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Arrowood and the Meeting House Murders

Page 30

by Mick Finlay


  ‘Yeah,’ I murmured.

  She pushed herself up, her elbow digging into my side, and staggered across the room, more pickled than I thought she was. Picking up the flask, she took a few gulps straight from the bottle. A little fart escaped from her bum. ‘I think you got a mouse,’ she said with a laugh.

  ‘Does it feel different when you do it with me?’ I asked.

  ‘Different to who?’

  ‘Your punters.’

  ‘Oh, Lord, why’d you ask such questions? Did you ask Rita that sort of thing after you’d had a shove?’

  ‘She weren’t a judy, Moll.’

  ‘I ain’t a judy. What’s wrong with you, saying things like that after we’ve been so close?’

  ‘If I didn’t ask, I’d be thinking about it.’

  ‘’Course you’re different, Juggins,’ she said, finishing off the gin.

  ‘How?’ I asked.

  ‘Strewth, you don’t stop, do you? I don’t know how Rita put up with you.’ She got back into the bed and curled up aside me, her head on my shoulder, her arm over my belly. ‘I wish she was still alive, Norm. I miss her so.’

  I looked down the length of her back, at the ridges and knuckles of her spine to the crack where her bum started. I knew then that she was using me to get to Mrs B just as I was using her, and I didn’t want that. We couldn’t lead each other back to when we were happier.

  ‘Pull the blanket up,’ she murmured, and kissed me on the chest.

  I felt the cold draught creep through the broken panes of the windows, and knew that it was over between us.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  I met the guvnor outside Scotland Yard at ten the next morning. Delphine was already there, sitting in the reception area in her overcoat and gloves.

  ‘When’ll he be back?’ the guvnor asked the desk sergeant, the same wiry fellow with the upturned moustache who’d been there when his mate got the boot.

  ‘Couldn’t tell you.’ He blew his nose. ‘Don’t know where he is.’

  It was four hours before Napper arrived. Arrowood pushed himself to his feet and began explaining what we’d discovered on visiting the princess. Napper nodded.

  ‘I thought you said she was arriving this evening?’ he asked, his freckled nose already wrinkling.

  ‘She returned yesterday.’

  ‘You said this evening.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ asked the guvnor.

  ‘Of course I’m sure!’ roared the detective. Over his shoulder I could see the desk sarge wincing. ‘You misled me again, you damn scurf! Well, this time I’m going to charge you for obstructing my inquiry.’

  ‘You still need us, Napper.’

  ‘You’re wrong there, Arrowood.’

  ‘We’re about to discover the truth of the gold and what the hell Mabaso’s up to. We can do it, Napper. We’ll play Miss Druitt’s trick on Senzo and Thembeka again, this time using what we know from the princess and her people. Take us down to interview them.’

  Napper looked at Delphine. ‘No.’

  ‘Don’t be a damn fool. The blind’s working: each time we do it we learn something new. This is when we solve the case, Napper. When you solve the case. This is your chance for recognition. It’s been in every paper all week. Take us down to talk to them now and let’s get it over with.’

  ‘They aren’t here,’ said the detective, glancing back at the desk sarge. He swallowed, stepping over to the stairs.

  ‘Aren’t here?’ said the guvnor. ‘Where are they?’

  ‘I released them this morning.’

  ‘Released them? What in the Lord’s name did you do that for?’

  Napper turned back in a fury.

  ‘As a lure for Mabaso! It’s them he wants. They know where the gold is.’

  ‘But—’

  ‘I’ve two constables following them,’ snapped Napper. ‘As soon as Mabaso tracks them down, we’ll pounce. Last night I sent a message to every editor in town that the prisoners would be released this morning. It’s in all the morning editions, haven’t you seen? The paperboys have been shouting the news from every street corner.’

  ‘What if he doesn’t hear? What if he’s in hiding?’

  ‘He’ll hear, all right. Someone must be helping him. One or other of them will have heard the news.’

  ‘So where are they now?’

  Napper turned to the desk sergeant. ‘Any news?’

  ‘Not yet, sir,’ said the bloke. He blew his hooter again.

  ‘I’ve a police carriage outside with McDonald,’ said Napper. ‘As soon as they send word we’ll set out.’

  ‘They’ll go to the York Hotel,’ said the guvnor.

