‘I’ll check, sir.’ The smallest of hesitations. ‘It might be Monday before I know anything. It’s Blaydon races this weekend, and everyone’s out there. We have a rash of pickpockets who work the track.’
No doubt they did. But it would be popular duty, too, a chance for a bet and a few drinks. He’d have to wait, and hope the burglar decided to take a few days off.
Then, finally, some good news.
‘I stopped in at the Post Office.’ Fowler was breathless, as if he’d run all the way. ‘The Smiths put in a new address for their post.’
‘Where?’ Harper was already walking towards the door and reaching for his hat.
‘Harehills Lane, right up towards the cemetery.’
The workhouse loomed large at the top of the hill. Over the years it had grown and grown. More building was going on as they passed, an addition to something or other, courses of bright red brick rising into the air.
The place they wanted lay just around the corner, a shop at the end of a terrace so new that the soot had barely touched it yet. The bell tinkled as Harper opened the door. A grocer, the same as Cameron and the Reeds, the same smells of spices and meat, the exotic and the familiar.
The couple behind the counter were older, probably man and wife. He was big, burly as a miner, a white moustache hanging over his top lip. She was thickset, her body heavy inside her gleaming apron.
‘I’m Superintendent Harper with the police. This is Detective Constable Walsh.’
‘Joe Mercer,’ the man replied warily. ‘This is my missus.’
They looked like a couple who’d spent their lives saving and scrimping for the dream of having their own business. Everything in the shop was pristine and exact. They had pride in this place.
‘I understand you take in post for people.’
Mercer nodded. ‘Doesn’t bring in much, but some folks like it. It’s not illegal, is it?’ A hint of worry in his voice.
‘Nothing like that, sir. Not to worry.’ Harper smiled. ‘We’re interested in a new customer of yours.’
‘Which one?’ the woman asked. Her voice was a hard rasp. ‘We only have a few so far.’
‘The Harehills Development Company.’
‘A lad came in yesterday,’ Mercer said. ‘Paid two months in advance.’
‘How old was he?’
The man glanced at his wife.
‘Young. Sixteen, seventeen, something like that,’ she said. ‘Trying to look like he was someone important in his suit. What’s he done, any road?’
‘It’s the people who own the company that we’re after,’ Harper told them. ‘Did he say when he’d come back to pick up the post?’
‘Soon,’ Mercer answered. There was real fear in his voice now. ‘We only had the first delivery for them this morning.’ He inclined his head towards a series of pigeonholes on the wall. ‘What have they done?’
‘Just of interest to our enquiries, sir.’ It was safer if the man didn’t know too much. ‘Did the boy say if he’d be here today?’
‘Didn’t ask. We’re open until late.’ Most business came in the evening, after the workers had finished their shifts.
‘I see. Excuse us a minute, sir.’
Outside, in the thick air, Harper looked around. Traffic moved up and down the road, carts plodding, the bell of the tram giving a warning as it moved along the rails.
‘I want you to spend the rest of the day here. When that young man comes for the post, bring him in. If he doesn’t show his face today, back here on Monday. Cuff him, haul him down to Millgarth. He’s our best chance of getting to the Smiths.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘From the look of those two, you won’t need to lift a finger. They probably like everything just so. You’ll be sitting in the back, drinking tea.’
Walsh grinned. ‘Worse ways to make a living, sir.’
As he walked to the tram stop, Harper could feel the tingle in his fingers and the tightness in his chest. Very slowly, it was all beginning to move. Arrest that boy and they were on the way. Exactly the boost they all needed.
Harper stopped at Millgarth to check for any messages and put a quick shine on his boots. Couldn’t turn up at King’s leaving party looking like a ragamuffin. He’d just stuffed the polish into a drawer when he heard the timid knock on the door. Sissons. He’d been so full of the Smiths that he’d forgotten about the burglar. Damnit.
‘Sorry to disturb you, sir, but I thought you’d want to know what I’ve found. I came by earlier but you were out.’
