The Leaden Heart

by Chris Nickson

  ‘Superintendent Harper,’ Pearce said, as if he’d never noticed him in the crowd.

  But he knew Jeb all too well. Half the force did; they’d been dealing with him since he was a boy shoplifting sweets in Little London. Spells in and out of jail. Nothing violent, that wasn’t his style. Just schemes that promised the world and came to nothing. Jeb Pearce was everyone’s fool.

  ‘I saw you at Mrs Reed’s burial.’

  ‘My ma asked me to go. Mrs Reed was her second cousin,’ he replied. ‘She’s poorly, back’s giving her gyp. Someone from our side had to be there.’

  It might have sounded plausible if Pearce’s mother hadn’t been sentenced for receiving stolen property just the month before.

  ‘Very thoughtful of you,’ Harper said. He pulled out his pocket watch. ‘I tell you what. The next tram won’t be along for a while. Why don’t we walk into town? We’ll have time for a catch-up.’

  ‘I need to get over to Bramley.’

  ‘You’ll be fine. Trams go there every quarter of an hour from the Headrow.’ He made sure the words didn’t brook any refusal. Pearce’s face fell. He put his hands in his pockets and started to shuffle along. ‘Now, Jeb, why don’t you tell me what you’ve been up to lately?’

  Billy Reed walked along West Cliff, past the Royal Hotel to stare down at the water. The tide was out, leaving a long expanse of beach stretching all the way to Sandsend. Families sat under parasols, enjoying the sun. Children were paddling and playing games. A perfect late July day. He ought to feel happy to be here. Instead, darkness crept around the edges of his mind.

  He should have asked to stay in Leeds a few more days. That could have changed everything. With him around, Hester might still be alive. Instead, he’d had to make do with sending flowers for the funeral. It wasn’t enough. He’d let her down. Her and Charlie.

  He lit a cigarette. Part of him knew it was all stupid, pointless. He couldn’t have spent the rest of his life guarding her. Tom was good. He’d do his duty; he’d ensure the murderers paid. But that didn’t make it any easier. He should have done more. He’d be carrying this around for the rest of his life, the thought of what if haunting him on nights he couldn’t sleep.

  He needed something brighter. Something hopeful.

  On a bench, an old couple leaned into each other, whispering and laughing, happy. Would that be him and Elizabeth in twenty or thirty years? he wondered. Would they even be alive then? The new century was right around the corner. A world full of something or other, one that was going to leave him behind. A man out of time.

  Maybe Whitby was the right place for him. A sleepy little town that lived on fishing and history. Busy for three months every summer, then quiet, hidden away and forgotten for the rest of the year. A place that could happily let the rest of the world pass by.

  He turned, walked through the whalebone arch and out of the breeze, down into town. Time to go back to the station and see if there was any crime worth the name today.

  TEN

  ‘Have you come across Jeb Pearce?’ Harper asked Detective Constable Walsh.

  ‘No, sir,’ he answered in surprise. ‘Should I have?’

  ‘Good. If you don’t know him, he won’t know you. Find him, start following him. I want to know who he talks to and where he goes.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ He hesitated. ‘Is there a special reason?’

  ‘He was at Hester Reed’s funeral, and he lied when I asked him why.’

  ‘Right, sir.’ He picked up his notebook, crammed a hat on his head, and left.

  ‘You don’t think Jeb’s involved with the money, do you, sir?’ Ash asked.

  The superintendent shook his head. ‘He wouldn’t know where to begin. But he was there for something, and it’s a pound to a penny that someone paid him.’

  ‘I’ve got more on the burglar, sir,’ Fowler said with a frown. ‘I did what you said and sent out the list of stolen goods to other places. He’s been selling to the pawnbrokers in Doncaster and Barnsley.’

  ‘Same name and description?’ Harper asked.

  ‘Yes, sir. Still using the name Brown.’

  The superintendent rubbed his chin. He’d made a good guess. That wasn’t much consolation.

  ‘The forces up north start asking questions and suddenly he changes tactics. Make me wonder if he has an informant there.’

  ‘Going south to sell the loot is closer from Leeds,’ Ash pointed out. ‘He’s there and back in half a day with the money in his pocket. It’s barely even an excursion.’

