‘Average height, in his forties, short hair, going grey. Well-dressed, some of the women said, like he could have been a rent collector. He’s probably sporting a few cuts and bruises now. Those women battered him with whatever they could find. One of them said he had blood on his hand. Did your little girl bite him, sir?’
‘I don’t know,’ he answered distractedly. It fitted. The same man. This didn’t happen out of the blue. It wasn’t opportunism. He’d planned it. He knew about Mary, he knew where she went to school. He must have watched the pub. More than that, he felt very sure of himself to attempt something like this in the middle of the afternoon. ‘Let me see the women who got Mary away from him,’ Harper said. ‘I’d like to thank them.’
He’d just finished talking to them when Ash arrived, a look of dark concern on his face.
‘I saw the sergeant, sir. He told me all about it. How is she?’
‘No damage. None to see, anyway,’ he corrected himself.
‘Same man?’
‘The description is right. I don’t need to tell you what I want, do I?’
‘No, sir. We always look hard for kiddie snatchers, you know that. But your lass? Everyone on the force is going to be hunting. There are probably reporters on their way here right now. He’s going to end up with all of Leeds on his trail.’
No one liked men who went after children. No one would help them. It was one more reason to believe that the man was acting on his own.
‘One thing.’ He hated himself for saying it, for even thinking that anything could be more important than his daughter. ‘We can’t afford for this to be tied to the election. When anyone asks, it just happened, and we don’t know why yet. Understood?’
Ash eyed him curiously, then slowly nodded. ‘Understood, sir.’
At the stables, Harper found one of the grooms brushing down a horse. He’d seen the man as he ran through the yard.
‘You didn’t try to stop him?’
‘He were through here like a flash. Kept glancing over his shoulder like he had the hounds of hell behind him.’ The man turned and spat into the straw. ‘By the time they told me what he’d done, he were off the far side of the rhubarb fields. I couldn’t have caught him if I’d tried.’
Harper would catch him, though. He’d make absolutely bloody certain of it.
Ash had everything in hand, directing all the uniforms. There was nothing more for Harper to do here. He clenched his fists and opened them again, then rolled his neck, trying to work out the kinks and the tension.
‘Go home, sir,’ the inspector told him quietly. ‘Spend some time with them. That’s where you’re needed.’
He nodded. They weren’t going to catch the man tonight. ‘You’re right.’
‘If there’s anything, I’ll send a message. Let me finish up here and I’ll go to those meetings.’
‘Thank you.’
He started down Manor Street, the outline of the pub stark on the corner, then retraced his steps to the shop. Mr Barber stood behind the counter in his crisp brown overall, his face suddenly full of concern.
‘How is she?’
‘Not harmed, thank God.’
‘She was in here wanting to spend her money like it was burning a hole in her pocket. If I’d known …’
‘No one could,’ Harper assured him. ‘What did she get?’
‘This and this.’ He pointed at the jars.
‘Give me the same, please.’
Barber weighed them out in a paper bag. When the superintendent tried to pay, the shopkeeper held up his hand.
‘Your money’s no good, Mr Harper. It’s the least I can do for her.’
The pub was starting to fill with men coming off the day shift. He made his way through, shutting the door on the noise and climbing the stairs. Mary was on her mother’s lap, the way she’d been at the surgery.
Annabelle put a finger to her lips and mouthed the word ‘sleeping’.
‘Do you want me to put her to bed?’ he whispered.
‘Leave her here. She’ll want us around when she wakes.’
In the kitchen he made a pot of tea, going back into the parlour as it brewed.
‘It was him, wasn’t it?’ Her voice was quiet, revealing nothing.
‘Yes.’ He could feel the fury burning in his belly. ‘It was.’
‘I don’t know what to think, Tom.’ She looked down at Mary, brushing a strand of hair off the girl’s forehead. ‘I never imagined he’d try something like this.’
‘Neither did I,’ Harper said emptily. ‘Who could …?’
‘Ask him when you arrest him.’
‘Believe me, I intend to.’
He poured the tea, placing her cup on the chair arm.
