Gods of Gold

by Chris Nickson

  Through the afternoon the uniforms had reported in on the other addresses. Every one was used legitimately.

  ‘I—’ Harper began but the sergeant cut him off.

  ‘Tom, maybe it’s not Walker. Have you thought about that? We could be wasting all this time.’

  ‘It’s him. I’m certain of it.’

  ‘Tell me where, then. Because I’m buggered if I know.’ Reed glanced at the closed door to the superintendent’s office. ‘Kendall’s left for the day. Why don’t you go home and come at it again on Monday?’

  ‘Tomorrow. I’ll be in tomorrow.’

  The sergeant shrugged, arranging all the papers on his desk into careful, exact piles.

  ‘You do what you want. I’ll see you on Monday morning.’

  Harper leaned back in his chair. Outside he could hear the day shift ending and handing over to the night men. He didn’t want to believe he was wrong. He didn’t want to believe that Martha was dead. Just a week had passed since Ash had told him the girl had gone to her non-existent aunt. A week; it felt like a month. Maybe Billy was right, he should just leave it for today, put work out of his mind for a while. But he knew he wouldn’t. It would nag and worry at him. Tomorrow he’d be back here, and every day until he had an answer.

  Until he walked out of the door of his lodgings, Billy Reed still wasn’t absolutely certain he was going to Middleton. Saturday’s sun had given way to Sunday cloud, but the air was still warm, humid enough to have him sweating in his suit before he’d walked all the way down Woodhouse Lane.

  He’d stopped at the Hyde Park Hotel the night before, his head swirling from the day. His search had taken him to Horsforth and Meanwood, and the dressing down he’d received on Friday still rang in his ears and stung in his heart.

  It was one reason he’d stopped after a single drink. He’d been about to ask for another, the coins jingling in his fist. Then he looked at the sparkling glass and decided he’d had enough. He’d strolled home, eaten supper with his landlady and gone to bed early.

  The train reached Middleton exactly on time. He pulled back the door to the compartment and stepped on to the platform, one of just five passengers alighting as the engine stopped in a thick hiss of steam.

  Elizabeth was waiting beyond the barrier, just as she’d promised, with the children lined up in front of her. Four of them, he thought. He’d been trying to imagine all this on the journey. He’d spent so little time around children. He hadn’t really known a family since he left to join the army. He wasn’t even sure the idea held much for him. He’d been so used to being solitary; it seemed safer that way.

  ‘I wasn’t sure you’d come,’ she said, her eyes nervous, all the confidence of the other day vanished from her face. ‘This is John, Emily, Edward and Victoria.’ She tapped each child lightly on the head as she named them. They were all looking up at him expectantly, the older girl about ten or twelve, the younger boy little more than four.

  One by one he formally shook their hands.

  ‘Hello,’ he told them. ‘I’m Mr Reed.’

  By the time they’d walked through the village the children had found their spirit again, running and laughing, hiding and jumping. He walked next to Elizabeth. She’d said little since they’d left the station beyond the English small talk of work and weather.

  ‘When the train pulled in I thought I’d made a fool of myself,’ she said suddenly.

  ‘Why? I’m here.’

  ‘I know, but …’ She began to blush. ‘I’d been so forward with you. I wonder if maybe you’d decided …’ She shrugged. ‘You know.’

  ‘But I came.’

  ‘Yes.’ Elizabeth beamed. ‘You did. And I’m glad.’

  Three hours later they returned to the same spot. He’d have bought ices for the children, but this wasn’t Roundhay Park and there was no one selling them. There was little enough of anything in Middleton, and it was all closed for the Sabbath.

  Elizabeth’s shyness had slowly vanished as they’d walked and talked. The pithead wheels were still, the village quiet. She told him about the husband who died in a pit accident. No compensation; the owners had insisted it was his fault and she had no means to fight it. She’d moved away from the house where she’d been a wife and gone back to her mother, two women raising four children. But she wasn’t sorry for herself. It was fact, it had happened, she accepted it all.

  He said little about army life, just a few humorous tales, and even less about his time in the police. Mostly he listened; that was much easier than talking. The children ran and played. Some games he remembered from childhood, others they’d conjured up themselves.

