‘Sir?’
‘The war in South Africa.’ He heard the man’s low sigh. ‘I had a chat with a friend at the War Ministry yesterday. He says all hell is going to break loose in September. October at the very latest. After that we’re only likely to have volunteers the army rejects.’
Not a wonderful prospect; Harper knew that. Too many men in Leeds were already small and malnourished. Ending up with the worst of those patrolling the streets was like offering a licence to crime.
‘What can we do?’
‘I’m putting in more advertisements and going out to talk to groups. We’re going to lose some good police officers to this war, Tom.’
‘I know, sir.’ He thought about Fowler, champing at the bit to go off and do his part.
‘Don’t mind me, Tom. I just rang to congratulate you and let off a little steam. We’ll muddle through. And don’t you worry about May and Howe. I’ll make sure they can’t touch you.’
‘Thank you, sir.’ But May had already done more than that. He knew the councillor had paid Charlie Cutter. But some truths you could never prove, only take on faith.
Harper sat back for a moment, then reached for a piece of paper and picked up his pen.
Dear Billy …
TWENTY-SIX
No more fires. Good news, Reed thought as he walked around Whitby, but baffling. The constable looked after the areas where the holidaymakers gathered, and he handled everywhere else, checking all the yards and the areas behind buildings.
He’d seen nothing suspicious that morning. No indications of any fire for a few days now. The ones he’d seen had been so poorly made they didn’t even look like serious attempts at arson. But they were. He knew they were.
At dinner time he returned to the police station. The second week of August and Whitby was all any visitor could hope. They still had blue skies with a few high clouds, calm sea and a gentle breeze. Perfection. No wonder the place was so popular.
‘Letter came in the second post for you, sir,’ Sergeant Brown said. ‘I put it on your desk.’
‘Thank you. No reports of anything?’
‘Quiet all morning, sir.’ He chuckled. ‘I’ve even done the dusting.’
‘I’ll bring out my white gloves and check.’
Brown grinned. ‘You do that, sir. Just don’t tell my missus how good a job I did or she’ll expect me to put on a pinny at home.’
Tom’s handwriting. He read it through quickly. Good news that they’d finally caught the burglar, but no breakthrough with the Smiths, Billy saw. Just some wishful bloody thinking in Hunslet. He crumpled the sheet and tossed it in the bin. He had enough problems of his own at the moment. He didn’t need Tom’s, too.
‘Hunslet,’ Harper said. ‘We’ve had men going through it since that sighting.’
‘And we’ve come up with nothing,’ Walsh told him.
‘Are we likely to find them there?’
‘Honestly, sir, I really don’t think so. We’ve covered a wide area, gone through it all twice. If they were there, someone would have recognized them by now.’
‘Pull the men out. No sense in wasting them.’ He looked at the others. ‘Any ideas?’
‘We’ve established they’re not in Hunslet.’ Ash frowned. ‘But it makes me think two things. They had business there, and they’re probably not too far away.’
‘Why not too far away?’ Fowler asked.
‘I saw a list of what they bought in the shop. A twist of tea, cigarettes, and some sliced meat. That sounds like someone on their way home.’
Clever. Harper hadn’t even thought to check their purchases.
‘Then where’s home?’ he asked. ‘That’s the big question.’
‘I’ve been thinking about that, too, sir,’ Ash replied. ‘The shop’s on South Accommodation Road, just by the Royal Oak.’
Harper picked up the idea. ‘Down the hill from Cross Green.’
‘No more than a hop, skip and a jump.’
‘Walsh, shift the men to Cross Green. Same thing, showing the photographs, asking around.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘If I might, sir.’ Sissons spoke for the first time. ‘I had a beat in that area for two years. I still know people there. I could go knocking on doors. They might be more open with me.’
‘Excellent,’ the superintendent agreed. ‘Do that.’ Anything that could give them an advantage, an edge.
‘I’ll go with him if you don’t mind, sir,’ Fowler said. ‘I know someone out that way myself. Very observant chap.’
