On Track for Murder Page 13

  As the ropes finally fell loose, Dunning gazed up at Abigail. His dark blue eyes held the promise of mystery, deep and knowing. The goosebumps that ran across Abigail’s arms and legs could have been from the shock of release, or maybe the look triggered something inside her. “Oh, Constable Ridley,” she cried as she surged forward and hugged him tightly. “How can I ever repay you?”

  “No payment is necessary, Miss Abigail. Now, are you able to stand?”

  Abigail grasped Dunning’s outstretched arm and pulled herself to her knees. The tingling of pins-and-needles coursed through her legs. She paused. “Could I have a moment?”

  “Of course. Anything.” He held her arm for stability, or was it for comfort?

  Abigail pulled a deep lung-full of air and blew it out noisily before struggling further to her feet. “Constable Dunning … Ridley, I have so much I need to tell you.”

  “Calm down. I understand from the sergeant at the station house that you came in with a badly injured man.”

  “That was Prentice Sleath. He was set upon by that sailor, Stanley Larkin.”

  “Larkin is here in Albany?”

  Abigail paused. How much should she tell this policeman? Could she trust him not to dismiss her as a felon for stealing the engine? Would the distress of Larkin’s threats prove to be sufficient cause? She turned and looked him straight in the eye. “Constable Dunning. Do you believe my assertion that Bertie is innocent?”

  “Well, having heard what is going on, I do believe it likely. I couldn’t swear to that effect but I know we have more investigating to do.”

  “I went to see a solicitor. Father’s solicitor, here in Albany.”

  “That’s a good idea. Did he say anything useful?”

  “He said I should trust you. That you were here to help me uncover the truth.”

  “Miss Abigail. Uncovering the truth is my sole desire.”

  Abigail’s eyes began to well up once again. She blinked several times but couldn’t avoid the cascade running across her cheeks. She reached into her pocket for the loaned handkerchief. It wasn’t there. More of a shock was that the crumpled note she had nursed from Perth was also missing. Her concern was immediately obvious.

  “Are you all right?” Dunning picked up the angst straight away.

  “Um, it’s the document we found. You know, the one from Father’s desk. I had it with me in my pocket. I know it was there because I checked when I left the solicitor’s office. Now it’s gone.”

  “Gone. You mean whoever did this to you took the document as well?”

  “It would seem so.”

  “Did you see who it was?” Dunning, without thinking, pulled out his notebook and licked the end of his pencil.

  “No, I didn’t. Sleath came in first and I followed. It was dark when we entered. Before my eyes adjusted to the light something hit me and I passed out. When I came around I was tied up as you found me. I thought Sleath was here too.”

  “Let’s have a look around.” Dunning kept his notebook out as he began to scan the area. “We may find some clues as to who did this.”

  Constable Ridley Dunning wandered towards the front doors. A light push was all it took to open a crack sufficient for the sunlight to stream in. Abigail recovered her shoes and her rather dishevelled hat. Having taken stock of everything she could while restrained, she moved around to the other side of the cart. She purposefully knelt down where she had assumed Sleath to be, vainly hoping Dunning may have missed his presence in the darkness. The space was empty.

  “There’s no-one here but us,” Dunning said, as he assisted Abigail back to her feet. “But there are a number of quite interesting items we should take stock of. Like this for instance.” He leaned over to read the labels on the travel trunks. “SS Peary. I believe these are the stolen goods I heard about. A cart load of trunks bound for the steam ship that is held up in dock.”

  “This one.” Abigail stood on the tips of her toes to read the name. “This one belongs to Frances. See, ‘Frances Sergeant’. These are definitely the trunks that were stolen.”

  “What are they doing here, I wonder?” Dunning scribbled madly in his book. When he had finished he stood, staring up at the roof and grumbling under his breath.

  “Is something the matter?” Abigail’s genuine concern brought him quickly back to the scene at hand.

