‘I hear you’re involved with the League for the Defence of the Realm.’
‘What’s that, then?’ Woods asked, but there was cunning in his eyes. He knew.
‘You tell me.’ Harper took another sip, watching Woods follow his movements. Let him feel the thirst.
‘Never heard of them.’
‘Funny, that’s not what I was told.’
‘Oh aye?’ The man cocked his head.
‘After last night, we’re going to charge you with assaulting an officer and resisting arrest.’
Woods shrugged. He’d done time in Armley before. The sentences were badges of honour. ‘It was your lot attacked me. We hadn’t done anything.’
‘No? You killed someone on Christmas Eve.’
‘Who?’ he challenged, hands gripping the chair arms. ‘Who?’
‘A young man called Abraham Levy. In the Leylands.’
‘A Jew?’ He leaned back and laughed. ‘Good riddance, but nowt to do with me.’
Under the table, Harper bunched his fists. He wanted to lean across and take Woods by the throat, to shake a confession out of him.
They went round and round for an hour. The man was cautious as a miser, not giving up a thing. Finally Harper called for the constable to take Woods back to the cells.
‘What about something to eat or drink?’ the man protested.
‘Maybe they’ll have something in the cells at the Town Hall.’ He nodded, and the bobby pulled Woods away. Perhaps he’d have better luck with the others.
But they only gave him silence and short answers. No wedge he could use to pry for more. By noon the inspector’s throat was raw from asking questions over and over and he marched down to the office.
‘Come on,’ he said to Reed. ‘Let’s find some dinner.’
They walked in silence over to the Old George Hotel on Briggate. Advertisements were pasted across the brickwork outside the building, for bedmakers, cobblers, cures for this and that. Nothing he wanted to buy. Reed stayed quiet and Harper wondered how long the sergeant would last without saying anything.
They were sitting, eating their way through sausages and mash before he spoke. Trains passed outside the walls every few minutes, making the building shake.
‘Why didn’t you let me interview them, Tom?’ He didn’t sound angry, more hurt than anything.
‘I didn’t want them to see you.’
Reed raised his head sharply, suddenly curious. ‘Why not?’
Harper sighed and put down his knife and fork. ‘Kendall told me to pull them in. He knows we don’t have any evidence, but he wants results, so people see we’re doing something.’ He saw the sergeant nod. ‘All they needed to do was deny it and we were stuck. That’s exactly what they did. The only thing we got from it was sending two of them to Armley for a few months. Had to let the rest go. It was a waste of bloody time.’
‘I still don’t understand what that has to do with me,’ Reed said.
‘I suggested to the super that we plant someone in this League for the Defence of the Realm.’
‘Me?’ he asked in surprise.
The inspector nodded. ‘He turned me down, said it would take too long. Instead we’ve played our hand and come up with bugger all.’
‘What are we going to do now?’
‘I don’t know yet,’ Harper answered in frustration. ‘But I wanted to keep you back, just in case I can persuade him.’ He smiled. ‘I was just thinking ahead. Did you have a good day with Elizabeth?’
‘Nothing at all?’ Kendall asked. He banged a hand down angrily on his desk.
‘Two of them for assaulting a police officer,’ the inspector told him. ‘That’s the best I could do. What did I have to use against them, sir? We’ve got nothing to tie them to the killing.’ He could feel the colour rising in his cheeks.
The superintendent ran a hand through his hair, face set hard. ‘Question them again.’
‘It won’t make a blind bit of difference. They’ll just keep denying everything.’ He hesitated for a moment. ‘Sir …’
‘Are you going to suggest putting Billy Reed in with them?’
‘Yes, sir.’ He paused for a moment. ‘It’s a good idea. Three of the ones we brought in were ex-army. And you know what Billy’s like. He doesn’t look like a copper, he doesn’t carry himself like one.’
‘They’d be too suspicious,’ Kendall warned after a long silence.
‘Two of them are off to Armley for the next few months. They’re going to need some new recruits.’
Kendall nodded and rubbed his chin thoughtfully. ‘It’ll be dangerous.’
