‘Of course not.’ It had to be in the man’s imagination.
‘Make sure the bobbies on the family stay alert,’ Kendall said. ‘Get back out there and keep looking.’
But Harper didn’t leave. He closed the door and waited.
‘What is it, Tom?’
‘How long since you slept, sir?’
‘I’ll go home tonight and look fresh for the funeral tomorrow, Inspector,’ he answered coldly. ‘I suggest you make sure you dress your best, too. Is there anything else?’
‘No, sir.’
‘Then go and do your job and leave me to do mine.’
Harper walked behind the hearse with the other detectives, head bowed, top hat cradled in his hands. His boots gleamed, his cheeks were pink from the razor. Alongside him, Reed wore his fire brigade uniform.
The long procession marched under a slate sky full with the smell of rain. Just let it hold off until Peters was buried, he thought. Then the deluge could come.
Crowds lined the street, heads bowed, silent as they passed. There were hundreds of people, everything coming to a halt. The only sound was the slow clop of the horses’ hooves and the rumble of the hearse’s wheels on the road. The second time in just a few weeks. First the fireman who lost his life in the blaze at New Station and now a copper murdered as he did his duty.
At the cemetery on Beckett Street, the chief constable stood next to Peters’s widow, a short, stout woman with a black veil covering her face.
‘Keep close to the back,’ Harper ordered Reed and Ash. ‘Keep your eyes peeled for Sugden. I wouldn’t put it past him to show his face.’
‘He’d be mad with all these coppers here,’ Reed said.
‘He bloody well is, remember?’ the inspector hissed.
But it all passed calmly. The vicar’s voice was clear and resonant. An honour guard of men from Hunslet police station were the pallbearers, lowering the coffin slowly into the grave. Finally, as the first heavy drops of rain arrived, it was done. People scuttled away, eager to stay dry.
The inspector stayed. Sugden could still be close, ready to appear. He was willing to wait, just in case. He took out his pocket watch, checking the time as he sheltered under a beech tree. Leaves lay in piles by his feet.
Ten minutes. Twenty. He flipped the cover off the watch again. Half an hour. He nodded to the others and they marched out of the cemetery, leaving the gravediggers to do their work.
TWENTY-TWO
Two more days and still no sign of Sugden. Out on Holbeck Moor some men found an abandoned camp. It could have been his; there was no way of knowing.
The police searched everywhere, but there weren’t enough of them. Volunteers joined the hunt. But wherever he was, Sugden stayed a step ahead of them. There hadn’t even been any sightings.
‘I told you,’ Reed said. It had been a long, cold day outside. Now the fire was blazing in the office as they tried to warm their bones. ‘He was an army scout. He knows how to hide and forage.’
‘Begging your pardon, sir,’ Ash pointed out, ‘but he’s surfaced twice. First that time when he killed poor Charlie Peters, then with those women in Cross Green.’
‘He’s right,’ Kendall agreed. He stood in the doorway, puffing thoughtfully on his pipe. ‘And he’ll probably show himself again very soon.’
‘We’ve talked to everyone we can find who knew him,’ Harper said. He’d spent the last two days knocking on doors and asking questions. ‘We’re keeping a quiet eye on people.’
‘Then let’s hope it pays off.’ The superintendent sounded exhausted. He seemed to be living at Millgarth when he wasn’t dashing off to meetings. The strain showed on his face. He looked thinner, paler, with dark, heavy circles under his eyes.
But every copper seemed dead on his feet. In the days after Peters’s death they’d raged through Leeds. Now it was more difficult; day after day of nothing had left them dispirited. They needed something to give them heart. Anything at all.
Sugden wanted the man who’d killed his sister. But, Harper wondered, who the hell did he believe was the murderer? And there was something else in there. He’d said the revenge would be the last thing he did. Was he planning on killing himself afterwards?
They had to find him.
‘Tom.’ Kendall’s voice cut through his thoughts. ‘Are you deaf?’
‘Sorry, sir.’ He felt himself colouring. ‘I was miles away.’
