Den of Thieves

by William Holden

  “There is only one way to find out.” He gave me a reassuring smile, opened the door, stepped out, then turned and waited for me to exit.

  “Bess, do you mind waiting here and keeping an eye out for anyone who might follow us in? I do not want any surprises in there.”

  “Not at all.” Bess nodded. “I shall go sit with Nicholas.” She held out her hand. I took it and helped her out of the carriage.

  “Are you ready?” Christopher bowed and followed me into the dead house.

  “No, but let us do it.” The air was ripe with the sickening sweet stench of death. Both Christopher and I pulled our orange-scented handkerchiefs out of our pockets and held them to our faces to help disguise the foul odors. The main room of the coroner’s office was well appointed and organized. Several candles flickered on his desk as they licked and gasped in the contaminated air. Christopher went in one direction, and I the other as we searched the various tools and potions of the physician’s trade.

  “Thomas,” Christopher whispered. When I turned toward him, he nodded toward the back of the room. I looked in the direction but saw nothing of importance but additional rows of shelving and what appeared to be body parts floating in a clear liquid.

  “What is it?” I followed Christopher.

  “Look, there is a door back in the corner.” Christopher took my hand and led me into the back of the office. “I…” He leaned his ear against the door. “I hear nothing inside.” He shrugged then turned the door handle. The door popped open and swung inward with a slow, rattled squeal from the rusty hinges.

  “Oh, God.” I said and turned my head away from the sight of nearly a dozen bodies in various stages of decay, dissection, or both. “Let us get this over with quickly.” I took the right side of the room, Christopher the left. Each of our respective sides held what I could only describe as bunk beds for the dead. There were six beds on each side, all of them contained a corpse, except one. The first two bodies I looked at were both men. I caught myself catching glimpses of their lifeless pricks nestled in beds of dark, wiry hair. I felt sorry for them that they would never feel pleasure or love again. I knew my thoughts were morbid, but I became fascinated with the dead and began inspecting them for wounds or other obvious reasons for death, but I found none.

  “Over here, Thomas. I found Miss Van Dijk.”

  “Who in the fuck…” A voice bellowed from behind us.

  Christopher and I jumped and turned to face the coroner. By the look on the man’s face, I could tell he was not happy finding not one, but two people wandering about his dead bodies.

  “Newton,” he said with irritation. “Get the fuck out of here, before I call for the magistrate and have you arrested for thieving.”

  “Thieving? You must be joking.” Christopher approached the coroner. “Who in their right mind would believe Thomas or I would steal a dead body?”

  “I do not know who you are, or why you are aligning yourself with this pervert, but you will not do it in my shop.”

  “I am looking for the body of Cassia Van Dijk.” I walked toward him without giving him any indication of backing down.

  “Look all you want, Newton. I will not let you desecrate her body.”

  “Is that what you think I am doing?” I held in a laugh. “I have reason to believe you are hiding proof of Pierre Baptiste’s innocence.”

  “Another one of your perverted friends. He can rot in Newgate for all I care.” He spat on the floor. “Are you going to leave or am I going to have to do it by force?”

  “I would like to see you try it.” Christopher towered over the fat, squat of a man. The coroner clenched his fist and swung at Christopher. I raised my arm and blocked his move, then kneed him between his legs. The coroner doubled over, but his injury was too slight to stop him. With his head still bent over his body, he rushed Christopher and shoved him against the row of bunk beds. The wooden frame held. Christopher fell to the floor with the wind knocked out of him.

  I charged the coroner, shoving my fist into the side of his gut, hoping the impact would give us the advantage. The fat of his body must have weakened my impact. The full weight of me was not enough to cause him the slightest misstep. He spun around on his heels, picked me up, and threw me across the room. I skidded against the brittle wooden floorboards as he barreled down on me once again.

