Skin Like Silver

by Chris Nickson

  ‘I think it’s possible. My job is to keep you safe.’

  ‘How many has he killed so far?’ Carr asked tauntingly. ‘Four, isn’t it? Or is it five? And one wounded? You haven’t been doing your job very well, Inspector.’

  Harper felt the sharp bubble of anger rise and pushed it back down. It would be too easy to hate Gordon Carr. He had to keep him alive.

  ‘It’s six now. And I want to make sure he doesn’t kill you, sir.’ He almost had to clench his teeth to be polite.

  ‘No,’ Carr told him after a few seconds’ thought. ‘I don’t want one of your ugly men traipsing around with me.’

  ‘Sir—’

  ‘I had a nanny when I was young. I hated her. I’m not going to have another. It’s as simple as that.’ He turned to leave the room.

  ‘It’s better than being dead, isn’t it?’

  The man didn’t even turn his head. ‘Didn’t you hear me, Inspector? I said no.’

  Carr didn’t bother to close the door behind him. His footsteps trailed back up the stairs.

  Harper waited a moment, then left. Outside, his breath bloomed in the cold air.

  ‘Any luck, sir?’ the constable at the gate asked. His face was ruddy from the chill and he stamped his feet to keep them warm.

  ‘You’ve spent time here. What do you think?’

  ‘Honestly, sir? I wouldn’t give you tuppence for the lot of them, and that’s the truth.’

  The inspector smiled and winked. ‘Just between you, me and the gatepost,’ he said, ‘I think you’re valuing them too highly.’

  TWENTY-THREE

  ‘You’re very quiet tonight,’ Annabelle said.

  He’d sat and brooded for the last quarter of an hour, staring into the flames of the fire without seeing a thing.

  ‘Just thinking,’ he apologized.

  None of it would let him be. The faces of the dead, one after another, Catherine Carr’s at the top. How could they stop Sugden? He’d been steps ahead of them all the way. And no matter how many men they had on Neville Carr, the truth was that they couldn’t guarantee his safety. Sugden was fast and he was sly.

  She put down the book she was reading and stared at him. ‘It’s not like you.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ he said and sighed. ‘This is …’

  ‘It’s fine,’ she told him with a smile. ‘I’ve seen the newspapers. Is he really a monster?’

  ‘No,’ Harper answered slowly. ‘I don’t think so. He believes he’s doing the right thing, the way he sees it.’

  ‘You’ll hang him in the end.’

  ‘Oh yes,’ he said with certainty. They’d catch him, sooner or later. But it needed to be sooner, before anyone else died.

  ‘How’s your hearing?’ Annabelle asked.

  He grimaced. ‘No better, but not any worse, thank God.’

  ‘I meant what I said before, Tom. We can go to London and see someone there. They might be able to do something.’

  ‘No.’ He knew the truth. It was exactly the same as it had been months and years before. Bit by bit, the hearing in his right ear was going. Soon it would vanish completely. And people knew. They had to. He thought he’d been clever and hidden it well. ‘When this is all over I’m going to talk to the super about it.’

  He’d made the decision the day before. Better that he say something before anyone else did. There was the tale Dr King had told him about the officer who’d done his job perfectly well when deaf. And there’d been deaf beat bobbies. He had to grasp the nettle.

  ‘What if he says you have to leave?’ Annabelle asked.

  ‘I’ll face that when I come to it.’ He turned to look at her. It was time to change the subject. He’d made his decision, he didn’t want to talk about it any more. ‘What about you? Have you decided about being on the suffrage committee yet?’

  ‘No.’ She took a cushion, placed it in front of her and hugged it. A small gesture, but it made her seem like a child, vulnerable. ‘I don’t know that I want to be travelling all over the place.’

  ‘Would you have to?’

  She nodded. ‘Manchester, London. And they’d want me to talk a lot. Give more speeches. I don’t think it’s me.’

  There was something else. He was certain of it.

  ‘Are you sure that’s the real reason?’

  ‘I never wanted to be a speaker. You know that, Tom.’

  ‘Miss Ford’s very persuasive.’

  She chuckled. ‘Very.’

  ‘Are you going to refuse?’