  By the time they reached the station, the boys and girls in a ragged line behind them, she was the girl he’d met a few days before, eyes full of mischief, her mouth in a smile.

  ‘Do you fancy doing this again, then?’ she asked. It was bright and bold, but he could hear the hopeful note underneath. She didn’t look at him as she spoke.

  ‘I do,’ he answered, and meant it. He’d enjoyed every minute. This seemed to be the way things ought to be, so normal, so ordinary. So unlike everything he’d known. He wanted it. ‘Next Sunday?’ She nodded and he continued, ‘Why don’t you all come into Leeds? We can go to the park.’ He saw four sets of eyes widen even as Elizabeth’s seemed to sadden. It was expensive to take a whole family on a train. Gently, he drew her aside. ‘If I’m asking you all out, I should pay,’ he told her, slipping coins for the train fare in her hand. She said nothing at first, weighing them in her palm. For a moment he wondered if she’d throw them back at him in anger. The she smiled and nodded.

  ‘Thank you.’

  He said his farewells, addressing each of the children by name, then looked at her.

  ‘Next Sunday,’ he said. ‘Noon at the station in Leeds. Thank you for today.’

  ‘I’ve loved it,’ she said, and he believed her.

  He wasn’t ready to go back to the room in Woodhouse, and he didn’t want to spend the rest of the day drinking at the Hyde Park. He could still smell the fresh air on his clothes, so different from the soot and stench of Leeds. Instead he walked along Boar Lane and Duncan Street, down Kirkgate and behind the market until he came out at Millgarth.

  He’d study the ledgers again, just to see if there was anything he’d missed. Victoria, Elizabeth’s younger daughter, was the same age as Martha Parkinson. Reed couldn’t share Tom’s belief that the girl was still alive. After a fortnight with no trace she had to be dead somewhere.

  He didn’t know if Tosh Walker was responsible. He could see him for so many things – ordering Col’s killing, Bell’s strangling, the knifing of the blackleg. But not children. It just didn’t fit with everything they’d learned about the man.

  He opened the door to the office and found Harper sitting at his desk, the books already spread out in front of him.

  ‘I told you I’d be in,’ the inspector said with a rueful grin. ‘What’s your excuse?’

  ‘I thought I’d go over everything one more time.’

  ‘You’re welcome, but there’s nothing I can see. I’ve been here all afternoon.’ He rubbed his eyes. ‘Did you go out to Middleton?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Well?’ Harper laughed. ‘Is that all you’re going to say? Come on, Billy. Are you seeing her again?’

  ‘Next Sunday,’ he admitted reluctantly. ‘She’s bringing the children and I’m going to take them up to Roundhay Park.’

  ‘So you’re stepping out with her?’ He grinned. ‘You’ll be the one getting married next.’

  ‘Give over, you daft bugger.’ He knew he was blushing. ‘What do we have?’

  ‘Nothing. Absolutely sod all.’ He shook his head in exasperation. ‘There are no more properties that I can see. Whatever he’s done, he’s hidden it well.’

  ‘Or maybe it’s not him,’ Reed said quietly.

  Harper didn’t reply. He just looked grim and returned to the book.

  They’d been working
for almost half an hour and twice Harper had come close to throwing the ledgers across the room in frustration, when Tollman came through and coughed.

  ‘There’s a gentleman out here wants to talk to you, sir,’ he told Harper.

  ‘Who is it?’

  ‘He wouldn’t give his name. Says a Mr Maguire sent him. Is that the rabble rouser?’

  The inspector shot a quick glance at Reed. ‘The union man, yes.’ He watched Tollman’s bushy eyebrows rise. ‘Show him through, will you?’

  The man looked ferrety, a closed, bony face under a flat cap, and an expression that made it clear he was unhappy to be anywhere close to a police station. The inspector stood to shake his hand and gestured towards a chair.

  ‘Sit down, Mr …’

  ‘Morgan,’ the man said. He sat, and glanced around at the pale green walls, smudged by years of wear. ‘Frederick Morgan. Mr Maguire said to come and see you. I were down at t’ union office this morning after I finished me shift.’

