Free Blood on the Line by Edward Marston Page A

widow before too long. I hope that doesn’t happen to Maddy.’
    ‘There’s little chance of that.’
    ‘The inspector spends all his time chasing desperate criminals. It only takes one of them to fire a gun or pull a knife on him and you’ll be attending the funeral of your son-in-law.’
    ‘That’s arrant nonsense!’
    Andrews’s vehement denial masked his deep anxiety. His fireman was only airing concerns that the driver had raised with Madeleine on a number of occasions. Loving his daughter and wanting her future happiness, he was troubled by the nagging fear that Colbeck might one day lose his life in pursuit of a suspect. Madeleine had dismissed the suggestion but it remained a source of deep unease to her father. It was why he kept urging her to set a date for their wedding. If Colbeck’s career in Scotland Yard was indeed to be foreshortened by disaster, Andrews wanted his daughter to have as full a taste of married bliss as possible. After years of waiting, she deserved that.
     
    It was late evening when she heard the footsteps on the pavement outside. They did not belong to her father and, in any case, Madeleine did not expect him back until he’d repaired to the pub he routinely frequented at the end of the day. Thinking that the pedestrian would walk past the house, she was surprised when there was a knock on the door. It made her rise from the chair and cross to the window. The moment she looked out, she emitted a cry of joy and ran to open the door. Colbeck was waiting to enfold her in his arms and kiss her.
    ‘What a lovely surprise!’ she exclaimed. ‘The only time I know that it’s you is when I hear a cab drawing up outside the house.’
    ‘I made the driver stop at the end of the street this time,’ he said, ‘so that I could catch you unawares.’ He lookedover her shoulder into the house. ‘Am I to be allowed in, Madeleine?’
    ‘Of course – nobody is more welcome.’
    Ushering him into the house, she closed the door behind them before surrendering to another embrace. Only when they parted did he take off his hat and set it aside. He glanced at her easel.
    ‘Is there anything for me to see?’ he asked.
    ‘Not until it’s finished, Robert.’
    He pointed a finger. ‘Can’t I just take a peek?’
    ‘No,’ she said, administering a playful pat on his hand. ‘You must behave yourself. An artist must not be hurried into displaying her work until she feels that it’s ready.’
    He smiled. ‘I’m glad to see that you consider yourself to be an artist now. When I first urged you to be more ambitious, you claimed that you were nothing more than a painter with moderate talent.’
    ‘My attitude changed when I first sold something.’
    ‘I knew that it would,’ he said, kissing her cheek. ‘But I can’t tarry, I’m afraid. This is only a flying visit on my way to Scotland Yard. I have to report to the superintendent.’
    She glanced at the clock on the mantelpiece. ‘Will Mr Tallis be working this late?’
    ‘He’s at his desk until midnight sometimes, Madeleine. Nobody can accuse him of being lazy. He’ll sit there until I turn up and tell him what happened in Manchester.’
    ‘Is that where you went looking for Jeremy Oxley?’
    He raised an eyebrow. ‘You know about the case, do you?’
    ‘I know more than you think,’ she replied. ‘Bycoincidence, my father was driving the train when the prisoner escaped. Be warned, Robert. He thinks that entitles him to join in the investigation.’
    ‘He always did fancy that he had the makings of a detective.’
    She was firm. ‘One detective is enough in any family.’
    Colbeck gave her an abbreviated account of his visits to Wolverhampton, Birmingham and Manchester. He did not simply do so out of courtesy. To begin with, he knew that he could trust her to keep all the information to herself. But there was another reason why he liked to keep her abreast of his movements. Madeleine had been able to offer practical help in some