  “The men who tied you up. They will have taken these trunks for a reason. It is my guess they will not want to leave you alone for long. They will return, probably before sunset. We must move quickly.” He spun around, looking for something.

  “What are you looking for?”

  “Another trolly of some sort. Something we can move these trunks with.”

  “Why move them?”

  “Well. If we just go off to fetch the sergeant and the thieves return, they will know you have escaped. My guess is that they would abscond with the evidence quicker than you could say, ‘hands up’. If we can move this lot away from here they wouldn’t know what to do. They would probably try to run, but we would have the evidence.”

  Abigail scanned the shed interior. There was nothing of any use. “Let’s just pull them outside one at a time. Are they heavy?”

  Dunning pulled on the trunk at the top. It gave easily. “Well, this one’s not too heavy. Quickly, help me get it down.” The pair pulled the trunk from the cart. Dunning found, with some effort, he could carry it on his own. “It feels as if there is still room inside. I can’t normally lift a full trunk on my own.” He staggered down to the rear of the shed. “Could you open the door for me? This is heavy.”

  Abigail pushed it open and peered out, blinking in the sunlight. Stepping gingerly through she scanned the area. Establishing there was definitely no guard, she smiled. “It’s clear. You can come out. Where do we put them?” She looked around. The hill rose almost directly from the back door. A track snaked its way up the slope, disappearing into thick bush from the first bend. To one side a small pile of dirt, probably left over from the building of the shed, lay overgrown and forgotten. “Over there, behind that mound. Under that group of bushes. Would that do? It’s off the track and not easily seen from the door here.”

  “Perfect.” Dunning struggled over to the site, dropping the trunk before returning to the shed door, breathing heavily. “Let’s get the next one.”

  It took Abigail a moment for her eyes to reacquaint themselves with the dim interior. Following closely, Dunning bumped into her just inside the door. “I am so terribly sorry,” he said.

  “Think nothing of it.” Abigail smiled. The return look warmed her heart. Feeling a flush rising to her face, Abigail turned away. Her heart fluttered as she feigned a cough. What is it about this policeman that does this to me? Moving to the side, she allowed Dunning to cross to the broken cart for the next trunk.

  He reached up and pulled. Nothing happened. “This one is considerably heavier than the other,” he said, leaning against the cart, panting.

  Abigail couldn’t help thinking that if Sleath were here he would be able to move the luggage with ease. She stared at the ground, imagining the fate that may have befallen her hero since they arrived at the shed. Her thoughts ran from scenarios of blood stained beatings, to forced labour for some kind of robbery, through to being murdered and dumped in the bay. Surely he would be strong enough to withstand any punishment that may be meted out to him.

  “I need a moment to gather my strength,” Dunning said. “Tell me, Miss Abigail. Why was it that you and Mr Sleath came down to this boat shed?”

  “Well, he said it was urgent.” She crossed to the cart. “He said that Larkin was here in Albany and looking for me. He said that I should follow him.” As she spoke, Abigail sensed that her explanation lacked sensibility. “So, constable. How did you know to come down here looking for me?”

  “I didn’t. Not at first.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “Well, I had just taken a room at the Chusan Inn and went out onto the b
alcony to admire the view. I saw you in the distance, stepping off the street and down that narrow track. I thought it a bit odd but considered you knew of a shortcut down to the water’s edge.”

  “You didn’t follow?”

  “No. Once I saw you were unharmed, I decided to go to the police station and inform them of my presence. I needed to catch up, see if they had received word from my inspector.”

  “Didn’t you wonder what had happened?”

  “I had thought your disappearance had something to do with the missing locomotive. I had assumed you were abducted by the thieves. It was a frustrating time.” He blinked twice in quick succession. “I was beside myself with worry. It took an age for the railway to secure us another locomotive for the continuation of the journey.”

  Abigail felt another blush filling in and tried to lower her gaze in an attempt to hide it. “So, when you saw me here?”

