Inspector Abberline and the Gods of Rome

by Simon Clark

  A brisk knock sounded on the door. Abberline turned the blackboard to face the wall, so noone else would see what was written there.

  Thomas checked names on a list. ‘Ah, that’ll be the housekeeper.’ He opened the door. ‘Miss Groom. Thank you for coming along.’

  ‘Good morning,’ said Abberline. ‘Please do sit down, make yourself comfortable.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’

  Miss Groom was perhaps fifty years of age. The woman was dressed in a black skirt, and a white blouse that had billowing sleeves: the clothing was typical of a housekeeper. On her nose rested a pair of spectacles. The lenses were half-moon shape, and quite small, so she tended to tilt her face downwards in order to peer over the top of the glasses.

  Abberline asked the same questions he’d asked the other servants: mainly relating to whether or not she worked here when Joshua Denby took to his sickbed and died.

  Miss Groom spoke with the calm assurance of someone accustomed to issuing commands to underlings, and to addressing members of the ruling class. In short, she had a formidable self-confidence. ‘Sir, I served the master when he took ill in the July. He’d lost his appetite, he no longer showed any interest in golf, which, until then, he played every day, come rain or shine.’

  ‘As housekeeper you must have seen Joshua Denby on a regular basis?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Would you describe his appearance as he became progressively unwell?’

  ‘He appeared to grow old very fast, as if a day to us was a year to him. His hair used to be thick and dark brown, yet almost overnight it turned white and began to fall away. When I last saw him he was bedridden.’

  ‘Were you here at the house when he died?’

  ‘No, sir. You’ll be aware that employees are rotated to different houses?’

  Abberline nodded.

  She peered over her spectacles at him. ‘I transferred to the Scottish house in November. I heard in December that Mr Joshua Denby had been taken from us.’

  ‘Thank you, Miss Groom, you have been most helpful.’

  Miss Groom remained seated. ‘Wouldn’t you like to ask me more questions, sir?’

  ‘Not unless you can think of anything that might be useful.’

  ‘You asked other servants if they saw strangers in the area.’

  ‘Oh, I quite forgot. Yes, did you see anyone, or hear of trespassers hereabouts?’

  ‘A constable’s wife in Porthmadog told me that a sailor, an oriental man, had stolen the workings of a valuable clock from a farm up the valley, sir. He was found with a knife with blood on it. They say he’d cut some poor woman’s throat.’

  ‘Was the thief arrested?’

  ‘They say he hopped back onto his ship as it left the harbour. They never caught him.’

  ‘Thank you, I’ll look into that. What was the constable’s name?’

  ‘His name’s Isaacs. Henry Isaacs. A tall man with a red beard.’

  Abberline glanced across at Thomas. ‘Did you make a note of that, Mr Lloyd?’

  ‘Yes, Inspector.’

  Abberline thanked the housekeeper again, and she withdrew with a graceful sense of self-assurance.

  When she’d closed the door behind her, Thomas smiled. ‘Do you believe our murderer is a clock thief from the Far East?’

  ‘Miss Groom is a senior member of staff. She felt it important to provide us with potentially vital information.’

  ‘Even if it’s of no use.’

  ‘Oh, it’s of use, Thomas. It proves that maids and cooks, and so on, have told one another the questions I ask. Accordingly, they are preparing their answers before they walk through that door.’

  ‘There’s nothing suspicious in that, surely?’

  ‘No,’ Abberline growled with irritation. ‘But they will now begin to compete with one another in order to tell the tallest tale. They want to impress their friends by saying that they gave vital clues to the Ripper detective from Scotland Yard. No doubt, we’ll hear about bands of vagabonds roaming the forest, or suspicious men wearing eye-patches, and any number of cock-and-bull yarns about escaped prisoners lurking in barns, or furtive-looking travellers turning up at the dead of night.’

  Another knock sounded sharply on the door.

  ‘This will be the footman, Hassop,’ Thomas said.

  Abberline paced the room. ‘Leave him for a moment, I need to think.’

  Thomas waited a spell before speaking, ‘The investigation maybe progressing slowly, but surely the information we’re gathering is useful.’

  ‘The investigation is at a standstill.’

