On Copper Street

by Chris Nickson

  ‘Right. Go through everything. Every single detail.’

  He talked, and Harper listened attentively, head angled to make sure he heard. It was easy to see his hearing was worsening, Reed thought. It took more effort, and he asked for a few things to be repeated.

  Billy signalled for two more cups of tea, wet his throat, and continued. Harper had questions; he answered where he could. There was no point trying to pretend he knew everything.

  ‘Well,’ he asked finally. ‘What do you think?’

  ‘You’ve been thorough,’ Harper said approvingly, and Reed felt the relief. He hadn’t made mistakes. ‘But if you’ve eliminated someone going directly after the boy or the girl, it means we need to look for something else.’

  ‘I’ve gone into the families. What else is there?’

  ‘That’s what I don’t know, Billy. We need to cast the net wider. The only acid attack I can recall was about ten years ago. That had something to do with revenge.’

  ‘What could anyone want revenge for here?’ He leaned forward, his face set. ‘For God’s sake, Arthur and Annie are children. They haven’t done anything.’

  ‘Then it must be something to do with the families.’

  ‘I’ve asked questions.’

  ‘Perhaps we need to go back and ask some more, Billy,’ Harper told him.

  ‘What if it was all a mistake? That he was looking for someone else?’

  ‘Then there’s nothing we can do.’ No. The action seemed too deliberate, too certain. ‘But I don’t think it was.’

  ‘I’ll look again,’ Reed said warily. ‘I just don’t think there’s anything to find. The Crabtrees are good, churchgoing people.’

  ‘Everyone has secrets, Billy. You ought to remember that. Everyone. I’ll leave you to it.’

  Reed watched him leave. Time to start over.

  Another hour with Kendall, going over the correct procedures for complaints and discipline.

  ‘I warned you, Tom, most of this job is looking at forms. That and going to meetings. Your first one’s on Monday, by the way.’

  ‘Monday?’ He hadn’t heard anything about this. He thought he’d have time to become accustomed to the new rank first.

  ‘Official promotion and introduction to the watch committee. Think of it as Daniel in the lion’s den.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘Well, maybe not quite that bad. But you’re going need to hold your own with them.’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘I mean it,’ the superintendent warned. ‘Right from the very start. If you let them walk over you once, you’ll end up fighting for every single thing. Let them know straight off that you won’t be cowed. I had to learn the hard way.’

  ‘Maybe I’d be better off staying an inspector,’ Harper said ruefully.

  ‘You’ll be fine in the job. And you’re taking on a good bunch of men.’

  ‘Mostly.’

  ‘There are always one or two bad apples,’ Kendall agreed. ‘But you know this place inside out. You can get rid of the rotten ones. And they know you. That helps.’

  ‘I’ll do my best.’ A thought came to him. ‘Have you ever heard anything about John Calder in B Division?’

  ‘No,’ the super answered thoughtfully. ‘Should I have?’

  ‘Not really. Let’s finish this before I go out again.’

  ‘I might have something on William Calder, sir.’

  ‘Oh?’ Harper had just returned from the market café. A quick dinner of tripe and tea to keep him going. Ash had been waiting, sitting and writing up his report for the file.

  ‘A chap called Kirk claims he’s taken stuff there. Only once or twice, but he swears to it.’

  ‘Taken things to Calder’s house?’ It seemed almost too good to be true.

  ‘Even gave me the address and described the place.’ He was grinning.

  ‘Did you get a statement from him?’

  ‘Right here, sir.’ He pulled a folded sheet of paper from the inside pocket of his heavy wool jacket. ‘He signed it, too.’

  ‘Excellent.’ Finally they were moving ahead. Harper could feel his blood surging. He took the watch from his pocket and checked the time. After three already. Where did the days disappear? ‘Calder should be home by six. We’ll go and see him then.’

  ‘Are we arresting him, sir?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ Harper said with a twinkle in his eye. ‘I think we will.’

  There was a time he wouldn’t have bothered with protocol; he’d simply have pushed ahead and believed he was right. Now, with his new post so close, Harper knew he had to follow every rule. Dot every i and cross every t.