‘The connection to the Carr case. How can we use that to find him?’
‘I’ve got two men covering Carr’s house now, another two on his son’s place.’
‘Who else?’
‘I’ve no idea,’ the inspector answered with a sigh. ‘Not unless Sugden knows something we haven’t been able to find. The killing doesn’t seem to have anything to do with Catherine Carr’s politics. She didn’t really have any friends. No lovers.’
The image of her slipped into his mind, her arm when they lifted off a chunk of the concrete. The metal shining in the light where her skin should have been.
‘Keep digging,’ the superintendent ordered, shaking his head in frustration.
They were just about to leave Millgarth, buttoning coats against the cold and damp, when Tollman lifted a hand to stop them. He was talking urgently on the telephone, his mouth close to the instrument, receiver pressed against his ear.
‘Yes,’ he said finally and turned. ‘Someone claims he’s seen Sugden in Headingley.’
‘Where?’ Harper asked.
‘Bennett Road.’
‘Christ.’ The word slipped out. Reed and Ash stared at him. ‘Neville Carr’s mistress lives there.’
‘Woodhouse has men on the way, sir,’ Tollman said.
‘Tell the super,’ Harper ordered. ‘We’ll be there as soon as we can.’
Policemen blocked both ends of the street. The noise from the Otley Road was just a few yards away, but it could have been miles. Here things were deathly quiet.
‘Who saw him?’ Harper asked the sergeant in command.
‘A man on his way to work, sir. Glanced along and saw a man with a beard and a gun.’
‘He’s certain it was a gun?’
‘I questioned him myself. He’s sure.’ The man paused. ‘You said he might be after a woman here.’
‘Number twenty-seven.’ The inspector kept his eyes on the street. No one moving anywhere. No curtains twitching. ‘Through terrace. I want men stationed at the front and in the ginnel.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘I’ll go in through the back door. Just be ready, I don’t want another copper killed.’
‘Won’t be one of us who ends up dead,’ the sergeant promised.
His mouth was dry. The bricks felt cold against his cheek as he pressed himself against the wall. Ash stood behind him, two constables waiting outside the yard. Reed and four more coppers waited by the front door.
This wasn’t a time for knocking and hoping someone answered. They had to go in swift and hard. Harper could feel his heart thumping against his chest. Last time he’d done this he’d found two women alive and unhurt. This time? He daren’t even guess.
He raised his hand and Ash moved to stand in front of the door. The inspector nodded and a heavy boot came down against the wood. A second kick splintered the wood, and a third sent the door crashing back.
Inside the curtains were closed, as if morning hadn’t arrived. But he could smell it immediately. The iron tang of blood. He dashed through, into the parlour, then up the stairs. She was in the bedroom, already dead. The sheet around her was flooded with red.
A single cut across her throat. A sharp knife, blood on the blade that lay beside her head. Her skin was still warm, still flexible; she hadn’t been dead for long. By the time he’d covered her face, Ash was in the room.
‘No one else in the house, sir. I checked downstairs, the kitchen window’s been forced.’
‘If Sugden did this, he’s changed his style.’
‘Who else could have done
it?’
‘Neville Carr, maybe. She was his mistress. I don’t know. Other men came around, too. That’s what one of the neighbours told me the other day. Go through this place and start a house-to-house.’
‘Yes, sir.’
The inspector rose to his feet slowly, eyes on the corpse.
‘I’ll go and see Carr.’
The boot factory was busy, the copper at the gate alert and suspicious. In the office the clerks worked, heads down over their ledgers. He had to wait, sitting on a hard chair and staring into space until the office door opened.
‘What is it?’ Carr asked as soon as the door closed. His starched high collar was crisp white, his tie perfectly knotted. ‘I hope it’s important.’
‘It is, sir.’ The quiet, serious tone made the man look up. Harper had checked with the clerks; Carr had arrived just after seven, too early to have killed the woman.
‘Well?’
‘I believe you know Miss Bertha Davis, sir.’
