The Silver Locomotive Mystery by Edward Marston Page A

interest. Carys Evans was a striking woman in her late twenties with pale, elfin features offset by dark hair that hung in ringlets. She wore a shade of green that exactly matched her eyes and had a large silver brooch in the shape of a dragon on her bodice. Hers was a natural, unforced beauty that relied on none of the cosmetics used so artfully by Kate Linnane. Carys was relaxed and self-possessed. What gave even more appeal to Colbeck was the lilt of her voice with its soft, melodic cadences.
    ‘You’ve come to talk about the murder, I presume?’ she said. ‘Not that I can help you in any way, I fear. I read the report in this morning’s paper and was horrified. I also felt sorry for Winifred Tomkins. I know how eager she was to have her coffee pot.’
    ‘Mrs Tomkins is not the only person with a fondness for silver,’ he remarked, noting the ornaments in various parts of the room. ‘You have your own collection.’
    ‘It’s my only indulgence, Inspector.’
    ‘The one thing I don’t see is a coffee pot.’
    ‘It’s kept in the kitchen,’ she explained, ‘and, before you ask me, it is not in the shape of a steam engine. I like to think my taste is more refined. A coffee pot is for pouring coffee and a locomotive is for pulling a train. They are incompatible.’
    ‘Not according to Miss Kate Linnane,’ he said. ‘She’s appearing as Lady Macbeth at the Theatre Royal this week.’
    ‘I know – I’m going to watch the first performance this evening as the guest of the mayor. Miss Linnane is a wonderful actress, by all accounts. How does she come to have an opinion on coffee pot locomotives?’
    ‘She and Mr Buckmaster travelled from London with the young man on his way to deliver the item to Mrs Tomkins. He showed them the silver coffee pot and both have described it to me as a work of art.’
    ‘Works of art are for display,’ she argued, ‘not for functional use. I could never drink coffee that was poured out of the funnel of a locomotive. The very notion would make me cringe. Lady Pryde had the same reaction as I did.’
    ‘I thought she and Mrs Tomkins were not on speaking terms.’
    She was impressed. ‘You’ve picked up the local gossip very quickly, Inspector.’
    ‘How long has this situation been going on?’
    ‘You’ll have to ask the ladies concerned. When I was in their company a fortnight ago, they seemed to be on good terms.’
    ‘Is the rift between the two wives or the two husbands?’
    ‘I don’t see that it matters either way,’ she said, evenly, ‘and it certainly has no bearing on the crime you are investigating. One thing I can assure you is that Lady Pryde was not responsible for the theft of that coffee pot. When she first saw the sketch of it, she laughed. That really hurt Winifred. Lady Pryde thought the coffee pot absurd.’
    ‘And so did you, by the sound of it, Miss Evans.’
    ‘I thought it far too large. Imagine how much coffee it would hold – enough to serve a dozen people or more. It belongs in a hotel and not in a private house.’
    ‘Mrs Tomkins wanted it to commemorate her father.’
    ‘I can think of more fitting memorials.’
    ‘She had a keen interest in railways.’
    Carys was amused. ‘I have a keen interest in racing, Inspector,’ she riposted, ‘but that doesn’t mean I’d commission a silver coffee pot in the shape of a thoroughbred stallion. It might provide a talking point for my guests but that would be its only virtue. Do not mistake me,’ she added, seriously, ‘I respect the right of Winifred Tomkins – or anyone else for that matter – to follow their own inclination, and I hope you can retrieve the coffee pot for her so that she can enjoy it to the full.’
    ‘Were you aware that it was being delivered yesterday?’
    ‘Yes, Inspector, but I was only one of a number of ladies. Some of them were expecting to be drinking coffee out of it this morning.’
    ‘I don’t follow, Miss Evans.’
    ‘Winifred Tomkins wanted to put