On Track for Murder Page 14
Abigail stood, panting like a frightened puppy. Tears flowed down her cheeks. She dropped the spoke and sunk to her knees, a safe position from which a faint would be less dangerous. A gentle hand on her shoulder calmed her nerves.
“Are you all right?” Dunning spoke through a smear of blood.
“I’m not hurt. How are you? You seem to be injured.” The shake in her voice betrayed her shock.
“It’s just a cut. Now, sit down and take a deep breath. You need a few moments to calm down.”
“Oh, I’m so glad you were here. He was completely different to the Prentice Sleath I knew. So out of character. I don’t know what had got into him.”
“He was certainly angry about something. Do you know what he was talking about, being blamed for something?”
Abigail took a deep breath. She’d rather not go into the details of the locomotive theft right now. Although she was sure there must be more to this outburst, it would be easier to confess to Dunning somewhere away from Prentice Sleath’s menacing presence. “May we go over everything when we are away from this place?” Abigail could barely see Dunning through the tearful blur.
“Of course. I don’t want to create any more stress for you.” He was being so sweet. “You just sit down while I tie this man up. I don’t want him regaining consciousness and attacking me again.”
Abigail leaned against the broken cart and stretched out her feet. The dust from the floor had caked her skirt so that it took on a dull brown colour. She realised that none of her freshly washed underwear, nor the protective pinafore that she had brought with her, had actually made it to Albany. Her luggage was probably travelling up and down the Perth to Albany railway track, or sitting in a back office at some remote railway station. Sadly, the garment she currently wore was the only clothing she had available. She gazed at her hands. Covered in dirt, they stung so badly there had to be cuts beneath the grime. Looking further down her shoes had become severely scuffed at the toes, leaving the left one with a rip in the leather. She could only imagine what she looked like as a whole.
Further tears began to well up, but Abigail felt she had become so numb to the bizarre events going on in her life that crying offered little relief. She needed to talk. Her eyes cleared. She stared at Dunning as he completed tying the restraints. He was her saviour. He had travelled with her to help find answers, had continued the journey despite her going missing and had now rescued her from the turncoat Prentice Sleath. Such commitment to her cause stirred strong feelings of gratitude; yet there was something else, something she couldn’t explain.
Satisfied with the results of his rope work, Dunning strode over to Abigail and knelt beside her. “Now, Miss Abigail. What shall we do with you? I should probably fetch some water to clean off the cuts on your hands—”
“No. Please, don’t leave me.” Abigail’s eyes grew as the panic rose. “I can’t be alone here. Not in this place.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“You didn’t upset me. I just cannot be alone here, especially with Sleath. What if he wakes?”
“He surely will, and soon I hope.” Dunning glanced around the room. “There’s little I can do until then. If you wish me to stay here, we will need to wait until Sleath revives before marching him up to the police station.”
“I will help.” Abigail’s eagerness was mostly concerned with keeping Dunning around.
Dunning slid off his knees and sat on the dusty floor, leaning against the cart beside Abigail. “So, Miss Abigail. What are we going to do to find your father’s killer?”
“Well …” Abigail shifted, scuffing dirt across Dunning’s boot. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”
“It’s no bother. Look, we have the time. Please, if you have made any discoveries or have found any new avenues to search, do let me know. I am here to help, you know.”
Abigail faced Dunning. “I … I don’t know where to begin. It all seems unrelated and confusing.”
Dunning reached for his pencil. “You asked me to trust you. Now I am asking you to trust me. I’m not about to arrest you.”
“Do you promise?”
“Why would I need to promise that?”
“Do you promise not to arrest me?”
“If you’re honest with me, I promise I will not arrest you … unless you confess to your father’s murder.”
“Heavens no. Nothing like that.” Abigail realised that in her silence, the possibilities were growing in size. “I … I didn’t get kidnapped in Beverley. When Larkin came after us and began threatening to kidnap me, Sleath here suggested that we take the locomotive and escape. At the time, with Larkin prowling around searching for me, it seemed like a fair means of escape.”
“You mean to tell me that you drove the engine down here?”
“That is precisely what I am telling you.”
“But how …?”
“Father had taught me how to drive an engine. I actually drove a new one on a test run back in England. Sleath learned all about it at dinner. That is how he knew I could do it. That is why he suggested it.”
Dunning turned and looked Abigail up and down as though he were seeing her for the first time. She wasn’t sure whether to feel proud or remorseful. As his deep blue eyes searched her face, she felt a rising blush. She turned, hoping to hide the reddening display.
Dunning spoke, a sense of admiration in his tone. “Well, Miss Abigail Sergeant. You certainly are a unique woman.” He smiled. “I would never have imagined any woman would even want to learn to drive a railway engine. To actually do it is very impressive indeed.”
“You’re not upset?” Abigail was taken aback at his response.
“Why would I be upset? I think it marvellous that you displayed such initiative. The force could use a woman like you in its ranks.”
