Lies and Misdemeanours

by Rebecca King

  “Unless the gossips have it wrong, it’s him. I checked his room this morning and he isn’t there, so I can only assume that it’s him.”

  “His name is Charlie,” Hetty told the innkeeper. Her stomach dropped when he nodded.

  “Aye, that’s the one. Tall bloke with dark brown hair and grey eyes.”

  Hetty nodded, and felt a pang of longing so deep that her hands began to tremble.

  “I have seen him with your brother a time or two,” the innkeeper declared. “They drank here a few times.”

  “They are friends,” Hetty assured him.

  The innkeeper nodded.

  “Is Charlie’s horse still here?” Wally asked with a frown.

  The innkeeper threw them a cautionary look. “Yes, but I don’t see what use it is going to be to him now. You know how ruthless Meldrew is. He will have them swinging from the gallows within days.”

  Hetty shivered. “Are you sure it was him? Charlie?” she gasped, unable to believe that someone as passionate and gentle, and as ruggedly handsome as Charlie, was a cold-blooded killer.

  “Go and see his room for yourself, if you don’t believe me,” the innkeeper shrugged.

  “We will do,” Wally sighed.

  He and took the key off the man and escorted Hetty upstairs.

  Although she knew that the innkeeper was right, she still hoped that he had his facts wrong, and they would find Charlie tucked up safely in bed with Simon in a chair next to the fire.

  Wally pushed the door open, and took a quick glance into the room before he stood back to allow Hetty in first. She glanced up as she passed but knew, even before she looked inside, that the room was empty.

  It smelled of the soap Charlie used, and brought forth a wave of emotion that was so intense that Hetty struggled to breathe beneath the force of it. She wandered aimlessly into the room and studied the neatly made bed. A shirt lay haphazardly draped over one of the bedposts but, apart from that, the room looked like nobody had been there for days.

  “Damn,” Wally growled as he studied the empty room.

  “What do we do now?”

  “I don’t know,” her brother sighed.

  Hetty spied a bag beneath the bed and bent down to pick it up.

  “What are you doing?” Wally scowled when she began to search through drawers.

  “If the innkeeper is right, he will want to let the room out again. We need to take Charlie’s possessions with us. He can fetch them from ours when he re-appears.”

  When Wally didn’t object, Hetty began to empty the drawers of Charlie’s possessions. Wally helped but there were really very few personal belongings there, and it didn’t take long to put everything into the bag.

  “There isn’t much, is there?” Hetty sighed as she placed the bag on the bed.

  “He is only a visitor to these parts though, Hetty,” Wally reminded her. He nodded to the bag. “We will keep his things with us until we can find out what is going on.”

  “Wally?” Hetty called when she opened a drawer up beside the bed and found a large gun nestled inside.

  “Now, what would he need that for?” Wally murmured with a scowl as he studied the wicked object.

  “I don’t know, but didn’t the innkeeper say that Blagmire had been shot?” Hetty asked.

  She knew deep inside that Charlie was innocent, and the presence of the gun inside the drawer just seemed to prove it.

  “Let’s search this place properly,” Wally growled. “We are going to have to take that with us too,” he added as he nodded to the gun.

  When Hetty merely stared the gun blankly, Wally reached around her and placed it carefully into the bag in front of them. Once the room had been searched once more, they made their way downstairs.

  “We will take his horse with us,” Wally told the innkeeper, who nodded somewhat solemnly.

  “Aye, that’s fine with me. Given your brother is his friend, I am sure you will know what to do with it. I’ll show you where it is,” the innkeeper said, and led Wally to the stables around the back.

  “Let’s go home,” Wally growled. He climbed aboard, having tied Charlie’s horse to the back. His shoulders were stooped with worry, and his frown was deep as he took a seat beside her on the bench. He nodded toward the rather sympathetic innkeeper, who nodded solemnly at them as they left, but nobody spoke.

