As he walked he glanced at faces. They were all so young, so open and eager for life. He must have been that way once; it was impossible to recall now.
The whores were busy, bustling men away as soon as they were finished, ready for the next. He saw some of the night men on their rounds. There was nothing more for him tonight. No more secrets to be squeezed from today.
The church bells were ringing. The clouds lingered, making a drab, grey day. The cells were full: men brawling when drunk, two women who’d got into a scrap over a jug of gin. Tomorrow they’d all be up before the petty assizes, fined and released.
Rob Lister returned from the morning rounds and stood in front of the fire, soaking up the warmth.
‘Quiet out there.’
‘Sundays usually are,’ the constable said. ‘Be glad at least one day of the week is.’
‘Emily took me to see the baby last night.’
‘Were you scared to hold her?’ He laughed.
‘I was terrified I’d drop her.’
Nottingham nodded. ‘I was like that the first time, too. You get used to it. At least she’s alive. When we saw her in the church porch I didn’t think she’d last the day.’
‘She’s thriving, according to Mrs Webb. Putting on weight. But she’ll be there a while yet.’
‘You’re going to be a papa.’ He lifted his mug of ale in a toast.
‘And you’ll be a grandfather. But this … I don’t know, it just seems a strange way to do it,’ Rob said.
‘What’s so odd? She needs a home. You can give her one. There’s nothing bad about that.’
‘I know.’ But Nottingham could tell that the lad wasn’t convinced yet; the hesitation in his voice gave him away. There was nothing he could say that would sway him; he’d have to come to terms with it himself. It was time to change the topic.
‘Make sure we keep two men on Kirkgate this morning. I don’t want the cutpurses trying to rob anyone on their way to church.’
‘Yes, boss.’ He frowned. ‘I’ve been doing some thinking about these murders.’
The constable glanced up at him. ‘Go on.’
‘What if the deaths of the moneylenders were someone’s revenge, and Kidd’s murder came from an argument?’
‘We searched into the idea of revenge and we didn’t find anything. Show me something to convince me. And you’re forgetting the murder of the whore and Four-Finger Jane.’
‘Maybe they seem connected because they all came in a flurry,’ Rob argued. ‘It’s been quiet ever since.’
Nottingham raised an eyebrow. ‘You don’t think five of them is enough?’
‘No, it’s not that.’ Lister began to pace around the room. ‘I’m just trying to make some sense of it …’
‘Then you’re talking about three different killers. One for the moneylenders, one for the pimp, and another for the girls.’
‘Yes.’
‘Come on,’ the constable said. ‘Don’t you think someone would have given us a name in that case? Three different murderers? We’d be bound to know something by now. And you know what we’ve got. Silence.’
Rob sighed and stared out of the window. Nottingham watched, about to say more, when Lister tensed.
‘The cutpurses,’ he shouted and pulled the door open. By the time Nottingham reached the corner, a boy was running down Briggate, people moving aside to watch.
If Nick was here, Kate had to be somewhere close. Slowly, deliberately, he looked around. Then he spotted her, walking along Kirkgate towards the church, trying to blend in with the crowd on their way to service.
If he ran she’d only dash away and he wouldn’t have a hope of catching her. Instead, he walked quickly, head down so she wouldn’t see his face. But the girl never looked back. Just before the church, she slipped down High Court and out of sight.
The constable rushed. He turned the corner, but she was already gone. At the end of the short lane he looked both ways, but there was no sign of her. Should he gamble on one direction?
Nick was fast. Rob raced down Briggate and he couldn’t gain any ground. Folk stared, stopping and turning to watch the chase. Then a figure stepped into the road, waving his arms to try and stop the boy. Tom Williamson, his face broad and serious.
The lad could have ducked around him and not even missed a step. Instead he deliberately aimed for the man, ramming against him and bouncing away, moving even faster than before.
Williamson fell, hands clutching at his belly. His wife was no more than three yards away, already beginning to scream. She pulled her children close and folded her arms around them.