‘Then let Billy decide if he wants to do it, sir,’ Harper pleaded.
The superintendent sat for well over a minute, chin resting on his knuckles.
‘Bring him in,’ he conceded finally. ‘Let’s see what he has to say.’
‘What do you think?’ Harper asked Reed after he’d gone through it once more.
‘I’ll do it, sir,’ the sergeant answered. He looked eager, ready to begin.
‘The slightest suspicion, and I mean anything at all, I want you out,’ Kendall ordered, his expression stern. ‘We already have one dead body. I don’t want any of my officers injured. Do you understand?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Good. And while all this is going on, I don’t want you anywhere near the station. You two will have to find some way to communicate. Don’t take any chances,’ he added firmly. ‘That’s an order.’
After they left the office, Harper guided Reed outside.
‘I’ll be at the Midland railway station at noon every day. Come and report to me.’ He paused. ‘It’s not too late to back out, you know.’
‘I told you, Tom, I’ll do it.’
Three hours later, in the room in his lodgings, Billy Reed stared at himself in the mirror. A worn shirt, no collar, a ratty waistcoat and trousers and his old army boots. But the real change was in his face. He’d gone to the barber’s shop and told the owner to shave off his beard.
He didn’t recognize the man staring back at him. His skin was too pale, too open, and his mouth was too thin. He’d worn the beard for so many years that he’d forgotten who was underneath. But no one would know him like this.
SEVEN
The inspector returned to Millgarth a little after three, and Tollman beckoned him over to the desk. It was growing even colder outside, he was certain of it. He stamped his feet and rubbed his hands together.
‘Got something for you, sir.’ The sergeant held up a brown paper bag.
‘What is it?’ He unfolded the top and drew out a butcher’s knife. The handle was worn, the blade long, the steel shiny from years of use. Harper ran the ball of his thumb along the edge. Still sharp.
‘They found it?’ he asked. ‘Where?’ Two policemen had spent the previous day searching around the Leylands for the killing ground, with no luck; they’d been back out since early morning.
The desk sergeant shook his head. ‘Maitland brought it in. He’s covering Forsyth’s beat today. It was behind a privy on Copenhagen Street. Someone at the house found it and told him.’
Copenhagen Street was just two minutes from where they’d found Abraham Levy.
‘Where is he now?’
‘Back on his rounds. He said he’d be where he found the knife at four.’
‘Right. Have the bobbies who are out looking meet us on Copenhagen Street.’
‘I’ll pass the message, sir.’
He was there early, seeing the freezing, miserable constables shivering under their capes. Maitland was already waiting, grinning at them and saluting as the inspector approached.
‘That was good thinking,’ Harper told him.
‘You reckon it could be the weapon, sir?’
‘There’s a good chance. He definitely wasn’t killed where we found him. Where was it?’
‘Down there, sir.’ He pointed to a set of outhouses at the bottom of the hill. ‘A woman was sweeping up around it. As
soon as she found it, she sent her son to look for me.’
‘Let’s take a look.’ They walked down in single file. The privies were out of sight of the houses. Harper glanced up. No one would be able to see from any of the windows. ‘Where exactly did she find it?’
‘Around the back, sir.’
‘Right.’ He turned to the constables. ‘Search there. I know it’s already dark, but use your lamps. I want blood in the dirt, anything you can find.’ If someone had been sweeping there might not be much, but it was still worth looking. ‘Did you check?’ he asked Maitland.
‘Just a glance, sir.’
‘Anything?’
‘Not as I saw. I wanted to get the knife to you.’
Harper knelt, rubbing a gloved hand over the ground. Frozen, hard as iron.
‘Well?’ he called out.
‘Maybe, sir,’ a thin voice answered tentatively.
The uniform stood aside, pushed against the wall. The inspector squinted, making out dark patches on the earth. Two of them, both large. They could be blood, but they could be so many things. Still, he thought, with the knife here, too, it seemed likely that this had where Abraham Levy had been killed. Now he knew. Harper looked around; no one from the houses would have been able to see a thing.
