The Slum Reaper_Murder and corruption in Victorian London

by David Field

  ‘No, but thank you anyway,’ Jack replied glumly as he turned and limped back to his desk for what was left of his very miserable day.

  The next morning promised to be even worse, as Jack approached his desk with a groan. Sitting behind it, contentedly smoking his pipe, was Uncle Percy with an enquiring look as he raised both eyebrows.

  ‘What have you got for me?’

  ‘You mean apart from a request for a new uncle? I’m within a hair’s breadth from being sacked from the force, with your constant demands for information that I’m in no position to supply without incurring the wrath of Sergeant Ballantyne, who probably doesn’t think too highly of you either, I’d imagine. He gave me a hard time yesterday and I have a horrible feeling that today will only turn out to be worse.’

  ‘You think you had a bad day?’ Percy snorted. ‘I was attacked with a cudgel by Mangler Maguire.’

  ‘I hope he belted some sense into your head,’ Jack fired back instinctively, then remembered that Percy was not only senior in rank to him, but was also the man who had become his substitute father when his own had died when he was only fourteen.

  ‘Sorry, Uncle, but I’m really not having a good time in here. There’s nothing yet on dead babies, but I can advise you that Victor Bradley’s back at work, if he was ever absent due to illness, that is.’

  ‘Yes, I read the newspapers as well,’ Percy replied. ‘What about his estate in Norfolk?’

  ‘I’ve sent a wire to Norwich, but nothing’s come back yet. So, tell me about Mangler Maguire.’

  As Percy recounted the events of the previous day, Jack reluctantly conceded that he was probably better off where he was, then raised a point of his own. ‘If that woman reckons she knows something about the missing infants, why aren’t you down there questioning her?’

  ‘First things first. I find it very advantageous to let them stew underground before inviting them to add to my store of knowledge. By some time late this afternoon, or perhaps tomorrow, a lady who’s obviously as fond of her food as Martha Crabbe will have realised that the set menu inside one of Her Majesty’s lockups leaves something to be desired. In the meantime, I think a journey to Spring Gardens is in order.’

  ‘Spring Gardens being?’

  ‘The headquarters of the London County Council.’

  ‘You’re going to question Victor Bradley?’

  ‘Well I’m not about to put my name forward as a Trustee on one of their School Boards.’

  ‘Do you think he’ll agree to talk to you?’

  ‘I never met anyone yet who didn’t — eventually,’ Percy grinned as he relinquished his chair to Jack. ‘You’d better get down to work. And keep me updated.’

  ‘My assistant didn’t tell me what this was about,’ Victor Bradley complained as he gestured for Percy to take the chair on the other side of his desk.

  ‘That’s probably because I didn’t tell him,’ Percy replied with a polite smile. ‘The sight of my police badge seemed to be sufficient.’

  ‘So what is it about?’

  ‘“Gregory Properties”, or more specifically, your directorship of it.’

  ‘That was a considerable time after the creation of the Boundary Street Scheme.’

  ‘Funnily enough, your fellow director Mr Mallory was at considerable pains to assure me of precisely that same point.’ Percy smiled enigmatically. ‘You’re obviously both very sensitive about the possibility of being accused of corruption. So, when exactly did you become a director and what was your involvement prior to that?’

  ‘Spencer Mallory and I are old school friends and we’ve been involved in various property developments together in the past. Mainly out in Essex, so no suggestion of bribery and corruption there. Houses along the new railway route in Brentwood and Colchester. We’d only ever collaborated as partners in joint ventures up to that point and then this Boundary Street development came up and I suggested that Spencer should consider getting involved, but that this time it might be better to form a company.’

  ‘For you to hide behind?’

  ‘No, in order to raise capital from shareholders. It’s one of those projects where you have to outlay all the money first and make the profit once you have the resale.’

  ‘From what I could see of your company registration documents, you don’t in fact have any shareholders apart from yourselves, do you?’

  ‘No, as it happens. We managed to muddle along with what we’d managed to raise privately and shortly we’ll be selling the vacant land back to the Council.’

