The Leaden Heart

by Chris Nickson

  A tap on the door followed by a short cough. Sergeant Tollman.

  ‘Two gentlemen to see you, sir. Said Mr Crossley sent them. And that other thing Mr Ash asked me about: I’m looking into it.’

  ‘Very good. Show them in, please.’

  They were thin and stoop-shouldered, men who’d spent all their lives bent over a desk, a pair of gnomes wandering awkwardly in the daylight. Their skin had a grey pallor, both wearing glasses, hair receding off their foreheads, wearing old-fashioned frock coats and stiff wing collars. A pair of unloved bookends.

  ‘I’m Andrews,’ the one in front said. ‘You have some papers …’

  ‘That’s right.’ He led them down the corridor. ‘Where are you from?’

  ‘We work in the council’s finance department,’ Andrews told him. ‘We’ve done work for Mr Crossley before. He said to tell you that he trusts us.’

  As soon as they entered the cramped room with its piles of paper, the pair seemed to relax, as if they’d discovered a new home.

  ‘If there’s anything you need, let me know,’ Harper said.

  ‘We’ll be fine, thank you, sir.’ He was already at the desk, pulling a sheaf of documents towards himself. ‘Absolutely fine.’

  He’d called off the watch on the Smiths’ office. No sign of them at all; they were too clever to risk showing their faces. Now they’d vanished. All the constables on the beat had their pictures, but not a peep of recognition.

  Still nothing by six o’clock. Outside, people bustled about, on their way home from work. He stared down at a sea of hats, bowlers, caps, the colourful headwear of the women. Another day of frustration. The men were still all out there. Tomorrow, he’d do the same. He’d thought their luck was changing. It seemed to have stalled. Or perhaps Lady Luck simply wanted to tease them.

  He caught sight of Walsh entering the detectives’ room and beckoned him through. Detective Sergeant Walsh. The rank would suit him. A few words, a handshake and a beaming smile, and he sent the man off to tell his wife.

  Just as Harper was ready to leave, Andrews knocked on the office door, face grave and pale as the angel of death.

  ‘We’ve put the papers in order and gone through everything, Superintendent.’

  ‘That was very quick.’ How had they managed it so easily?

  ‘It doesn’t take too long when you know your way around.’ For an instant, a smile flickered across his face, then it was gone again. He extended a hand that held three sheets of paper. ‘My report for you.’

  ‘Give me the summary, please.’

  ‘All their income is derived from the Harehills Development Company.’

  Harper nodded. He already knew that.

  ‘From there, three-quarters is passed to another company, the North Leeds Company.’

  ‘Any indication who owns that company?’ He held his breath, hoping against hope.

  Andrews shook his head. ‘It’s not in the papers, sir. The money goes to a lawyer, Mr Dryden.’

  No luck at all.

  ‘Money came into the Harehills Development Company to set it up and buy properties,’ Harper said.

  ‘That’s correct. Several thousand pounds.’

  ‘Where did it come from?’ That was the heart of the matter, the real nugget of information to sift from all those piles of paper.

  ‘From the North Leeds Company.’

  And Dryden was using the law to stop him discovering who owned that. All that work and they had absolutely nothing new. He still didn’t know who was giving the orders. At least the papers would be evidence once they had the Smiths. The net was closing. But slowly, too bloody slowly.

  ‘Thank you,’ he said finally.

  Solemnly, Andrews placed his report on the desk.

  ‘We’ve compiled a list of every company they do business with.’

  ‘You’ve done it all extremely quickly and efficiently.’

  ‘Thank you, sir. There is one other item you might find useful, sir. Just a small thing in the notes, but the Smiths have a house in Hyde Park.’

  Suddenly the man had Harper’s complete attention.

  ‘Whereabouts?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Superintendent, I searched but that information wasn’t in there.’

  ‘Thank you, Mr Andrews. I’ll take it from there.’ A solid lead. They could track that down and the pair wouldn’t be expecting them. He took out his watch. The city offices would be closed for the night. ‘Walsh, Fowler,’ he called out, ‘You’re going to the Town Hall first thing in the morning.’