  ‘I don’t know yet,’ she sighed, crushing the cushion against her. ‘Let’s bank the fire and go to bed. We’re not going to solve anything tonight, are we?’

  ‘What else have you managed to find out about Sugden and his sister?’ Kendall asked.

  Ash opened his notebook and they all waited. Reed lit a cigarette.

  ‘There’s not a lot to tell, sir. That’s the problem. Sugden was in and out of jobs after the army. Couldn’t seem to settle at anything. Sometimes he left, sometimes he was dismissed.’

  ‘I want a man guarding everyone who sacked him,’ the superintendent interrupted.

  ‘I’ve already given a list to Sergeant Tollman,’ the constable continued. ‘The longest time he spent was at Carr’s. Then he did the robbery and went off to jail. The place he robbed isn’t in business any more. Proprietor moved away, somewhere down south I was told.’

  ‘So there’s nothing more on him?’ Reed asked.

  ‘That’s the lot.’

  ‘What about his sister? If she was dismissed for theft, how did she manage to get another job?’

  ‘The best I can tell, she must have lied, sir. I can’t find any trace of her between that and working for the Carrs. I went back out there but all the correspondence about her has gone.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s a bit of a mystery.’

  ‘I still can’t come up with a connection between any of the family and Katie Carr’s murder,’ Harper added. He’d gone back to see Isabella Ford once more, but she’d already told him everything she knew. By the end of the day he’d worked his way through to Tilly, the mill woman. She seemed to be the closest to a friend Catherine Carr had in the last months of her life but she hadn’t known much.

  Katie’s landlady had cleared the room and let it again. All her effects only filled a small box. He’d pored through it as she watched over him. But there was nothing. And what she knew about her tenant wouldn’t have filled the back of a postage stamp.

  They knew nothing about her.

  He was back to square one.

  ‘We’ve searched everywhere for Sugden,’ Reed said. ‘But it’s easy enough for him to give us the slip.’ He looked at the others. ‘You know that. We’ve found some places where he might have camped, but that’s it. There’s simply too much to cover.’ He sounded frustrated. ‘He’s gone to ground. We’re not even getting any tips from people who’ve spotted him. We’re just banging our heads against a bloody brick wall.’

  ‘There’s nothing else we can do for now,’ Kendall concluded after he’d listened to them all. ‘Unless one of you has a bright idea. Just keep hunting for Sugden, and make sure everyone he might go after is safe.’ He paused. ‘That was very good work, Ash.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’ He beamed under his thick moustache.

  ‘Where today, sir?’ Ash asked the sergeant.

  ‘You might as well stick a pin in the map and take your chance,’ Reed told him.

  ‘But perhaps we have him on the run. Moving from one place to another.’

  ‘If we can’t find him, that doesn’t help.’

  ‘Chin up, sir. Maybe we’ll get lucky today.’

  ‘See how you feel after a few hours out there.’

  Reed was home early, not long after night had fallen. Elizabeth was in the scullery, mixing something in a bowl, smiling when she saw him.

  ‘I didn’t expect you for hours yet.’

  ‘I’d had enough,’ he answered as he hung his overcoat and hat on the peg. />
  ‘Still nothing?’

  ‘No,’ he said, kissing her on the cheek as he passed and sitting heavily on the chair before taking off his boots. ‘That’s better. What are you making?’

  ‘I thought I’d do us a cake. A little treat.’

  ‘You could have brought one from the shop.’

  ‘Never the same as homemade.’ She sniffed. ‘Doesn’t have that touch.’

  He laughed as he lit a cigarette. ‘But they’re good enough to sell.’

  ‘That’s different,’ she said defensively. ‘If you want to be useful, put the kettle on. You look like you could do with a cup of tea.’

  ‘You mean you need one.’ He grinned. Just being at home cheered him. Away from all the frustrations of the hunt. With the woman he loved. And he still hadn’t had a drink since that night. He’d wanted one but he hadn’t given in.

  She rubbed butter into a cake pan and spooned in the mixture.

  ‘I do,’ she said. ‘But I’m busy and you’re not.’

  ‘How’s that lad getting on? The one who broke the window.’ He poured water into the kettle and settled it on the range.

  ‘Starting to get cheeky sometimes.’ She wiped a strand of hair off her face with her wrist. ‘Open the oven door for me, will you?’