‘Come in and sit down, Constable,’ Harper said. ‘And I hope you’ve got something good for me.’
‘I might have, sir.’ Sissons blushed brick red. ‘I think so, anyway.’
He hadn’t managed to identify any more Geordies, but he’d been able to discover more about the names he’d found.
‘I don’t know if you’ve been in the college, sir, but it’s not that big, and it’s empty on a Saturday afternoon. All the staff have finished for the week.’
‘Only the students left.’
He nodded. ‘Not too many of them and they’re mostly in the library. So I could wander around a bit. I took a look in the office there.’
‘Wasn’t it locked?’ Harper raised an eyebrow.
‘Yes, sir.’ Another, larger blush. ‘I, ah …’
‘Go on.’ Was there a single copper who didn’t have lockpicking skills? Just as well they were usually honest men.
‘I had a chance to look through the files.’ He unbuckled the attaché case and brought out two pieces of paper. ‘I wrote this up from the notes I made.’
‘Very resourceful, Mr Sissons.’ He looked through. Two employees, one student. One of the men was almost fifty; he wasn’t about to start climbing up drainpipes. That left a pair of possible candidates.
‘You’ve had the chance to observe them all?’ Harper asked.
‘Only a little, sir.’ He sounded wary.
‘Have you gone through everyone? Even the cleaning staff? They can hear a great deal; no one ever notices them.’
Sissons stood at attention and lifted his chin higher. ‘Even them, sir.’
‘Is there one person who stands out to you?’
‘Yes, sir. This man here …’ He pointed to a name on the sheet. ‘Carl Dunn. I’d say he fits the bill perfectly.’
‘Excellent work,’ the superintendent told him, already expecting the blush that came. ‘I’m sorry to tell you, but your time at the college is over.’ The lad tried to hide his disappointment, but he couldn’t manage it. No matter; they had a lead to follow. ‘However, from tomorrow you’ll be working the case from this end. In plain clothes.’
‘Sir?’ He looked confused.
‘You said you wanted to be in CID, didn’t you?’
‘Yes, sir, but—’
‘Consider this a trial. Keep on doing a good job and you’ll be a detective constable. No more money and longer hours. But you’ll be working directly for me, and Mr Ash will teach you all you need to know. What do you say?’
‘Yes, sir. Thank you.’ He practically shouted his answer.
‘Then report here first thing tomorrow.’
‘Of course, sir. Thank you,’ he said again.
At least one person would go home happy tonight, Harper thought.
They were drawing closer to the Smiths. Now he could almost smell the burglar. Maybe Lady Luck had decided to smile on them for once.
At half past five, he walked down the stairs of Hunslet police station, into the smell of carbolic soap. This time, though, the rooms were crowded with the living, all there for Dr King’s leaving party. Old faces and new, chattering away until Chief Constable Crossley presented King with a clock for his mantelpiece.
Harper slid out. It would carry on for hours yet, everyone drinking and talking, and he was in no mood for a celebration. Too many things pressed on his mind. By seven he was home, wearily climbing the stairs at the Victoria and opened the door to the sitting room. H
e stopped. Annabelle was on the settee, head in her hands, shoulders moving up and down as she sobbed quietly.
‘What is it?’ He came and wrapped his arms around her. ‘Where’s Mary? Is she all right?’
She sniffled, trying to smile as she took a handkerchief from her sleeve and wiped her eyes.
‘She’s fine. I left her over at Maisie’s. I asked if they’d look after her for a while.’
‘Has anything …? You look …’ Lost, he thought. Yet there was something else, too. Happiness. He couldn’t make head nor tail of it.
‘I needed to make a few calls this afternoon.’ It was something she’d begun when she was first elected as a Guardian, checking on those in the ward who were receiving relief. ‘Ellen was out, so I took Mary with me.’ She took a breath and rubbed her red eyes again.
‘Go on.’ He kept a tight hold of her, as if she might vanish if he let go.