‘Sleep’s the best thing for her right now, poor lamb.’
‘What about you?’
‘Tough as old boots, you know me.’ But her smile was too quick, too false, fading as quickly as it arrived. ‘What do you think he’d have done if he’d been able to snatch her?’
‘I don’t know.’ He’d tried not to think about it, to push it away from his mind. But the question kept creeping back. ‘I really don’t.’
‘Attacking me is one thing. I’m up there, I’m fair game,’ Annabelle said. ‘But a little girl?’
‘He’s desperate. Three attempts so far and no one’s dropped out of the race.’
‘This makes number four, and two of those have been against me.’
‘You must terrify him.’
She snorted. ‘Me? He’s the one who’s got me petrified.’
‘We’ll catch him.’ He took hold of her hand, squeezing it gently.
‘I know you will.’ Her voice was grave. ‘But I wonder what he’ll do first.’
Impossible to guess. There was simply no knowing.
‘How about you?’ Harper asked. ‘What are you going to do?’
Annabelle let out a long breath. ‘I’ve been going back and forth ever since I found her.’ She cuddled Mary a little closer; the girl didn’t stir. ‘Part of me says I can’t stop, because it’ll mean he’s won. But another bit says I can’t risk anything like this happening again. Who knows what it’ll be next time? And I’ll feel like it’s all my fault for being selfish and wanting to be in politics.’
‘Don’t blame yourself,’ he insisted. ‘You can’t do that.’
‘I know.’ She sniffled, and reached into her sleeve for a handkerchief. ‘I know it up here.’ She tapped her head. ‘But inside …’
‘Sleep on it.’
‘I will. I think we’d better have this one in with us tonight, in case she has bad dreams.’
But Mary had no nightmares. She barely seemed to stir until morning. Then she was eager for school, acting as if nothing had happened. Not even a mention of the afternoon before. For some people, it was a way of coping. If it worked, fine. But walling it off couldn’t last forever.
As he was about to leave for work, he brought something from the pocket of his coat.
‘Well,’ he said, ‘look what I found. Close your eyes,’ he told Mary, ‘and hold out your hand.’
For the promise of a treat, she was obedient.
‘You can open them again now.’
As soon as she looked inside the bag, she stared at him in surprise.
‘Daddies have magic powers. Don’t you know that?’ He rubbed her hair. ‘You go and enjoy your learning.’
‘Well?’ He knew he sounded brusque. But after a sleepless night brooding about the man, he didn’t care.
‘You more or less know everything already, sir,’ Ash told him. ‘I sent men around to ask at the far side of those rhubarb fields. A couple of women think they saw him, but they don’t know exactly where he went. Dolly Lane, probably. From there, who knows?’
‘Any problems last night?’ he asked Fowler.
‘All went like clockwork, sir.’ The sergeant paused, glanced at Ash and Walsh, then said, ‘How’s your daughter, sir?’
‘No damage do
ne. You know that already.’
‘We’re going to find him, sir. Although he might not look his best by the time he reaches court.’
Harper gave a dark smile. He saw the same determination in them that he felt.
‘I’ll be at the front of that queue, Sergeant. How do we track this bastard down? That’s what I need to know. I want to see his face.’
The squalls had blown out to sea and the evening was clear, millions of stars like pinpricks glowing in the sky. Reed felt the autumn chill in the air as he entered the Scoresby Arms. It was out of the way, stuck on a quiet little dead-end street, the kind of pub that drew its custom from the houses around.
The man he wanted was in the corner, a glass of beer and a box of dominoes on the table in front of him. Reed ordered a pint of bitter, and took a seat opposite.
The man had his cap pulled down, eyes in the shadows. A grizzled face, as weatherbeaten as half the men in Whitby from all the hours out on the water. Thick fingers, dirt rimed into his skin.
‘Harry Pepper says you know a thing or two.’
‘I might.’
How often had he played this scene in Leeds, the meetings in out-of-the-way public houses with men who wanted to stay anonymous? Reed imagined he’d left all that far behind. It went to show: you could never completely let go of the past.
