‘How many think like him?’ Harper looked at the boys.
‘I do,’ the oldest boy said defiantly. Samuel Levy. The rabbi raised a hand but the lad ignored him. English was his native tongue, without any trace of his uncle’s heavy accent. ‘We were born here. We’re as English as you are.’
The inspector dipped his head in acknowledgement. ‘Did your brother have any enemies?’
‘Not round here,’ Samuel Levy replied and Harper understood what he meant. Here, in the Leylands. Where they could all gather together, enough of them in one small place to feel safe and secure.
‘Go on.’
‘They don’t like us in town.’
‘Anyone in particular?’ Harper asked.
The boy shrugged, all the bravado evaporating as his uncle glared at him.
‘There are only a few who don’t want us here,’ Feldman said with a sigh. ‘You know who I mean, Inspector. People who don’t like the Irish or the Jews or anyone who’s not from here. England for the English.’ He raised his eyes. ‘But they’ll change in time, imyirtseshem.’ God willing.
‘Samuel,’ Harper said. The boy stirred uncomfortably. ‘Please, if there’s anyone or any group, I need to know.’
But the lad just pushed his lips together and shook his head. The inspector wasn’t going to discover anything right now. He pushed back his chair. From the depths of memory he dredged up a phrase.
‘Zayt moykhl oyf dayn onver.’ I’m sorry for your loss. He gave a small bow and left, Reed on his heels.
After the cloying heat of the kitchen, the bitter air was fresh and clean in his lungs.
‘What did you make of that, Billy?’ he asked as the sergeant lit a cigarette.
‘No one from around here killed him. Think about it, Tom, the pose, murdered elsewhere …’
‘Then we’d better find out about some of them. There must be some groups. Ask around at the station, someone might know something.’ He drew the watch from his waistcoat. ‘I’ll see you there at half past one.’
Quarter past eleven. Harper knew exactly where the beat copper would be: warming himself in the shop at the bottom of Poland Street. It was a routine that had held for decades, already going strong when he was just a boy.
And Forsyth was just where he expected, putting the cup back on the old, scarred counter. The smells overwhelmed him as he entered. Sacks of sugar and salt and beans sat on the floor, spices in their jars, tins on the shelves. Twenty years before it had been Mrs Peters who owned the place. He’d been sent running down here often enough by his mother for a pennyworth of this or that, everything weighed out and packed in a paper cone. Now he couldn’t read the strange writing on the notices and there were many items he’d never seen before. Different people, he thought, different tastes. The woman who stood there with hair neatly wrapped in a scarf and her shoulders covered by an old shawl, looked at him curiously.
‘I wondered when you’d come looking for me, sir,’ Forsyth said. He snapped the cap back on to his head. ‘Do you fancy a stroll? I’ll see you tomorrow, Esther.’
These were Forsyth’s streets. He’d covered them for more than two decades, starting when he was fresh on the force. He’d grown into a portly man, his top lip covered by a ruddy moustache with streaks of grey.
‘I surprised you’re working today.’ The constable had enough seniority to claim the holiday off.
‘Dun’t make no never mind to me, sir.’ Harper remembered that Forsyth was widowed, with a daughter living in Holbeck. ‘I’ll go over to our Katie’s later for me dinner.’ He paused. ‘Terrible about young Abraham.’
‘How well did you know him?’
‘So-so.’
‘What was he like?’
The constable pursed his mouth. ‘Bit of a hothead at times, sir, but a good lad under all that. I gave him a clip round the ear a few times when he was younger. I’m sure you remember what that’s like.’ Harper smiled; when he was a boy, he’d received one or two from Forsyth himself. Then the bobby would have a quiet word with his mother and there’d be more when his father arrived home.
‘Any real trouble with him?’
‘Nothing as you’d notice.’ Forsyth strode with the easy grace of the beat policeman, eyes constantly glancing around, taking everything in and remembering it. But winter kept the streets empty as they walked. No children out running, no women gossiping in the doorways. The only sounds came as they passed the sweatshops, two of three of them on every street.