Rob knelt, panting hard. Williamson’s clothes were already soaked with blood. He tore them away, trying to discover how bad the wound might be. The merchant looked up, surprised at it all, biting his lip to stop crying out.
‘We’ll get someone to help you.’
A crowd had already formed around them, heads craning and gawking for a better view.
‘You.’ Rob pointed at a man. ‘Fetch the doctor and send him to Mr Williamson’s house. You and you, bring a door to carry him. I don’t care if you have to kick it off its hinges. Move!’
He took hold of Williamson’s hand and squeezed it lightly. The blood was still flowing and he tried to staunch it with the man’s shirt. This was bad. Even pressing down on the flesh didn’t help. Lister glanced at Mrs Williamson. Her face was white with shock and fear.
Everything took too long. The blood kept flowing. He had one of the women escort Williamson’s wife home, telling her to prepare the place. Anything was better than having her here, seeing all this. He heard the swish of silk as she left.
The man was dying; the bleeding wouldn’t stop. Where was the damned physician? And where was the boss? He’d expected the constable to be right behind him. Instead he was nowhere to be seen.
Finally two men appeared with a door and they lifted the merchant on to it. He didn’t make a sound; his eyes were closed, his breathing low. Very gently, they carried Williamson to his house, no more than a hundred yards away. As they approached, Rob glanced up and saw Nottingham hurrying down Briggate.
The servants had a fire going in the bedroom hearth, the warmth just beginning to take hold as they eased the merchant on to the bed. Rob cut the rest of the clothes away, two fingers on the man’s neck to keep feeling for a pulse.
By the time the doctor arrived, Williamson was barely alive. He did what he could, but the look in his eyes said everything; this was a hopeless task.
Rob stood back and let him work.
‘Where were you?’ he whispered to the constable.
‘I saw the girl and went after her.’
‘I hope to God you caught her.’ But he saw the man shake his head sadly, never taking his eyes off Williamson. The girl was dangerous, but it was Nick who was the real threat. And unless the physician managed to perform a miracle, he was going to be a murderer.
But this was no day for wonders. After half an hour the doctor stood up and shook his head.
‘He’s gone.’
FIFTEEN
Nottingham moved, gently closing Williamson’s eyes and pulling the covers over his body. He stood for a moment, staring down at the man who’d been his friend. Tom Williamson had always been so full of life, so happy to laugh at himself and the world. He was a man in love with his wife, who adored his children. His business thrived, he was an alderman – sooner or later he’d have had his year as mayor.
Now everything had gone. Stolen away from him.
Hannah Williamson sat in the parlour, clutching a shawl around her shoulders. Over the years her body had thickened, but there was still a childish look to her face, an innocence that wouldn’t vanish. She didn’t look up as the constable entered the room.
‘I’m sorry,’ he began. What more was there ever to say than that? She knew what those words meant. All he could ever do was listen to the pain and the anger. But she was silent, giving no more than a brief nod as she tried to hide
her tears.
A few folk had assembled outside the house, clamouring for news. Nottingham walked past without a word, back towards the jail.
‘Go home and tell Emily,’ he said to Rob. ‘She knows Mrs Williamson, she’ll want to go and help.’
‘Yes, of course.’
‘Was there any way to prevent it?’
‘No. Williamson tried to stop him.’ Lister spoke slowly, seeing it all again. ‘Nick could have swerved around him without even trying. He ran straight into him. It was no accident. He must have had the knife in its hand.’
‘I want everyone out searching. Pull the night men back in. Make sure they’re all armed.’
‘Yes, boss.’
The constable took a deep breath. ‘I’d better go and talk to the mayor.’
‘Why?’ Brooke asked. ‘Can you tell me that, Richard?’ He blazed around his office, his face red with fury. ‘For God’s sake, Tom Williamson was an alderman. And,’ he added carefully, ‘one of your strongest supporters on the corporation.’