‘What?’ A first there was a lack of comprehension on his face. Then Carr took a breath. ‘Yes,’ he admitted. ‘I do.’
‘I’m very sorry to tell you, sir, but she’s dead.’
‘But—’ he began, then shook his head as if he could remove the inspector’s words. ‘I saw her yesterday …’
‘I’ve just come from there,’ Harper said with slow certainty. He paused. ‘Someone killed her. We think it might have been Sugden.’
‘My God.’ Carr seemed to deflate. Maybe he’d really loved her, the inspector thought. Or perhaps he was just considering all the scandal if word got out about his mistress.
‘I need to know about Miss Davis, sir. Whatever you can tell me.’
‘I …’ Carr began, then stopped, rubbing a hand across his mouth. ‘How?’ he asked eventually.
‘I really can’t say at the moment, sir.’ Harper kept his voice soothing. Better if the man didn’t know the details. ‘How long had you known her?’
‘Two years. As of last Wednesday. I don’t want—’
‘Anything you tell me is in confidence.’
All Carr’s bluster had vanished. His eyes looked hunted and the colour had drained from his face. His fingers fidgeted, needing something to do. He seemed fragile, as if a heavy gust of wind could blow him over.
‘You know about the relationship I had with her?’ he asked tentatively.
‘Yes, sir.’
He teased out more details. She was an actress. They’d met at the Grand Theatre when she’d had a small part in a play. The story would have been sad if he hadn’t been so earnest. He’d rented the house for her, visited two or three times a week. Harper didn’t mention her other callers. There was no need to rub salt into Carr’s wounds.
‘Inspector,’ he finished, ‘it would be embarrassing for my wife and children if word of … got out.’
‘I won’t say anything,’ Harper promised. But too many people already knew the truth. One way or another it would leak out.
‘Thank you. Did she … did she suffer?’
‘No, sir. It was quick.’ The cut had been, at least. What happened before that, he couldn’t tell.
Carr nodded. ‘Are you close to finding him?’
‘We’ve got every man looking.’
‘Why Bertha? Why would he go after her?’
‘To hurt you, sir. I think you’re next on his list.’
‘Me?’ He blinked. ‘Why?’
‘I’m not sure sir, but somehow he might think you’re responsible for his sister’s death.’
Carr gave a nervous laugh. ‘That’s ridiculous. I never …’
‘I’m increasing the number of men guarding you, sir. I don’t want you going anywhere without a policeman accompanying you.’
‘Why? Why would he think that?’ There was an edge of desperation in his voice.
‘I honestly don’t know,’ Harper told him. ‘He’s unbalanced.’
‘You truly think he wants to kill me?’
‘Yes, sir, I do.’
Carr sat in stunned silence.
‘I want to put a third man on your house, too, sir,’ the inspector continued.
‘Of course,’ he agreed.
‘We’ll find him, sir. And we’ll keep you safe.’
‘Do you really think it was Sugden?’ Superintendent Kendall asked. Millgarth was deathly quiet, every copper out searching. Only Tollman was left, standing in his place behind the front desk.
‘It has to be,’ Harper answered. From the corner of his eye he could see Reed and Ash nodding. ‘There’s just one thing. How the hell did he find out about Carr’s mistress? I only knew because I forced it out of Barnabas Tooms.’
‘But he did know and he killed her.’
‘I’ve put more men on Carr and his home.’
‘More on his father’s house, too,’ Kendall ordered.
‘Already done.’
Silence fell for a few seconds, then Ash said, ‘I’ve been doing a little digging, sir. There’s something that never sat right with me.’
‘What’s that?’ Kendall asked sharply.
‘Those people he shot on Briggate. Everything else Sugden’s done has had a purpose, it’s all been to do with his sister’s death.’ They nodded. ‘But that was just out of the blue.’
‘Go on,’ Kendall told him.
‘Turns out that twenty years ago that jeweller Samuel had a servant he dismissed. Accused her of theft. No reference.’
‘Catherine Carr?’ Harper asked.
