‘Much as it grieves me to say this,’ he began, ‘I owe it to my conscience – and to God – to do so. Whatever verdict is reached today is irrelevant to me. Suicide is suicide. It’s a deplorable act. It’s against the law and expressly against Christian teaching. “Thou shalt not kill” is one of the Ten Commandments and it must be obeyed. Those who disobey it,’ he said, ‘must suffer the consequences.’
Eve was flustered. ‘What consequences do you mean?’
‘I hate to say this – especially to a god-daughter whom I love and respect – but there is no place for the colonel’s remains in my churchyard. My refusal is absolute. I simply can’t stand by and see him buried in consecrated ground.’
‘But that’s his right.’
‘Not in my opinion.’
‘It would be cruel to deny him that right.’
‘Suicide is self-murder. By taking his life, your stepfather surrendered all rights. St Andrew’s church, I must insist, is closed to him. The funeral must take place elsewhere.’
Eve was so overwhelmed with emotion that she was unable to speak. Having issued his command, the rector raised his hat in farewell then he walked away with his wife on his arm. Mrs Withers was as shocked as Eve. At a time when they most needed the succour of the Church, it was being withheld from them. They were still trying to absorb the shock when Adam came out of the court and ran across to the carriage.
‘The jury returned its verdict,’ he declared. ‘Suicide while the balance of mind was disturbed. I always said that the old man was insane.’
‘Mr Tarleton!’ cried the housekeeper, reproachfully.
‘And what are you doing in our carriage, Mrs Withers?’ he demanded. ‘Get out of there at once and make your way back by train. And take that pathetic waif of a maid with you. There’ll be plenty of work for the pair of you when you get back to the house.’
The departure of the superintendent on a train to London allowed Victor Leeming to take over his room at the Black Bull. Though he was still unhappy to be separated from his family, the sergeant was pleased by the improvement in his accommodation. He and Colbeck met for a drink in the bar.
‘I never thought that he’d go so meekly,’ said Leeming.
‘It was in his best interests, Victor, and he was sensible enough to realise that. He needed to put distance between himself and events in South Otterington. The field has now been left clear for us.’
‘Where do we start, sir?’
‘The first thing I’d like to do is to take the same journey that Mrs Tarleton took on the day of her disappearance. We’ll walk back in the direction of Northallerton.’
‘That stretch of ground has already been covered by the search parties. What can we expect to find that they didn’t?’
‘A likely place of ambush,’ said Colbeck. ‘Supposing she was dead, they were looking for her body and I don’t believe it’s there. Working on the same supposition, we’ll be trying to locate the spot at which she was intercepted. There may be signs of a struggle, small clues that others may have missed. If she was such a keen walker, Mrs Tarleton must have been a robust woman. She’d have had the strength to resist any attack.’
‘Yet you say that the body will not be there.’
‘No, Victor, it could be miles away. The killer would know in advance where the search would take place. To cover his tracks, I suspect that he took the body well away from the area.’
‘Then it could be anywhere in the North Riding,’ said Leeming in despair. ‘It would take us years to search an area of this size.’
‘I’m hoping that we may not have to do it entirely on our own,’ said Colbeck. ‘This is walking country. People are out and about all the time. It was broad daylight on the day she went missing. If she is indeed dead, whoever murdered her wouldn’t have taken the chance of digging a proper grave. He’d have concealed the body as quickly as he could then got away from there fast. My guess is that Miriam Tarleton probably was killed and that she’s waiting to be found,’ he concluded. ‘Sooner or later, someone is going to stumble on her remains.’
When they left the farm, their hearts were beating fast. They couldn’t believe their boldness in sneaking out in the middle of the night. Hand in hand, they ran through the darkness until they felt it was safe enough to laugh aloud. The girl was a milkmaid and her swain was a labourer. All that they’d done so far was to exchange warm smiles and meaningful glances. Yet a bond had gradually developed. When the friendship evolved gently into a form of romance, they both yearned to be together and this was their moment.
As their eyes eventually became accustomed to the gloom, he stopped to kiss her for the first time. Stirred by passion, they laughed gleefully and ran on until they skirted the woods. He led the way, looking for a grassy spot where they could lie beside each other. They went into the trees until they came to a suitable place. When they sank down on the soft grass, it was too dark for them to notice the low mound of earth beside them. The time alone together for which they’d both longed had at last come and they relished it. He rolled her onto her back and began to caress her body but she suddenly stiffened in fear. Something protruding from the mound had just brushed against her face. It was a human hand.
Her scream was heard a mile away.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Word of mouth travelled swiftly. Almost everyone in the North Riding seemed to know that detectives from Scotland Yard had arrived. Wilf Moxey, the young farm labourer, had caught wind of the news in the local pub. There was a dead body in the wood. The detectives had to be told. His first task, however, was to comfort his sweetheart, Lorna Begg, who was close to hysterics after the discovery. As he walked her back to the farm with his arm around her shoulders, he could feel her shivering with fear. They agreed that they’d say nothing about their nocturnal tryst. It would not only preserve the secrecy of their love, it would save Lorna from having to recount the heart-stopping moment when she was touched by a corpse.
They parted near the farm with a kiss. Lorna crept back to her loft above the stables, musing that she would have to be up in a couple of hours to milk the cows. Moxey, meanwhile, was running at a steady pace in the direction of South Otterington, downcast that his rendezvous with Lorna had been such a disaster and hoping that it was not a bad omen. When he finally reached the Black Bull, he was lathered with sweat and panting for breath.
‘Where exactly did you find it?’ asked Colbeck.
‘In the wood, sir,’ said Moxey, ‘just beyond Thornton.’
‘Would that be Thornton-le-Moor?’
‘No, sir – Thornton-le-Beans. I work on a farm nearby.’
‘And did you see if the corpse was that of a female?’
‘I daren’t look that close, sir. It gave me such a shock.’
Colbeck didn’t mind in the least being roused from his slumbers and he thanked Moxey for coming to alert him. Leeming was less happy about being dragged away from dreams of his wife and family. By the time he clambered onto the cart hired from the blacksmith, the sergeant was still not fully awake. Colbeck drove with Moxey beside him. Leeming sat disconsolately behind them on some sacks. Colbeck questioned the labourer gently.
‘What were you doing out at that time of night?’ he wondered.
‘I went for a walk, sir.’
‘And were you alone?’
‘Oh, yes,’ replied Moxey, hurriedly. ‘I was looking for rabbits. I’d set a few snares some nights ago. That’s the only time I get to slip away from the farm, sir.’
Colbeck knew that he was lying but that didn’t concern him. He had no wish to pry into the other’s private life. All that mattered was that a body had been found and that it was possibly that of Miriam Tarleton. Moxey was nervous, intimidated by someone as important as a detective inspector from London and terrified that he might somehow be under suspicion. He was already regretting his decision to run to the Black Bull. Sensing his unease, Colbeck spent the journey trying to make him relax.