  ‘He must be starting to feel comfortable there, then,’ Reed said with a grin. ‘How long until he’s paid the cost of the new window?’

  ‘A while yet.’

  ‘You think he’s learned his lesson?’

  ‘Oh aye.’ She chuckled. ‘I tell you what, the girls in the shop could take a leaf from his book. As soon as he finishes one job he’s back for the next.’

  As the kettle steamed, he warmed the teapot, poured the water down the sink then spooned in the tea leaves. Pot to the kettle, the way his mother always did it, then leave it to mash.

  ‘At least you’re trained,’ Elizabeth said wryly.

  ‘I’m trying,’ he told her, and they both knew he meant much more than the words he’d spoken.

  ‘I know, luv.’ She put her hand over his. ‘And I’ll help you all I can.’

  It was cold outside, but the rain had stopped and the fog hadn’t returned. Soon enough it would be back, clinging to Leeds all winter. There’d be people coughing up their lungs, and the poor and the old would die when they couldn’t afford to heat their rooms. No respite for the weak, Harper thought.

  As he crossed St Peter’s Square he heard someone calling his name.

  ‘Mr Martin,’ he said, waiting for the man to catch up.

  ‘I’m glad I caught you,’ Martin said. His back was straight, Bible in his hand, face bright with the light of certainty. What did he want, the inspector wondered? Another confession of guilt? A sermon on immorality?

  ‘I’m in a hurry.’ It was a lie, but it meant he could get away quickly.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Martin asked. ‘I’ll walk with you, if I might.’

  ‘Is there something I can do for you?’

  The man reached into his coat and brought out a pamphlet. ‘I was hoping you’d give this to your wife.’

  Harper glanced at the title. The Wife and the Home.

  ‘I don’t think this is going to change her thinking.’

  ‘God moves in strange ways,’ Martin said earnestly.

  ‘Maybe,’ he allowed. ‘Was there something else?’

  The man’s face turned serious. ‘I talked to a man yesterday. He was very troubled. Burdened.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘He told me he’d done something terrible.’

  ‘What was it?’ Harper asked. ‘Did he say?’

  Martin shook his head. ‘I asked several times, but all he’d say was that it was terrible, over and over. He’d been drinking.’

  ‘I’m not sure why you’re telling me all this, Mr Martin.’

  ‘It’s just …’ he began hesitantly. ‘When you took me to the police station, you said you were looking for a man with fair side whiskers and a bowler hat.’

  Suddenly the inspector was attentive. ‘What’s his name?’

  ‘John. That’s all he told me. No surname.’

  ‘He had a bowler hat?’

  ‘A very battered one,’ Martin said. ‘But yes, he did.’

  ‘Where did you see him?’ It was a lead, a thread. More than they’d had for days.

  ‘He was outside the Palace Hotel on Kirkgate. He seemed to know who I was.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Harper told him and turned on his heel.

  It was no more than a hundred yards to the Palace. The place was already busy, loaders from the wharves taking a break from their work. All the gas mantles were lit, the inside much brighter than the gloom out on the street. He pushed through the crowd and found the landlord behind the bar, busy filling orders. It was a well-kept house, the woodwork gleaming in the light.

  He tried to remember the landlord’s name. Ben something-or-other. The inspector had only been in here twice before, only for a few minutes each time.

  ‘I’m sure I know you,’ the landlord said once the rush had passed. ‘I never forget a face.’

  ‘Detective Inspector Harper, Leeds Police.’

  ‘That’s right.’ His face creased into a broad smile. ‘I used to have one of your lot in here regular like.’

  ‘Billy Reed?’ It was a fair guess.

  ‘That’s the one. Not seen him in months now.’

  ‘I’m hoping you can help me, Mr …’

  ‘Palmer. Ben Palmer.’

  He’d remembered some of it anyway. ‘I’m trying to find someone who drinks in here. All I know is that his name’s John. He has a bowler hat that’s seen better days, and fair hair. Big mutton chop whiskers.’

  ‘I’ve seen him,’ Palmer agreed with a nod. ‘Don’t know him, though. He’s not really a regular. Sits off by himself and drinks brandy till he’s out of money.’