  Annabelle had another evening meeting; he couldn’t keep track of them all. Mary was eager to play, even if her ideas of enjoying herself seemed strange to him. She wanted to be tested on her spelling and arithmetic. After an hour he finally asked, ‘Don’t you want to play a game?’

  Her eyes widened and she smiled. ‘Skittles, Da.’

  NINETEEN

  ‘She’s very quick, Billy. I only need to tell her something once and she has it.’

  Elizabeth settled in the easy chair with a contented sigh. It sounded as if Catherine Bush’s first day working at the tea shop had gone well, Reed thought. Good; his wife needed more help. She came home exhausted every evening.

  The job had been simple to arrange. Elizabeth had gone to the Catholic Society supervising the girls. They were overjoyed, especially as Catherine’s employer was the wife of a police inspector. Two signatures and it was settled.

  He poured a cup of tea. Elizabeth barely looked awake, just enough to stroke the back of his hand and smile. They worked and worked each day, and by the time they were done, they barely had the energy to enjoy any time together.

  Reed lit a cigarette and thought about the telephone call he’d received during the afternoon. The rasp of Tom Harper’s voice down the line.

  ‘We’re getting there, Billy. Slowly but surely. We got all the Smiths’ papers and closed their office.’

  ‘Do you have them?’ Never mind the papers.

  ‘Not yet. Tomorrow we should have an address for them.’

  ‘What about evidence for murder?’

  He sensed the hesitation. ‘We will. And we’ll discover whoever’s behind all this, too.’

  ‘Do you know who that is?’

  ‘I have an idea. But …’

  No, Reed thought, Tom had nothing to connect all the dots and make the full picture.

  ‘Who is it?’

  ‘No names, no pack drill,’ Harper had replied. ‘Not until I’m sure.’

  He was clutching at wisps. He’d need more than that. And anyone who could testify was dead.

  At the top of the hill he gazed down over the estuary. There had been no more fires. Every morning he woke with dread of another. His sergeant and constable knew; they searched, too. Don’t tell anyone, he’d ordered them. Not a soul. If word spread, there could be panic.

  Maybe it was a holidaymaker who had gone home now, he hoped. Or a drunk. Maybe. But he daren’t take that chance. He’d keep looking.

  ‘That’s where we stand, gentlemen,’ Harper said. Fowler and Walsh sat at their desks. Ash leaned against the wall, and Sissons stood nervously in the corner.

  ‘I can’t believe they worked their way through all that in three hours,’ Fowler said. ‘I was going cross-eyed from looking at it.’

  ‘Much good it did, anyway,’ the superintendent said. ‘For those of you who haven’t noticed, we have a new member of the squad. Detective Constable Sissons. He’s been looking into our burglar.’ The young man reddened as everyone turned to stare at him. ‘He’ll be working with Mr Ash. The rest of you know what you need to do. I’m going to be joining you out there. Constable, this is Sergeant Fowler and Sergeant Walsh.’ He saw Walsh beam with pride.

  Sissons had been the first to arrive. Young and eager, unsure of himself and where to put himself in the office. He’d feel at home soon enough. For now, though, he was the outsider, the one with something to prove.

  ‘What else have you learned about
this couple from the college?’ Harper asked.

  He took out his notebook. ‘I’ve done what I can, sir. I already told you about the man. Carl Dunn, born and raised in Newcastle, somewhere called Jesmond. Always worked as a clerk, loves to climb.’

  ‘Carry on.’

  ‘It turns out his wife is a qualified teacher.’

  ‘Is she now?’ A professional woman and a burglar’s accomplice? Well, stranger things had happened. ‘What have you turned up about her?’

  ‘Her name’s Agatha. She grew up in Chapeltown, parents moderately well-off. Went to St Hild’s in Durham to train. It’s a very highly thought-of college, apparently.’ He thumbed through a couple of pages of writing. ‘Did well there. She’s an avid climber, too, even started a club for the girls. Met her husband through the sport.’

  A pair who loved climbing. More and more interesting. ‘How did they end up in Leeds?’

