The Railway Viaduct

'Madame Hennebeau,' he said, politely, 'you obviously did not hear what I said at the start of the conversation. My visit here concerns a murder investigation. Nothing will be allowed to obstruct me in pursuit of the killer. Anyone who harbours information that may be useful to me – and who deliberately conceals it – will find that they are on the wrong side of the law. Retribution will follow.'

'But I have done nothing wrong,' she said, quivering all over.

'You are protecting someone I need to find.'

'No, Inspector.'

'He may even be hiding here at the moment.'

'That's not true,' she cried in alarm. 'There's nobody here except my women and me.'

'I may need to verify that by searching the premises. If you refuse to help me, Madame Hennebeau, I will have to return with some constables to go through every room. It may be necessary to disturb your seamstresses while we do so but that cannot be helped. As I told you,' he stressed, 'I'll let nobody obstruct me.'

'That is not what I'm doing, Inspector Colbeck.'

'I know when I'm being lied to, Madame.'

'I'm an honest woman. I'd never lie.'

'Do you want me to organise that search?'

'If I could help you, I would.'

'Then tell me the truth.'

'I do not know it myself.' She took a tiny handkerchief from the sleeve of her blouse and dabbed at her watering eyes. 'A gentleman came in here some weeks ago. He asked me if I would receive a message for him in return for some money. That's all I had to do,' she said, earnestly. 'Receive a message and hold it here for him. When it came, I was to put something in the window – a display of green ribbons – so that he could see it as he passed.'

'Was that because he lives nearby?'

'I cannot say. When he saw the signal, he was to pick up the message and leave a reply for whoever had been here. It all seemed so harmless to me, Inspector. I did not realise I was breaking the law.'

'You were not, Madame.'

'I feel as if I was now.'

'What was this gentleman's name?'

'He did not tell me – I swear it.'

'Could you describe him?'

'He was shorter than you, Inspector, and he had broader shoulders. He was not good-looking but he had a pleasant face. I liked him. His hair was thick and turning grey.'

'Could you give me some idea of his age?'

'Ten years older than you at least.'

'Why did he pick here?' wondered Colbeck. 'I can see that he could rely on you do what he asked, but why did he single you out in the first place? Was he ever a customer here?'

'No, Inspector,' she said.

'Then how did you meet?'

'It was some time ago,' she said, hiding her embarrassment behind a nervous laugh, 'and we did not really meet in the way that you imply. He used to wave to me through the window as he passed the shop and we became…' She licked her lips to get the words out more clearly. '…we became acquainted, as you might say. Then, out of the blue, he stepped into the shop one day.'

'When was this?'

'Weeks ago. I did not even recognise him at first.'

'Why not?'

'Because he was not wearing his uniform. When he used to go past regularly, he always looked very smart. That's why I trusted him, Inspector,' she said. 'He was a policeman.'

The Lamb and Flag was a favourite haunt of Victor Leeming's because it had three outstanding features. It was within walking distance of Scotland Yard, it served excellent beer and it was a tavern that Edward Tallis would never deign to enter. Leeming could enjoy a quiet drink there without fear of being caught in the act by his superior. When he got there, a few of his colleagues were already in the bar and they were very pleased to see him again. They chatted happily with him until Robert Colbeck came in through the door. Understanding at once that the two men wanted to be alone, the others greeted the newcomer with a respectful smile then drifted away. Colbeck brought drinks for himself and his sergeant before choosing a table in the far corner. Leeming quaffed his beer gratefully.

'I needed a taste of that,' he said, wiping the froth from his upper lip. 'I've been very busy today, Inspector.'

'I hope that I didn't overtax you, Victor.'

'Not at all. It felt marvellous to be back.'

'Albeit unofficially,' Colbeck observed.

'Quite so, sir.'

'Did you learn anything of value?'

'Eventually,' said Leeming, taking another long sip as he gathered his thoughts. 'I went to the police station and discovered that Pierce Shannon had been locked up there on May 27th.'

'Disturbing the peace?'

'And causing damage to property, most likely, but he wasn't charged with that. Because he couldn't pay his fine, he was kept in his cell, pending a transfer to prison, but the fine was then paid by an anonymous benefactor.'

'The very man who visited him in prison, I daresay.'

'I can confirm that. I spoke to Horace Eames.'

'Who is he?'

'He spends his time making lifeboats now, sir, but he used to be a policeman in Limehouse. It was Eames who let this old friend of his speak to Shannon in his cell. When he gave me his name, I wanted to make sure that we had the right man so I went to the magistrate's court to check their records.'

'Well done, Victor.'

'Sure enough, the very same person had paid the fine.'

'That's conclusive.'

'Do you know what Luke's other name was?'

'Yes – Rogan.'

Leeming's face fell. 'You've already found out,' he complained.

'Let's call it a joint operation, Victor. We've each confirmed what the other managed to ascertain. While you were in a boatyard, I was at a dress shop in Paddington.'

'A dress shop?'

'It was the place where Shannon was told to leave a message for his paymaster. A French lady owns the shop. She and Rogan seemed to have developed something of a friendship.'

'He was a policeman in that district. So was Horace Eames at one time. They worked together.'

'I went to the station and they told me all about Rogan. It seems that he was a ladies' man,' said Colbeck. 'He developed a habit of enjoying favours from some of the women he encountered on his beat. And not the kind that ever charge for such services, I should add. In return, he kept a special eye on their property. He was a good policeman, apparently, but too fond of disobeying orders. In the end, he was dismissed from Paddington and became a private detective.'

'That's what Eames told me.'

'Did he give you an address for him?'

'He has an office somewhere in Camden.'

'What about his home address?'

'Eames couldn't tell me that, sir,' said Leeming. 'When he left the police force, Rogan moved from his house in Paddington.'

'Not all that far,' said Colbeck, taking a sheet of paper from his inside pocket. 'He needed to keep an eye on the window of that dress shop for a signal that was to be put there. It must have been chosen because of its proximity to his home.' He put the paper on the table. 'Take a look at that, Victor.'

'What is it, sir?'

'A list of people attending a lecture given by Gaston Chabal.'

Leeming picked it up. 'Where did you get this from?'

'The man who organised the event,' said Colbeck, taking a sip of his whisky. 'He's very methodical. As you can see, the names are all in alphabetical order. Check those that begin with an "R". Do you recognise someone?'

'Luke Rogan,' said the other, pointing to the name.

'Now, what is a private detective doing at a meeting that had such specialised interest? He knows nothing about civil engineering. I must be the only policeman in London who would have listened to Chabal with any alacrity.'

'So what was Rogan doing there?'

'Following him,' decided Colbeck. 'Unless I'm mistaken, he even followed the man to Paris. Chabal's mother-in-law told me that he felt someone was watching him. I believe that Rogan stayed on his tail until the moment when he had the opportunity to kill him. I'm also fairly certain that he was wearing a police uniform when he committed the murder. If Chabal was afraid that somebody was stalking him,' he added, 'the one person who would not arouse his suspicion was a police constable.'