  ‘You don’t think they’ll lie low for a while?’

  ‘They’ve no money. They won’t go to Gresham Hall in case Mabaso looks for them there. They won’t go to Capaldi. They tried to see the princess before. They’ll try again.’

  We arrived at Waterloo twenty minutes later. Napper told PC McDonald to wait by the police van while the four of us went inside. The bloke we’d talked to the first time was at the counter reading a paper. He looked up.

  ‘Detective Inspector Napper,’ barked Napper. ‘Scotland Yard.’

  The manager stepped aside as we bustled up the stairs and along the corridor. The door was locked: Napper pounded on it, yelling, ‘Police! Let us in!’

  He put his ear to the door. He pounded again.

  ‘Stand aside,’ said Napper.

  ‘No!’ cried the manager, pulling a bunch of keys from his pocket. He pushed past us and unlocked the door, jumping out of the way as soon as it clicked open.

  On the floor, tied back-to-back to an iron heating pipe, were the small woman and the bald, bearded fellow. The princess was gone.

  A torn sheet was bound around their heads. I cut it off with my knife, then pulled another bit of sheet out of each of their mouths. They gasped, coughing and wheezing, their chests heaving.

  Their two trunks had been emptied, all their contents strewn across the beds and floor in a big mess of dresses, shirts, drums, pipes, shields, cooking pots and beads.

  Delphine talked to them as I cut their wrists and legs free. The answers were quick and urgent, the man and woman rubbing their limbs as they talked. I heard Mabaso’s name.

  ‘Mabaso?’ asked the guvnor as he helped the short woman to her feet.

  ‘Mabaso,’ she said.

  ‘And a white man,’ said the bloke, then groaned as Napper helped him to his feet. Dark blood matted his thick beard. ‘They’ve taken Nobantu. You said the police would protect us!’

  ‘I didn’t think he’d come until after the evening train.’

  ‘Where did they take her?’ asked Napper.

  ‘The Castle Mail Shipping Company,’ said the bloke.

  ‘Is the gold there?’ asked Napper.

  ‘Yes,’ said the fellow. He opened the window and spat blood onto the street, his every muscle strained and tight. ‘He has a gun. He’ll kill her. You must go now!’

  ‘Was Senzo with him?’ asked the guvnor.

  ‘No, but—’

  The woman interrupted him. He nodded as she spoke, then addressed us. ‘They need two marks. Senzo and the princess must both sign to collect the crates.’

  ‘Does Mabaso know that?’

  The African shook his head. He spoke to the woman. She tutted.

  ‘Where’s the Castle Shipping Company?’ asked Napper.

  ‘Shadwell New Basin,’ said the guvnor. He turned to the hotel manager, who stood in the door. ‘Did you see them leave?’

  ‘No, sir. The boat train was cancelled this morning and half the blooming passengers were waiting in the pub for the next one. It was like the Lord Mayor’s Parade.’

  ‘But you allowed them up?’

  ‘This one told me they were expecting someone.’ He nodded at the bald fellow.

  ‘Not him!’ said the African. ‘Not Mabaso.’

  ‘How’s I bloody supposed to know that?’ demanded
Deakin, a hot temper come over him.

  ‘Would anyone else have seen them leave?’ the guvnor asked.

  ‘Try asking Clive, the crossing sweeper out on the corner there.’

  ‘One more thing. If any other Africans come in looking for the princess, I want you to tell them they’ve gone to Shadwell Basin to retrieve their luggage from the Castle Mail Packet office. Tell them the princess left with a black police officer.’

  ‘And don’t tell them about us, you understand?’ added Napper. ‘Don’t say anything else at all.’

  ‘What’s all this about?’

  ‘Just do it,’ said Napper.

  Clive was on the pavement leant against the wall of the hotel. He was eating an onion, and wore the most tattered coat I’d ever seen, a top hat with no rim, a boot with no toe.

  ‘African couple, yeah?’ he said. ‘About midday? Come staggering out with a big English fellow. That lady was right jiggered, I tell you.’

  ‘How did they travel?’

  ‘Had a coach, didn’t they?’

  ‘Describe it.’

  ‘Green four-wheeler, bit battered up.’

  The guvnor looked at me. ‘Bill blooming Craft, Barnett. That’s who’s been helping him. Bill blooming Craft.’