  ‘Still no word from the snouts?’

  ‘Nothing, sir,’ Fowler replied. ‘It’s like he doesn’t exist.’

  But the burglar did exist, large as life and twice as troublesome. And he’d be back at work sooner or later.

  ‘Forget him for now,’ Harper told them. ‘I want you concentrating on the murder. Maybe we won’t bang our head on a brick wall with that.’

  ‘I spent the morning in Holbeck,’ Annabelle said as she reached around and undid the buttons on her gown. It spilled to the floor around her feet. A few more movements and she let out a sigh of relief as her corset loosened. ‘That’s better.’

  ‘I thought you had a meeting at the workhouse today.’ He was already in bed, watching her; he’d never tire of the sight.

  ‘Postponed until Monday.’ She arched an eyebrow. ‘Two of the gentlemen Guardians had conflicting luncheon appointments.’

  ‘Have you managed to find the woman Redshaw lived with?’

  ‘Not yet. No one will say if they’ve seen her. It would help if I could talk to the man on the beat, Tom.’

  ‘Tomorrow?’ He’d talk to Brian Patterson and arrange it.

  ‘If you can.’

  A few minutes later she cuddled up beside him, fresh with the scent of Pears soap.

  ‘I’m glad you’re not giving up,’ he said.

  ‘Don’t be daft. I need to know. I’ve told you that. Know it for myself.’

  He put his arm around her shoulders. Night had brought a little coolness to the air. Maybe this heatwave was slowly beginning to fade. About time, too.

  ‘This woman might be trying to put it all behind her,’ he said.

  ‘I’ve worked that one out for myself. I still want to hear her side of the story, though. Maybe you won’t be the only detective in the family.’

  ‘Can we stand more than one?’

  She gave a small laugh. ‘Better watch out, Superintendent. I might be after your job next.’

  ‘We had another burglary last night, sir,’ Fowler said as Harper walked into the office. ‘Our man again.’

  He sighed. This wasn’t news he wanted to hear.

  ‘Who was it this time?’

  ‘A family called Miller. Out for the evening, gave the girl-of-all-work the night off. He had the run of the place.’

  ‘Are we sure it was our man?’

  The sergeant gave a weary nod. ‘Twenty feet up a drainpipe, then six feet across the roof to an open attic window. It’s him. Unless we’ve got another—’

  ‘Don’t you dare think that,’ the superintendent warned.

  ‘—then it’s him. No clues left behind, of course.’

  ‘Have you circulated the list of stolen goods?’

  ‘Already gone out, sir. Locally, as well as up and down the train line.’

  What else could they do? Harper wondered.

  ‘No one nearby saw anything? Where was this?’

  ‘Blenheim Square, sir. I talked to a few of the neighbours last night. I’m going to see the rest this morning.’

  ‘Have a word with the man on the beat, too. He might have noticed a stranger around during the day, sizing the place up.’

  This burglar might be new in Leeds, but he was finding his way around quickly enough. There was money in Blenheim Square, plenty of the professors from Yorkshire College lived there.

  ‘That last burglary …’ Harper began.

  ‘What about it?’ Fowler asked.

 
‘Didn’t the victim have something to do with the college?’

  ‘Vice-Chancellor, sir.’

  ‘This one, what’s his name?’

  ‘Miller.’

  ‘What’s his job?’

  The sergeant checked in his notebook.

  ‘Professor of Latin at Yorkshire College.’ His voice slowed as he spoke. ‘I’ll look into that connection, sir.’

  It might be nothing, Harper thought. Pure coincidence. But he’d never believed in those.

  ‘See what you can turn up.’ A thought struck him. ‘George Hope was the first victim. Find out if he has anything to do with the place, too. But I want most of your attention on this murder.’ That was what was burning inside him. ‘The people who sold to the Smiths. What did they have to say?’

  ‘The ones I spoke to were all older, sir. Owned the property for a few years, happy to take the cash. Better to have a lump sum than a little trickling in every week. Sounds like the brothers kept pressing those who were reluctant. Going on for hours until they wore them down. No violence,’ he added.