It sounded mysterious, but he agreed. What did they have to lose?
‘We’re betting everything on them being in Cross Green?’ Harper said to Ash after the men had gone.
‘It’s as likely as anything, sir.’
Maybe it was, but … he pictured Leeds in his mind, all the neighbourhoods bleeding one into another. From Hunslet to Cross Green, then down into the Bank. Or the other way: Hunslet to Holbeck or Beeston. It was a gamble, and he didn’t feel as if Lady Luck was offering her brilliant smile.
‘I know.’ He raised his eyebrows. ‘I just hope your hunch is right.’
‘We’ll find out, sir.’
It was no more than a quarter of an hour’s walk from Millgarth to Cross Green. He itched to be out there himself. No. Stay in the office and take care of the divisional work, he thought. He had good men running everything. Trust them to get on with it and do their job.
But that didn’t make waiting any easier. At twelve he slipped out to a cafe and gulped down a sandwich and a cup of tea before returning to the station. No word.
By six they still hadn’t returned. What was going on over there?
Finally, he forced himself to go home. They’d telephone if they found anything; in a hackney, he could be there in ten minutes. Stepping off the tram in Sheepscar, he realized he’d given no more thought to being attacked. The worry had evaporated with that one feeble attempt. Still, he patted his pocket and felt the reassuring shape of the cosh.
As he opened the door to the living room above the Victoria, Mary scrambled to her feet and ran to him, holding out a piece of paper.
‘Mam said I should show you this.’
‘You should say hello and let your da take his hat off first,’ a voice called from the kitchen.
It was a story, about a doll named Dolly who came to life at night, causing mischief and moving things around when everyone was asleep, before becoming just a porcelain doll again at first light. No one where she lived could understand what was happening.
‘It’s very good,’ he told her. ‘Are you going to continue it?’
She stared up at him, puzzled. ‘Why?’
‘How will the family find out who really did it?’
‘But they don’t need to, do they?’ she asked as if his idea made no sense.
‘In your da’s mind, they do.’ Annabelle came through, ruffling Mary’s hair. ‘He’s a policeman, remember? They like every mystery to be solved.’
‘Do you want me to write more, Da?’
‘That’s up to you,’ he said. ‘Why don’t you tidy up and wash your hands before we eat?’
They watched as she scampered off.
‘Don’t ask me where it came from,’ Annabelle said. ‘She just settled down with a pencil this afternoon. The next thing I knew, she handed that to me.’
‘It’s good.’ He pushed a lock of hair from her cheek. ‘How about you? How do you feel today?’
‘Downhearted. Hardly surprising, is it?’
‘No.’
‘I honestly thought I could persuade him. Now I’m relying on a Temperance chap who’s already made it clear he doesn’t have much time for a woman who runs a pub.’
‘Maybe you can change his mind. And you still have the meeting. When is it?’
‘The day after I talk to the Temperance man.’ Annabelle sighed. ‘Do you think I’m a fool for even trying?’
‘Of course I don’t. And nor do you. You’re just
trying to do your best for the children. Maybe they can all see that.’
‘The Temperance man can’t see beyond the end of his nose.’
‘If you don’t speak to him, you’ll never know.’
She smiled. ‘You sound like me talking to Mary.’
‘Why, Mam? Is he telling you to tidy your room up?’
They looked down to see her standing beside them.
‘Little pitchers and big ears,’ Annabelle said. ‘Get yourselves sat down and I’ll put the food on the table.’
‘I’m not going to write any more on that story,’ Mary said with a serious face as she wiped her plate clean with the last of her bread. ‘I think it’s just right as it is. But,’ she added, ‘I might write another one tomorrow.’
A little before nine, just as he wondered if he’d hear anything tonight, the telephone began to ring. He was on his feet immediately, raising the receiver to his good ear.
‘Hackney on the way for you, sir,’ the night sergeant told him.
‘Cross Green?’ Harper asked.
‘That’s the one, sir.’
Standing in front of the mirror, Harper attached his collar studs and tied his tie.
‘Is this it?’ Annabelle asked.