  ‘But when we exhume the body?’

  ‘I’m clutching at straws, can’t you see that? I’m hoping Joshua’s corpse will reveal vital clues. But what if we find bones that say nothing to us? What then?’

  ‘Inspector, I haven’t seen you like this before. Perhaps you should rest for a while before continuing.’

  ‘But I can’t rest. Don’t you see, Thomas? I can’t stop for a moment. What if a bullet ends the life of William Denby? If I died at this very instant it would not matter a jot. There are a hundred detectives who could replace me like that.’ He snapped his fingers. ‘But William Denby has a brilliant mind. He is unique. His airships could mean life or death for this nation. If William dies, I will be viewed as little better than a traitor who has left England exposed to her enemies.’

  ‘Forgive me, Inspector, but you are one man after all. You cannot be expected to protect William Denby. Not even the soldiers here can guarantee his safety.’

  ‘That’s why the colonel has gone to Liverpool. He’s going to ask for a detachment of cavalry to be posted here.’

  ‘Even so … a marksman with a rifle—’

  ‘Don’t I know that, Thomas? Don’t I know that if even a thousand soldiers guard this house all it takes is one man with a gun? William Denby need only stand at a window and-’ The knock sounded at the door again.

  ‘Should I let him in?’

  Abberline rounded on Thomas. ‘No, damn it, you will not let him in.’

  ‘We can hardly leave him standing out in the corridor.’

  ‘Life and death is in the balance here, and you take me to task over my manners?’

  ‘I did not, I—’

  ‘Thomas!’ Abberline’s eyes flashed with anger. ‘I wanted you to join me on this investigation, because you aren’t like other newspaper reporters. You aren’t jaded. You don’t dig into the mire for the salacious story.’

  ‘I pride myself on seeking the truth.’

  ‘No, damn it, I see a man sitting there who is searching for the master magician who will miraculously solve all crime and put right all wrongs.’

  ‘I beg your pardon?’

  ‘And I beg you to look inside yourself and see the truth. You want me to be that magician who can find thieves and murderers with supernatural ease. But I’m not a magician: I’m a flesh and blood policeman who can only do the best he can. So treat me as a human being, not a worker of miracles!’

  ‘Sir, then look into yourself.’ This outburst from a man he admired so much shocked him. ‘Tragically, your father died when you were a little boy. I have observed how you talk about the laws of the land and your respect for them.’

  ‘What are you saying, man? Don’t be shy – drive your little pointed dagger of truth into my back.’

  Thomas leapt to his feet. ‘Your father died when you were young; you searched for a substitute. The law is something you respect, something you serve, and look up to. The laws of this land are the symbol of authority that replaced your father. Bluntly put: the LAW became your father!’

  The knock came again. Abberline threw open the door and beckoned in a young blond-haired man in a footman’s uniform. The man must have heard raised voices from within the room, but didn’t seem unduly concerned. He looked like an actor who had rehearsed his lines and was determined to speak them.

  ‘My name is Hassop, Inspector. I’ve been a footman in the
employ of the Denby family for ten years. I was in service here when Mr Joshua Denby fell ill; however, I was transferred to the Scottish—’

  Abberline killed the flow of words with a ferocious glance. ‘What rumours did you hear about Joshua Denby?’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘Did he have women brought here from the town?’

  ‘Women, sir?’

  ‘You know the kind of women, Hassop. Free with their favours.’

  ‘I’m sure that never happened, sir.’ Hassop smoothed down his blonde hair. The questions surprised him but he didn’t appear perturbed.

  Abberline fixed him with a piercing glare. The policeman’s eyes became a weapon. ‘Tell me Joshua Denby’s secrets?’

  ‘Secrets? I’m sure there were no secrets. Mr Denby was a true and honest Englishman.’

  ‘As honest as yourself?’

  ‘Of course, sir.’

  ‘Hassop. Tell me your secret.’

  The man stared in shock. ‘I … uh ….’

  ‘I want to know your secret,’ Abberline spoke savagely. ‘Then I will have the satisfaction of seeing at least one man taken away in chains today.’

  Panic made the footman’s chest heave as he fought to catch his breath. ‘I’ve done nothing. I am not a criminal.’