‘Good work,’ he told Maitland. The young man beamed. Harper ordered the constables to keep on looking and bring anything they found to the station, then walked off.
At his desk he stared at the knife, moving it around in his hands. There was nothing distinctive about it, just an ordinary wooden handle, long worn smooth, held together with brass rivets. The blade had been honed again and again. It had seen years of work. Someone had used it every day.
He read through his notes. None of the men from the Cork and Bottle had worked as butchers. Harper put on his overcoat and gloves, wrapped the knife in an old cloth and marched out into the cold.
Leadenhall Carcass Market stood behind an arch next to Smith’s Tailors and Outfitters, on one of the thin lanes that ran between Vicar Lane and Briggate. It was late in the day but they were still at work, oil lamps glowing everywhere. The flagstones were slippery with frozen blood but the men working under the overhangs walked around easily, laughing, joking and shouting as they wielded their knives and carelessly hauled around sides of beef. There was a sharp tang to the air, and the flesh steamed as men sliced it open to gut and joint the carcasses that hung from iron hooks. Harper felt himself starting to gag as the bile rose in his throat. He stood still for a moment, hardly daring to breathe until the feeling passed.
The inspector watched, picking out the faces of those in charge. They were dressed just like the others, all of them down to their shirtsleeves in spite of the weather, stained leather aprons covering their chests and bellies.
‘Do you run things here?’ he asked a man who pointed and yelled out orders.
‘Who wants to know?’ He had sharp eyes set in a hard face. Luxuriant sideboards grew along his jaw, joining up with a bushy moustache. His hands and forearms were so dark with blood they looked almost black.
‘Detective Inspector Harper, Leeds Police.’
‘Oh aye?’ The man’s eyes flicked quickly around the yard. There were probably all manner of fiddles going on here, the inspector thought wryly.
‘I’m wondering if you know who this belongs to.’ He produced the knife, looking for any sign of recognition.
‘That’s Seth’s,’ he answered without any hesitation. ‘Where did you find it?’
‘Who’s Seth? When did he lose it?’
‘Wait a minute.’ He called the name and a man came hurrying over, face worried as if he’d done something wrong. ‘This fellow’s found that knife of yours.’
‘Really?’ The man smiled as he turned to Harper. He was young, no more than middle twenties, brawny, with thick wrists and a cap jammed down over wild brown curls. He took the knife from the inspector’s hands. ‘I wondered what the bloody hell had happened to it,’ he said gratefully. ‘Had it since I was an apprentice. Where did you find it?’
‘I’m Inspector Harper, Leeds police. Where did you lose it?’
‘Lose it?’ He laughed. ‘I’d never lose this. It was stolen.’
‘When?’
Seth slid the blade into one of the leather scabbards ranged along his belt. A perfect fit. All the others were filled with knives of different sizes, the tools of a butcher’s trade. A sharpening steel hung from a metal ring.
‘The day before Christmas. We knocked off at dinner time and went off for a drink or two.’
‘Where did you go?’
‘The Anchor, down in Mabgate. Some of the lads live over that way.’
Harper nodded. ‘You had the belt with you?’
‘Course I did,’ Seth answered, as if the question was stupid. ‘Only place I take it off is at home.’
‘What happened?’
‘Someone stole the knife. Took it right there in the public house.’
‘Were you wearing the belt?’
‘Course I were. Whoever it was, he lifted it out of here.’ He tapped the knife hilt. ‘Never felt a thing. Didn’t even know it was gone until I was home. Can do some damage, that knife.’
‘I think it did.’
Seth frowned. ‘How do you mean?’
‘Did you hear about that murder in the Leylands?’ Both the men nodded. ‘I think your knife was used in the killing.’
‘Oh Christ. Are you sure?’
‘I’m not certain,’ Harper admitted. ‘But I’d say it’s very likely.’
Seth blanched and lifted the knife from the belt. He stared at it before holding it out by the blade.
‘You might as well take it.’ He shook his head. ‘I can’t use this again. Not now. Bloody hell.’