  “Why are we not going to Derby?” Hetty said firmly as Wally turned the cart toward home. “We need to go to the jail to explain that this has all been a terrible misunderstanding.”

  Wally looked at her. “We need to leave this gun at home, along with Charlie’s horse. We can’t take them with us to the jail. We can go to Derby from there, and see what we can find out about them,” he replied calmly. “I just hope to God the man he was caught with wasn’t Simon.”

  “He isn’t here,” Hetty replied tearfully when the mill house and outbuildings had been searched, but found to be disappointingly empty.

  Wally sighed, and threw Hetty a dour look. “We have to go and find them then.”

  Hetty nodded. They both knew what he meant. Meldrew had struck again. The consequences to Simon, and the family, if their brother was being held captive in jail this morning didn’t bear thinking about.

  At that moment, she was too afraid to speak. Too afraid to think or even feel anything because she knew that when the realisation did sink in that Simon was at the mercy of one of the county’s most ruthless men, hysteria would not be far behind.

  The dark, almost macabre walls of Derby jail sat amongst assorted buildings in the town centre like a panther waiting for its prey. Its dark and dingy stonework was interrupted only by the narrow slits of heavily barred windows which let only the minimal sliver of daylight in to the helpless individuals inside.

  Hetty turned her gaze away from the dirty faces pressed against some of the windows, and shuddered as her fear and trepidation grew. There was a heady stench of unwashed body in the air, even outside, and they hadn’t even ventured into the main building of the jail yet.

  It was a stark reminder of what they were going into, and made her stomach churn alarmingly.

  “Let’s go,” Wally growled when he had pulled the cart to a stop outside the jail and clambered down.

  Hetty climbed down by herself while Wally pounded heavily on the gates.

  They both stood back to wait.

  The jailer who slid the viewing panel back on the door frowned out at them in a less than welcoming manner.

  “What?”

  “We are here to see Gembleby. You have someone of ours who was arrested last night.”

  “Who?”

  “Simon Jones and Charlie Framson.” Wally mentally winced as he gave the man a made up surname for Charlie.

  It was only then that he realised he didn’t even know Charlie’s last name, and that bothered him, especially given that Simon was with him.

  When the jailer didn’t immediately reply and continued to stare blankly out at them, Hetty took a hesitant step forward.

  “They were arrested last night for the murder of Mr Blagmire,” she said quickly. She wanted to add ‘unjustly’, but daren’t antagonise the man before they got inside.

  The jailer suddenly snapped to attention, and stared at them for several long moments. Suddenly, he seemed to come to a decision, and slid the panel shut with a loud snap.

  Seconds later, the chains on the door rattled and the huge black doors squeaked eerily open.

  “It’s like walking into Hell,” Hetty whispered as they walked across the yard toward the entrance door of the jail with fear in their eyes, and worry in their hearts.

  She wished she could turn around and leave. It was only the thought of Simon and Charlie being confined in such a place that forced her to keep herself together, and follow the jailer into the building.

  The darkness within the stone walls was imposing, and worse than she had imagined. The dark, almost fetid atmosphere of hopelessness, accompanied by the stench of what
smelled suspiciously like boiled cabbage and excrement, made her stomach churn. An occasional desolate cry broke the silence, and accompanied the desolate moans and rattle of chains which came from within each cell they passed.

  She daren’t stop. She couldn’t bring herself to look at anything except the floor beneath her feet, but was horrifyingly aware of the helpless gazes of the people on the other side of the awful bars.

  The further down the darkened corridor they walked, the more unnerved she became. Her heart wept at the thought of Charlie and Simon being subjected to such conditions. Unfortunately she knew, deep in her heart, that they were in one of the cells somewhere.

  She could feel it; sense it; and it was sickening.

  Determined to do what she needed to do to get Simon and Charlie free as quickly as possible, she followed the men into the jailer’s office.

  A gasp locked in her throat when she entered the room, and saw the odious man practically everybody she knew hated; Cedric Meldrew. Behind the desk, a second, more officious looking gentleman; Thomas Gembleby, the Head Jailer, sat piously glaring.