‘Yes, sir. Well, Sugden as she was back then. Circumstances like that, she was lucky to ever get another job. I had to find the housekeeper who worked there at the time. She remembered it.’
‘Was she guilty?’ Reed asked quietly. ‘Was she a thief?’
‘Turns out she wasn’t, sir,’ the constable answered. ‘They found the goods on another lass a few weeks later. Too late by then. I think Sugden has a list in his head. Everyone who wronged him or his sister.’
‘That’s good work,’ Kendall praised him.
‘It doesn’t get us any closer to Sugden, though,’ Reed pointed out.
‘Have you found any connection at all between the Carr family and Catherine Carr’s murder?’ the superintendent asked Harper.
‘Nothing. There was a motive, right enough. If the old man died first, Catherine would inherit everything. After her it would go to Neville. But I can’t dig up anything connecting him to the killing.’
‘If Sugden’s gone after Neville Carr’s mistress, he could go after his son, too,’ Ash said.
‘I’ll talk to him,’ Harper said. ‘And get someone on him.’
‘Let’s see if we can find Sugden today,’ Kendall said wearily, taking the watch from his waistcoat. ‘We’ll meet here at five. If there’s anything at all, let me know.’
From Kirkstall, to Meanwood, Headingley then out to Adel, Reed moved between the groups of policemen searching the open spaces and woods. They found signs of camps, some recent, some older, but nothing to show it was Sugden who’d been there.
There was just one site he could pick out as likely: a bivouac in the army style in the woods just beyond Meanwood. Only a short distance from the boot factory. But it had been empty for a few days.
The ground was hard under his boots. The night had brought a heavy frost; the grass in the shade was still covered in white. Sugden would have a tough job surviving out here.
‘Keep looking,’ he told the men who’d gathered round, hearing them grumble. He didn’t blame them. This wasn’t what they’d joined the police to do. It wasn’t what he wanted, either. As soon as this was over he’d be glad to get back to the fire brigade and his training as an investigator.
At least he hadn’t had another drink. He hadn’t even wanted one. His head had pounded for a whole day, and he’d felt like he couldn’t keep any food down for half of it. But more than anything, it was the look of disappointment and hurt on Elizabeth’s face that stopped him. He couldn’t do that to her ag
ain. He didn’t want her staring at him with eyes full of pity. He wanted to see hope and love.
In Adel he paid close attention to the area around the Ford house. If Sugden blamed Isabella for his sister’s death, she’d make an easy target. But there was no sign anyone had made camp up there. That was something, but just a single, meagre crumb.
By four, feet aching, legs sore, he caught the omnibus back into town.
Harper had never been to Neville Carr’s house before. It was just a stone’s throw from his father’s in Chapel Allerton, looking down on the Harrogate Road. New enough that there was still a sandy glow to the Yorkshire stone.
A constable guarded the gate; another was patrolling around the back of the house. Carr himself was at the boot factory, and his wife was out on her morning social calls. He had to wait for Gordon Carr. Ten o’clock and he wasn’t up yet.
But there was a warm fire in the parlour and a comfortable chair. A maid brought a pot of tea and some biscuits. He’d waited in far worse places. By the time the man appeared he’d almost brought his notebook up to date.
Gordon Carr wore his clothes well. His suit was expensive, soft grey wool that fitted him closely. A shirt of fine linen with a fresh celluloid collar. The tie and handkerchief in his pocket were deep red silk. He smelt of pomade and bay rum. Pale side whiskers clung to his cheeks. He had the self-satisfied look of a young man who believed the world was his to take.
‘What do you want, Inspector?’ No handshake, no apology. Just an irritated tone as if this was some chore to be done before he could move on to something more pleasant.
‘We have reason to believe someone might target your family, sir. I’d like to have a policeman watch you when you’re out.’
‘You mean Sugden?’ There was amusement in his voice. ‘He killed my father’s slut, didn’t he? I saw it in the newspapers this morning.’
‘Yes,’ Harper answered coldly. ‘He did. I found the body.’
‘And you think he might come for me or Mama?’ A smile played across his mouth.
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