Page 37 of Murder on the Brighton Express
“No. But someone did pass our compartment, as it happens. Another man, also rather ugly but in his case, it was because of his flat nose. There was a mean look about him, too. I didn’t like him.” She made a face. “I’m not sure which compartment he came from.”
“Did anyone else pass yours?” I asked.
“Just him.”
That matched with what Beecroft had claimed. Of course, if someone had ducked low, Geraldine wouldn’t have seen them.
“Thank you for your time,” I said, rising. “As for the gossip columnists, if they print that you were in Brighton, it’s not because of us. We don’t share our findings with journalists.”
She lifted one shoulder, unconcerned. “Be sure to purchase a ticket for the production. It’ll be spectacular.”
We saw ourselves out and waited until we were away from the theater before discussing the interview.
“We need to find that thug with the flat nose,” Harry said.
“He does seem guilty. Did you also notice her accent change? Beecroft’s did, too. I think they both had humble origins. The question is, is there something from their pasts they want to hide?”
“You think Ruth found out something scandalous and they killed her to keep her quiet?”
“It’s possible. I don’t want to rule anything out yet.” I glanced at the clock above the theatrical wigmaker’s shop. It was five minutes past eleven.
“Where to now?” Harry asked.
“Victoria Station. The express from Brighton will arrive soon. Hopefully the same conductor as last Thursday is working.”
According to the stationmaster,the same conductor was indeed working on the morning express from Brighton. We’d arrived a few minutes before it was due, and I would have liked to ask the stationmaster some questions, but he was too busy to chat. The platform was thick with passengers waiting to catch the next train, many making last-minute purchases of newspapers or sweets. Porters and other staff dressed in smart uniforms sporting the London, Brighton and South Coast Railway company’s badge on their caps were just as busy, so we could do nothing but wait.
The train’s arrival was announced by the staff moments before the locomotive appeared. It chugged to a stop in a cloud of steam. Harry and I rushed to the first-class carriage, determined to have the maximum time to speak to the conductor before the train departed.
The bearded fellow was indeed the same conductor working on that fateful journey. I introduced myself as one of the passengers that day and introduced Harry as a fellow private investigator.
“We’re making inquiries into the death of another passenger whose body was found at the Ouse Valley Viaduct. Do you know about it?”
“’Course I do! It was the talk of the railways when they found her. Sad business.”
“Her connections would like us to tie up some loose ends. Can we ask you some questions, Mr…?”
“West. Jack West. Aye, you can ask. I remember you, Miss Fox.” He removed a battered cigarette tin and matchbox from his pocket. “You asked me about the woman from the first compartment when we arrived here at Victoria. I should have been more concerned then, when she didn’t get off, but I just thought she’d moved to the next carriage when I wasn’t looking. If I’d listened to you…” He shook his head. “I feel real bad about it.”
“You couldn’t have done anything by then. It was much too late. Tell us what you recall of Ruth Price.”
He lit his cigarette then shook out the match to extinguish it. After drawing in his first puff, he blew the smoke out of the side of his mouth. “Only that she sat in the closest compartment to the door here.”
“Did you hear any noises or voices coming from that compartment?” Harry asked.
“Nothing.
“Do you recall any other passengers from that journey aside from Miss Fox?”
“Aye. Let’s see now.” He scratched his beard with the hand that held the cigarette. “I definitely remember that actor, Beecroft, and the actress. I can’t recall her name.”
“You recognized them from their posters?” I asked.
He shook his head. “I’m not interested in the theater. The stationmaster at Brighton pointed them out. He and his wife like to go to Beecroft’s shows whenever they get up to London. He was real excited to see them.” He shrugged. “But they stayed in their compartments the entire journey. I s’pose they could’ve moved about when I wasn’t looking.”
I glanced past him to the conductor’s seat at the front of the carriage. Unless he closed his eyes, it would be impossible to miss a passenger in the corridor. “What about anyone coming and going? Do you remember seeing passengers moving between compartments?”
“Aye.” He tapped the side of his head. “I’ve got a good memory for faces. There were three passengers that I saw, and they all went into that poor woman’s compartment. A young girl who didn’t want to be seen by the folk in the compartments between the one she occupied with her parents and the first compartment.”