‘There could be a little money for good information. Honest information.’
The man took out the tiles, deftly turning them face-down and shuffling them around.
‘What are you after?’ he asked. ‘Draw your eight.’
‘John Millgate.’
The man stayed silent for a long time, eyeing the dominoes he’d chosen.
‘Double six?’ the man asked, and Reed shook his head. With a grin, the man put down a double five.
‘I know who you mean. He’s a gent with a big interest in night-time catches.’ He cocked his head to be sure Reed understood.
‘How big an interest?’ He laid a tile on the table, five and three.
‘More than passing, let’s put it like that.’ Three and two.
Reed knocked, knuckles rapping lightly on the table. ‘How deep?’
‘Don’t know.’ He added another tile to the row.
‘Can you find out?’ He could make a move now.
‘I suppose.’ He pondered his hand, then slapped down a double two. ‘It’ll cost you, mind. Don’t know how long it’ll take.’
Reed took a sip of the beer, then knocked again. ‘How will I get in touch with you?’
‘You don’t.’ The man’s fingers went for one tile, then chose another instead. ‘I know how to reach you.’
They finished the game in silence. The inspector took a florin from his pocket and slapped it down on the wood. He’d lost, but it was years since he’d played dominoes. Any game, for that matter, including dealing with informants. With a nod, he stood.
‘I look forward to the rematch.’
‘I daresay.’ The man grinned; he had hardly any teeth left in his mouth. ‘But I wouldn’t place a bet on winning if I were you.’
He’d told no one at the station what he was doing. Sergeant Brown and the others were all Whitby men, born and bred, with too many deep, wide associations in the town. They seemed honest, but he didn’t know them well enough yet. He was the outsider and he didn’t trust them. All it took was one loose word. Much simpler to keep it all to himself.
The next day he headed south in the pony and trap, going to Hawsker, Fylingthorpe and Robin Hood’s Bay. Even with low clouds, he enjoyed the trip, leaving the cart at the top of the hill and walking down the steep slope to the Bay.
He liked the place, always surprised by something he saw; it was unlike anywhere else he’d been. Tiny streets ran off the winding hill of the main road, barely wide enough for one person, never mind two, with shops in the houses. The place was a maze that he doubted he’d ever master. The fishing fleet was in, catch unloaded for the day, the boats safely beached and anchored.
‘Used to bring in more fish here than they did in Whitby,’ a man told him as he stared out at the sea. ‘That’s a few years back now.’ He was old, his hair white and thick, skin grizzled. ‘But it were in my lifetime.’
It hardly seemed possible in a place as small as this. A village. A hamlet, really. Still, he listened, letting the old man reminisce. It wasn’t as if Reed needed to be anywhere urgently. The only crime at home was a pair of drunks arrested on the bridge the night before, and that hardly needed an inspector’s time. The main thing he had to do was pursue his suspicion of Terrier John.
They ended up talking for an hour, until it was time for Reed to take the long road home.
‘Was there a lot of smuggling here?’
‘Was?’ The man raised an eyebrow and chuckled. ‘Born yesterday, were you? When the fishing goes, they have to make a living somehow. There’s so many holes in them cliffs you could hide an army. Tunnels up from the pub cellars to the top of the hill, too, they say.’
‘Aren’t they ever caught?’ If it was that blatant, how could they evade the Excise men?
‘They’re canny lads.’ The old man tapped the side of his nose. ‘Very canny. And folk round here know to keep their mouths shut.’
Interesting, he thought as he trudged back up the hill, a long, slow pull to the top. Maybe he was looking in the wrong place for Terrier John’s activities.
THIRTEEN
Would she continue or would she give up? Sitting on the tram to Sheepscar, Harper wasn’t sure. In his heart he believed he felt Annabelle would carry on, but after yesterday, who could blame her for saying she’d had enough? Whatever she decided, he’d be proud of her.
And he’d find the man who tried to snatch their daughter. Every time he thought about it, his hands curled into tight, hard fists. When Harper found him, he’d make sure the payment was brutal.