This was truly unexpected. It took Abigail several moments to accept this discussion was taking place. She considered pinching herself to ensure she wasn’t dreaming but the pain coursing through her hand offered all the confirmation she required. “So, Constable Ridley Dunning,” She turned to face him once again. “You don’t think I am an awful woman for engaging in such a heist?”
“I do not. You considered your life at risk, did you not?”
“I did. I very much did. I was so scared.”
“Then you acted in an appropriate manner.” He smiled and once again his gaze melted her heart. “I’m so impressed that you are able to do that. I couldn’t drive an engine if my life depended on it.”
“I’m sure you could if someone showed you what to do.”
Dunning paused, still gazing into Abigail’s eyes. “Maybe you could show me one day?”
Abigail was now completely taken aback. Did Ridley Dunning see something in her that gave him cause to want to become better acquainted? A flush of self consciousness raced through her. What must I look like? What must he think of me?
The feeling fled rapidly as Dunning spoke again. “Please, Miss Sergeant. I must apologise for my forwardness. It was most inappropriate given the circumstances.”
“No. No, it wasn’t. I’m flattered. I …” Abigail lost her train of thought as visions of herself walking arm in arm with Dunning flashed through her mind. It made her smile. She had originally seen him as weak, not fitting the muscular ideal of a good husband that Abigail had formed in her head. She looked down at Sleath, bloodied and comatose. If that was the way physically strong men acted, then she would rather leave them alone. A realisation came to her. She was very much enjoying the thought provoking discussions over any displays of physical prowess. Maybe Dunning would make a good husband? She looked up to find him gazing quizzically at her.
“Sorry, you were saying?” he said.
She blushed yet again. “Oh, I do apologise. I was saying that I would be delighted to show you how to drive a locomotive, if we are ever availed of the opportunity. It may be a little difficult, what with the railway not recognising women as suitable.”
Abigail ran through the events of the previous day in her mind. “I told you I saw Father’s solicitor?”
“Yes, you did.”
“Did I tell you I visited Frances?”
“I don’t believe you mentioned that.”
“Well, Frances is staying at the Chusan Inn; in the room next to mine, actually. I went in to see her but she was most unhelpful. She said she didn’t know about Father’s death, but seemed oddly unmoved by the news. She told me that she had been involved in an affair with Prentice Sleath here. That she had recruited him to assist her escape from Father and board a ship bound for New Zealand.”
“Very interesting.” He reached for his notepad. “Did she mention whether they left together, on the train the day Albert was murdered?”
“No, she didn’t.”
This was duly noted. “So, Sleath here may have travelled down the following day?”
“It’s possible. We should ask him when he wakes.”
“Miss Abigail. One thing I have learned through all of my time in the police force, is that criminals tell lies, when it suits.”
She smiled. “I suppose that makes sense. How do you ever uncover the culprit then?”
“Well, in my role I don’t have much to do with detective work, but it fascinates me. As I told you before, in my spare time I studied the greats, trying to obtain the necessary skills to move into that area of police work.”
“It sounds so intriguing.”
“It is. What you have to do is gather all the testimonies, then look for any anomalies. Things such as times that don’t tally, or sightings that could never have been made.”
“Which is why you ask about Sleath’s travel times?”
“Correct.”
Abigail allowed her tense muscles to relax. The discussion put her at ease. She could definitely see herself forming a lasting relationship with this man.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Prentice Sleath stirred. Abigail and Dunning’s conversation abruptly halted as the pair gazed down at the sorry sight. His hands were tied firmly behind him with a rope running back to a large hook on the wall. Dunning had left Sleath’s feet free to allow him to walk back to the station house. Sleath squirmed as he woke. Slowly, the realisation of his situation dawned on him. He kicked out sending dust flying. In the obscurity of the dust cloud, Sleath pushed himself back to the wall and deftly rolled to his knees. From there he rose to his feet.
Dunning barely raised an eyebrow as he watched, intrigued. Abigail wasn’t sure what to expect but felt safe in her position behind the calm policeman. Before either had the chance to comment, Sleath took off at great pace. His body swung from side to side as he put all of his energy into the escape attempt. Abigail watched with interest as the rope connecting him to the wall dragged along the floor. It remained loose for a short distance, then, reaching its limit, pulled tight. Sleath’s arms lurched back, his untethered feet continuing unabated until being swung upwards by the now revolving body. Sleath gasped as he fell flat on his back.
Abigail watched this effort with no concern. She could see exactly what was going to happen. When it did, the display caught her off guard. She laughed. Not since sitting under the large tent of the travelling circus had she seen anything so comic. The earnestness involved only served to add to the humour. She laughed so hard that tears began to flow. More tears. As she glanced at Dunning she saw him doubled over with laughter, clutching his stomach and barely able to breath. This caused Abigail to laugh even harder, the release of tension making her insides ache. Slowly the mirth abated, leaving the pair panting in sheer exhaustion.
Sleath moaned loudly. Having not moved from his heaped landing spot he looked like a dropped mannequin. Abigail wondered whether his arm might be broken. The continued moaning did nothing to alleviate that fear.
Dunning pulled himself to his feet. “I didn’t expect him to run with quite so much vigour.”