  ‘She had a teaching position in Newcastle after she took her certificate. I talked to the headmistress where she worked. Excellent at her job, apparently. Good with children, absolutely unflappable. The head was sorry to lose her when they married. Mr Dunn had a reasonable job, he’d been there five years. Then he gave in his notice without any warning. I talked to someone in Newcastle police. The Dunns left Newcastle six or seven weeks ago.’

  The same time the burglaries stopped there, and shortly before they began here.

  ‘Good work. How long did that take you?’

  ‘Most of the day, sir. The hardest part was tracking down the headmistress and persuading her to talk.’

  ‘Does Mrs Dunn have any kind of job down here?’

  ‘No, sir. Not that I’ve found.’

  Harper wanted to be outside these four walls, to be hunting the Smiths. He couldn’t; for now, he needed to be here, to wait and give orders. He chafed at his desk, swearing five minutes passed for every one the clock showed. The windows were open wide, but his office still felt like a furnace.

  Every time the door opened, he raised his head, hoping some of his men had returned with answers. Nine o’clock passed, ten, eleven, midday, one. Nothing. He tried to work on the papers that needed his attention, but it was impossible to concentrate. Finally he gave up, standing and staring out at the flow of people around the outdoor market.

  Finally. Familiar voices. He rushed through to the detectives’ room.

  ‘Well?’

  ‘They own a place in Hyde Park, right enough,’ Fowler said, pushing the spectacles up his nose, and Harper couldn’t help but wonder how the man would fare in the rough country of war. ‘Took us four hours of digging, sir.’

  ‘Whereabouts is it?

  ‘Brudenell Mount. Quite a respectable area. They bought it six months ago. Joint ownership, sir. Both brothers.’ Walsh read from his notebook. ‘Paid cash. The previous owner was Councillor Howe, although he’d been renting it out for a few years.’

  One more link to close the circle. At this rate, he’d make it into a noose to go around all their necks.

  ‘Do you want us to go in, sir?’

  ‘Not yet.’ He’d been far too hasty with the Smiths’ office. A little patience and watching and he could have caught them there. This time he’d move a little more cautiously. ‘I don’t want you questioning the neighbours. Nothing to arouse suspicion. Just watch the house. Back as well as front, if you can. If you see them, don’t try and arrest them. That’s an order. You’ve seen how dangerous they are. We can get men up there quickly enough.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  Hyde Park was a few miles from Harehills, on the other side of Leeds. No one there was likely to recognize them. A safe spot for a bolt hole. Harper could feel the tingle in his hands. This time they were going to have them. Now all he needed was good news from Ash and Sissons and his day would be complete.

  ‘Superintendent Harper.’

  The voice was a bellow, the sound of someone used to giving orders and being obeyed. He stood at the entrance to the office, Tollman looking helpless behind him.

  The man was as big as the noise he made. A hefty paunch held in by an expensively-cut suit and waistcoat, jowls sagging on his cheeks, and a double chin that shook as he spoke. Small, dark eyes that seemed to absorb the light.

  ‘Councillor May.’ Harper stood, slowly extending a hand to a visitor’s chair in his office. ‘You should have let us know you were coming. What can I do for you?’

  ‘I’m on the watch committee.’ He glared, fire in his eyes. ‘I don’t need an invitation to see how one of the divisions is spending the public’s money.’

  ‘Of course not. Tea?’

  May waved the idea away. He remained standing, a heavy, looming presence in the room, eyes moving slowly around until his gaze settled on the map.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Related to a case.’ He wasn’t about to offer a word more than necessary.

  The councillor snorted. ‘These murders?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Something else you’re wasting time and good brass over. What’s happening about the burglaries? I’ve got people telling me they’re terrified to go out.’

  Harper didn’t believe a word. May could conjure outrage from the empty air. He loved nothing better than stirring a crowd by appealing to its prejudices. Nobody named, just a wink, a nod, a hint; he knew how to work them. He despised the police, insisting he was on the watch committee to keep them in check.

  This was the first time since Harper became superintendent that May had stirred himself into Millgarth. And it wasn’t a friendly visit.