  Superintendent Mills pointed to a seat. He was in charge of B division, out of the station on Hunslet Lane. Close to fifty, his thick sideboards were turning grey, the hair receding on the top of his head.

  ‘I’ll be sorry to see Bob Kendall go, especially under the circumstances. But at least they’ve made a good choice to replace him.’

  ‘Thank you, sir. I appreciate it,’ Harper said.

  ‘Don’t.’ He waved it away. ‘Bar the shouting you’re already a superintendent. Call me Peter. Now, what can I do for you? You’re hardly out making your afternoon calls.’

  ‘I wanted to tell you I’m going to be arresting Sergeant Calder’s brother this evening. I’ve got evidence he’s fencing stolen goods.’

  ‘John’s brother?’ Mills sat back, frowning, hands laced behind his head. ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘We have a statement. I wanted to let you know. If you could tell him after six o’clock, I’d be grateful.’

  ‘You’re not implying my sergeant’s involved in this, are you?’ He could sense the man start to bristle. ‘He’s as honest as they come.’

  ‘No,’ Harper assured him, ‘nothing like that.’

  ‘Good.’ Mills eased a little. ‘I’ve worked with John for a long time. I have a lot of respect for him.’

  ‘I wanted to make sure he learned through the proper channels.’

  ‘I’ll do that for you, lad.’ Mills’s voice was gruff, tired. ‘He’ll be torn apart, but … always a black sheep in the family, isn’t there?’

  ‘Always.’ He stood and shook hands with Mills.

  ‘Good luck to you. You have some big shoes to fill, but you know that better than I do.’

  ‘I’ll try.’

  ‘Why? I don’t understand.’ William Calder blinked behind a pair of thick spectacles. He sat in the hackney, wrists cuffed, Harper next to him, a burly bobby opposite. ‘Why do you want to arrest me? You know my brother’s on the force.’

  ‘Save it for the interview,’ the inspector said. ‘You can tell me you’re innocent then.’

  He’d left Ash to search the house and fight off the yelling of Mrs Calder. She’d been silent when they arrived, sitting by her husband and holding his hand. But as soon as Harper produced his handcuffs she began to shout and screech.

  The man was guilty. He could smell it on him. And he was terrified. Now to let that fear simmer a little before the interview began.

  ‘How did you know Henry White?’ he asked casually as the carriage clattered over the cobbles on Woodhouse Lane.

  ‘Henry?’ Calder sounded surprised. ‘I—’ He stopped himself. Too late; he’d already given an answer.

  At Millgarth he watched as Calder was escorted down to the cells. Just leave him for an hour, or until the morning? In the office he looked at folders. Morning, he decided. That would give Ash all the time he needed to search the house; they could challenge Calder with what he found.

  Things were rolling. About bloody time, too.

  He was about to leave for the night when a man entered the office, a bowler hat clutched tight in his hands. He wore spectacles, a watch chain on his waistcoat. At first glance he was unprepossessing, hair glistening with pomade, nothing remarkable or memorable about his face. But that helped make him a good detective.

  ‘Good evening, sir,’ Detective Sergeant John Calder said.

  ‘Sergeant.�
�

  ‘The super told me.’

  ‘I’m sorry. It must be a shock to you,’ Harper said.

  ‘It is,’ he replied slowly, then raised his head, his expression confused. ‘Are you sure there’s no mistake, sir?’

  ‘We’ve got a statement from someone who sold him stolen goods. Gave us details about the house, everything.’

  Calder’s face fell. ‘I see, sir.’

  ‘It’s hardly your fault, Sergeant. We can’t choose our family.’

  ‘I know, but …’ He pushed his lips together as he searched for the words. ‘We were all so proud of him. He seemed to be doing well for himself.’ He leaned against the door jamb. ‘I should probably have seen it.’

  ‘No,’ the inspector told him. ‘He kept it very quiet. It was sheer luck we found out.’

  ‘How did you discover it, sir?’

  Harper explained about Henry White’s will.

  ‘I see.’

  ‘Following a trail. You know how that is, Sergeant.’

  ‘Of course.’ He gave a small, sad nod. ‘Do you think I could see Will?’