‘What about people coming in here and stirring things up?’
The copper shook his head. ‘Only now and then. They have a few drinks and come around shouting and yelling. We take care of it and they wake up in the cells. A fine or a few days of hard labour usually puts them off.’
‘More in the last few years?’
‘Mebbe,’ Forsyth allowed after a little thought. ‘You’ll find words painted on the walls – Jews go home, things like that. But it’s not bad. I’ll tell you the truth, sir. This is an easy beat. There’s hardly any problems beyond the odd domestic. They just work all the time. I’ve never seen anything like it.’
‘What about Abraham? Were there people round here who didn’t like him?’
‘A few, perhaps. Happen one or two thought he was speaking too loud, bringing attention to the place. Most of them here just want to be left in peace. But I suppose you can’t blame the lad. I remember when he was born; this is all he’s ever known, him and all the other young ’uns. Why shouldn’t they be treated the same as everyone else?’
‘Do you think there’s anyone in the Leylands who’d kill him?’
‘Here? No,’ Forsyth answered without hesitation. ‘I’m certain of that. Not him or that girl of his, or any of them. I went to see his parents this morning. Paid my respects.’
‘Who do you think is responsible for his death, Mr Forsyth?’
‘Me? I don’t know, sir, and that’s the truth. But I’m as sure as I can be that it wasn’t anyone from round here.’
Reed hadn’t learned anything at Millgarth. The few policemen working on Christmas Day didn’t know much. Half the beat constables, the ones who kept their ears to the ground, were off for the holiday.
‘Who’s around?’ he asked Tollman, the desk sergeant.
‘There’s Ash.’ He glanced at the clock. ‘Usually he’d be at the Royal about now, cadging himself a cup of tea. They’ll be closed today, though.’
It took half an hour to find the man, tramping through the mean courts and yards between Briggate and Lands Lane. There was no joy of the season back here, none of the laughter and pleasure, simply another day of poverty and misery. He finally spotted the constable on Albion Street, outside the Co-operative department store, helping a drunk to his feet.
‘If you don’t go home, Albert, you’ll bloody freeze to death out here. What would I tell your missus then, eh?’
He watched the man stumble off, barely able to stay upright, and waited until he was out of sight before turning to greet Reed.
‘Another half an hour and I’ll find him somewhere else.’ He shook his head. ‘Not often we see you in these parts, Sergeant. Happy Christmas to you.’
Ash was a big man, genial and intelligent, with warm eyes and a welcoming manner. He’d been more than a year on this beat, long enough to know it intimately. He’d hear every whisper and rumour that circulated.
‘Busy today?’
Ash smiled. ‘Quiet as church. Makes a change round here. I’ll be done at two, anyway. Having me on shift gives the wife and that little one we took in a bit of peace from me. What can I do for you, sir?’
He listened closely as Reed explained, stroking his moustache as he thought.
‘There’s some nasty buggers around, and no mistake,’ he said with a shake of his head. ‘Round here I’d look at the Cork and Bottle, up on the Headrow. There’s talk in there that would curl your hair.’
‘About Jews?’
‘Jews, Irish, you name it. It’s
not everyone who drinks there, mind. Just a few.’ He raised an eyebrow. ‘But that’s enough, isn’t it?’
‘Any names?’
Ash shrugged. ‘I’ve not paid much attention, Sarge. I can find out if you’d like. But I’ve heard that there’s a place worse than that.’
‘Where?’
‘The Anchor, down on Mabgate. I’ve never been in myself, but that’s what I’ve been told.’
‘Who’d know?’
‘Have a word with Terry Dicks. It’s his beat, has been for years.’ He leaned forward conspiratorially. ‘I’m not so sure he doesn’t believe things like that himself, if you know what I mean.’ He tapped the side of his nose with his finger. ‘Just a word to the wise.’
‘Can you find out more about the people at the Cork and Bottle for me? Quietly.’