  ‘At a considerable profit, no doubt?’

  ‘An arms-length valuation of the land. There’ll be no dishonest gouging, I can assure you.’

  ‘Nevertheless, someone — either you or Mr Mallory — must have realised the potential size of the profit to be made?’

  ‘That was Spencer, once I’d made him aware that the Scheme would be going ahead.’

  ‘But this was something different for you two, wasn’t it?’ Percy queried. ‘In the past you’d built houses on land you purchased for that purpose, I assume? And yet this time your interest was in property acquisition and demolition ahead of the new housing, am I correct?’

  ‘Precisely correct. The Boundary Street construction contract will go out to closed tender in the course of the next few weeks. It will be “sealed bid” and all above board, I can assure you.’

  ‘But Gregory Properties will be making a bid?’

  ‘We haven’t decided yet. We were due to have a Board meeting on that very subject last week, but Spencer’s obviously been very distracted by this dreadful business involving the missing twins. Presumably he told you?’

  ‘Yes, he did,’ Percy confirmed, reminding himself that according to Mallory, Bradley knew nothing about it. ‘But if you do go ahead, will the Council be advised that you’re a director of one of the bidding companies?’

  ‘Only if it succeeds in gaining the contract, obviously,’ Bradley said reassuringly. ‘We wouldn’t want any suggestion that somehow I’d influenced the tender process by letting it be known that I had an interest in it. It will be strictly by price and structural proposal.’

  ‘And will you be involved in receiving and assessing the bids?’

  ‘Of course not. That would be dishonest, would it not?’

  ‘No more dishonest than tipping off your old school friend that the Council was about to knock down half of The Old Nichol and that it would be a good time to be buying up the properties that would come up for demolition.’

  ‘What are you suggesting, Sergeant?’

  ‘What do you think? You seem to be quite an expert on civic corruption.’

  ‘You’re suggesting that I tipped off Spencer Mallory, using “inside” knowledge that the Council would soon be seeking to buy out the square of streets designated for the Scheme and that he should buy up all the existing properties and terminate the leases ahead of knocking down the houses to give the Council a levelled site?’

  ‘I couldn’t have expressed it better myself.’ Percy smiled ominously. ‘Except that you left out the bit about being awarded a directorship of the company formed for that purpose, as a reward for your use of confidential information. “Corruption followed by bribery” — it doesn’t matter what order they come in, so far as I’ve been led to believe.’

  ‘I paid for that directorship, fair and square!’ Bradley protested, his countenance reddening in indignation, righteous or otherwise.

  ‘Directors are appointed by shareholders, surely?’ Percy countered.

  Bradley nodded.

  ‘Yes, of course. They are indeed appointed by the shareholders, but as you’ll be aware, since you’ve obviously examined our Memorandum of Association, there are only two shareholders, myself and Spencer. What I meant was that I bought my way in by buying a fifty per cent shareholding in the company, then it was a natural progression from that for me to become a director, with Spencer as the other director, given his initial contribution of the same amount
of capital.’

  ‘And how much did each of you contribute, if I might enquire?’

  ‘Twenty thousand.’

  ‘So, you floated a massive operation like that, involving the purchase and demolition of dozens of tenements, on only forty thousand?’

  ‘Yes, it was obviously a bit of a struggle, but we managed to survive by withholding certain payments.’

  ‘Such as wages for workers?’

  ‘Only very occasionally, but yes, unfortunately.’

  ‘Are you aware that one of the men you employ as a rent collector — a Mr Michael Truegood — is working under an assumed name, should have been hanged for murder last year and is quite capable of organising an extortion gang if he’s short of money?’

  ‘No, of course not. I’m not directly responsible for the hiring of staff; we have a site manager for that.’

  ‘So I was advised by Mr Mallory, but you’ll forgive me if I don’t quite believe that you managed to finance a project this large, simply on forty thousand pounds of initial capital.’