‘I hope so.’ He stared at his reflection. His face was growing older, the skin coarse and grainy. All the lines seemed to go deeper, as if they’d been carved into his flesh. The hair was thinner on his head, and more of it was grey. A very different man from the one who’d first put on a police uniform. ‘I really hope so.’
Out through the pub, quiet on a Thursday night, and he waited on the corner for the cab to arrive. Then a rush along empty streets. People stood on their doorsteps, talking in groups, heads turning as the hackney rumbled past over the cobbles.
‘We’re there now, sir,’ the driver called as he pulled up and Harper climbed down. By the coal shoots that marked the end of the mineral railway, not even a hundred yards from Ellerby Lane Mills, its broad shoulders outlined against the evening sky. The light was fading, a deep red on the horizon, as if all the factory chimneys of the West Riding were on fire.
‘Have you found them?’ he asked Ash. The others were with him, a pair of uniformed constables standing back, watching.
‘Not yet, but we’re close, sir. Two reports of them being seen on Timber Place in the last few days. It’s just up the road.’
‘How reliable are the people who told us?’
‘One of them is the nosiest old biddy in the area, sir,’ Sissons told him. ‘Very sharp eyes. I think she remembers everyone who’s ever set foot round here.’
Sometimes he could thank God for busybodies. They might make life loud and annoying, but they were there when you needed them.
‘Didn’t you say you have a friend round here?’ he asked Fowler.
‘He keeps a shop, sir. But it’s up by the recreation ground. He’s never seen them.’
‘Do we know which house is theirs?’
‘No, sir. But everyone reckons it’s in a block of four terraced houses near the Methodist chapel, right before you get to Timber Terrace.’
‘Is there anywhere to keep it under watch?’
‘Three possibilities, sir,’ Ash replied. ‘There’s the chapel and a school just down the street. Both of those would mean dragging out the caretakers; plenty of noise. But we’ll be able to see the front of the houses that way.’
‘What’s the third idea?’
‘Low Fold Mill. It’s just down the hill. Good view from the top floor.’
‘I want a man in there tonight.’
‘I’ll do it, sir,’ Sissons volunteered.
‘Someone will relieve you in the morning. I want a man in that chapel first thing tomorrow. That should cause less fuss than the school.’
‘Very good, sir,’ Ash answered. ‘I thought you’d like to see the place.’
‘I do.’
‘Walk up there and turn down Grand Street. Timber Place is the second on your right.’
He stood at the corner, out of sight among the shadows. His fingertips tingled and he could feel the hair rise on the back of his neck. This was the place. He knew it. He knew it. The Smiths were behind one of those doors. They’d find out which one. And then they’d go in and take them.
‘You see what I mean, sir?’ Ash said after Harper had wandered back to the coal shoots. ‘If we stick a man on the corner, he’ll stand out.’
‘I do. Who has this beat?’
‘Me, sir.’ One of the uniforms stepped forward. ‘PC Storey, number 739.’ An older man with a grave, concerned grace and a thin grey moustache. ‘If you’ll forgive me saying so, sir, all this standing around has put me behind. I’ll have to explain it to my sergeant, you understand.’
That put him in his place, Harper thought. But the bobby was right. They had their rounds and people expected to see them.
‘Just a few questions and you can be on your way. Has anyone moved into those houses on Timber Place recently?’
‘Last would be about three months ago, sir. Number twelve. But I haven’t seen them, so I don’t know if it’s your men or not. I don’t know everyone on that street. As I told the inspector,’ he added pointedly.
‘How often do you go by there?’
‘Every hour and a half, sir. It’s a large beat.’
‘From now on, I want you to make it every hour. And keep your eyes peeled. If you spot anyone or any movement out of the ordinary, or if you see one of the brothers, you let us know immediately. Understood?’
‘Yes, sir.’ He began to walk away, the slow, rocking gait of a beat copper.
‘Constable.’
Storey turned. ‘Sir?’
‘If your sergeant has any questions or complaints, tell him to see me.’
