‘What should we do about him?’
‘Gather more evidence then perform the arrest.’
Tallis was no longer troubled so much by his injury. At Leeming’s suggestion, he was reclining lengthways on the seat so that his feet were off the floor. While the pain was dulled, his mind was stimulated.
‘Who did he see on the night of the murder?’ he asked.
‘He wouldn’t tell the inspector that.’
‘He refused to give me a name as well and I can guess why. He didn’t wish to disclose the identity of his accomplice.’
‘Would it have needed two of them?’ said Leeming. ‘Burns is powerful enough on his own, surely.’
‘He’s hiding someone, Sergeant. I want to know who he is.’
‘How do you know it’s a man?’
‘It would hardly be a woman, would it?’
‘If he wanted someone to assist in a murder, he’d probably choose a man. But perhaps he went to Derby that night for a different reason altogether. Suppose that he paid a visit to a woman?’
‘Adultery!’ exclaimed Tallis, making it sound a crime more heinous than any in the statute book. ‘No, I got no sense of that. He’s concealing an accessory.’
‘You could be mistaken, sir.’
‘The feeling I get rarely lets me down.’
Leeming was less dogmatic. He’d had a similar conviction about suspects on many occasions and it had often been misplaced. As a result, he’d learnt to be more cautious before he actually arrested anyone.
‘I had that same feeling until today, Superintendent,’ he said. ‘I was almost ready to let Mr Hockaday feel my handcuffs click into place.’
‘Is he that cobbler?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘What held you back?’
Leeming told him about the visit to Duffield and the discovery of the father.
‘Why didn’t he give you that information at the start?’
‘It’s because he has another father,’ explained Leeming. ‘Seth Verney, a farm labourer, is his real father but the son was born out of wedlock. He was brought up by a Mr and Mrs Hockaday who live twenty miles beyond Duffield. That’s where he went first on the night of the murder and on the day that I followed him. When he realised that I’d spoken to Mr Verney, he begged me not to reveal his true parentage because it would destroy his reputation in the village.’
‘Did you believe him?’
‘I did, sir. For once, he was being honest with me.’
‘Why did he keep in touch with the father who abandoned him?’
‘That was a surprise to me,’ said Leeming. ‘Most sons would feel betrayed but Hockaday took the trouble to find out who his real parents were. The mother was a kitchen maid who died in childbirth but the father, Mr Verney, was still alive. When he discovered that his real father had fallen on hard times, Hockaday used to give small amounts of money to him and his wife.’
‘What did the wife think about that?’
‘Mrs Verney was told that he was her husband’s nephew. She didn’t know that her husband had a child before he married. That was the reason Mr Verney made sure he was not overheard when he confided to me that he was Hockaday’s father.’
‘Lust is a fearful thing,’ said Tallis. ‘You see the deception it causes?’
‘I was the person deceived, Superintendent. I had a feeling that Hockaday was the killer and I was hopelessly wrong about him. You might be wrong about Burns.’
‘That’s impossible.’
‘You’ve made errors of judgement before.’
‘If you’re referring to the fact that I promoted you to the rank of sergeant,’ warned Tallis, ‘you may be right. I thought you would be reliable and respectful.’
‘I strive to be both, sir.’
‘Then let’s have no more questioning of my judgement.’
‘No,’ said Leeming. ‘Thanks to you, the killer has finally been named.’
‘Remind the inspector of that when you return to Derby.’
‘Is there no chance that I could go home to see my wife first?’
‘What!’ roared Tallis.
Leeming went into retreat. ‘Forget that I said that, sir.’
‘You’re a detective, not a doting husband. Domestic concerns must be put aside when you’re on duty. It’s a strict edict of mine, Leeming, as you well know. There is no place whatsoever for a wife in a murder investigation.’
After listening to his copious notes, Madeleine Colbeck felt that she was well versed in the intricacies of the case. Her husband had collected a mass of material during his time in the town and she was grateful to be there when an important new development had taken place. Colbeck was embarrassed that he knew so little about the family of Cicely Peet. He promised to repair his ignorance quickly. Meanwhile, he’d been liberated from any fear of bumping into Tallis at the hotel so he felt able to take his wife downstairs on his arm. They arrived in the foyer at the same time as Lydia Quayle and the two women embraced affectionately. Standing back, Madeleine introduced her husband.
‘I’m delighted to make your acquaintance, Miss Quayle,’ said Colbeck.
‘And I’m delighted to meet you, Inspector,’ she replied. ‘Madeleine has given me the most flattering biography of you.’
‘Pay no attention to her.’
‘Every word was true,’ said Madeleine.
‘Let Miss Quayle be the judge of that,’ said Colbeck, indicating the lounge. ‘Shall we go somewhere more comfortable?’
When they were seated together in a corner of the room, they ordered drinks from the waiter. Colbeck was able to appraise the newcomer properly and had the same reaction as his wife and Victor Leeming. Lydia was a striking young woman. Her self-possession reminded him of Madeleine when they first met and it was not the only resemblance. When he asked why she’d chosen to stay at the hotel instead of at her home, Lydia was not afraid to tell him the truth. The drinks soon arrived and they engaged in casual conversation for a while. Colbeck then ventured on to a more serious subject.
‘Miss Quayle,’ he began, ‘I’m fully aware of the reservations you have about your father but I’d like, if I may, to ask some questions about him.’
‘You may ask whatever you wish, Inspector,’ she said, tensing slightly. ‘I want the killer caught.’
‘We all want that,’ said Madeleine.
‘Have you ever heard of a Mrs Cicely Peet?’ asked Colbeck.
Lydia shook her head. ‘No, I haven’t. Who is she?’
‘She was the lady buried in the churchyard where your father’s body was found. Inconveniently, he was occupying the grave dug for her.’
‘How eerie!’ she exclaimed. ‘Mrs Peet was not mentioned in the newspaper reports I saw. What do you know about her?’
‘I was hoping that you could tell me.’
‘I’m sorry. I can’t help you.’
‘What about the husband, Roderick Peet?’
‘That name is new to me as well, I’m afraid.’
‘Mr Peet is a well-respected member of the local gentry. You can imagine how he felt when he learnt that his wife’s grave contained the body of a murder victim. He insisted that another one should be dug for her.’
‘I don’t blame him,’ said Madeleine.
‘Neither do I,’ added Lydia. ‘Where is all this leading, Inspector?’
‘That’s what I’m trying to establish,’ he said. ‘It’s my belief that the choice of Spondon was not accidental. Your father had some as yet unknown link with the village or with the Peet family. It may be, for instance, that Roderick Peet was a former business associate of his.’
‘You’d have to ask my brothers about that, Inspector. I know nothing about my father’s business affairs beyond the fact that they consumed every minute of his time. Our mother once told me she felt more like his widow than his wife.’
‘Unfortunately, that’s the role now assigned to her.’
‘I did get to meet some of Father’s business associates,’ said Lydia, searching her memory, ‘but I can’t recall a Mr Peet. It’s a name I’d remember. Father liked to use my sister and myself at social gatherings. We had to be nice to certain people.’