  ‘Perhaps that’s why you’re a police officer and not a successful entrepreneur,’ Bradley retorted, causing Percy to reconsider his genial approach thus far.

  ‘How can you convince me that you and Mr Mallory haven’t been using Mr Truegood — or Mr Maguire, to use his correct name — to extort additional finance out of local businesses at a very acceptable rate of interest, like none at all?’

  ‘I don’t have to convince you of anything,’ Bradley replied coolly. ‘Even you Scotland Yard types have to abide by the principle of “innocent until proved guilty”, don’t you? It’s not for me to convince you of anything — it’s for you to prove the opposite.’

  ‘Indeed it is, and I’ll begin with some sort of evidence of your contribution of twenty thousand pounds.’

  ‘That’ll be in the company’s accounts. And I believe that you’ll need some sort of warrant to obtain those from where they’re normally kept.’

  ‘Which is where, exactly?’

  ‘In the safe behind me.’

  ‘Then you can, should you so choose, convince me of your bona fides by producing the relevant page at this moment, so that I can convince myself that at least one part of your explanation is the truth.’

  ‘And why should I?’

  ‘Because if I have to call for a warrant, I’ll remain here until it arrives,’ Percy bluffed. ‘Then I’ll have access to everything in your safe and unless you’re the most honest man in London there’ll be stuff in there you most definitely don’t want me to see.’

  Bradley shot him a venomous look, rose from his padded chair and opened the safe with a key from his waistcoat pocket. He flicked through a bulky folder for a minute or so, then extracted a single sheet of company accounts, which he handed to Percy with what was almost a snarl.

  ‘I’d like it back as soon as possible. Now, I assume that our meeting has concluded?’

  ‘This meeting, certainly.’ Percy smiled as he got up to leave. ‘But don’t make any plans to hide on your Norfolk estate, or feign sickness again.’

  ‘I haven’t been sick since I was a child,’ Bradley assured him, ‘and I haven’t been back to Horning since last Christmas.’

  ‘Thank you again, Mr Bradley, you’ve been of more help than you can imagine.’

  ‘That Manders girl wants ter speak ter yer,’ the sergeant advised Percy as he re-entered Bethnal Green Police Station deep in thought.

  ‘Amazing how a night spent staring at a wall stimulates the desire to co-operate, isn’t it?’ Percy smirked. ‘Have her sent up to my office, but make sure that she’s thoroughly searched beforehand and that the turnkey remains with her while we talk about old times.’

  Ten minutes later, a very penitent Clara was led into Percy’s office by a turnkey who smelt even worse than she did and Percy nodded for her to take a seat, then waited for her to take the initiative.

  ‘You’re lookin’ for a girl called Emily Broome, aren’t you?’

  ‘Who told you that?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter and don’t deny it, ’cos I know you are.’

  ‘And always assuming that I am, what can you tell me about her?’

  ‘You found ’er body in Short Street?’

  ‘The police did, certainly. When I saw her she was on a mortuary table. Are you about to tell me how she finished up there?’

  ‘If I tell yer what I can, will yer drop the charge against me and find me somewhere to live outside London?’

  ‘I can certainly see to it that the charge against you is reduced from one of the attempted murder of a police officer, but I’m not a property agent. May I assume that the person you’re seeking to avoid is Michael Maguire — or perhaps you know him as Michael Truegood?’

  ‘I know ’im as Mangler and if he finds out that I did a deal wi’ you, he’ll have me done in, like all the others.’

  ‘All what others, Miss Manders?’

  The girl smiled.

  ‘I must look more stupid than I thought. Do you wanna know about Emily Broome or not, in exchange for me not bein’ done fer Attempted Murder?’

  ‘That sounds reasonable. So fire away.’

  ‘She came to live wi’ me a month or so ago, on the run from Mangler and ’is lot. We used to be friends when she lived in Shoreditch and we both lost our mothers at about the same time. Then when ’er dad got done in by Mangler she ran off to some place on the other side o’ London, working as a nanny or something. Anyway, Mangler must have followed ’er, ’cos she told me that one day, while she was out walking wi’ two little children, ’im and another bloke told her to leave them and just walk away.’