The inspector replaced it in the cloth.
‘Do you know who did it?’ Seth asked.
‘Not yet.’
‘Aye,’ the man said slowly. He shook his head and started to walk away.
‘Did you recognize anyone in the Anchor?’ Harper called out.
‘Just us. I don’t usually drink down there.’
‘Thank you.’
The Anchor, he thought as he walked back to Millgarth. And Mabgate lay right next to the Leylands. He needed to know more about the public house and the area.
‘Who covers Mabgate?’ he asked Tollman.
‘Dicks, sir.’
‘Where would he be now?’
The sergeant gazed at the clock and calculated.
‘Somewhere near the top of Regent Street, like as not. Why, sir?’
‘I just need a word with him about a place on his beat.’
‘The Anchor?’ The man’s eyes twinkled with amusement.
‘Bad, is it?’
‘Rough as you please, sir, and you can believe me on that.’ He hesitated. ‘I’d best tell you, sir. Dicks drinks there. He’s pals with the regulars, if you know what I mean. He’s been fined twice for drinking in uniform. Just to tip you the wink.’
The people there were his friends. Harper wasn’t likely to get any information from him.
‘Anyone else who’d know?’
‘Most of the men who work at night; they’ve been called out there often enough.’
The inspector took a piece of paper and scrawled a note.
‘I need someone to deliver this to Sergeant Reed’s lodgings straight away.’
‘Yes, sir.’
He wrote a few words – the discovery of the knife, the information about the Anchor – and finished with a warning: Don’t go there. PC Dicks is a regular. He might recognize you.
Harper closed the curtains in the parlour and sat in the chair. A moment later he was up again, on his way to the kitchen to put the kettle on the range.
‘You’re up and down like a jack-in-the-box,’ Annabelle told him. ‘What’s wrong?’
‘I just can’t settle.’ Reed should be at the public house by now, he thought, hoping all was fine.
> ‘Well, come over here and listen to my plan.’
She was at the desk, account books open in front of her. Her dress rustled around her ankles as she shifted on the seat.
‘I took another walk around Burmantofts today. I wanted to see if there were any shops to rent.’
‘Any good prospects?’
‘Three that have possibilities. One’s small, but it’s very cheap.’
‘What about the others?’
‘Bigger,’ she answered slowly. ‘That’s the problem. They’re too big for what I need at the start. But if the bakery does well I’ll need somewhere that size.’ Annabelle looked up at him. ‘You see?’
‘I do. But you must think you can make money. You wouldn’t bother otherwise.’
‘I will,’ Annabelle said confidently. ‘It’ll take time, though. Nothing happens overnight. You have to build a business up, Tom. People aren’t going to be flocking round as soon as I open the doors.’
‘Word of mouth?’
She smiled. ‘Best advertising in the world, and it’s free. Give them good value and they’ll come back and bring their friends. There’s brass to be made. You know what? It’s lovely to have someone to talk to about it all.’ She reached and squeezed his hand. ‘Do you know what I mean?’
‘I do.’ He wrapped his hand around hers.
‘I’m so glad I finally persuaded you to propose. I’d been waiting ages for you to make an honest woman of me.’ She smirked. ‘It took you long enough.’
‘Cheeky.’ But he was grinning. She shrieked as he pulled her close and started to tickle her.
In bed a little later, she lay in the crook of his arm, her hair spread out across the pillow.
‘I have to meet the French copper tomorrow,’ he said.
Annabelle stirred a little and placed a hand on his chest, right over his heart.
‘Is this that Le Prince thing?’ she asked.
‘For whatever it’s worth. I doubt there’s anything for him to find here.’ It was all going to be a waste of time, he felt sure of that.
‘I met him once, you know.’
Harper raised his head. ‘Le Prince? You never told me that.’
‘There’s plenty you don’t know about me yet, Tom Harper.’ She was lost in thought for a few moments. ‘It must have been four or five years back now. His wife was involved with some charity. They were having a do up at the cavalry barracks and I was invited.’
Two Bronze Pennies Page 5