All around him the coughs and sneezes of autumn bloomed. The air was thick with the smell of industry and factories. He could tell exactly where he was from the different perfumes: the malt and hops of the brewery slowly shifting to the harsh, sharp stink of the dye works as he came closer to Sheepscar. As soon as he could smell that, his stop was close.
Annabelle was in the parlour, studying her face in the mirror, pulling down the skin under her eyes.
‘Mary’s having her tea with Ellen,’ she said. ‘I think they have some sort of secret between them, I keep hearing giggling from upstairs.’ She turned to face him. ‘Do you think I look older, Tom?’
‘Older?’ He didn’t understand. What did that have to do with anything? ‘No, of course you don’t. Why?’
‘I was out knocking on doors this morning and a woman said that politics made you look hard and old before your time.’
He laughed. She’d answered one question, anyway.
‘You look as lovely as the first day I saw you.’
‘No soft soap,’ she warned.
‘I mean it.’ The words seemed to satisfy her. ‘How’s Mary?’
She shook her head in quiet wonder. ‘You wouldn’t know anything had ever happened. I walked her to school this morning and talked to the headmaster. They’re going to keep an eye out. If they see any strange men they’ll go after them right away. And she knows to only come home with me or Ellen. At least until the election is over.’
‘Meeting tonight?’
Annabelle nodded and gave a tight-lipped smile. ‘I have to. We’re making sure nothing else can happen to Mary. I thought it through again this morning. He’s just another man who wants to scare women. If any of us wins a seat, we show him that his way can’t work.’
‘Good.’ He hugged her close, smelling the scent on her neck.
‘I don’t suppose you’ve …?’
‘Nothing yet. The Post and the Mercury both had stories this morning, with his description. Someone has to know who he is.’
‘I saw the articles. No mention of the election.’
‘No,’ he agreed slowly. ‘I
t seemed best.’
‘Maybe.’ After a moment she nodded once more. ‘Right, we’d better get down to the hall and make sure your soldier boy has checked it out.’
Standing up there, the audience rapt, she talked very briefly about the incident. Around here word would have already passed; it would have been strange to ignore it completely. People would have wondered what she was trying to hide. Instead, she made it into a passing reference, close to the start of her speech, before going on to attack the way the poor were treated now, and lay out her plans for the way relief should be given.
Annabelle always managed to capture a crowd. She had the gift for it. But tonight there was more fire in her, Harper thought as he stood in the back corner, eyes scanning the room very carefully. Every word seemed to blaze and burn, and the people responded, reflecting her heat.
When she finished, half of them were straight on their feet, applauding and cheering. Others sat and clapped. Only a very few, dotted around the room, stayed stony-faced and silent.
On the platform she was smiling, looking a little surprised. Her face was shiny with sweat, her eyes glistening happily.
It was another half-hour before they left the hall. Harper waited with a grumbling caretaker as Annabelle talked to everyone lining up to meet her. He watched them, tense and ready to move at the slightest problem, but there was nothing.
By the time they walked home the excitement was draining from her. She clung tight to his arm, walking mechanically, dead on her feet. She didn’t speak, and he was content in the silence. The booming echo of voices in the halls always taxed his hearing, forcing him to concentrate to make out words and conversations.
No other footsteps on the road. Most of the houses were already dark, families trying to get their sleep before the call for morning shift. No one had come to drag him out of the meeting; it looked as if trouble had stayed away for another night. When that was a victory, it said little for their success, Harper thought sadly.
Annabelle had a dreamy smile on her lips, as if she was floating back to the Victoria. It felt as if something had changed, that out of yesterday’s horror she’d tapped into a seam deep inside herself and folk had responded.
He’d only seen that once before, when the union organizer Tom Maguire addressed a crowd of striking building workers down on Vicar’s Croft. Maguire was dead now and mouldering in his grave, but he’d grown up near Annabelle on the Bank. He’d watched her progress with the Suffragists and encouraged her. He’d be proud of what she was doing now.
The Tin God Page 10