  We left Delphine in Waterloo and made our way to Wapping. PC McDonald drove the horses hard, ringing the bell as we went through the busy streets. As we were thrown about on the benches inside, clutching tight to the leather straps to avoid crashing into each other, the guvnor told Napper about S’bu being beaten by Mabaso.

  ‘You knew where he was all along?’ spluttered Napper. ‘You let us search for him?’

  ‘You didn’t search very hard, Napper. We did, and we found him.’

  Napper glared at him. ‘I hope I never see you again, Arrowood.’

  ‘I think he went after S’bu because he didn’t get enough information out of Senzo.’

  ‘Who’s this fellow Craft?’

  ‘Bill Craft,’ I told him. ‘The cabman who picked up Senzo and Thembeka after they fled the Quaker Meeting House. He’s the one took us to Gresham Hall.’

  ‘That must be how Mabaso knew they were hiding there,’ added the guvnor.

  ‘He said he got that from Capaldi’s driver,’ said Napper.

  The wheel hit a pothole, a bone-breaking jolt that sent us all into the air. The guvnor lost his grip on the strap and flew onto my lap, skidding off my britches onto the floor, his legs in the air.

  ‘Agh!’ he cried as he landed. ‘My blooming back!’

  ‘Careful, constable!’ bellowed Napper, rubbing his elbow.

  I gripped the guvnor’s arm but he shook it off. ‘Don’t touch me! It’s agony!’

  ‘You just going to lay there?’ I asked him.

  ‘For the time being,’ he said, glaring at me from the floor. He winced as we hit a kerb. ‘Christ almighty. Does he know how to drive?’

  ‘’Course he knows how to drive,’ said Napper, a smile on his face as he looked down on the guvnor. ‘You should have held the strap.’

  ‘I did hold the damn strap!’

  ‘Not very well. Now finish what you were saying.’

  ‘Have you any chloridine, Barnett?’ asked the guvnor.

  I pulled out my Black Drop and tipped out a couple of pills. ‘Only these. Open up.’

  He stuck his grainy purple tongue out through his patchwork teeth, and I dropped the pills into his great cavern of a mouth. ‘Drink!’ he demanded.

  I shook my head.

  ‘How did this Craft fellow come to be helping Mabaso?’ asked Napper.

  Lying at our feet with his belly rising like the dome of St Paul’s, the guvnor continued. ‘When he tracked Thembeka and Senzo, he must have found Craft’s cab the same way we did. Not only did Craft take him to Gresham Hall, but Mabaso must have offered him work. You only need to talk to Craft for a moment to know he’s a crook. The cove would do just about anything for a few coins.’ He shifted the sack of potatoes that was his rumple and groaned. ‘Oh Lord, that hurts. He said it was Capaldi’s driver who told him about Gresham Hall so you didn’t know he knew Craft. He didn’t want Craft to give the game away.’

  Napper nodded, looking down on the guvnor in a superior way. ‘So Craft probably helped him take Mrs Fowler’s body to Gresham Hall too.’

  ‘Ah!’ cried Arrowood as we lurched into another hole. ‘What the hell’s that idiot doing up there?’

  Napper brought out a hip flask and had a swallow. He looked at the guvnor, who gazed back at him from the floor. Napper looked away and had another sip. The guvnor licked his lips, looking like a mongrel who’s sniffed a bloater.

  ‘Give him a bit, will you, detective?’ I asked.

  Napper smiled, and, from some height, tipped his flask over the guvnor’s open gob. Some of it got in, the rest went on his chin. The guvnor cursed, wiping his face, licking his hand. ‘I hope you get a bad back one day, Napper.’

  He opened his gob for more.

  It took well over an hour to get to Wapping that Christmas Eve. The traffic was diabolical, with folk getting in the way of the horses and jamming the pavements as they searched for what they lacked afore the feast. It was almost dark when we arrived, the fog descending as London’s dwellings began to light their fires. The entrance to Shadwell Basin was on New Gravel Lane. Three great steamships were moored in the basin opposite the offices, two dark and still, the other with its lights on and a couple of sailors busying themselves on deck. The Castle Mail Packet Company was the only one of the buildings that wasn’t shut for the holiday. By the time we pulled up, the Black Drop had done its magic, and the guvnor was off the floor.

  Mr Lilly rose as we entered. The room was almost empty, only a woman sweeping and a young fellow with a full beard doing some copying at the far end of the room.

