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‘You’re very welcome here.’

‘Thank you, Mrs Colbeck.’

‘It’s a pleasure, Miss Quayle.’ Madeleine laughed. ‘This is ridiculous,’ she said. ‘If we’re going to have dinner together, I think we can dispense with the formalities, don’t you? Please use my Christian name.’

‘And you must do the same, Madeleine.’

‘I will, Lydia.’

It was a step forward and each of them appreciated it. Madeleine had not merely invited her to stay out of kindness. She wanted her visitor to have time to consider her decision to return home in the certain knowledge that there would be some domestic upheaval as a result. Lydia had been ready to set off there and then but she was persuaded to postpone the journey to Nottingham until the following day. It gave them the opportunity to get to know each other better.

‘Why didn’t you give your name when you called here?’ asked Madeleine.

‘I wasn’t sure that you’d wish to see me.’

‘But I volunteered my address.’

‘You did that out of kindness,’ said Lydia. ‘I wasn’t certain that you’d really want me to come here with my tale of woe. Because I didn’t give my name, I knew I’d at least get to see you. Curiosity would have brought you out.’

‘It did. I was puzzled.’

They were in the drawing room, awaiting the summons to dine. Lydia was relieved and reassured. In coming to the house, she’d not only found someone who’d accompany her to Nottingham, she’d made a real friend. Something else struck her. Alone with Madeleine, she was able to act and feel her own age. Looking back, she saw that life with Beatrice Myler had put unlived years on her. Lydia had dressed, thought and behaved as an older woman. Maturity had been a comforting shell into which she’d willingly climbed. Now, however, the comfort came from being with someone who made her feel younger and more alive.

‘I didn’t realise that the police employed women,’ she said.

‘They don’t,’ said Madeleine, ‘and you must never tell anyone that I came to see you. Scotland Yard would never dream of letting women become detectives. I’ve only been involved because my husband believes that I have something to offer that neither he nor Sergeant Leeming possesses.’

‘It’s true. I could never have talked as openly to the sergeant as I have to you.’

‘I take that as a compliment.’

‘I trusted you, Madeleine.’

‘Then I hope I can repay that trust,’ said Madeleine. ‘On one issue, I’m afraid, I have to disappoint you. I won’t be able to go to your home. I’m happy to accompany you to Nottingham to lend some moral support but, if I’m introduced to your family as Inspector Colbeck’s wife, it could well compromise the whole investigation.’

‘I don’t wish to get you or the inspector into any trouble.’

‘Thank you, Lydia.’

‘Would your husband lose his job as a result?’

‘Oh, I don’t think they’d be foolish enough to dismiss him altogether. He’s far too valuable a detective to cast aside. But there would be a lot of embarrassment and he might even be demoted.’

‘I don’t want that to happen,’ said Lydia, worriedly.

‘Neither do I. As it happens, I have been in a position to help with certain investigations in the past but that fact has had to be suppressed. Superintendent Tallis takes a dim view of women altogether,’ said Madeleine. ‘If he knew that my husband had actually dared to call on my services, the superintendent would roast him alive.’

Edward Tallis surprised them both. Instead of descending on them in a fit of wrath, he’d come, in the spirit of enquiry, to find out exactly what was going on. His manner was calm and his tongue lacking its usual asperity. Colbeck and Leeming could not remember the last time he’d been in such a quiescent mood. Neither of them realised that, in coming to Derby, he’d been escaping from London and from the scorn of the commissioner. At the bookstall in King’s Cross railway station, Tallis had taken the trouble to buy a copy of the offending edition of Punch and he’d chuckled at the way his superior had been pilloried, his amusement edged with relief that he hadn’t been the target this time.

Instead of being unable to touch his food, Leeming ate heartily and left the senior officers to do most of the talking. All three of them found the lamb and mint sauce to their taste. Tallis dabbed at his mouth with a napkin to remove the specks of gravy from his moustache.

‘How would you summarise this case, Colbeck?’

‘I’d do so in two words, sir.’

‘And what might they be?’

‘Confusion and error,’ muttered Leeming.

Colbeck smiled. ‘We’ve encountered both since we’ve been here,’ he agreed, ‘but I had two different words in mind — coal and silk.’

‘Explain,’ said Tallis.

‘The products define the battle for the chairmanship of the Midland Railway, sir. Mr Quayle made his fortune out of coal while Mr Haygarth lives in luxury on the profits of his silk mills. Coal is hard while silk is soft. In some ways,’ argued Colbeck, ‘they help to characterise the two men. We never knew Mr Quayle but we met his elder son who’s been likened to him in every way.’ He turned to Leeming. ‘How would you describe Stanley Quayle?’

‘Cold and hard.’

‘Just like a piece of coal. What about Mr Haygarth?’

‘Smooth and snake-like.’

‘Just like a bolster of silk.’

‘I’m trying hard to follow your reasoning,’ complained Tallis.

‘It’s quite simple, sir,’ said Colbeck. ‘The one has ousted the other. From what we can gather, Mr Quayle was a natural leader, respected, strong-willed and resilient in the face of the many difficulties that have afflicted this railway company. He’s been supplanted by a more subtle, guileful and sinister rival.’

‘Are you saying that Mr Haygarth is behind the murder?’

‘He’s the one who stands to gain most out of it, sir.’

‘Then why insist on calling on you to lead the investigation?’

‘He wants to gain kudos by appearing to make every effort to solve this crime while confident that a solution is beyond me.’

‘I still think that Hockaday had a part in it,’ asserted Leeming. ‘He’s not clever enough to set the whole thing up by himself but he’d be a willing helper if there was money in it. That brings us back to the person best placed to employ the cobbler to do his dirty work for him — Superintendent Wigg.’

‘That’s a ludicrous suggestion,’ said Tallis.

‘We’ve met corrupt policemen before, sir.’

‘You hardly need to tell me that, Leeming. I’ve had to dismiss too many of them. Inspector Alban Kee was an example. I’ll have no fraudsters or bribe-takers under my command. Now, I’ve never met this Superintendent Wigg,’ he went on, ‘but I find it hard to believe that anyone in his position would condone — let alone, incite — murder. Haygarth stands to gain from the death but Wigg was bound to lose. He’d merely be replacing one person he loathed by another. What’s the point of that?’

‘The superintendent’s brother is a pharmacist, sir,’ Leeming reminded him.

‘That’s an irrelevance.’

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Then you must learn to focus your mind, Sergeant.’

Tallis went on to give a searching analysis of the evidence so far gathered and showed that he’d been listening very carefully. While conceding that Haygarth had to be a major suspect, his instinct was that a much younger man was involved.

‘Gerard Burns is the most likely killer,’ he concluded.

‘I thought that until I met him,’ said Colbeck.

‘What changed your mind?’

‘I tried to look at him from the point of view of his employers, sir. He was well paid and given an important job by Mr Quayle. Burns clearly did it very well. It was only when he strayed away from it that the trouble started.’

‘He suffered physical injury on Quayle’s orders. An urge for revenge must still burn inside him.’

‘It does, Superintendent, and he won’t gainsay that. But think of the man who indirectly pays his wages now. Every servant and gardener at Melbourne Hall would have been subjected to rigorous scrutiny before they were taken on. Rare as his visits to Derbyshire are, the prime minister would not want potential killers among his staff. In essence,’ said Colbeck, ‘Burns is an excellent gardener so committed to his trade that he doesn’t have the time or the inclination to avenge an old slight.’