  For a moment he weighed the idea. What harm could it do? Maybe Sergeant Calder could shame his brother into confessing and make their job easier in the morning.

  ‘Yes. Tell him it’ll go better if he admits everything.’

  Calder gave a wan smile. ‘I will. Like you said, sir, nothing to be done. Congratulations on your promotion, by the way.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Where’s Mary?’ he asked as he looked around the parlour. He was so used to the sound of little feet running as he came in that the silence felt strange and worrying.

  ‘Do you know Maisie Tyler?’ Annabelle asked as she glanced up from the books surrounding her on the table.

  ‘No,’ he answered in surprise. He’d never heard the name before. ‘Who is she?’

  ‘Lives on Manor Street. Her husband’s a brickie. She has a little girl. Mary’s round there to play and I’ll have her lass here next week. It gives me a chance to work.’

  He kissed the back of her neck and felt her small shiver of pleasure. She put down the pen, turned her head and kissed him tenderly.

  ‘Tom,’ she began, stretching out his name the way she did whenever a question was coming, ‘apart from me and Mary, how many women are there in your world? Ones you talk to every day?’

  He’d never given the idea a moment’s thought. The force was all men. Almost all the criminals he met were male. Plenty of shop assistants were women and all the housewives, of course. But none of them were people he talked to day after day. Perhaps the closest was Ruby who worked at the Market Café, and she just took his order for tea and food.

  ‘None,’ he replied after a long time. ‘Why?’

  ‘I’m putting together my talk for the suffragists. I got to thinking how men are always in groups. At work, in the public house. It’s the same with women, if they’re with anyone apart from children. The only time women and men are together is at home.’ She looked at him and he nodded; he understood and agreed. ‘How can women ever be equal when we’re separated all the time?’

  ‘What about women who work?’ he asked. ‘There are thousands of them.’

  Annabelle raised an eyebrow. ‘They’re all together, working in mills or below stairs, with men in charge. And they end up paid much less than men, even if they’re doing the same job. You know that.’

  ‘But don’t some jobs need men?’

  ‘Do they? Think about it, Tom. Do you honestly believe there are jobs women can’t do? Even mining, if push comes to shove. Women are strong.’

  ‘I don’t know.’ He felt tiredness rising through his body. It had been a long day and he didn’t feel up to this. Not now. She was clever, she could think on her feet. She’d wipe the floor with any argument he made. ‘You’re probably right.’

  ‘Of course I am.’ Her voice was firm but she began to grin then gave him a gentle kiss. ‘You ought to know that by now, Tom Harper. There’s a meat and potato pie between two plates in the oven.’ She glanced at the clock. ‘I’d better go and collect Mary. She’ll be chattering nineteen to the dozen on the way back; enjoy your peace while you still have it. And think about what I said.’

  Mary burst through the door, words tumbling and falling over themselves as she tried to tell him everything she’d done. She climbed on to his lap, hugging him tight. He kept her to his left so he could make out every word. She took a final deep breath.

  ‘And we had bread and dripping for our tea.’

  He laughed. The week before Mary had pushed the same food away. Now she made it sound like a feast.

  It still made him smile as they settled down in bed. Mary had been asleep for hours, worn out from an afternoon of play. He pulled Annabelle closer, her hair loose, tickling his cheek and his neck.

  ‘She’s becoming a real Sheepscar girl, isn’t she?’ he said.

  ‘Nothing wrong with that. It’s good enough for the likes of you and me.’

  ‘I know. I’m not complaining.’

  NINE

  ‘Come on, Willie, everyone knows you’re guilty. Why don’t you just admit it?’

  ‘I haven’t done anything.’

  They’d gone round and round for half an hour. A night in the cells hadn’t broken Calder. He was unshaven, smelling a little, but quietly defiant, standing on his dignity.

  Harper lined up the items on the desk. A silver snuff box, a hairbrush with a silver back, and a gold signet ring with the initials AWD. Ash had found them pushed to the back of a desk drawer, wrapped in brown paper and hidden behind some ledgers.