  ‘That’s a fine gold ring on your finger.’ Abberline caught hold of his hand. His fierce grip turned the man’s fingers white. ‘A large diamond there, too. A diamond ring is unusual to see on the hand of a footman.’

  ‘I’ve done nothing wrong.’

  ‘Tell me how you acquired the ring.’ Abberline released his grip on the hand.

  The man gulped. ‘Five years ago, I was footman here. Sir Alfred visited Mr Joshua Denby.’

  ‘And you stole the ring?’

  ‘No. I did nothing wrong. Sir Alfred gave me money.’

  ‘What the devil for?’

  ‘Helping him.’ His hand shook as he smoothed down his blond hair. ‘I … I had a friend in Porthmadog. His father was a ship’s captain. He took cargoes of slate from the quarries hereabouts overseas.’

  ‘How did helping Sir Alfred result in him giving you money?’

  ‘I heard Sir Alfred saying he intended to make enquiries about shipping items into this country.’

  ‘Dare I say that you listened at a closed door, when Sir Alfred had a private conversation with his brother?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ The man appeared so nervous of Abberline that he was prepared to tell him everything. ‘He wanted a ship’s captain to bring in cargo from somewhere foreign.’

  ‘You’re lying.’

  ‘No, sir. The truth is my friend’s father shipped brandy into Porthmadog in such a way that it didn’t attract the attention of the excise men.’

  ‘The captain was a smuggler?’

  ‘He’s dead now … him and my friend … drowned at sea, so the truth won’t hurt them.’

  ‘I take it then, Hassop, that you introduced Sir Alfred to the captain who smuggled brandy?’

  ‘Sir Alfred gave me ten gold sovereigns. It’s the most money I’ve ever seen in my life.’

  ‘And this happened five years ago?’

  ‘Yes, sir, as God is my witness.’

  ‘Do you know what Sir Alfred shipped into the country?’

  ‘No, sir.’

  ‘Thank you, that’s all.’

  Hassop all but ran from the room, desperate to escape the detective’s savage eyes.

  Abberline turned to Thomas. ‘What I said to you a few minutes ago was harsh. I am sorry to have hurt your feelings.’

  Thomas spoke with icy politeness. ‘You clearly felt it necessary, nonetheless.’

  ‘So, will you sock me on the jaw, as the Americans say?’

  ‘Of course not.’

  ‘Then let me buy you a glass of Welsh ale.’

  ‘You want to drink beer with me? After accusing me of being some kind of naïve scribbler?’

  ‘It’s almost twelve. The pubs will be open, won’t they?’

  ‘What about the interviews?’

  ‘I’m thirsty … I dare say you are, too. Come on, old chap, grab your coat.’

  The butler arranged the transport. A driver, together with a pony and trap, took Thomas and Inspector Abberline into town. April sunshine, meanwhile, gave way to clouds that threatened rain.

  Thomas began to wonder about the well-being of Abberline’s mind. The man had spoken angrily to Thomas earlier. He’d then conducted a brutal interrogation of the footman. However, Thomas conceded that the harsh questioning had delivered results: the footmen had confessed to arranging a meeting with Sir Alfred Denby and a local mariner who wasn’t averse to smuggling brandy.

  Now that they were in bustling Porthmadog, Abberline’s behaviour continued to perplex Thomas. After being dropped off by the driver of the pony and trap, Abberline walked briskly along the main street as far as the harbour. He’d no sooner set eyes on the ships at anchor then he headed back to a cluster of market stalls. Here, traders sold all manner of items from medicinal concoctions, to fish, to knives and forks, to home-made confectionary. Abberline bought a bag of humbugs and offered one to Thomas. Thomas, meanwhile, still felt anger at what the man had said earlier. Abberline accused Thomas of being unrealistic and cherishing a spurious belief that the detective had near magical powers to solve crimes. Thomas thought the accusation unfair and inaccurate.

  Now this. He walked with the detective through the busy town, while sucking the mint humbug. Thomas noticed that men and women nudged each other. Thomas tried to hear what the townsfolk were saying; however, most of them spoke Welsh. Thomas Lloyd could not understand so much as a single word.