  “See the empty shelf over there. It is the last available one, and you are going to be laying in it soon.” He reached down, grabbed my shirt, and pulled me to my feet. He reached into the pocket of his overcoat, pulled out a dagger, and held it to my throat. “Not so fast.” He looked at Christopher, who had regained his footing. “Move your arse over there.” He pointed with the knife. “Where I can see you.” He turned the tip of the blade in my direction and smiled.

  “What is the magistrate going to say when he learns you killed one of his men?” I asked, hoping to gain some time to work out a way out of the situation.

  “You? You must be joking.”

  “Why did you do it?” I asked. “For money?”

  “That and the satisfaction of doing away with a few sodomites.” He cleared his throat and spat. It landed on my cheek and dripped down my neck.

  “Eli,” Bess called out from behind us. When he turned around, she swung a metal rod in his direction. The rod struck the side of his head with a dull thud. He released his grip. I fell to the floor. Christopher knelt down beside me.

  “You bitch.” He staggered to his feet.

  “Yes, I am when you mess with my friends,” Bess said, and without the slightest warning to any of us, she reversed the movement of the makeshift weapon and brought it up and struck him on the other side of the head.

  His head swayed from side to side. He took a step toward Bess, then stopped. He looked at her, fell to his knees then collapsed on the floor, unconscious.

  “Bess,” I stood along with Christopher.

  “Glad I could help, boys.” She winked, tossed the pole to the floor, adjusted her breasts in her bodice, then tucked a stray curl of hair behind her ear. “So, did you find Miss Van Dijk?” She asked with excitement.

  “Yes, over here.”

  “She was beautiful,” Christopher said. “I cannot believe anyone could do this to another person.”

  “I know.” I rubbed his back, then lifted Cassia’s hand and inspected her fingernails. “Christopher, can you bring the candle closer.” I moved her hand around to get the light to shine under her nails. “Is that blood?” Christopher took her hand from mine and brought it closer to the candle.

  “Yes, I think it is.” Christopher looked at me and smiled. “Thomas, I think this is it. The proof we need. All we have to do is go to Newgate and have Pierre remove his clothing and inspect his body. If there aren’t any marks—”

  “It proves he did not murder Cassia,” I answered for him.

  “Now what?”

  “We need to tie the coroner up and find something to gag his mouth.”

  “Why?”

  “He knows we have uncovered the truth. When he comes to you can rest assured he will make a direct line for Mr. Wilcox. The magistrate cannot have any idea what we are up to, or it will ruin everything.”

  “I shall be happy to tie the bastard up,” Bess said.

  “Thomas, what are you planning?”

  “There is no time to explain. Get the coroner tied and bound to the bunk beds. I shall find something to wrap Cassia in.”

  “Why do you need to cover her body?” He sounded unsettled as if he did not want to hear my reply.

  “We need to take the body with us.”

  “Thomas, we cannot steal a body. It is illegal.” Christopher looked at Bess as if silently asking for her assistance with my supposed weakened state of mind.

  “We do not have a choice. Cassia’s body and her nails are the only proof we have. If something were to happen to her—”

  “What can happen? She is dead.” Bess asked as she tied the coroner to the beds.


  “If the coroner or even Mr. Wilcox found out what we knew, all they would have to do is incinerate the body or find some other way to destroy it, and our proof of Pierre’s innocence is gone.”

  “Fuck. I do not like this, Thomas.”

  “Nor do I, but what choice do we have?”

  “None.” Bess stood, tore a large swath of material from her dress and shoved it in the coroner’s mouth, then ripped the lace around her waist and used it to secure the gag. “Get the body wrapped. I shall go and alert Nicholas, maybe he can maneuver the carriage closer to the door to hide our activities.”

  “Bess,” I called to her. “Thank you for what you did.”

  “As Christopher mentioned in the carriage. You need to stop thanking everyone. We do it out of love for one another. It is what families do.” She winked then disappeared into the front office, leaving Christopher and me to attend to Cassia’s body.

  I shook the canvas a few times to straighten it as I placed it on the floor. I looked at Christopher. He was not moving. He stood and stared at the lifeless body. I went to him. “Are you all right?” I kissed his arm and rubbed his back.