‘Glad to. I should tell you, though, a lot of them up there spent time in the army. I know you served, too …’
‘Thank you.’ After the West Yorkshire regiment came back from the Afghan war he’d stayed in the army for a few months. But the bad dreams wouldn’t stop, even in the safety of York barracks. He’d served long enough; it was time. He handed in his papers and came home. That was ten years ago. Nowadays the nightmares didn’t drag him awake so often. He’d found peace of a sort in his life, a tenuous, uneasy beast. ‘I’m off tomorrow; I’ll be back on Saturday.’
‘I’ll leave a note on your desk, sir.’
Harper doodled on the paper. He’d finished his report, the station was silent, and he had time to think. The more he considered it, the more he believed that no one from the Leylands would kill Abraham Levy.
So who had? Whoever it was, they’d be the devil to find. And he’d already lost today because of Christmas. Everywhere was closed, people gathered around their fires. Good tidings to all men.
Meanwhile, with every hour that passed without finding the murderer, people in the Leylands would wonder if the police really cared, if they were even trying.
He glanced down at the page. He’d drawn arrows in pencil going in all directions. It was how he felt. Too many choices. Too many possibilities.
Reed arrived on the dot of half past one. Before he could even take off his coat, Harper was up, pulling on his muffler and gloves.
‘We’re going out.’
‘Now?’ he asked in astonishment. ‘Where?’
The inspector just smiled. ‘Come on.’
They walked out along Regent Street, exchanging information.
‘Are you going to tell me where we’re going, Tom?’ the sergeant asked finally.
‘Christmas dinner.’
‘Where?’ He looked around. No people, no carts on the road, no lights in any of the businesses.
‘The Victoria,’ Harper told him. ‘Annabelle will kill me if I’m not there. And you need to eat.’
Harper opened the door and walked into the parlour. The pleasure that lit up Annabelle’s face when she saw him made it all worthwhile. She was dressed to the nines, her hair swept up, the jet pendant hanging from her neck, wearing a bustled burgundy gown that swept across the floor as she came to greet him.
‘I was hoping you’d be able to come home,’ she whispered in his ear. ‘It wouldn’t have been right without you.’
‘I brought Billy,’ he said, moving aside to let the sergeant enter.
‘I should hope you did, too,’ she told him and turned to Reed. ‘Find yourself a chair, love. There’s room if we all squeeze up.’
It was a full table. There was Dan the barman, wearing a suit for once, with an old wing collar and tie, his hair greased down. Kitty and Emma, the servants, both looked slightly ill-at-ease out of uniform. Old Mrs Derby from Manor Road whose husband had died back in March. Christine and Wilhelmina who ran the bakeries, and Will, who helped out when the drays delivered the beer. Someone had already tapped the barrel in the kitchen and everyone was talking nineteen to the dozen, glasses half-empty in front of them.
‘Are you off out again later?’ Annabelle asked as Harper settled next to her.
‘I’ve only popped back for an hour.’
‘I’m glad you did.’ She squeezed his thigh and smiled. ‘Is Billy working, too?’
‘Yes.’ He glanced down the table to see Reed look longingly at the beer, knowing he daren’t drink while he was on duty. A ten-shilling fine for the first offence, a pound for the second. The third time you were kicked off the force.
‘I’ll put the kettle on.’
The goose sizzled as Harper carried it in, fat spattering off the golden skin. Reed offered to carve the bird, using the knife with a skill no one suspected, each slice thin and even. He smiled shyly as they applauded his work.
Talk, laughter and food, Harper thought. For one afternoon, at least, they were all a family. The women cleared the plates. He heard shrieks of happiness from the kitchen, then they returned with the plum pudding, the brandy lit and burning soft blue.
‘Right.’ Annabelle tapped her spoon against the wine glass for silence. Her eyes glistened. She stood and looked around. ‘I’ve known most of you for a long time. You’ve all been good friends to me.’ She reached out and took Harper’s hand. ‘Now I’ve been lucky enough to find this one – lucky as long as you ignore the fact that he’s a copper.’ She gave him a broad wink. ‘Anyway, I just wanted to say happy Christmas to you all and thank you for coming. And you’d better eat up.’
