximise our effectiveness.’
‘Are you going back to London, then?’ asked Leeming, hopefully.
‘Not until this case is solved. Now, you were talking about an interview with Michael Heygate, were you not, Inspector?’
‘Yes, sir,’ said Colbeck.
‘Leave him to me. I’ll set off for Dawlish this morning.’
‘Take note of the pumping stations,’ said Leeming.
Tallis glared. ‘If you mention the atmospheric railway once more, Leeming,’ he warned, ‘I won’t be responsible for my actions.’
‘In theory, it’s such an interesting concept.’
‘In practice, you can be such an imbecile at times.’
Leeming was hurt. ‘That’s a bit harsh, sir.’
‘It’s also untrue,’ said Colbeck, touching his arm. ‘The sergeant and I will stay here. I need to have a talk with Mr Woodford and Victor is going for a walk.’
‘Am I, Inspector — where to?’
‘I’ve been thinking over what the stationmaster told Miss Hope. The old shed in which he found that owl was only a quarter of an hour’s walk away. It may be possible to locate it. Walk for fifteen minutes in every direction and keep your eyes peeled.’ He could see that Tallis was nursing doubts. ‘Mr Heygate must have had a lamp with him when he went out that night and one is missing from the station. If the sergeant could possibly find that, we’d have a valuable clue.’
‘I remain to be convinced,’ said Tallis.
‘It’s an avenue worth exploring. We have to press on as hard as we can, sir, especially in view of the latest threat from Bishop Phillpotts.’
‘What’s the wretched fellow been up to now?’
‘He’s talking about bringing in soldiers from Topsham.’
‘That will muddy the waters completely,’ complained Tallis. ‘Nobody has more respect for the army than I do but there’s a time and place for them. We can’t do our jobs properly if we keep bumping into a battalion of soldiers.’
‘The bishop felt that they could assist in the search for this man, Browne.’
‘He should leave crime detection to those trained to do it. Browne is our prime suspect but I’m not persuaded that he definitely committed the murder. I need more evidence and I won’t get that with the army tramping through the streets of Exeter. That’s the best way to frighten Browne off,’ said Tallis, ‘and we need to keep him in the city to have any chance of catching the rogue.’
‘Superintendent Steel has ensured that he’ll stay a while,’ said Colbeck.
‘Really — how has he done that?’
‘He’s arrested a woman who has allegedly been harbouring Browne. A police informant saw them together and will swear as much in court. The superintendent believes that the arrest will flush Browne out of hiding to attempt a rescue.’
‘That sounds promising,’ said Tallis. ‘My regret is that it comes from the initiative of the local police and not from either of you.’ He looked meaningfully from one to the other. ‘An informant is involved, you say? Will he be a credible witness in court?’
‘Oh, yes,’ said Colbeck. ‘We’re told he’s very reliable.’
He was floating face down when they found him. They had to use a pole to haul him to the side of the canal. Two burly policemen dragged him ashore and stood back as water cascaded off him. Though his trousers were sodden, they could see ugly bloodstains down one leg. As the superintendent looked on, one of the policemen turned the corpse over. Steel needed only a cursory glance to identify him.
‘It’s Finbar Mulleady,’ he said.
Frances Impey was close to despair. Dr Swift had broken the news as gently as he could but it had still had the impact of a cannonball. Her sister had a mental disorder. If it expressed itself in violence again, it might be necessary to send her to Devon County Asylum. The very thought of the place made Frances shudder. Built in nearby Exminster over ten years earlier, it was a tall, forbidding, uncompromising brick edifice with six radiating arms and the appearance of a prison for those of unsound mind. A number of horror stories had leaked out of the asylum and they’d scared Frances stiff. Even though he’d assured her that the rumours were arrant nonsense, Dr Swift was unable to allay her fears. If her sister went into the place, Frances was afraid that she might never come out again and that she herself would therefore be left to bear the stigma alone.
There had been an improvement and it was something to which she could cling. Agnes Rossiter looked better. Thanks to a sedative prescribed by the doctor, she’d slept well and awoken in a more amenable mood. Frances was able to have a proper conversation with her. Over breakfast, her sister seemed quite normal. Ignoring advice to the contrary, Mrs Rossiter insisted on wearing mourning dress once more but she’d apparently stopped brooding on the stationmaster’s death. At one point, she even talked about going back to work.