‘The last stop was Mrs Perkins. She has three daughters, the oldest is just Mary’s age. Husband ran off as soon as the youngest was born. The house is always bare, and they might as well be wearing rags. But she’s doing her best by those girls. Mary played with them while we talked. When we got back here …’ Her voice faltered. ‘She said, “Mam, they don’t have any toys, do they?” Went into her room and came back with one of her dolls. Marched me down there and handed it over, solemn as you please.’
‘All off her own bat?’
She nodded. ‘I swear, I didn’t say a word. You know, Tom, I didn’t think I could love her any more than I do, but … I just needed to be on my own and have a little cry.’ Annabelle gave a wobbly smile. ‘Must be going soft in my old age.’
He didn’t say anything. He was just a copper who tried to do a good job, a father who did his best to love his family. Behaviour like that was all Annabelle’s influence, everything she’d taught their daughter. Mary was going to grow into a remarkable woman. By God, he was a lucky man.
Later, after they’d walked down hand-in-hand to collect their daughter, Annabelle said: ‘I had a letter from Elizabeth Reed this morning.’
‘I remember Aunt Lizzie,’ Mary said.
‘I’m sure you do, all those cakes she fed you when we were in Whitby,’ Harper said, ruffling her hair. ‘How’s her business?’
‘Rushed off her feet, she says. She dropped a note because she met two of our girls.’
‘Our girls?’ What did she mean?
‘From the workhouse,’ Annabelle explained. ‘Turns out they’re boarded out just down the street from her and Billy.’
‘I had no idea you sent them that far.’
‘It’s a church group that arranges it. Two sisters. Made me think of Ada and Annie Redshaw.’
Too late for them to go anywhere. He squeezed her hand.
‘The older one’s set to leave school,’ Annabelle continued. ‘Elizabeth was asking about her, to see if she should take her on in the tea shop. I’ll check the records on Monday. Small world, though, isn’t it?’
‘Sometimes,’ he said. ‘And sometimes it seems huge.’
‘Had a bad day?’
‘A very frustrating one. We might have had a break, though.’
Soon, he thought, willing the telephone to ring with news. Let it happen very soon. Get that lad down to Millgarth and let the dam break.
‘You can play with me, Da,’ Mary told him. ‘That will make you feel better. Mam says it always works for her.’
‘Don’t you be so forward,’ Annabelle told her. ‘Maybe he just wants to relax.’
But Harper was already on his feet, moving around the table and roaring like a monster. A few seconds later he was chasing his daughter across the room as she laughed. It always worked; she was right.
SEVENTEEN
Sunday morning and Leeds was quiet as he walked from Sheepscar. Barely six and already the day had some heat. Would this weather ever break, he wondered.
‘I take it the lad never showed,’ Harper said to Walsh.
‘No, sir. I waited until they closed.’ But he had a broad smile on his face.
‘Back there on Monday.’
‘I will, sir. I think you’ll be pleased, though. We’ve finally got a line on the Smiths.’ No wonder Walsh was grinning, Harper thought. ‘It came through first thing. I heard back from a copper in Manchester with a good memory.’
‘Let’s hope it’s worthwhile.’
‘Oh, it is, sir. This sergeant had dealings with them when they were still juveniles. You won’t believe it, but their names really are Jack and John Smith.’
Harper shook his head; sometimes truth was a damned sight stranger than imagination. But he could feel it, the tide was definitely beginning to turn. ‘Juveniles?’
‘In and out of trouble more or less from the moment they could walk was how he put it,’ Walsh said. ‘By the time they were fourteen or fifteen, they were big lads and there was plenty of intimidation and violence involved. The thing was, he told me, they were clever with it. Not school clever, they left when they were nine. But their brains worked, if you know what I mean.’
Harper nodded. That fitted with what they knew.
‘When I told him what they were up to now, this copper was impressed, but he wasn’t surprised. He arrested them when they were eighteen. Protection racket. One shopkeeper had enough of it and came forward. When the Smiths found out, they beat him up. But they did it right as a couple of constables were coming along. Ended up doing three years. He’s going to send us photographs.’