  ‘I promised you a glass of beer.’ Abberline nodded in the direction of a pub.

  Thomas wouldn’t be able to drink while he sucked this particularly hard lump of confectionary. Without Abberline seeing, he pulled a scrap of paper from his pocket and transferred the humbug from his mouth to the paper. A moment later, they crossed a floor strewn with sawdust to the bar. The place was crammed with men; lively chatter filled the air, along with a great deal of pungent tobacco smoke. There were sailors here from the port. One suntanned man carried a monkey on his shoulder, its long tail wrapped affectionately around the sailor’s neck.

  Abberline went to the bar and ordered two pints of beer. Instantly, the clink of tankards, laughter and conversation vanished. The room became absolutely silent. Thomas glanced back at all those eyes staring at them through the fog of tobacco smoke. A man, who’d been sitting on a barrel, lurched to his feet, slopping beer from his mug.

  ‘Look here, then,’ boomed the man. ‘It’s the Ripper copper. They sent him all the way from Scotland Yard, you know.’

  Everyone fixed their eyes on Abberline. Nobody moved. Nobody said anything. Even the monkey froze on the sailor’s shoulder.

  After a pause, perhaps to allow his observations to sink in, the drunk continued in that booming voice, ‘I don’t know why they sent the Ripper copper here. Inspector Abberline couldn’t catch fleas, never mind catch the devil who chopped those bloody women.’

  ‘We came in here to have a drink of beer,’ Thomas said, ‘that’s all.’

  The drunk said nothing. He quietly set his mug down. Then he lunged forward, throwing a punch that slammed into Thomas’s jaw. Abberline jabbed his fist upwards under the thug’s chin. The blow knocked him back into the arms of the men at the far side of the room. Screeching, the monkey leapt onto a lamp that hung from the ceiling.

  The drunk roared with fury as he struggled to regain his balance.

  The landlord said one word, ‘Boys,’ and nodded at the door.

  Thomas expected the other men in the bar to push the drunk back toward Abberline in order to resume the fight. However, powerful hands seized the drunk. Within seconds, he was propelled through the door and dumped onto his backside in the street.

  The landlord went to the door and pointed at the man. ‘Stay out of here, Billy, until you’ve got
a sober head back on you again.’

  Thomas rubbed his aching jaw.

  ‘Doesn’t look to be any damage,’ Abberline said.

  ‘A glancing blow. Though I don’t mind admitting it damn well hurt.’

  Abberline raised his glass. ‘To you, Thomas.’

  They drank their beer without saying anything more. Thomas could tell that the detective was deep in thought. Meanwhile, the sailor used a piece of bread to coax the monkey down from the ceiling lamp. The landlord’s customers returned to their drinks and their conversation, albeit in a quieter way than before. However, they still repeatedly glanced in the direction of Abberline.

  Once they’d finished their beer, the two men strolled back to where their driver and the pony and trap waited for them.

  After a while, Thomas asked, ‘We didn’t come into town to taste the local beer, did we?’

  ‘I came to prove what I suspected.’ Abberline raised his hat to a group of ladies who watched him walk past.

  ‘And that is?’

  ‘My confidential investigation at Newydd Hall isn’t confidential whatsoever. All of Porthmadog knows I’m here.’

  ‘Servants would chat to their friends outside the house. They’d say that a famous detective from Scotland Yard had arrived.’

  ‘Yes, a famous detective. I am not boasting when I say this but I do know that my picture has been reproduced in newspapers far and wide.’ He sucked in a lungful of air. ‘When my superiors assigned me to this case they knew full well that this would happen. They knew that Abberline, the famous – that is, the famously ill-fated Abberline – would become the talk of the town. The men who sent me here knew that my secret investigation would soon become public knowledge.’

  ‘You underestimate your abilities as a detective.’

  ‘Thank you, Thomas. But the fact of the matter is this: there are people high in the government who want someone else to know that the Denby case, which appears to be linked to the Gods of Rome, is being investigated. I must say, Thomas, I believe I have been, as the phrase goes, set up. I’m the victim of a conspiracy. A wicked and extremely dangerous conspiracy at that.’