She had gifts for them all under the tree, even Billy. Just little baubles, but everyone oohed and aahed as they unwrapped the presents.
‘I’m saving yours for later,’ Annabelle told him as she gave him a kiss, fingers toying with her necklace. ‘And I’m wearing the one you gave me. It really is lovely, Tom. Thank you.’
Finally he took out his watch and nodded to Reed. Half past three. Time had slipped past; they needed to be on their way.
‘Will you be late?’ she asked as she unlocked the door of the pub.
‘I’ll try not to be.’
Annabelle pushed herself into his arms. ‘Just make sure you look after yourself, Tom Harper.’
‘I will.’
‘And you, too, Billy,’ she said. ‘Your Elizabeth must be looking forward to seeing you tomorrow.’
They walked back into Leeds along the empty road. Not even four and it was already full darkness. The bleak midwinter, he thought.
‘Where are we going?’ Reed asked.
‘I’m going to talk to Abraham’s brother. He knows something, I could see it in his eyes.’
‘Where do you want me?’
‘Back to the station. You’re the duty detective today, remember?’
FIVE
In the end, Reed was almost late. He had to dash for the train, sprinting along the platform and clutching the packages tight against his chest. In the empty carriage he gave a sigh of relief and let everything tumble on to the seat: the presents he’d bought for Elizabeth and each of her children.
He’d had no idea what to buy them. Years had passed since he’d given a woman a gift. And children? Never. Finally he went to the Grand Pygmalion, the towering department store on Boar Lane to wander and weave through the Christmas crowds. Four floors and so much on sale. How did anyone ever decide?
Eventually a shop girl took pity on him. He gave her the ages and sexes of the children and let her choose. A whip and top, a doll, a book of adventure stories and something he couldn’t even remember now. She wrapped them then guided him up the stairs to the women’s floor. He watched her move confidently among the bottles of scent, selecting one and holding it up.
‘She’ll love this one. It’s not the most popular but I think it’s the best.’
He took it and thanked her. He just wanted to be out of there; with so many people about and so many things to see, he felt overwhelmed. The presents took almost half his pay, with just enough left over for his lodgings and a drink or two.
Ten minutes later the squeal of the brakes woke him from a doze as the train pulled in to M
iddleton station. Elizabeth was standing at the end of the platform, beaming at the sight of him, the children lined up politely behind her. She always seemed so happy to see him, so warm. God knew he enjoyed their time together; he just didn’t understand what she saw in him.
‘Hello, love,’ she said, pushing up on tiptoe to hug him. ‘Happy Christmas.’
He’d met her when he’d come to Middleton on a case, seeking directions to one of the pits. She was a widow who worked in a shop, so forward he could hardly believe it. But he came out again to walk with her. Then, almost without him noticing, it had become a regular thing. Whenever he had a day off they’d spend it together. A fortnight had gone by since he’d seen her last; she’d brought the children into Leeds and he’d taken them all to the pantomime at the Princess Palace, laughing just as hard as they did at the show.
She slid her arm through his as they walked, squeezing it gently and smiling up at him.
‘Me mam’s gone to see me sister today so it’s us and the little ones. I’ve made a big dinner. I hope you’re hungry.’
‘I’ll manage,’ he told her with a grin. She knew his appetite.
He felt different when he was with her. All the anger inside him seemed to melt away. He was still wary around her children, never sure quite how to act. But with Elizabeth he seemed to be part of a family for the first time since he was a boy.
They opened the presents after the meal. The children loved what he’d bought. John, the oldest, stood straight and said, ‘Thank you, sir,’ giving a sharp salute. His younger brother tried to imitate him and the girls made graceful curtseys before they all dashed off to play, leaving Reed alone with Elizabeth at the table. He pushed a package towards her.
‘I didn’t know what to get you,’ he admitted as she unwrapped it. With eager fingers she removed the stopper.
‘Oh Billy, it’s wonderful.’ She dabbed perfume on the inside of her wrists and in the hollow at the base of her neck. ‘Smell it. It really is,’ she told him and he saw she was close to tears.
Two Bronze Pennies Page 3