  “When I saw you I wanted to chase after you. But you appeared to be trying to avoid contact so I assumed you wanted to be alone. I began to question my thoughts on what happened at the Beverley train stop. I decided the police station was the best place to become acquainted with any goings-on.”

  “Have they found the locomotive?”

  “Indeed they have.”

  “What did they say about it?”

  “That it was in fine condition. That it must have been driven by a crew who knew what they were doing. They are looking for experienced engine drivers who’ve recently arrived in town. They have a couple lined up for questioning.”

  “I hope they don’t accuse anyone unfairly.”

  “Well, when we get clear of here I will take you over there and you can provide a description of your abductors.”

  “That may be a bit difficult.” Abigail sheepishly gazed at the ground.

  “Why do you say that? Didn’t you see who it was?”

  “Yes. I know exactly who it was.”

  “Would you care to enlighten me?”

  “Well, it’s quite difficult really.” Abigail scuffed the ground with her foot. “You see, while I was in Beverley I came across Sleath, tied up and badly bloodied.”

  “In Beverley? I thought that happened here?”

  “It was in Beverley. So … I helped him to the railway station where I managed to clean his wounds and bandage them up. But Larkin arrived, shouting about locating me and taking me hostage.”

  “I expect that was quite frightening?”

  “Extremely frightening. He said he was going to the inn where I was staying. That he would wait and abduct me. He said he would take me away before anyone else woke. I didn’t know what to do.”

  “That is awful. I can’t imaging how that would have felt.”

  “Well. It was Sleath’s idea.”

  “Sleath’s idea? What was Sleath’s idea?”

  Abigail scuffed more of the dirt around. “Well, you see. The engine was sitting in the station.”

  “Yes?”

  “And—” A noise broke the tension. It came first as relief but quickly turned to fear. “What was that?”

  “Shhh.” Dunning held his finger to his lips. “Someone is coming.”

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Light flooded in as the front doors were flung open. The brief moment of blindness drove Abigail to shade her eyes with an outstretched hand. It didn’t take long to see who had entered. It was Prentice Sleath.

  Sleath stood in the doorway, his legs apart, hands on his hips. “You … how did you get free?” His voice resounded with anger. “What is going on? Why are you still here if you managed to untie yourself?”

  Abigail noticed for the first time that Dunning had ducked down behind the cart. She stood tall and addressed Sleath. “So, Prentice Sleath. It was you who tied me up, was it? Why? What have I ever done to you, other than help you?”

  “You’re here aren’t you. I’m told you will discover the truth if you’re allowed to remain at large. I’m sorry, Abigail, but I am going to have to restrain you once again.” His familiarity went unheeded as he moved forward, his strong arms outstretched to grab Abigail.

  As Sleath neared, Dunning popped up from behind the broken cart, quickly sliding around to stand next to Abigail. “Sir.” Dunning was going to use all his training here. “Now, calm down, sir. This needn’t play out in a bad way.”

  Sleath moved his look. “Abigail, what is this man doing here? Who is he?”

  Abigail shifted, her back striking the broken cart rather harder than she liked. “This is a policeman. Constable Dunning. Remember, I told you about him?” She was still trying to come to terms with Sleath’s change in personality.

  “The police. Great. This changes everything, you know that don’t you?” Sleath moved slowly towards the scared couple. In a flash he grabbed an iron bar from the ground and waved the weapon in Dunning’s direction. “You, over there.” He pointed towards the left wall. “Move.”

  “Prentice Sleath,” Dunning said. “I know you are scared and this is a situation that you are not familiar with, but I can assure you that if you put down the weapon now it will go well with you later.”

  Sleath stood, shaking. Abigail guessed he was well out of his depth and merely taking orders from some other person. There had to be an outside influence. Why else would he have changed so dramatically? She paused. This required a tender approach. His strength and fear combined could be lethal if she, or Dunning, said the wrong thing.