  Everything legal, everything above board. Not a shred he could use in court.

  ‘Talk to the rest of them,’ Harper ordered, then turned to Walsh.

  ‘What about our friend Jeb?’

  ‘It took me a couple of hours to track him down.’ He grinned. ‘I must be losing my touch, sir.’

  ‘That’s Jeb for you. Elusive as the wind,’ Ash said from the corner.

  The others all turned to stare at him.

  ‘Elusive as the wind?’ Harper asked. ‘What does that mean?’

  The inspector smiled. ‘Saw it in a book my Nancy made me read. It’s true, though. Pearce is all over the place, sir. You know that.’

  ‘I finally found him at the White Stag on North Street,’ Walsh continued. His eyes widened. ‘Do you know they have a monkey there?’

  ‘I’ve seen it,’ Harper said. The pub was only four hundred yards from the Victoria. A sailor had brought the animal home with him and taken it to the pub, hoping for free drinks. It had run off. By the time they found it in the cellar, the sailor had vanished. The landlord had decided to keep the monkey; it brought in trade. God knew, the place needed it. ‘What was Jeb doing there?’

  ‘Nothing much. Hardly a soul in the place. I had the impression he was waiting for someone. After half an hour he left. Went up to Harehills. Looked around the shops and went into a grocer’s.’

  The superintendent sat upright. ‘Which one?’

  ‘I don’t know, sir,’ Walsh answered. ‘I wasn’t paying much attention to the name. I couldn’t follow him inside. Too obvious.’

  ‘Would you remember it?’

  ‘Of course, sir.’

  ‘Get your hat. We’re going to take a tram ride.’

  ‘Are you certain it was this one?’ Harper asked.

  ‘Positive, sir. I remember the sign.’

  Hard to forget. Cameron, Grocer to the Trade and the Home. Gold letters on an olive background. It stood out on this parade, where everything else looked so drab.

  ‘How long was Pearce inside?’

  ‘Couldn’t have been more than two or three minutes. And he wasn’t carrying anything when he came out.’

  ‘No,’ Harper said thoughtfully. ‘I don’t imagine he was. Why don’t you go and catch up with him? Let’s see what he gets up to today.’

  He stared at the shop. Go back in? No, he decided. He wanted more before he talked to Cameron again. An accommodation address was perfectly legal. The man could claim he didn’t know Pearce, that he’d never seen him before in his life. At the tram stop back into town, the superintendent considered his choices.

  Back at Millgarth he left a note for Ash: Grocer called Cameron in Harehills. Find out about him.

  Reed sat in the Inglenook Tea Room and read the letter again, the sixth time since it arrived that morning. He knew the words by heart now, but he wanted to see them on the page once more.

  This looks as if it will be a slow investigation. We still don’t know who these Smith brothers can be. But we will get there, Billy. I promised you that, and I will see that we do right by Charlie and Hester.

  He wanted to believe it. But what was going on? What if they couldn’t find the kind of answers that would see two men standing in the dock?

  Reed folded the sheet and put it back in his jacket. All those years when he and Charlie could have been friends again, but both of them had been too stubborn. They’d settled for grudging politeness, when a good talk over a couple of pints might have cleared the air. Too much bloody pride, the determination not to be the first to back down. Look where it had left them: one in the ground, the other feeling as if his heart was splitting apart with the knowledge that they wasted all those years for nothing at all.

  Without Elizabeth, he’d have been drowning his sorrows. Marriage to her had changed his life. He’d talked to her about the old days, when he and Charlie had been close, and all the stupid little things that stopped him from mending the breach. She hadn’t judged; she’d listened patiently and hugged him, looked after him. Never mind that she was up to her ears with her own work at the tea room. Very quietly, she made the time for him. How had he ever been lucky enough to find someone like her? Every single day, he was grateful that she was there.

  He counted out the pennies for his pot of tea and placed it on the tablecloth, leaving with a nod to Mrs Botham. Time to go back to work.

  ELEVEN

  ‘What did Jeb do yesterday?’ the superintendent asked Walsh.

  ‘Nothing worth mentioning, sir. He lives with his aunt. Spent most of it at home.’

  ‘Stick with him.’