  ‘Gas stoker?’ Harper guessed.

  ‘Aye,’ the man said proudly. ‘There’ll be gas back by this evening. We needed to get retorts hot enough first.’

  ‘You have information about Tosh Walker?’ He sat forward, tilting his head to make sure he caught every word.

  Morgan shifted uncomfortably on the chair, pulled on the cap and began to knead it in his lap.

  ‘Aye.’ He glanced up, pursed his lips and began to speak. ‘It’s not me, really, it’s me brother. He’s a labourer but just casual, you know, not a union man.’ He waited as Harper nodded. ‘Last year he were hired on for this job on a house. No one living there, getting it ready, big place, off by itself.’ He paused, licking his lips to wet them.

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘They were all supposed to get a bit extra if the job were finished early. They’d been told the job were for Tosh Walker’s brother, so he reckoned there could be a nice little bit in it for him, Tosh having money an’ all. Not that they ever saw the man there, like.’ Harper glanced over at Reed, seeing the man watching intently. ‘They finished a month before it were due, and turned up the next day thinking they’d go home with a few extra quid in their pockets. But there were these two big lads who just turned them away. The others left but me brother, he kept saying he wanted to see Mr Walker, he wanted what he was due.’ He paused and took a breath. Harper didn’t interrupt, just letting him continue in his own time.

  ‘They beat him. Beat him so bad we had to tek him to the dispensary. He ha’n’t been able to work since.’ Morgan held up his right hand. ‘Crushed. He can’t grip owt. And whatever they did to him, his head en’t been the same since.’

  ‘Why didn’t you tell the police?’ Reed asked.

  Morgan snorted. ‘Aye, and what would you lot do?’

  ‘We’d have arrested the men who did it.’

  ‘And ten minutes later they’d have been free again. They told him not to do owt, that Tosh had friends in t’ police. If he did, they’d come back and do it ten time worse.’

  ‘So why are you telling us now, Mr Morgan?’ Harper asked quietly.

  ‘Mr Maguire reckons you’re straight. He says you’re after Tosh. Says you want to see him sent down.’

  ‘I do.’

  ‘There you are, then,’ Morgan said, as if that closed the argument.

  ‘Where did this happen? What was the address?’ the inspector said.

  The man recited it. Harper looked at Reed, who shook his head; it hadn’t been in the ledgers they’d taken from the accountants.

  ‘Thank you, Mr Morgan,’ Harper told him. ‘You might have made a big difference.’

  ‘I hope you lock up the bastard and throw away the key. Our Ray’s never going to be reet again.’

  ‘If I can, I will.’ It was the most he could honestly promise. Morgan nodded his acceptance and left.

  ‘What do you think?’ Reed asked when they were alone.

  ‘It’s the place,’ the inspector answered with certainty. ‘I can feel it.’

  ‘Maybe it really was for his brother.’

  ‘I know Tosh inside and out from when we went after him before. He doesn’t have a brother. Do we still have a man on Walker?’

  ‘I never pulled him.’

  ‘Good.’ He stood, cramming his hat on his head. ‘Come on, Billy, we’re taking a hackney ride.’

  It seemed as if almost every mile he’d travelled in the last few days had been along Roundhay Road. Harper said nothing as they passed the Victoria, then past the grime and bitterness of the cheap back-to-back houses that seemed to climb on each other, thrown down around businesses. Beyond Harehills everything seemed cleaner, fresher. Greener, he thought. There were gardens and trees. There was money.

  At Oakwood the cab turned along the Wetherby Road, at the back of Roundhay Park. There were few buildings out here, houses, a farm. Someone here would have privacy to do whatever they wanted. Harper had the cabbie slow a little as they passed the address. A long driveway, trees all around the house, leaving it in shade. The place seemed quiet, empty. There was no sense of life about it.

  A quarter of a mile later he ordered the carriage to turn and go back. As they went by the property once more, he could see that the shutters were closed. The place stood private and alone.

  ‘Looks vacant,’ Reed said.

  ‘It’s not.’

  ‘You don’t know that, Tom,’ the sergeant protested.