‘I’m not sure that that will be possible, Agnes.’
‘Why not, may I ask?’
‘Dr Swift said that you were not ready yet.’
Mrs Rossiter frowned. ‘Was he that gentleman who called yesterday?’
‘Yes,’ said Frances. ‘He was here with Inspector Colbeck.’
‘I remember now. They were both so well dressed. I like smartness in a man.’ She smiled proudly. ‘Joel was very smart.’
‘Finish your breakfast, dear. It’s so good to see you eating again.’
‘Have I been a burden to you, Frances?’
‘No, no — you’re my sister.’
‘I’d hate to be a burden to anybody. I’ve always been so independent.’
Frances kissed her. ‘You’re no trouble at all, Agnes.’
When the meal was over, Frances cleared away the plates and did the washing-up in the sink. Such had been the improvement in her sister’s behaviour that she dared to hope for a complete recovery. She was drying her hands on a towel when Mrs Rossiter came into the kitchen wearing her hat, coat and gloves.
‘What on earth are you doing?’ she cried.
‘I’m going out, Frances.’
‘But the doctor said that you were to stay indoors.’
‘He can’t stop me going for a walk,’ asserted Mrs Rossiter. ‘I need some fresh air and exercise. I can’t stay here all day.’
Frances took off her apron. ‘I’ll come with you.’
‘I’d like that.’
‘Where shall we go?’
‘I want to see Joel.’
‘But he’s dead. His body will be at the undertaker’s by now.’
‘That’s where I want to go,’ said Mrs Rossiter, simply. ‘It’s my right. I need to pay my respects. I have to see him for one last time. Don’t you understand?’
Colbeck arrived at the station as the Plymouth train was departing. Having consulted the timetable, he knew that there would be a gap of twenty minutes before Lawrence Woodford would be called upon to despatch another train to its destination. He took the stationmaster into the refreshment room, chose a table in the corner and ordered two cups of tea.
‘How are you finding your new role, Mr Woodford?’ he asked.
‘Well, it’s not entirely new,’ replied the other. ‘I deputised for Joel when his wife and daughter died, so I learnt the ropes then.’
‘You’ve shown remarkable flair.’
‘It’s kind of you to say so, Inspector.’
‘Do you live nearby?’
‘We have a house not far from the cathedral.’
‘And what does Mrs Woodford think of what is, in essence, your promotion?’
‘My wife is very proud of me. Her regret, of course, is that I’ve only become stationmaster temporarily because Joel was battered to death by a thug.. We’d much rather that he’d been spared such a grisly fate.’
‘How much did you see of him on a daily basis?’
‘Not a great deal,’ said Woodford. ‘I was locked away in my office most of the day while Joel was on patrol out here. But we exchanged friendly banter when we had the chance.’
Colbeck didn’t believe him for a second. In his opinion, Woodford was not a man who’d indulge in friendly banter with anyone. He was too abrupt and officious and would be much more likely to enforce rules than to make a humorous remark to a colleague. Nor was Colbeck fooled by the man’s claim to be close to his predecessor. Woodford was too well defended to let anyone get too close to him and there was a prickly side to him that would keep others away. Dorcas arrived with the tea on a tray.
‘Is there any word of Mrs Rossiter?’ she asked, putting the cups on the table.
‘She was seen by a doctor yesterday,’ replied Colbeck. ‘He advised rest.’
‘When will she be coming back to work?’
‘I can’t answer that, Miss Hope.’
‘Don’t bother us now,’ said Woodford with a hostile glance. ‘The Inspector and I are trying to have a conversation.’
Dorcas backed away. ‘I’m sorry, Mr Woodford. Do excuse me.’
‘That young lady works hard,’ observed Colbeck as she moved away.
‘She has to be kept in her place.’
‘People work best when given encouragement. That’s what I always find.’ He studied Woodford. ‘If you live near the cathedral, you must have been well placed to attend the bonfire celebrations.’
‘They had no interest for us and — as we have no children — there was no reason to take part in them. Things get out of hand too easily, Inspector. Drink is taken and tempers flare up. I abhor violence of all kinds,’ said Woodford, ‘even if it’s in fun. My wife and I steer well clear of the cathedral precinct on Guy Fawkes Day.’