  ‘I intend to, sir.’

  ‘Cameron,’ Harper said to Ash. ‘Our friendly grocer to the trade and the home. What do we know?’

  ‘I’m still working on it, sir. He’s had his shop for two years, but nobody around Harehills Parade seems to know much about him. Doesn’t seem to go out of his way to make friends. Has ambitions to cater to the higher end of the market.’

  That fitted with the man he’d met, the neat clothes, beard carefully trimmed, the clean fingernails.

  ‘What’s his background?’

  ‘I’m still trying to find that out, sir. I should know a bit more by tonight.’

  ‘Good.’ He looked at his men. ‘Don’t forget we’re dealing with murder here. Fowler. Anything else with the others who’ve sold property to the Smiths?’

  The sergeant pushed the spectacles up his nose. ‘The same as before, sir. Older. Easy to persuade. Or bully,’ he added.

  Harper nodded; he’d spent the afternoon visiting a few of them himself and seen exactly the same thing. The Smiths were smart. Persuasive. Born salesmen.

  ‘They put the money right there on the table,’ a widow had told him. Just her and a maid in a house that was far too big in Hyde Park. She was in her seventies, her clothes shabby, grey hair so sparse that he could see the pale pink of her skull. ‘Said that was mine if I sold to them, that it was better like that than a little bit of rent every month.’

  ‘What did you do?’ he asked.

  She continued as if she’d never heard his question. ‘Then they started to put it away. Told me that I’d had my chance and that was it.’ The woman looked up at him with sadness in her eyes. ‘My Bob didn’t leave me much and I’ve gone through it. I took what they were offering. Did I do the right thing?’

  ‘Maybe you did,’ Harper said.

  The brothers had been tougher with some of the others he saw, staying and talking for hour after hour, simply hammering away with words, grinding them down until they accepted the offer. Everything a hair on the right side of legal. By the time the day ended, all he felt was an overwhelming sorrow for the people he’d met.

  Ash and the others left. They knew what to do. Meanwhile, Harper thought as he looked at the papers waiting on his desk, he wouldn’t be able to escape Millgarth today.

  ‘You look all in,’ Annab
elle said.

  His jacket was hanging by the door and he’d removed his collar and tie before stretching out his legs with a sigh. The end of another hot day.

  ‘I’ve spent most of the day reading and signing my name on forms.’

  Mary looked up, her eyes suddenly curious. ‘Did they make you practise writing your name all day, Da?’

  He laughed. ‘It felt that way,’ he told her. ‘But some days a superintendent’s job is like that. Don’t ever become one.’

  ‘Chance would be a fine thing,’ Annabelle said. But he wasn’t about to start on that discussion; he was too weary. ‘It’s just going to be you two tonight. I need to go and see a couple of families.’

  ‘Work?’ he asked, and she nodded.

  ‘They’ve applied for relief and the officer turned them down after a visit.’ Her eyes hardened. ‘I know them both, so I want to see for myself. No rest for the wicked.’

  ‘Have you been wicked, Mam?’ Mary asked.

  ‘Not yet,’ Annabelle told her. ‘But I might be after this evening.’

  Time with his daughter was the perfect medicine. First she wanted to play shop, bringing out a box filled with tiny pieces of wooden fruit and cheese for him to buy as she totted up the prices on a piece of paper. Correct every time. Then it was the memory game.

  How had he ever managed to father such a clever girl, he wondered as she slipped into bed. He’d never been a bright spark at school; joining the force had been the making of him. But Mary was streets ahead of both her parents. Every day it astonished him. Worried him, too. What opportunities would be there for young women when she grew up?

  All they could do was hope that the world became a better place. He had his doubts about that: during the afternoon a pair of constables had come to him, saying they intended to enlist if war broke out with the Boers. Men and their urge to fight. The chief constable had been correct; they were going to need plenty of special constables. From the stories in the papers it was probably only weeks before the fighting started.

  After Mary was asleep, he read for a while, windows open to the warm evening, voices and laughter drifting up from the pub.

  By the time Annabelle returned, he was starting to doze in the chair, eyes jerking open as the door closed. One glance at her face told him all he needed to know.