Abigail looked at Sleath with genuine concern. “I think he may be hurt.”
“His arm doesn’t look broken but he may have dislocated his shoulder.” Dunning rubbed his own shoulder to illustrate his point.
“That’s awful,” Abigail said, shuffling to her feet.
“It will hurt.” Dunning’s eyebrows lifted. “Stop him running again, though. He won’t offer any further resistance when we haul him up to the police station.”
“He will be all right? I wouldn’t want to be responsible for any real damage.” Abigail tucked in behind Dunning and peered out at the heaped prisoner.
“I’m sure he will be fine. It’s odd really. I can’t see what it is he is so afraid of. What could have driven him to attempt such a desperate course of action?”
Abigail began to relax. “I thought it was the theft of the train.”
“I don’t think so. Look at his eyes. He’s scared. Scared of something … or someone.”
“Do you think Larkin managed to get to him?”
“It could be.” Dunning walked slowly over to the heaped Prentice. “So, Mr Sleath. What is it that drives you to such antagonistic behaviour?”
Sleath moaned and struggled to his knees before replying. “I can’t say.”
“What can’t you say, Mr Sleath? Who put you up to this?”
“I can’t say. I will be killed if I say.”
“You are in police custody now, Mr Sleath. Nobody is going to be able to reach you to do harm.”
Sleath’s rough reddened eyes bulged. “That’s the problem. I will be blamed.”
“Blamed for what.”
“I can’t say.”
Dunning knelt beside him. “Are you worried about the railway engine? I can assure you any judge will consider favourably the mitigating circumstances.”
“It has nothing to do with the train. I wish …”
“You wish what, Mr Sleath?”
Sleath cowered. “I can’t say.”
Dunning rose and turned to Abigail. “This is getting us nowhere. I think we should move him up to the station house and let the sergeant have at him.”
Abigail smiled. “It will be nice to get out of this boat shed. I’m not fond of these surroundings.”
Dunning strode over to the hook on the wall and began untying the rope. With a flick he quickly wrapped the loose end around his middle and tied it off. “He won’t be going anywhere without me in tow,” he said, reaching down to pick up the iron bar that Sleath had previously discarded.
Abigail winced at the move. “Is that necessary?”
“Evidence,” he said, slipping the bar into his tunic. “The threat doesn’t hurt either.” Dunning grabbed up the rest of the rope and wrapped it around his arm.
“Which way shall we go?” asked Abigail. “The front way along the waterfront seems easier.”
“I agree.” Dunning pulled Sleath to his feet, wrapping an arm around his middle. “Don’t want to inflict more pain than necessary,” he said.
Sleath was allowed a moment to compose himself before the trio moved across to the large double doors at the front of the building. Dunning leaned on the wooden door and shoved it open.
“Not so fast you lot.” The voice came from outside. Abigail paused beside the large door, blinking in the sunlight. Something wasn’t right. Dunning had stopped in his tracks, Sleath crying in pain as the rope pulled up tight. Abigail peered into the light, her eyes slowly growing accustomed to the brightness.
Three shadowy figures stood between them and the fisherman’s cottage. The largest, by far, stood in the centre. Something long and cylindrical was being held out in front and waved indiscriminately at the trio. Abigail squinted, staring past Dunning to the increasingly familiar figure befo
re them. Her heart sank as the realisation hit her like a thrown brick. It was Stanley Larkin.
“Stand aside,” called Dunning, his voice commanding. “I’m a police officer and this is police business.”
“A police officer eh?” came the all too familiar tone of Larkin’s smarmy voice. “I don’t see why we should step aside for a mere constable and his little girlfriend.” He laughed as he waved the metallic tube towards Abigail. “This is rather fortuitous actually. It just so happens I have been searching for this woman all the way from Perth. And now you have found her for me. I must offer my thanks, constable.”
“Don’t be daft, man. This is no solution.” Dunning pulled back the rope causing Sleath to fall to the ground. The policeman now stood directly in front of Larkin.
Abigail stared in horror as Larkin moved up. The tube was a gun; a shotgun if she saw correctly. It was now levelled directly at Dunning’s head.
“Now, what are we going to do with you?” Larkin said. “I was hoping for just the girl.” He then turned to Sleath. “And if I am not mistaken, we have Mr Prentice Sleath here as well. Isn’t this cosy?”
“Put the gun down, man.” Dunning called. “It’s not worth the risk. Kidnapping and threatening with a firearm are serious offences. Think about what you are doing.” He then looked at the other two men, standing immediately behind Larkin. “And you two. You don’t want to spend years in gaol over something like this.”
“They’ll do as they are told,” Larkin barked back. “As will you now I have you under my control.”
Abigail began to cry loudly, “Why, why are you doing this? It isn’t fair.”
“Life isn’t fair, darling.” He oozed contempt. “If life were fair you wouldn’t have soured my name with the workshop foreman. If life were fair I would be working on the railway now and earning a good living.”
“I … I didn’t know you were seeking work with the railway.” Abigail could barely hold a sentence through the tears.