  ‘Good evening, sir,’ said the guvnor. ‘This is Detective Inspector Napper of Scotland Yard.’

  ‘Mr Lilly, office manager,’ said the oily-haired fellow, pushing his spectacles to his forehead and climbing off his high chair with a bump. The cracks of his lips were stained purple: on his desk was a half-eaten mince pie. ‘How can I help you?’

  ‘Can you tell us if Princess Nobantu travelled on your ship?’ asked Napper. ‘She would have arrived a week or two ago.’

  ‘We did carry her, yes,’ said Lilly. ‘As I told you two before, we’re the only shipping company that does the route, so unless she flew…’ He raised his eyebrows and laughed like a randy gull. You could smell the booze on him. Seeing us stood there stony-faced, he stopped, hitched up his britches, and put on a serious voice again. ‘There was a good deal of interest from the newspapers when she landed. Her manager, Mr Beaumont, made sure of that.’

  ‘Has she been here today?’ asked Napper.

  ‘Not that I know, sir.’ He slurred his words a bit and looked shamefaced from it. Pressing his moustache down with his fingers and squeezing his lips, he said, ‘The owners did visit and allow us an hour for wine and pastries of the season. Bean!’ he barked over his shoulder.

  The young fellow at the back who’d stopped writing to watch us, replied, ‘Yes, sir?’

  ‘Did the Zulu Princess call today?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘Are you holding any of her luggage in your warehouse?’ asked Napper.

  ‘Let me see,’ said Lilly, crossing to the ledgers. He stared at the shelves for an age, before finally pulling down his spectacles and staring again. He took one down and opened it, running his fingers up and down the pages. ‘Yes, a chest and five crates. Not yet claimed.’ He peered at Napper. ‘What’s in them, detective? Not a tiger, I hope?’

  He laughed again, a gob of snot coming out his nose. Wiping it with the back of his hand, he glanced at the younger clerk, who laughed a little late.

  ‘Did she arrive on the same boat as Constable Mabaso?’ asked the guvnor.

  He shook his head. ‘She arrived in England the week before him. I believe she was performing in
Bristol before arriving in London.’

  ‘Has anybody else tried to collect her luggage?’

  ‘No, sir. They’d need a signed letter from the princess and…’ He peered at the ledger again. ‘And a Mr Nam… Namba… zezi.’

  ‘How would you know the signatures were authentic?’ asked the guvnor.

  ‘We have a copy of both signatures in our records. Security is one of our principles, Mr Arrowood. People must be able to trust us.’

  ‘What time d’you shut?’ asked Napper.

  ‘Six o’clock, sir,’ answered Lilly. ‘The owners gave the rest of the staff the afternoon off.’ He pulled out his watch and peered at it. He looked like he might cry.

  ‘Are you open tomorrow?’

  ‘Christmas is the only holiday in our year.’

  ‘So if the princess wanted her luggage—’

  ‘She’d better arrive in the next hour and a half.’

  ‘Is the warehouse secure?’ asked the guvnor.

  ‘They shut the dock gates at seven; no vehicles in or out without permission. Four watchmen patrol the basin overnight and we’ve the strongest locks money can buy on the doors.’ Lilly stroked his wine-stained lips. ‘A lot of valuable cargo comes from South Africa, you know.’

  The guvnor looked at Napper. ‘What d’you want to do?’

  ‘We wait,’ said the copper.

  We hid the police van in a stables behind the office. Napper and the guvnor decided to station themselves in the director’s office at the back, where there were a few glowing coals still left from the day. It had a window looking into the big clerking room. A box of mince pies was on the desk, and half a bottle of port.

  The guvnor licked his chops. ‘D’you mind if I—’

  ‘I’ll take them for the cupboard,’ said Mr Lilly, gathering them up.

  ‘You and McDonald wait on that boat opposite,’ said Napper to me. ‘If they arrive, let them enter. Come down, but keep hidden. Make sure they don’t try to escape through the front door. We’ll guard the back.’

  ‘D’you think Senzo’ll be with them?’ I asked.

  ‘Who knows?’ said Napper. ‘I’ll be happy if we catch Mabaso. He’s a lot to answer for, that fellow, and to think I gave him the benefit of the doubt. I told you about him, Arrowood. I told you.’

 

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