‘Mr Heygate intended to go, I believe.’
‘Joel had a childish streak in him at times.’
‘People of all ages enjoy a bonfire,’ said Colbeck. ‘Did your predecessor ever discuss his birdwatching with you?’
‘No, Inspector, it’s not something that appeals to me.’
‘So you’ve no idea where he went?’
Woodford scratched his chin. ‘He did once mention the Exminster marshes to me,’ he recalled. ‘Joel said that he’d seen a variety of species there.’
‘How far away would that be?’
‘Oh, it’s over three miles south of the city.’
‘So it couldn’t have been the place he went on the night he was killed He’d hardly walk that distance in the dark. Exminster is an unlikely destination.’
‘It most certainly was. Joel went …’ He turned as if about to point in one direction but thought better of it. ‘He must have gone somewhere else’
‘Was it a cold night on November 4th?’
‘It’s always cold at this time of year.’
Colbeck put milk into his tea and stirred it. ‘Do you have any hobbies?’ he asked, casually.
‘My work doesn’t allow me much leisure time.’
‘I have the same problem, Mr Woodford.’
‘My wife and I do go for a walk on Sunday after church. It’s become a sort of tradition. The weather has to be really bad to deter us.’
‘Regular exercise is good for us. It’s probably the reason you look so healthy.’
‘Yes,’ said Woodford, adding milk and sugar to his tea. ‘It’s one thing where I had the advantage over Joel. He put on weight after the tragedy involving his wife and daughter. One can’t blame him for that. Food was his consolation.’
‘Did he ever mention a diary to you?’
‘Not that I can remember.’
‘He seems to have kept one.’
‘It’s the first I’ve heard of it,’ said Woodford, checking to making sure that Dorcas didn’t hear him. ‘What was in the diary, Inspector?’
‘We don’t know until we find it. But it might be of significant help.’
‘Maybe the killer destroyed it for that reason.’
‘I doubt if he knew that it even existed.’
‘Isn’t it squirrelled away in the house somewhere?’
‘We couldn’t find it. Just in case it is there,’ said Colbeck, ‘I asked for a policeman to guard the house. If the killer finds out about the diary, he may well come looking for it. We need to find it first.’
‘I wish you well in your search.’ It was Woodford’s turn to sound casual. ‘I take it that Bagsy Browne is the only suspect.’
‘Yes, he is,’ said Colbeck, easily. ‘Superintendent Steel is convinced of his guilt. Mr Browne is a man with a fearsome reputation, I gather.’
‘I was here the day he caused a rumpus. He fought like an animal until Joel knocked him out. When he came to, he vowed to get even with Joel one day.’ He breathed in sharply. ‘Unfortunately, he kept his promise.’
The caterwauling made it impossible for Superintendent Steel to concentrate on his work. He was just about to investigate the ear-splitting noise when the custody sergeant came into his office.
‘It’s that woman, sir,’ he said. ‘She won’t shut up till she’s spoken to you.’
‘Then I’d better see what she wants.’
‘What she wants is a gag over that foul mouth of hers.’
‘Yes, she does have a colourful vocabulary.’
They went downstairs together. When they reached her cell, Adeline Goss was still yelling at the top of her voice. At the sight of Steel, she quietened down. He nodded to the sergeant who unlocked the door of the cell.
‘What seems to be the problem?’ asked Steel, confronting her.
‘I want to know what’s going on,’ she demanded.
‘You’re under arrest, Miss Goss. I’d have thought that was obvious.’
‘They said I’d go before a magistrate this morning.’
‘And you will do in due course. But there’s been a development.’
She squinted at him. ‘What’s happened?’
‘Bagsy Browne has disrupted our plans,’ said Steel. ‘You remember him, don’t you?’ She looked blank. ‘Everyone knows you’re his friend. Why deny it?’
‘I’ve had nothing to do with anyone of that name.’
‘Would you swear that on the Holy Bible?’
‘Yes!’ she shouted. ‘Who is this Bagsy Browne?’
‘He’s the man you were seen with by a witness, Miss Goss.’
‘What bleeding witness?’
‘He’s someone who knows you both by sight. His name is Mulleady.’
‘Finbar Mulleady!’ she said with derision. ‘Don’t believe a word that drunken Irish scoundrel tells you. The only thing Mulleady ever sees is how much is in his tankard. He’ll tell you any damn thing you want if you buy his beer.’