  ‘And did she?’

  ‘So she said. Then she went back to Shoreditch and stayed wi’ her old boyfriend Tommy. Then ’e got done in one night and she was sure that Mangler was responsible, in case she’d told Tommy all about who’d taken the children. Then she reckoned that maybe ’e’d come after ’er as well, so she begged me to let her doss wi’ me until she could get away, right out of London for good.’

  ‘Did it not occur to her that if Mangler wanted her silenced, he could have done it at the same time that he took the children?’

  ‘If it did, she didn’t mention it. Anyway, she’d only been wi’ me for a few nights when Mangler sent two of ’is bully boys round. We both thought we was dead, but then Mangler himself turned up and done us a deal. He said that if I was to go to that ’ouse where you found me and send for you, Emily’d have time to slip away and no questions asked.’

  ‘Then why was Emily murdered, if you kept your part of the bargain?’

  ‘I don’t know, do I? Maybe she didn’t run away fast enough, or maybe she shot her mouth off to the wrong person. Anyway, as I’ve explained, I was only doing what I done to save both me and Emily and I’m glad you wasn’t killed.’

  ‘So am I, funnily enough,’ Percy replied, ‘and no hard feelings. I’m going to be charging that awful Martha Crabbe with Attempted Murder and I’ll add it to the list against Mangler when I catch up with him. And I mean “when”, not “if”. No reason why you should be added to the list, but it occurs to me that the safest place for you for the immediate future will be here in the police station. It’ll have to be in a cell, unfortunately, but I’ll say nothing about the charge against you being reduced to something much softer and then Mangler, or whoever, will have no reason to come after you. I’ll leave word that you’re to be fed proper meals and given the most comfortable cell we’ve got, but I really don’t recommend that you show your face back in the street until Mangler’s been buckled.’

  ‘I won’t — and thank you.’

  As he watched Clara being led away, Percy let his suspicious mind wander through the events of the day. First of all to Bradley, the man who hadn’t been ill when Mallory had told him that he was, presumably in the hope that Percy wouldn’t go questioning him until they’d got their stories organised. The man who, according to Mallory, knew nothing about the
kidnapping of the twins, but who seemingly knew all about it. Was that because he was behind the kidnappings? After all, both he and Mallory employed Maguire and it was pushing credulity too far to assume that neither man had been unaware of the man’s reputation locally when they employed him to flush unwilling tenants out of The Old Nichol and add a few bodies to the rubble when voices were raised in protest.

  Then the girl calling herself Clara who’d been attempting to sell him a pack of lies about Emily Broome, either of her own invention, or told to her by Emily. Why would Emily be scared of being killed by Mangler, when he’d simply let her walk away from the Park in Hampstead? And even more unlikely, if Emily had really been staying with her old love Tommy, even for a brief period before he was murdered, why was the body in the mortuary that of a virgin? And why had she been killed the day before this alleged deal with Mangler?’

  It would help the police enormously if people always told the truth, he reminded himself for the millionth time in his career. On the other hand, if they did, men like him would be out of a job and he was too old to become a jobbing gardener now.

  Chapter Twelve

  Jack looked up and swore with conviction. So far he’d been having a very productive morning and was almost through the new pile that the boy had dumped silently on his desk before waiting hopefully for the shilling that never came. If he kept going at this pace, Sergeant Ballantyne might even be prepared to talk to him civilly. And now here came Uncle Percy, no doubt bearing other challenges to his continued existence as a one-legged compiler of records.

  ‘When’s the next roast lamb being served up at your place?’

  ‘And I always thought that you were a detective,’ Jack muttered.

  ‘I’m serious,’ Percy replied. ‘I need to speak to both you and Esther and since there’s only you here, greeting me with the same enthusiasm that you would a dose of botulism, it’ll have to be after hours.’

  ‘Probably Friday. But if you’re thinking of dragging Esther into this mess, let me remind you that she made a solemn vow after the last experience.’