  “Do you ever wonder how we get ourselves involved in such things?”

  “All the time. You, Pierre, and Bess are what keeps me going. And the hope that once Mr. Wilcox is in Newgate, perhaps we can find a way to have a normal life.”

  Christopher nodded and smiled at me. “A normal life would be nice.”

  “You do not regret getting involved with Pierre and me?”

  “Not for one moment.” He leaned down and kissed me. “Let us get her wrapped up. Bess and Sheppard are waiting.” We slid our hands under her body. The weight of death was heavier than expected as we lifted her off the bunk. I scooted around her feet, Christopher her head and shoulders, and we lowered her to the floor. We wrapped the canvas around her body, tucking it in as best we could at both ends so nothing would fall out as we carried her to the carriage.

  “Thomas?” Bess’s voice drifted through the rooms. “Christopher?”

  “We are coming,” Christopher replied.

  “There must be…a better way…to do this.” I said through heavy breaths. I walked backward, holding onto Cassia’s feet. Christopher and I shuffled along in the dim light of the room.

  “I am afraid if I carried her over my shoulder, a leg or arm would fall out. Do we need to stop?”

  “No, keep moving. I am afraid to stop on the street.” I looked over my shoulder and saw Bess holding the door for us. “Thank you, Bess.” I said as we walked onto the street. Once Christopher was out, Bess hurried behind us to open the carriage door.

  Bess looked around as we loaded the body into the carriage. “I think we are good. No one appears to be paying us any attention. Where are we going with the body?” She asked. “Nicholas wanted to know.”

  “Newgate.”

  “What for?”

  “I need to see Pierre, to inspect his body.”

  “You do not believe he did this, do you?”

  “No, but what if Cassia’s murderer wanted to make sure all the proof pointed to Pierre…”

  “My Lord,” Bess said. “If the killer scratched Pierre’s chest using Cassia’s nails and we took the body to the king.”

  “Exactly. We have to know what we are up against.”

  “Newgate it is.” Bess shut the door, and soon Sheppard had us turned around and headed toward the prison. I knew Sheppard was having trouble with our past actions, and now we had dragged him into being body snatchers as well. It could not sit well with his religious beliefs, though truth be told, I doubt it sat well with any of us, but our hands were tied and Pierre’s life was on the line. This was the only lead we had and I was determined to see it out.

  Christopher and I sat with Cassia’s body draped across our laps. The heat of the day was building, and the odor of her body was oppressive with its early decay as if she were reaching out from the grave to steal our breaths as we stole her body. Neither of us spoke. I suppose the situation we found ourselves in did not lend itself to idle chatter. Then Christopher broke the silence.

  “How is Pierre doing?”

  “About as well as anyone who finds themselves inside that hell knowing they are innocent.” I shrugged. “You know Pierre. He is the stoic one. He was more worried about me than he was about himself.” I saw Christopher blink away a tear. “He will be okay. We all shall.”

  “I hope you are correct.”

  “Here we are.” I nodded as the carriage slowed to a stop. “Do you want to come in?”

  “Yes, I need to see him.”

  “Let us get out of the carriage from your door. I do not want the gaoler to see our cargo as it would raise too many questions.”

  Christopher opened the door, then slid out from underneath the body. Her legs were stiff with death. I managed to wiggle my way between her feet and the side of the carriage and work my way to the door. Bess was standing next to Christopher as I stepped out.

  “Now what?” Bess asked.

  “Christopher and I are going in. You and Sheppard stay here and guard the body. This shouldn’t take long.” We walked up the garden path to the main gate. I stopped when I saw the guard, appointed by his majesty, standing at the entrance to the prison. “Why are you out here? Has something happened?”

  “You could say that.” The man nodded at me. “I am Ramsey Dougherty, one of the king’s guards.” He reached out to shake Christopher’s hand as we entered the prison.

  “Christopher Baker.”

  “Where are the gaoler’s?” I asked as I saw no signs of them.