  ‘I do.’ He could sense it. There were people in there, people who didn’t want to be seen. Things happened there that should never occur. ‘We’re coming back tomorrow with some uniforms. I’ll talk to Kendall in the morning.’ He leaned back against the worn leather as the cab jounced and jolted along. ‘I’ll get out at the Victoria. Just be ready tomorrow.’

  Annabelle stared at him, then narrowed her eyes

  ‘You look, I don’t know … you look ready for summat.’

  ‘I am,’ Harper told her.

  They were sitting in the bar, a few trusted locals scattered around the place, allowed in to drink on the Sabbath. She’d spent the last few minutes toying with a glass of gin while he’d drunk off a pint of beer.

  It was almost dark. Instead of lighting candles, Dan the barman put a match to a taper and switched on the gas mantles. There was a small glow from each one, enough to bring a cheer from everyone in the room. It wasn’t much, but it was a start. Leeds was coming back to life. Annabelle turned, smiling broadly.

  ‘We’ve got gas!’ she said, excited as a child at Christmas. ‘You see that, Tom? The gas is back. I was starting to wonder if we’d ever have it again.’

  He saw, but his mind was only half there. He was already thinking ahead to the next day, planning it all in his mind, where he’d place the constables, the dread of the things he might find at the house. Harper sensed her walk away and heard her chattering nineteen to the dozen with Dan. Tomorrow they’d find Martha. He was as certain of it as the fact that the sun would rise in the east. He just prayed that they’d find her alive.

  In bed he held Annabelle close, feeling her breathing soften into sleep. But he couldn’t rest. He couldn’t let go of the thoughts. He lay still, not wanting to disturb her, his eyes closed, but the pictures wouldn’t stop. You look ready, she’d said. He was.

  TWENTY-TWO

  He sat in Kendall’s office, Reed standing behind him near the door. The super heard him out in silence, then took his pipe from his suit pocket, filled it and struck a match, puffing until he was satisfied with the draw.

  It was a way to buy time, Harper knew, to think and put off a decision.

  ‘You believe this chap Morgan?’

  ‘I do. Maguire sent him over.’ He saw Kendall grimace a little at the name.

  ‘I do, too, sir,’ the sergeant agreed.

  ‘You’ve seen the house?’

  ‘There’s plenty of privacy. The shutters were closed, the drive is a good hundred yards long. Trees all around.’

  The superintendent nodded
slowly. ‘Have you found out who the place belongs to? You said it wasn’t on the list of Walker’s properties.’

  Harper smiled. He’d been at the Town Hall by eight, most of the swelling in his ankle gone and walking without the stick. The clerk had been reluctant to start digging into the records so early until the inspector had told him it was police business. Magic words that had spurred the man into action. He opened his notebook.

  ‘It belongs to a Mr Albert Walker. Bought two years ago.’

  ‘Walker,’ Kendall mused. ‘And Tosh doesn’t have a brother, you said?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘It couldn’t be another Walker?’

  ‘Having men beaten who ask for the bonus they’d been promised?’ Harper asked doubtfully. ‘I don’t think so, sir. Do you?’

  ‘How many constables do you need?’ the superintendent asked after a while.

  ‘Eight uniforms, and Ash among them. If Martha’s there, he’ll be a comforting face to her. I want to go in before noon.’

  Kendall looked surprised at the number, then said, ‘See Sergeant Tollman, he’ll assign them to you.’ Harper started to raise himself from the chair. ‘And Tom, I hope to God you’re right about this.’

  ‘I am, sir.’ He had no doubts at all.

  They stood out on the Wetherby Road, hidden from the house in the shade of a tree. The sun shone down and the air felt dusty. In the last five minutes only one cart had passed, its load covered, the driver nodding a greeting. There was almost silence, the only sounds from the birds in the trees that lined that park across the street.

  Another minute, Harper thought. He’d give the constables that long to position themselves around the house and make sure no one could escape. He pulled the watch from his waistcoat pocket, opened the lid, eyes on the second hand as it jerked slowly round.

  ‘It’s time,’ he said finally, and set off briskly down the drive, Reed beside him. He brought his fist down on the door, then waited. Nothing. He tried again. Still no answer. He turned to the sergeant. ‘Do it,’ he ordered.