All the way here, Nottingham’s anger and frustration had been building to a head. A few sympathetic words would have tamped it down. Now he exploded.
‘He was also a very good friend. Someone I’d known for a long time. Have you forgotten that? What do you think – that I wanted to see Tom dead?’
‘No, of course—’
‘We’ve been hunting that cutpurse and his girl for days. There are eight of us to cover the town during the day. Eight. Then you and all the others expect us to take care of everything else, too.’ He stood, brought the keys from his pocket and slammed them down on the desk. ‘Since you don’t think I’m doing a good enough job, you’d better have these back.’
‘Richard—’
‘I’ve just had to stand and watch someone I like die, and I couldn’t do a damned thing to stop it. Then I had to go downstairs and see his wife. Do you think that’s a duty I enjoy? Well, do you? Do you believe I want it to happen?’
‘Richard,’ Brooke repeated, but his tone was softer now. ‘Please.’ He held up his hands. ‘We’re both on edge. Tom was a good man. We’ve just lost someone we both admired. We need his killer with a noose around his neck.’
‘My men are going through Leeds again right now.’
‘Good,’ the mayor agreed calmly. The frayed tempers started to knit up. Now there was the grim determination to find Tom Williamson’s killer.
‘You’ll need these,’ Brooke said as the constable stood with his hand on the doorknob. He tossed the ring of keys through the air.
‘Yes,’ Nottingham agreed. ‘I will.’
‘Emily’s with Hannah Williamson,’ Rob said.
‘Good. How many do we have out looking?’
‘With the night men I could rouse, there are twelve. I put them in pairs.’
‘Whereabouts are they?’
He pointed it out on the crude map of Leeds they had on the wall. New streets had been sketched in; every year the town grew larger.
‘There used to be a camp in the orchard beyond Lands Lane,’ Nottingham said.
‘They checked it the other day. I thought we’d start there.’ He’d expected the boss to complain about his meeting with the mayor. Instead he was close-mouthed, not even a glimmer of how it had gone. He stared at the map as if there was nothing more in his mind than the job at hand. The constable lifted an old cutlass off the desk and pushed it through his belt.
Rob selected one for himself. He’d had lessons when he was younger and proved to be good with a sword. Finally he was ready.
‘Let’s go and find them, boss.’
They walked without speaking, the swords banging against their thighs with each step. Out along Lands Lane, past the empty bowling green to Shaw’s orchards. The trees were bare, only one or two forgotten apples left on the ground.
No sign of any camp here, but Nottingham hadn’t expected to find one. They’d be further out where nobody went. He led the way past a collapsed wall, scrambling over the stones, and along a thin path through the grass.
He could smell something, wood smoke in the air, and halted, trying to sense its direction. Lister pointed. He nodded and moved again. More slowly and warily now. This was it, the scent was stronger, a few smudges of soot drifting by in the air.
Now the constable knew exactly where to find them. A pair of dilapidated, abandoned buildings hidden away behind a small rise. No doors, much of the roofs missing, but they’d offer a little shelter against the cold. It was where he’d found Lucy a few years before.
Only one way in and out, he remembered. That gave them the advantage.
He unsheathed the cutlass. Rob did the same. They were close enough to see the two buildings now, what remained of them. Ivy covered the walls; the land was slowly claiming them back. Smoke rose from an empty doorway.
‘Ready?’
Lister nodded and Nottingham took a breath.
There were five of them in the place, but no Nick or Kate. Two who were probably no more than six or seven, a pair of girls around ten, and a serious-looking boy who might have been thirteen. He stood as the constable appeared in the doorway, moving forward to try and protect the others.
‘We’re looking for a pair of cutpurses.’
‘There’s only us,’ the boy answered. He tried to sound grown-up, but Nottingham could hear his voice waver with fear.
The constable put up his sword. ‘I’m the Constable of Leeds. Do you know them?’
‘Yes.’ The lad swallowed hard.
Nottingham softened his voice. ‘What’s your name?’