  ‘When was he here last?’ Harper asked urgently.

  ‘I don’t know.’ He ran a hand across his chin. ‘It could have been last night. I’m not right sure.’ He paused. ‘No, wait, he was here, I remember now.’

  ‘Does anyone know him?’

  Palmer pursed his lips and shook his head. ‘I don’t think so. Like I said, he’s not in all the time. Probably from one of the rooming houses.’

  But there were hundreds of those in the streets around, beds for working men and the poor. Too many to check on a wild hunch.

  ‘If he comes in again, I’d like you to send word to me at Millgarth.’

  ‘Aye, all right. But he’s never been in before evening, I can tell you that.’

  ‘I’ll be there,’ the inspector promised.

  There was nothing more he could do there. He started along Kirkgate, pausing at the union office when a hand waved at him through the window.

  ‘Bearing up, Inspector?’ Tom Maguire asked. For once he was smiling and looking happy.

  ‘You’re looking very bright today,’ Harper said. ‘Had some good news?’

  ‘All’s fine with the world, nothing more than that. I hear Miss Ford wants Annabelle for the suffrage committee.’

  ‘Yes.’ Maguire seemed to hear most things that happened in Leeds. Not just the news but what went on behind the scenes.

  ‘She’s going to take it, of course?’ He’d grown up a few streets away from Annabelle on the Bank. She was a few years older, but the connections remained.

  ‘You’d have to ask her.’ It was the safest thing to say. ‘She hasn’t made up her mind yet.’

  ‘Why on earth not?’ Maguire asked in astonishment. ‘She’d be perfect for it.’

  ‘I don’t know. It’s her decision.’

  ‘Of course,’ Maguire agreed. ‘I’d have thought she’d jump at the chance.’

  All he could do was shrug in reply. Whatever was troubling Annabelle, she didn’t want to talk about it yet.

  ‘And how’s your search?’ Maguire continued.

  ‘You probably know the answer to that
,’ Harper said with a sigh. ‘If you have any information …’

  ‘If I did, I’d tell you.’

  ‘We need all the help we can get.’

  ‘I haven’t forgotten Mrs Carr.’

  ‘Or all the ones Sugden killed.’

  ‘May they rest in peace,’ Maguire said quietly.

  ‘Do you ever drink in the Palace?’ Harper asked. It was worth a try; the public house was just down the street.

  ‘Not often. Why?’

  ‘I just wondered. There’s someone I want to find who’s been going there.’

  ‘I’m sorry, Inspector, I can’t help you.’

  Never mind, he thought. There would be tonight.

  ‘I need to go.’

  ‘Of course,’ Maguire said. ‘And good luck. Should I stop by and talk to Annabelle, do you think?’

  ‘Better to leave her to make up her own mind,’ Harper advised.

  ‘Fair play to her then. Good hunting, Inspector.’

  Back at Millgarth he waited for Ash to return. The constable arrived with Reed a little before five. The sergeant tossed his hat on to the desk and sank into his chair.

  ‘Another day wasted.’ He reached into his jacket and took out cigarettes and matches. ‘I’m starting to think we’ll never bloody well find Sugden.’

  ‘We will,’ Harper said. He turned to Ash. ‘I want you to go for a drink.’

  The constable raised his eyebrows. ‘Sir?’

  ‘Go down to the Palace.’ He pulled coins from his pocket. ‘You have my permission to drink on duty.’

  ‘Thank you, sir,’ he said, mystified. ‘Is there a reason?’

  ‘I want you to keep your eyes peeled for someone.’

  The others listened closely as he explained.

  ‘If the landlord’s going to send someone when this John fellow comes in, why do you need me there?’ Ash asked.

  ‘Insurance,’ the inspector answered. ‘And if they forget, you can bring him in.’

  The constable smiled. ‘Yes, sir. And my father always taught me never to turn down a free drink.’

  ‘Do you want me tonight, Tom?’ Reed asked.

  ‘Not unless you fancy spending your evening in a pub.’

  The sergeant shook his head. ‘I’d just as soon go home.’

  ‘You might as well get off, then. The super’s at a meeting.’ He glanced out at the darkness beyond the window. ‘I doubt we’ll be catching Sugden tonight.’