‘As it happens,’ explained Steel, ‘Mulleady’s not in a position to tell us anything at the moment. His dead body was pulled out of the canal this morning.’ She cackled with delight. ‘There’s nothing to laugh about. It’s one more crime to chalk up to the man you’ve never heard about — Bagsy Browne. He obviously got wind of the fact that Mulleady was going to bear witness against the pair of you. That’s two murders we’ll hang him for — and you’ll be his accessory to one of them.’
Adeline was silenced at last. Fear and disbelief seized her. Her mind was racing madly as the cell door was slammed shut in her face and locked.
Michael Heygate and his wife were surprised when Tallis turned up on their doorstep. Since he was now in charge of the investigation, however, they felt that he’d come to give them a report on its progress. Tallis didn’t disillusion them. He was there to question them without appearing to do so. Invited into the parlour, he sat by the fire and refused the offer of refreshment.
‘Sergeant Leeming came to see us yesterday,’ said Heygate.
‘So I understand. Like me, he found Dawlish a charming place.’
‘It’s not been all that charming for us,’ muttered Lavinia. ‘But our prospects have suddenly improved,’ she added with a whisper of a smile. ‘When the sergeant heard that I came from Starcross, all he wanted to talk about was the-’
‘Yes, yes,’ said Tallis, cutting her off. ‘I’m all too aware of that. What I came to tell you is that the net is closing in on the killer.’
‘Have you identified him, then?’ asked Heygate.
‘We believe so.’
‘What’s his name?’
‘Bernard Browne — though I understand that he’s known as Bagsy.’
‘Yes, we’ve met him,’ said Lavinia before she could stop herself. After collecting a stern look from her husband, she gave a nervous laugh. ‘We don’t really know the man, but someone called Bagsy came into the shop once.’
‘Oh?’ said Tallis, interested. ‘What did he want?’
‘He bought a fishing rod,’ said Heygate, indicating to his wife that she should hold her tongue. ‘It was a long time ago. I’d forgotten all about him.’
‘He bought a fishing rod?’ Tallis was astonished. ‘Everything I’ve heard about this villain suggests that he’d be more likely to steal one.’
‘He paid us the full price.’
‘If he came here, he must have seen your name above the shop.’
‘That’s true.’
‘Did he connect you with the stationmaster at Exeter St David’s?’
‘I doubt it.’
‘Well, it’s not all that common a name.’
‘He was just one customer of many when we had such things,’ said Heygate, evasively. ‘If my wife hadn’t remembered his name, I wouldn’t have done so.’
‘I’m very glad that Mrs Heygate did so.’
Tallis gave her a nod of congratulation but she was squirming with discomfort. A link had been made between two of the murder suspects. That fact alone made Tallis feel that his journey hadn’t been in vain. He began to wonder if Heygate had either employed Browne to commit the crime, or assisted him in doing so. It could be a fruitful area to explore. He tried to dispel their obvious disquiet.
‘There’s no guarantee that Browne is guilty,’ he stressed. ‘He just happened to be in the vicinity and has a long criminal record. We suspect that he was there on the night of November 4th — but, then, so were you.’
‘That’s right, Superintendent,’ said Heygate.
‘My sergeant thought it odd that you didn’t bring your children.’
‘They preferred to stay here with school friends.’
‘Yet the celebrations in Exeter would have been much more spectacular.’
Heygate was stony-faced. ‘It was their choice.’
‘So you must also have stayed with friends.’
‘Yes, we did.’
‘Was it for the one night or for two?’
‘It was just for the one night, Superintendent. My wife and I stayed for most of the celebrations, then caught a late train back here. Little did we know at that time, mind you, what they would find when the bonfire burnt itself out.’
‘Quite so, quite so — you have my deepest sympathy.’
‘It came like a thunderbolt,’ said Lavinia, finding her voice at last and contriving a look of grief. ‘Michael and I are still stunned.’
‘Yes,’ added her husband. ‘We’ve been very grateful to Mr Quinnell. He’s been immensely helpful. In fact, we received a letter from him this morning to say that the funeral will be next Monday. The railway company will bear the cost.’
‘That’s very noble of them.’