‘We’re close now, sir,’ Ash said.
‘Yes.’ He was thinking ahead, planning tomorrow. ‘Walsh, you take over from Sissons in the morning. Fowler, you have the first stint in the chapel.’
‘I’ll pop and see the caretaker tonight and arrange everything,’ Ash told him.
‘Very good.’ He was imagining how the day would go. A good force of men, battering down the door. The Smiths wouldn’t give in without a fight. The police would have to knock them down and drag them out. ‘Everyone make sure you have your truncheons. It’s not going to be easy.’
Fowler joined him for the walk back to town. As they strolled, Harper had to chuckle.
‘I don’t need a bodyguard any longer. Our councillors tried and it didn’t work.’
‘We want to be certain, sir. It’s on my way, I have to catch a tram. Besides, we’re going through the Bank. Never know what you’ll run into.’
True enough. He’d earned a few scars here over the years. But tonight he felt safe, like nothing could touch him. Things were finally coming to a head.
‘We’ll have them tomorrow, Sergeant.’
‘I hope you’re right, sir.’ He pushed the spectacles up his nose. ‘We’ve thought that before, though.’
‘They’re out of places to go. They don’t have any choice.’
‘I’ll just be happy when it’s all over,’ Fowler said.
‘So you can join the army?’
The sergeant straightened his back. ‘I hope you can understand, sir. I love this job—’
‘Then why go?’ Harper asked. ‘We need you here in Leeds, too.’
‘Because the intelligence work will be something different, sir. Quite a challenge, too, from all my friend says.’ He stayed quiet for a minute. ‘I suppose that if I don’t go, I’ll spend the rest of my life wondering “what if” and feeling I should have done it.’
‘You’ll be welcome back when it’s over. You know that.’ But how many who boarded the boats to South Africa would come home? he wondered.
‘Thank you, sir. For whatever it’s worth, I think you’ve picked a good one in Sissons.’
‘Seems that way so far. He might look like a lean streak of wind, but he has a go
od head on his shoulders.’
‘He’ll be fine once he gets his feet dirty.’
‘I daresay,’ Harper chuckled. ‘You know we all wish you well, don’t you?’
‘I do, sir.’
At Millgarth they shook hands, as if they wouldn’t be seeing each other again in a few hours.
Sheepscar was quiet as the late tram squealed to a halt. Harper alighted and looked around. Empty streets. No danger, exactly the way he’d told Fowler. That would come tomorrow.
‘Billy?’ The telephone line crackled. ‘We think we’ve got them. The Smiths.’
‘Where?’
‘In Cross Green. I have men watching the place. We’re going in later.’
Reed had heard it from Tom before. The same eagerness, the same hope. And afterwards, the same disappointment.
‘I hope you find them.’ It seemed like the diplomatic answer.
‘You could jump on a train and be here in time. You said you wanted to see them arrested. For Charlie.’
He remembered what he’d said. He remembered every word of it. But day by day, as time passed, the feeling was starting to fade. Charlie’s ghost was growing fainter. He wanted his revenge, but it had stopped overwhelming everything. He still cared, but the living meant more than the dead.
‘I can’t,’ he said. ‘I’ve got someone here trying to set fires. Pathetic jobs, but I need to catch them.’
He’d been out late the night before, walking around town in the darkness, eyes alert for any flame or smell of smoke. Nothing. He’d keep searching. That was his job.
‘Any leads?’
‘None at all. When you find this pair …’ He let his words tail away, not sure quite what he wanted.
‘I will, Billy.’ Harper’s voice was faint at the other end of the wire. ‘And good luck.’
TWENTY-SEVEN
‘Which is number twelve?’ Harper asked.
‘The last one at this end,’ Fowler replied.
The attic room at the Methodist chapel gave a good view along part of Timber Place. High enough to look down into the houses. Nine in the morning, the sun trying to find a way through the smoke haze from the factory chimneys. Men had long since left for work. Most of the women, too. A pair of young children played with a ball on the pavement. A sorrowful air of desolation hung over the area.
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