  They remained silent while the jailer explained what Wally and Hetty were doing in the jail.

  Hetty kept her gaze carefully averted from Meldrew, but was aware that his toady brown eyes scoured her lecherously from head to foot. Although she tried not to let him know just how much he annoyed her, she threw him a dirty look. The urge to smack him was strong when he merely smirked back at her. She shifted a little closer to her brother, unsurprised that someone like Meldrew would get enjoyment out of unnerving women.

  “They were caught red handed,” Gembleby replied knowingly. He dropped the quill he held onto his desk, and leaned back his chair. He studied Wally carefully and then turned his attention on Hetty. “I was just discussing when to hold the trial with the magistrate. Unfortunately, a trial is a mere formality. They will be found guilty of course. The magistrate’s men found them right next to the body with blood on their hands.”

  “They didn’t do it,” Wally declared flatly. “It’s all a misunderstanding. Simon wouldn’t take anybody’s life. He didn’t even have a gun on him.”

  “No, but the man he was with did,” Meldrew replied darkly. “He was holding the gun when my men caught him. Your brother was leaning over the dead man. My men will report what they saw in court.”

  Hetty stared at him. “Well, if you have found them guilty already, what is the point of having a trial?”

  In that moment she had never hated anybody as much as she hated Meldrew, and made no attempt to hide her dislike of him.

  “There is such a thing as due process,” Meldrew replied piously.

  “They deserve a fair trial,” Hetty countered. “You have already decided that they are guilty. I thought that you were supposed to stay neutral until you have heard all the facts from both parties.”

  Meldrew clearly didn’t like being challenged. His eyes hardened, and he raked them insolently over her before he turned his attention to Wally.

  “I am just doing my job,” he declared blandly.

  “Like bullying us into paying your ‘fees’ is part of your self-appointed job?” Hetty challenged.

  “Hetty,” Wally warned, and threw her a glare that warned her not to antagonise the man.

  She gave Meldrew a hard look before she turned her attention to Gembleby.

  Unfortunately, from the secretive way he looked at Meldrew, it was clear that the man was in cahoots with the corrupt magistrate, and was not going to be swayed by anything she or Wally said.

  Hetty realised then just how dire Simon and Charlie’s situation was, and what this meant for their future.

  “Can we speak to them? Or are you going to deprive them of their rights in that regard too?” Wally stared challengingly at Gembleby. “I warn you now that if I have to get a solicitor from out of this county to ensure that my brother is given a fair hearing, and is treated just like any other prisoner, then that is what I shall do.”

  Gembleby stared him for a moment, but Hetty caught the fleeting glance he threw at Meldrew.

  “You can see him, but one of my men will be present,” Gembleby declared. He motioned to the jailer who stood behind them. “Take them to the food room. They can meet in there.”

  Hetty didn’t bother to thank either man before she hurried out of the room. She didn’t look back at them, but then didn’t need to. She could practically feel their eyes boring into her back right until she disappeared into the gloom of the corridor.

  She tried to quell her internal shaking at the squalid atmosphere of the desolate place, but the stench that hung in the air left her with no doubt as to the helplessness of the people who resided there.

  It was awful to think that Charlie and Simon were there at all.

  Now that Meldrew had Simon and Charlie exactly where he wanted them it was inevitable that one, if not both of them, would be put to the gallows. She swallowed the sob that threatened to escape, and sidled closer to Wally as they traipsed down the corridor after the jailer.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Wally put a comforting hand on her back, but it did little to ease her anxiety.

  “Wait ‘ere,” the jailer growled before he shuffled off to find his quarry.

  Hetty and Wally shared a look. A stony silence settled over them as they waited.

  It took an age before the prisoners shuffled into the room. In spite of her best efforts to remain strong, Hetty took one look at Simon, and burst into tears. It was evident from the stunned disbelief on his face that he understood himself just how dire his situation was, but she couldn’t find the words to offer him any comfort. Her emotion wasn’t helped by the fact that he couldn’t even return her hug because his hands were confined behind his back.