Those would be useful for identification. Circulate them to every man on the beat.
‘What about since their sentence?’
Walsh shook his head. ‘He heard they left Manchester after they were released, but he doesn’t know where they went.’
‘How long ago was that?’
‘Eight years, sir.’
‘And they seem to have come up for air here a year or so ago.’ Harper tapped his pen against the blotter. ‘We need to fill in that gap.’
‘I’ll do what I can, sir.’
Walsh left the office. But Fowler remained.
‘You look like you have something on your mind.’ Harper sat back in his chair. ‘Is something wrong?’
‘No, sir,’ the sergeant began, then halted. ‘That is … you’ve read about what’s going on in South Africa.’
‘I know, war’s coming, and very soon by the look of it. I don’t see what that has to do with us.’
‘Well …’ Fowler started again. He looked nervous, unsure of himself.
‘You might as well spit it out.’
‘A friend of mine is in the army, sir. Has been for years. A clever bloke, been promoted a few times. He’s offered me a job.’
A job in the army?
‘He wants you to be a soldier?’ He couldn’t picture Fowler on parade or traipsing through the bush with a rifle.
‘No,’ the sergeant replied quickly. ‘That is, yes. But it’s not what you think. He’s in intelligence. Reckons I’d be a big help to them.’ His face reddened with pride. ‘I’m good with crosswords and codes and things like that, you see, sir.’
This was the last thing he’d expected. But a conversation like this could only mean one thing.
‘I take it you’re going to accept his offer.’
‘Yes, sir, I’d like to.’
Harper exhaled slowly. This was the very worst thing that could happen now. ‘I can’t say I’m happy to see you go. I’m sure you know that. We have a good squad.’
‘We have, sir.’
‘But if this is what you want …’
‘It’s the challenge, you see. I might not have another chance like it.’
‘Of course.’ He was still a young man, he wanted to test himself. That was understandable. Just a shame he didn’t feel he could do it here.
‘Like I said, sir, it’s only for the duration.’
How many men had said that over the centuries? And how many of them had returned?
‘Then you h
ave to go.’ Off to serve Queen and country, how could he say anything different? ‘When do they want you?’
‘As soon as possible, sir.’
‘I’d be grateful if you’d stay until we catch the Smiths. I need you for that. We’re getting closer. You heard Walsh.’
Fowler smiled. ‘I’ll be glad to do that, sir. I want to see it wrapped up, too.’
They stood and shook hands.
‘Just one thing,’ Harper said. ‘Make sure you come back safe.’
‘I plan on it, sir. Thank you.’
After the door closed, he sat and clenched his jaw. Dammit. He had good men, the best he’d ever known. Why did this bloody war have to come along and change it all?
‘Well, Mr Sissons, how was your first day as a detective constable?’ He’d paired the man with Ash, digging into their burglary suspect.
‘Very good, I think, sir.’ He stood to attention. Fingertips pressed against the side of his trousers, staring straight ahead.
‘You can relax. There’s no need for that in here. We’re not formal.’
‘Yes, sir.’ He didn’t move. Never mind, the lad would learn in a day or two. He’d been the same at the beginning, wanting to obey every rule to the letter.
‘What have you discovered about our friend?’
Ash took over. ‘We went through to see if he had any record here or in Newcastle, but he’s clean. Found out where he’s living and went for a stroll round the area. Woodhouse, not far from the college. Decent digs. He’s married, his wife grew up in Leeds.’
That might explain the pull here, Harper thought.
‘There’s more, isn’t there? You have that look in your eye.’
‘He’s a member of a climbing club, sir.’ The sentence gushed out of Sissons’s mouth.
‘I’d say that makes him a very likely candidate, wouldn’t you?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘What does he do at the college?’
‘A clerk, sir. He has access to plenty of information and talk in the office.’
‘And how old is he?’
‘Twenty-nine.’
‘Very good. His name’s Carl Dunn, I think you said?’
The Leaden Heart Page 13