‘Joseph.’ He kept still and wary, out on his own for too long to ever lower his guard.
‘Do you know where we’d find them, Joseph? They’re murderers now.’
‘I don’t.’ He glanced over his shoulder at the other, fearful children. ‘They’ve been here a couple of times. They took what we had. Nick beat Matty when she wouldn’t hand over her bread.’ He nodded at a girl with bruises on her dirty cheeks. ‘What will you do when you find them?’
‘They’ll be tried and hanged if they’re found guilty.’
Joseph nodded soberly. ‘Then I hope you catch them.’
‘Where else might they go? The man they killed was a friend of mine.’ It was worth asking again. Maybe the boy would be willing to give them something now.
‘They do what they want.’ He was trying to sound like a man, but tears were beginning to form in his eyes.
‘What did he do to you?’ Nottingham asked very quietly.
Without saying a word, Joseph pulled up his sleeve to show a long cut that was starting to heal. Quickly, clumsily, he hid it again and swiped the shirt across his eyes.
‘If you see him, I need to know.’ He looked at the boy, then the rest of them. One of the girls looked as if she might speak, but he continued. ‘I know you don’t peach. But this is different. They’re killers. Please.’
The boy gave one small nod. Nottingham took a pair of coins from his breeches and placed them in Joseph’s hand. Enough to buy a loaf and some cheese. That would keep them alive for one more day.
‘Do you think they’ll tell us?’
‘Yes.’ He didn’t doubt it. Joseph would want his revenge on Nick. ‘Where next?’
They returned to the jail as the light was fading. The men were already there, waiting to make their reports and finish for the day. No sign of Nick and Kate, but they’d be very cautious now.
‘Send the night men round all the inns and lodging houses,’ he ordered.
‘They wouldn’t be stupid enough to try and take a room,’ Lister said.
‘They might. They have money, they’re looking to hide.’
‘Don’t you think they’ve left Leeds after that?’
‘I don’t know,’ Nottingham replied wearily and ran a hand through his hair. ‘That would be the sensible thing.’ He gave a small, wan smile. ‘But these two don’t seem to think that way. Nick …’ He shook his head. The boy had h
is taste of death now. He’d want more.
‘What now, boss?’
He stared out of the window. Almost full night now. If the pair had found a spot outside the town it would be impossible to find them before daylight.
‘Go through every empty house,’ he ordered. ‘I want all the men on this. All the gardens, everywhere you can think of. It’s Sunday, there won’t be much else to fill their time.’
Very few of the whores were out. This was always a bad day for business, with the inns closed and men tucked at home as work loomed in the morning.
They were women with a desperate look in their eyes, shawls pulled tight around their shoulders as they shivered in the darkness. They’d take a minute or two to talk on the promise of a farthing.
He remembered one of them. She’d been Cassie when he knew her three years earlier. Now, she insisted, it was Alexandra. The woman had been at Four-Finger Jane’s funeral, saying nothing and vanishing as soon as the coffin was lowered.
‘Charlotte,’ he said.
‘Gone,’ she answered. ‘But they all have now, haven’t they?’
‘Did you know her?’
‘Not really. She wasn’t here long. Nice enough but lost.’ She gave a sad smile. ‘I talked to her once. Too innocent, that one. That was her trouble. Men took advantage.’
‘Do you know where she went?’ Nottingham asked, but the woman shook her head. ‘What about her pimp?’
‘He’s gone, too.’
This was taking him nowhere.
‘Did you ever see the girl who took over Jane’s place?’
‘Grace, you mean? Dark hair, very pale, young? Here a day, that’s all, before she was dead.’
‘That’s her.’ At least she had a name now.
‘I told her she should go back home. She wasn’t made for this.’
‘Where did she come from?’
‘Ossett,’ she said, ‘wherever that is. Too late for her now, isn’t it?’
But not too late for her family to know what had happened. He’d write to the constable there in the morning.
Free from all Danger Page 13