‘All the arrangements will be taken care of. Mr Quinnell was anxious to relieve us of that and he’s also talking about a memorial service — though I feel that might be going too far.’ A sly look came into his eye. ‘How soon after the funeral will my brother’s will be read, do you think?’
‘Oh, I can’t say, Mr Heygate. Legal wheels grind very slowly.’
‘Will it be a matter of weeks?’
‘You’d have to ask the solicitor concerned.’
‘Is there any means of speeding up the process?’
‘I wish that there were,’ said Tallis with a chuckle. ‘Solicitors are like snails. They never rush. But you’ll get your inheritance in the fullness of time,’ he went on. ‘I hear that you’re the only close relative. My advice is to forget about the will for the time being. You have to brace yourself for the funeral before that. It’s going to be a harrowing experience for both of you.’
‘Yes, it is,’ they said in unison.
Victor Leeming paced himself. He worked on the theory that the stationmaster would have walked more slowly in the dark. Even so, he reasoned, Heygate might have gone a fair distance. He strode in a westerly direction, taking note of all the buildings he passed. There was no shortage of sheds. In fact, he counted over a dozen before he’d gone more than a couple of hundred yards. Housing then began to thin out, separated by patches of open ground. Trees abounded. It was a natural habitat for birds. When he stopped to check his watch, Leeming saw that he’d been walking for the best part of a quarter of an hour. He was at the fullest extent of his range. Yet he could see a cottage in the middle distance and there was an old shed at the bottom of its garden. Perhaps the stationmaster had moved faster than he thought. The shed was clearly worth investigation.
Lengthening his stride, he pressed on, pausing from time to time to peer into a clump of bushes. But there was no trace of the missing lamp. The closer he got to the shed, the more dilapidated it looked, with holes in the roof large enough for birds to get in easily. Leeming’s hopes rose. If it was the old shed mentioned by the stationmaster, then — in all probability — it was the place where Heygate had been ambushed and killed. He walked around it and searched the ground but there were no bloodstains visible and no sign of a struggle having taken place. Leeming was undaunted. He somehow felt that he’d found the murder scene. The shed was unlocked. Pulling the door open, he fully expected to see some clue relating to the crime. Instead he was forced back in alarm as a large black cat came out of the shadows to snarl angrily at him before darting off between his legs.
Frances Impey was both amazed and relieved at the difference in her sister. Agnes Rossiter had shaken off her gloom and seemed her old self. But for her black attire, nobody would have known that she was in mourning. Mindful of what had happened at the cathedral, Frances tried to guide her sister away from it but the latter insisted on walking through the precinct. There was no repeat of her earlier outburst. In fact, Mrs Rossiter glanced apologetically towards the cathedral as if keen to make amends. Her sister found that heartening. It was a clear indication of recovery.
The undertaker’s premises were in the High Street and Frances implored her sister not to go there, arguing that it would upset her too much.
‘It’s my duty, Frances,’ she said, calmly. ‘Joel would never forgive me.’
‘Mr Heygate was badly burnt. The body will be in a terrible condition.’
‘I don’t care. It’s him — that’s all that matters.’
‘You don’t belong here,’ said her sister with concern. ‘Let’s go home, Agnes. Please — let me take you home.’
Mrs Rossiter ignored the plea and turned into the High Street. When she reached the undertaker’s premises, she rang the bell. All that Frances could do was to stand a few yards away in trepidation. The undertaker opened the door, listened to Mrs Rossiter’s request and politely refused to let her in. There was a brief argument but the man was firm. He would not admit her to view the remains of Joel Heygate. Stepping back, he closed the door. Mrs Rossiter gave a shrug of acceptance and rejoined her sister.
‘I told you that they wouldn’t let you in,’ said Frances.
‘They have to,’ insisted Mrs Rossiter, looking down at the ground. ‘It’s my right. Nobody is going to keep me away from Joel.’
‘What are you searching for?’
‘I won’t be turned away like that. I’ll fight back.’
Seeing what she was after, Mrs Rossiter bent down and picked up a large stone. Before her sister could stop her, she hurled it at the window with all force. As the glass shattered, the undertaker’s name painted on it was split into a thousand shards. Mrs Rossiter had not finished. Scrambling through the window and cutting herself in the process, she pushed aside the black drapes and stepped into the building.
‘I’m coming, Joel!’ she yelled. ‘I’m coming!’