  Mrs Calder insisted she’d never seen them before; she had no idea how they’d come into her house. Now she was in prison, too, charged as an accessory, booked into the Bridewell and sharing a cell with a girl who picked pockets. In the afternoon she’d go before the magistrate, along with her husband.

  ‘These didn’t fall from the sky, did they? You had them neatly hidden away, Willie. That’s not going to look good to a jury.’ Harper stared at the man. ‘With your brother on the force, they’ll destroy someone like you in prison.’

  ‘I don’t know where they came from. Your man must have planted them there.’ But he was sweating as he spoke, forehead shiny, staring down at the table.

  ‘Is that what you think? Accusing one of my officers? I can tell you exactly where they came from.’ The inspector leaned back in his chair. ‘A robbery last week up at Headingley Lodge. There were a few more things, but these will do for a start.’

  ‘They’re nothing to do with me,’ Calder insisted.

  Harper slapped his palm down on the wood.

  ‘Let’s stop playing silly buggers. You’re a fence. I’ve got a statement that says so. And we’ve got the goods.’ He paused. ‘You’d do best to make a clean breast of it, Willie. Or we could charge you with burglary as well, since you don’t seem to know how they ended up in your house. You’d be looking at a fair few years behind bars. Your wife, too.’

  When Calder didn’t respond, the inspector reached into his jacket pocket and drew out the set of keys he’d taken from Henry White’s sister.

  ‘One of those belongs to you.’

  ‘Eh?’ Willie Calder jerked up his head, confused. ‘What are you on about?’

  ‘Henry White. Good old Henry left you something in his will. A key.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Don’t play daft.’ Harper’s voice hardened. He was tired of games. ‘You know exactly who I mean. You fenced some things for him before he was put away. You probably even know who he was working for.’

  ‘I’ve never heard of him.’

  ‘Willie.’ The inspector shook his head and sighed. ‘He’s dead. Happened last Friday night. You must have read about it. It was in all the papers. He was murdered.’

  ‘Maybe that’s why I recognized his name last night,’ Calder said hopefully.

  ‘And you know the moon’s made of green cheese because you
read it in a book. Come on. Why did he leave you a key?’ He pushed them across the table. ‘Which one is it?’

  ‘I don’t know.’ He didn’t sound angry or outraged. Just not quite ready to concede defeat yet.

  ‘What does the key open, Willie?’ he persisted. ‘What’s inside?’ No answer. He watched as the man kept his eyes on the keyring. ‘I want whoever killed Henry. I might be willing to forgive a lot in return for information that helps me find a murderer.’

  Harper gathered up the keys and the silver. ‘Why don’t you have a think about it? I’ll be back in a little while.’

  A little silence could bring plenty of clarity.

  ‘Has he admitted it, sir?’ Ash asked.

  ‘Not yet.’ He was surprised. Calder seemed a weak man; he’d expected him to crumple quickly. This could take a while. ‘Why don’t you have a go at him?’ Harper suggested. ‘Let’s see if that works. You’ve done a sterling job on all this so far. Remind him he’ll be up before the beak this afternoon.’

  Kendall was in his office, sorting through the drawers and pulling out a few items: a cut-glass inkwell, a cigarette case, a heavy leather tobacco pouch.

  ‘It’s funny how much there is,’ he said as Harper entered. ‘I’ve already filled one box.’

  Tomorrow would be the superintendent’s final day. Thirty-one years of service on the force. From walking the beat to all this. And he probably wouldn’t live long enough to see in the new year. Cancer. Bloody cancer.

  ‘You won’t miss spending every day here.’

  ‘Probably not,’ Kendall agreed with a regretful smile. ‘Maybe I’ll sleep a little more, too. Don’t be surprised if I pop in from time to time, Tom. Just to keep an eye on things.’

  ‘You’ll always be welcome. You know that.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I’ll keep out of your hair for a while.’ He glanced around. ‘You need to make your mark on the place. How are you getting along with that fence you brought in? Broken him yet? I’d love to have the White murder wrapped up before I leave.’

  ‘He’s not doing us any favours yet. Ash is with him.’

  ‘Let’s hope for the best. The pair of you have played this exactly right. Now we just need that little bit of luck.’