‘Only in name,’ said Wigg, sourly. ‘In answer to your question, I’ve never sold Elijah any poison but there have been many times when I’ve been tempted to administer some to him.’ The bell tinkled as someone else came into the shop. ‘I’ll have to go, Sergeant. My customers rely on me.’
Leeming was deflated. All that he’d gained from his visit was the news that the Wigg brothers were hostile to each other. Trudging back towards the railway station, he hoped that Colbeck and Tallis would have more productive encounters.
John Cleary was cleaning some harnesses when Lucas Quayle arrived with Colbeck in tow. After introducing the two men to each other, Lucas left them alone. Cleary put the harness aside and wiped his hands on a cloth.
‘I’m told that you’re a good cricketer,’ said Colbeck.
Cleary smiled. ‘I do my best, sir.’
‘You and Gerard Burns were outstanding.’
‘Ah, well, we’ve lost him, I’m afraid.’
‘Are you sorry about that?’
‘Very sorry.’
‘Why is that?’
‘Gerard was a friend. There are not too many of those around here.’
‘Have you played any cricket matches since he left?’
‘Yes, sir — we lost them all.’
Cleary was saddened rather than embittered. Since he excelled at cricket, the game was important to him and he’d enjoyed a run of success in the past. Without Gerard Burns in the side, the team was condemned to a series of losses.
‘What I’m trying to find out,’ explained Colbeck, ‘is where Mr Quayle went on the day of his murder. You drive him to the railway station, I understand.’
‘That’s true, Inspector, but he never said where he was going that day.’
‘Where did he usually go?’
‘Oh, he went to his office in Derby, even on Sundays sometimes.’
‘Did he catch a particular train?’
‘Yes, he kept to a strict timetable,’ replied Cleary. ‘Mr Quayle always caught the same train in the morning and if he needed me to meet him in the evening he’d tell me what time to be there.’
Colbeck warmed to the man. The coachman answered questions without hesitation and looked him in the eye as he did so. There was no hint of the evasion he’d met elsewhere. Cleary wanted to help.
‘What sort of a man was Mr Quayle?’
‘I’m not the best person to ask that, sir.’
‘Why not? You saw him almost every day.’
‘Yes, but all he did was to give me my orders. In all the years I’ve been here, we never talked properly. Don’t misunderstand me,’ he went on, ‘I had the greatest respect for Mr Quayle. He was a good employer and treated me well but I never really got to know him as a person.’ He waved an arm that took in the stable yard. ‘This is where I belong, sir.’
‘I’m not asking you to tell tales about him, Mr Cleary.’
‘There are none to tell.’
‘What about his row with Mr Burns? I’d call that a tale worth hearing.’
‘All I know is that we lost a good gardener and a decent man. Not that I’m taking sides,’ said Cleary, quickly. ‘Mr Quayle did what he felt was right. I’ve no argument with that.’ He removed his cap and ran a hand through his hair. ‘But I do miss Gerard on the cricket field. I’ve never seen a bowler like him.’
‘Has he ever been back here?’
‘No, Inspector.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘He told me he was going for good.’
‘Was that before or after he was beaten up?’
Cleary was surprised. ‘You know about that?’ he asked, replacing his cap.
‘I’ve spoken to him twice.’
‘What happened to him was bad. Gerard could hardly walk.’
‘Did that make you look at Mr Quayle in a different way?’
‘I do what I’m paid to do,’ said Cleary, levelly.
Colbeck studied him. He could see why the coachman had befriended the gardener. Apart from cricket, they had much in common. They were younger than most of the servants and had positions that they cherished. In his mind’s eye, Colbeck could see them slipping off to a local inn together after the day’s work was done.
‘Did he ever talk to you about Miss Lydia Quayle?’
Cleary was emphatic. ‘No — it was none of my business.’
‘Were you shocked when the truth came out?’
‘We all were, Inspector.’
‘Did it cause a lot of upset here?’
‘Yes, it did. But that’s all in the past.’
‘The murder of Mr Quayle has brought it alive again,’ said Colbeck, ‘because Mr Burns is bound to be viewed as someone with a strong motive to kill his former employer.’ Cleary shook his head violently. ‘You disagree?’
‘Gerard would never do such a thing, sir.’
‘Have you seen him since he moved away from here?’
‘Only once — but I don’t need to see him. I know him. He’s not a killer.’
‘People can change, Mr Cleary.’
‘Our sort stay the same,’ said the other, steadfastly.
His identification with the gardener was complete. Cleary and Burns were kindred spirits. The coachman refused to believe that his friend was capable of murder. While he admired the man’s loyalty, Colbeck doubted his judgement.
‘Did Mr Quayle ever stay away from home?’ he asked.
‘Yes, sir — he often went to London on business.’
‘Where else did he go?’
‘I don’t know. All I was told was when he was coming back.’
‘Let me ask you a final question, Mr Cleary,’ he said, ‘and I want you to take all the time you need before answering it. On the day of the murder, you took Mr Quayle to the railway station at the usual time. Presumably, he caught the usual train but you are in no position to confirm that. Was there anything — anything at all — that was different that day? Did Mr Quayle say or do anything out of the ordinary? Now, please — think carefully.’
The coachman needed only a few seconds to recall something unusual.
‘I could be wrong, of course,’ he warned.
‘What do you remember?’
‘Well, Mr Quayle took very little notice of me as a rule. When he got out of the carriage, he just muttered his thanks.’
‘Was there something different on the last day you saw him?’
‘Yes,’ replied Cleary, ‘there was. He didn’t say a single word to me at the railway station and … I had a feeling that he’d been crying.’
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
As the wheel of the cab hit another deep pothole, Edward Tallis cursed the fact that Melbourne did not have its own railway station. The drive to the village was an ordeal of bumping, jerking, twisting and sudden lurches that threw him against the side of the vehicle. Every possible hazard in the road seemed to have been explored, leaving the passenger with unwelcome bruises. It was almost as if the driver had set out to injure Tallis. When he finally reached the Hall, he paid the man his fare and left a series of stinging complaints in lieu of a tip. Having introduced himself to the housekeeper, he asked to see Burns in his own domain. The gardener was poring over a catalogue when Tallis appeared. He scrambled to his feet.
The housekeeper introduced the visitor then left them alone.
‘Can I help you, sir?’ asked the gardener.
‘I believe that you’ve met my colleague, Inspector Colbeck.’
‘I spoke to him a few hours ago. There’s nothing else I wish to add.’
‘My wishes are paramount here, Burns. I require your attention.’
Burns sighed and put the catalogue aside. He indicated the bench and they both sat down. During his career in the army, Tallis had dealt with a large number of men and developed a knack of summing up a person’s character at a glance. Burns might seem polite and open-faced but the superintendent saw a hint of the unspoken insolence that broke out in the ranks from time to time and on which he’d always stamped firmly. In his opinion, the gardener looked as if he might have a mutinous streak.
‘How long have you worked here, Burns?’
‘Does it matter?’
‘I’ll ask the questions.’