  She hugged him anyway. Eventually, she released him so that Wally could give him a hug. She turned to Charlie, took one look at his face, and began to cry again.

  She couldn’t help it; she threw her arms around him and leaned against him as she fought the helpless desperation that threatened to buckle her knees. The feel of him against her brought forth memories of last night, and it helped her find the strength she needed.

  Their embrace last night seemed such a different world away from the situation they were now in. She wished that they could go back to that special moment and start all over again. If she knew then what she knew now she would never have let him go back to the tavern, and would have insisted that everyone just go home while they were still sober.

  It was too late to go back though. What was done; was done.

  “It is alright,” Charlie assured her. He leaned toward her and kissed her cheek. “It will be alright, sweetheart.”

  Over the top of her head, his eyes met and held Wally’s meaningfully. Both men knew that it wouldn’t be. He couldn’t help it; although he couldn’t hug her in return, he placed a tender kiss on the top of her head, and swore silently against the surge of frustration that swept through him at his inability to even have the freedom to move.

  “It can’t be,” Hetty choked out. “Meldrew and Gembleby have decided you are guilty. They just said so. If they could get away without having a trial, they would do. They won’t let you leave here unless it is through the gallows.”

  Charlie nodded. The only outward sign of his inner turmoil was a muscle that ticked steadily in his jaw and, for a moment, he couldn’t speak beyond the fury that threatened to overwhelm him. He knew that losing his temper would get him nowhere; but he had to dig very deep indeed to get some semblance of control over his burning rage. In all of his years with the Star Elite, he had never thought he would face such a situation. He was stunned to find himself in it now.

  “Look, I need you to do something for me,” Charlie whispered directly into her ear so that the jailer couldn’t overhear.

  When she leaned back and looked up at him, he nodded toward an empty space in the far corner of the room that was as far away from the jailer as they could get. He threw
a dark look at the jailer that warned him to stay where he was, and encompassed Simon and Wally in a look that asked them to join him and Hetty.

  “What?” Simon whispered once they were huddled in the corner.

  “I work for the War Office,” Charlie admitted quietly. “I am here on an official government investigation. Neither of us shot that man last night. Meldrew’s men did. We watched them do it. Unfortunately though, we were ambushed before we could leave the area because we were a little unsteady on our feet.”

  He shook his head at the memory of them crashing through the undergrowth like a herd of charging bulls.

  “The War Office?” Hope lit Simon’s eyes.

  “Shh. You mustn’t tell anyone just yet,” Charlie reasoned.

  “Why not? I mean, if you tell Meldrew, he wouldn’t dare hang you,” Wally countered.

  “This is Meldrew we are talking about here. If he has any suspicion that the War Office is onto him, he could very well hang me quickly to get me out of the way. Did you see the gallows out in the yard?”

  Hetty nodded slowly. “Meldrew would most probably speed up the process if he suspected that officials higher than him were on to him.”

  “I know. So don’t tell anyone just yet. Not yet,” Charlie urged. “I need you to send an urgent note to my boss, Sir Hugo Dunnicliffe, at the War Office. Mark it extremely urgent, and also for the attention of Simon Ambrose if Sir Hugo is not available. I gave them a false name here. My real name is Charlie Ryder. Tell Sir Hugo that I am in jail for a murder that I did not commit. Tell them that the magistrate here is corrupt, and has men in his employ who have lied about my guilt. Tell them that I need help as a matter of urgency because death by hanging is threatened. They will arrange to get us out, but you must notify them as quickly as you can.” He glanced at Wally. “In my room at the pub, beneath the third plank away from the wall, directly underneath the chamber pot, is a small hiding space. There is a pouch of coins in there. Use those to get the message sent urgently. Don’t rely on the post chaise because it will take too long. Send a rider, and pay him well. Can you do that? If you can, I stand a chance of getting us both out of here before we even get to court.”