  “As you can imagine, the gaoler’s have not been too happy with my presence here. I had to detain them.”

  “How?”

  “They have been given a cell of their own.” Ramsey smiled. “Come, I shall take you to see Mr. Baptiste. I have moved him to a private cell closer to me so that I could keep a better watch over him. I wouldn’t mind some additional hands if you can arrange it.”

  “There is no need for that. We are getting you and Pierre out of here.”

  “Thomas?” Christopher looked at me.

  “Christopher, Thomas.” Pierre called out. “It is so good to see the two of you.”

  “How are you doing?” Christopher asked.

  “I am fine.” He looked at the two of us. “Honestly, I am. I am more worried about what is going on outside this place.”

  “We have captured the murderer,” I said. “Ansell Van Dijk.”

  “Mr. Borgstrom’s assistant? Wait a minute, we who?” Pierre asked with concern.

  “The who or why is of little importance. The point is we have put an end to it, and we are here to prove your innocence. Take off your shirt.”

  “This is no time…”

  “We need to inspect your body,” Christopher added. “There is blood and skin under Cassia’s fingernails, which means she fought back.”

  “I can assure you there are no marks on my body.” Pierre unlaced the shirt and pulled it over his head. He stood with his arms outstretched in front of us. I wanted to reach between the iron bars and touch his chest and run my fingers through the mass of hair covering his body. I could tell Christopher was thinking the same thing.

  “Turn around,” I said.

  Pierre followed orders, then turned back to face us.

  “Nothing.”

  “Did you think there would be?” Pierre picked up his shirt and pulled it back over his head and shoulders. He left it untied.

  “We had to be sure whoever set you up did not scratch you as well.”

  “Thomas, I do not mean to sound negative,” Christopher said. “How is anything of this going to lead us to Miss Van Dijk’s murderer?”

  “There is no need. I know who murdered Cassia.”

  “You do?” Christopher and Pierre asked simultaneously.

  “Yes. Jonathan Wilcox, our magistrate.”

  Chapter 18

  “Thomas, are you sure
about this?” Pierre wrapped his fingers around the iron bars. “I have no love lost for the man, but I find it hard to believe he murdered Cassia, and for what gain?”

  “To get rid of you.”

  “You cannot be serious.” Christopher reached out and ran his finger across Pierre’s hand.

  “He tried to have you exiled, but the king refused to sign the orders. He as much confessed to me the other day. He said he would not rest until you and Christopher were out of the way so he could have me all to himself.”

  “Son-of-a-bitch.” Pierre slammed his fist against the cell door. The vibrations rattled the old iron several cells down.

  “Pierre, we have got him.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “What time is it?”

  “Half past two. Why?”

  “Ramsey, do you have the keys to the cells?”

  “No, but they are locked up with the gaoler. It will not be difficult to obtain them.”

  “Good, retrieve the keys and get Pierre out of here. The three of you go with Bess and Sheppard to Parliament and fetch Mr. Atwood.”

  “Thomas?” Pierre said. “Where are you going?”

  “I am going to pay Mr. Wilcox a visit. It is time I turn myself over to him.”

  “Thomas, you cannot go there alone it is too dangerous.”

  “I shall be all right. Mr. Wilcox does not want to hurt me. If he did, he has had plenty of opportunities to do so. He is trying to bed me and make me his boy.”

  “I cannot let you do this.”

  “Explain to Mr. Atwood,” I said ignoring Pierre’s plea. “I can prove Mr. Wilcox murdered Cassia Van Dijk. The three of you need to meet me at the Goose and Gridiron. I shall be with Mr. Wilcox in his private office. Please, do not interrupt us. I shall call out for you when I am ready. Bess can show you the way.” Despite being in front of Ramsey, I leaned in and kissed Pierre, then Christopher.

  “Please, be careful.”

  “I shall.”

  “We shall be there within the hour.”

  “Good, the last thing I want is to have to fuck the man.” I smiled then turned and ran down through the corridors and out into the blinding sunlight.