  ‘We’re working on that. We have some suspects.’

  ‘Some suspects?’ He shouted out the question. ‘What good is that to honest people who are scared they’ll come home to find all their valuables stolen?’

  Harper gritted his teeth and forced himself to smile. ‘As I said, Councillor, we’re making progress.’

  ‘Not enough.’ He moved around the room as if he owned it, picking up a piece of paper, glancing at it then putting it down again. He seemed to fill all the space, to take all the air. ‘In case you don’t already know, a number of us feel you shouldn’t be in this job.’ A lower voice now, more intimate and threatening. ‘We’ve taken our concerns to the chief constable.’

  ‘So I’ve heard.’ He wasn’t going to show any trace of fear. He wouldn’t give May that satisfaction.

  ‘We’re going to keep on with it until he replaces you, Harper.’ The words came out in a hiss.

  Harper stared at him. ‘That’s your privilege.’

  ‘I’ve been on the council for a long time. Plenty of people owe me favours.’ May gave a thin, hard smile. His eyes glittered with hatred. He took a step closer. Harper could smell his breath, whisky and red meat. ‘That’s how politics works. And when you’re ready, you collect them. It’s easy to ruin a career. Just like that.’ The snap of his fingers sounded like a gunshot.

  ‘I can’t stop you trying.’ The man was goading him. Harper bunched his fists, but he didn’t move. He wasn’t that stupid. Hitting a councillor? Instant dismissal, no appeal.

  ‘I know you can’t.’ The dark smile returned for a second and vanished again. May loved the sound of his own voice. ‘And I’ll win. Do you know why? Because I have power and you don’t.’

  He extended his hand. Without thinking, Harper took it, and May dragged him close. A whisper that fed like poison into his ear. ‘I know men in this city who could make you disappear for five pounds and give me change for the pleasure of the work. Think on that, Harper. Imagine how your godawful, jumped-up wife and little girl would feel when you never came home.’

  A hard squeeze of the hand, a final, bitter look, and May was gone, only the stink of him trailing in the air. Ten seconds later, Tollman appeared.

  ‘I’m sorry, sir. He barged right through, and I couldn’t exactly stop him, could I? Not with him being …’

  ‘It’s doesn’t matter, Sergeant. You can’t keep a councillor waiting.’
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  ‘There’s something else, sir.’

  ‘Not right now.’ He turned, taking a deep breath. ‘A few minutes, please.’

  Bluster and righteous fury. That was all anyone would have heard. Christ, had he imagined it all? He replayed the words in his head. A councillor threatening a police superintendent with murder in his own office? Things like that didn’t happen. He knew he should feel something. Anger. Fear. He should be flaming. Instead he was strangely calm, as if he was standing apart and observing it all. May thought he’d already won the war. He was wrong. Battle was just beginning.

  Finally he began to move, to put one foot in front of the other as if he was walking out of a dream and back to everyday life. Harper stopped at the front desk.

  ‘You had something to tell me?’

  ‘You wanted to know if the Smiths might have someone on their payroll here, sir.’

  Harper smiled. ‘I haven’t forgotten.’

  ‘I’ve come up with two possibilities.’

  ‘Tell me about them …’

  ‘Tollman said you had a visitor this afternoon,’ Ash said.

  ‘Councillor May. He thought he could intimidate me.’

  ‘Did he succeed, sir?’

  ‘He threatened to have me killed.’

  ‘What?’ For once, Ash looked astonished.

  ‘Right where we’re standing. Pulled me close and whispered it.’

  ‘Have you told the chief?’

  Harper shook his head. ‘What can I say? Nobody else was here, there’s no evidence.’

  ‘To be sure he knows, sir.’

  ‘What’s the point? Anyway, I’ve told you now. May seems to believe he can have my scalp. He wants revenge for his son.’

  ‘He’s bitten off more than he can chew,’ Ash said.

  ‘Our friend the councillor seems to believe the world revolves around him.’

  ‘I believe it’s time he had a fall from grace, don’t you, sir? Him and the North Leeds Company.’