  Abigail stood away from the cart that had been digging into her back. “Prentice.” She forced a calm and melodious voice. “This isn’t you. This isn’t the Prentice I came to know. You are better than this. Please, put down the weapon and let’s talk this through. Nothing is worth you risking your life. Is it Larkin? Has he persuaded you to do this?”

  “It’s not Larkin,” blurted out Sleath. “Stop talking, Abigail. You don’t know.”

  “What don’t I know?” Abigail tried to hide her petrified shaking.

  “You don’t know anything about what is going on. You think it’s all just happened recently. That it was a spur of the moment thing. But you’re wrong. It’s been planned for ages.”

  “What are you talking about?” Abigail was now genuinely confused.

  “Look, Abigail …” Prentice pulled his spare hand to clutch his forehead as he walked quickly around in circles.

  The moment was too good for Dunning to pass up. He leapt forward, reaching for the iron bar as he ducked to avoid the resultant swing. Both men fell sideways, recovering simultaneously to rise to their feet and face each other. Sleath brandished the bar, swinging it around in front of himself. Dunning stood his ground, his hands held out ready to catch any over eager swipe.

  “Come on ‘Mr Perfect Constable’,” called Sleath, a sneer in his voice.

  “Now, calm down,” Dunning said. “This isn’t a wise move. Think about what you are doing.”

  “I have thought about it. I’ve thought long and hard about this. I’m not going to take the blame for anything. I don’t care what is said.”

  “What are you supposed to be taking the blame for?” Dunning was trying everything to calm the situation.

  Abigail watched on, shaking. Surely this wasn’t about the theft of the locomotive. She was equally responsible for that and it definitely wasn’t worth attacking a police constable over. Should she say something? Dunning didn’t yet know that it was her and Sleath who took the engine. To bring it out in such a situation may be enough of a shock to put Dunning off his guard and cause him to be injured. She would just sit quietly and look for an opportunity to assist, if she saw one.

  The men circled for what seemed like hours. Dunning continued to try to calm the situation but only succeeded in making Sleath more angry. As they came around for yet another circuit, with Sleath’s back turned, Abigail called out. “Prentice. There are more police. Behind you.”

  He spun wildly around, nostrils flaring like a frightened pony. Dunning leapt forward, grabbing the iron bar from his
grasp. Angered that he had been tricked, Sleath spun to face the policeman. This time there was no delay. He flung himself upon Dunning with all his might, both men falling to the floor and rolling around desperately. Dust flew into the air and began to make breathing difficult. They rolled close to the left hand wall. A rope strop of some kind hung loosely on a rusty nail. A pull from Sleath brought the whole affair down on top of the battling duo. This complicated things. Abigail saw, to her horror, that the rope was being pressed into service as a garrotte. Sleath held the upper hand over a choking Dunning. She looked around. A piece of wooden spoke from the broken cart wheel sat a short distance away. Abigail grabbed this and strode over to the fight. Angst hit her hard as she desperately toyed with her plan to strike Sleath. He had been so good to her up until now. How could she attack him?

  Sleath’s changed attitude was confirmed with a snarled curse at Dunning. Abigail was appalled and allowed a decision to firm in her mind. With one swift blow she swung the spoke at Sleath’s head. It hurt her hand as much as she felt it probably hurt Sleath. He merely shuddered, shook his head and turned to face her. His eyes bulged, red and wild. She had never seen such a look on anyone before. Fear coursed through her. Hefting the spoke up defensively, Abigail took a step back. Her action hadn’t overpowered him and now she was in danger. Looking past Sleath, she saw Dunning gather himself and step forward. The constable promptly swung a fist into Prentice’s face and quickly followed with another. Abigail saw a second chance and swung the wooden spoke at Sleath’s head. This time the blow seemed to have more of an affect. He swayed gently from side to side, his eyes taking on a rather glazed look. With her heart pounding and her body shaking, Abigail swung once more. This time the contact took Sleath on the side of the head, knocking him straight to the ground.