Billings felt a pang in his heart seeing him like this, but he didn’t want to let it show. He wanted to remain cold and distant until he had made up his mind about him. He nodded an awkward greeting then made his way to the front door.
Enoch stayed sitting on the curb. In the past he would jump up and run towards him with a big grin on his face to tell him about his day. Now he only got up after Billings put the key in the lock.
“I found a new place to stay,” he said, joining Billings at the doorway. “A medical student in Baker Street is letting out a room in his apartment. I can move in tomorrow.”
Billings looked at Enoch, his heart pounding in his chest. Damn it! he thought. He didn’t want Enoch to leave.
“There’s no need to leave so soon,” he said. His voice was almost trembling. “I’ve paid for the spare room until the end of the month.”
“I’ve imposed on your charity for long enough.”
“Who is this person you’re moving in with?”
“A medical student. A fellow Irishman.”
“How did you meet him?”
“I answered an advertisement in the paper.”
“But you don’t know him?”
“I only just met him.”
“Then how do you know you can trust him?”
“Why shouldn’t I trust him?”
“I’m a policeman, Enoch. I have seen a lot of horrible things in my career. I think you should get to know him better before you move in. I’ve paid for the room until the end of the month. You still have another two weeks to think it through.”
“You didn’t know me when I moved in with you.”
“That is different.”
“How is it different?”
“It just is.”
Enoch smiled. “You don’t want me to leave, do you?”
Billings looked away. Enoch’s infectious grin would make him smile back, and he didn’t want to do that. Cold and distant. He kept reminding himself of this.
“I just don’t want you to do anything rash,” he said, turning the key and opening the door.
But Enoch had seen right through him, and that broad grin remained on his face. “I love you,” he whispered.
Billings frowned. “Hush now,” he said. “I just don’t want to waste money. As I told you, I’ve already paid for your room till the end of the month.”
Billings woke up the following morning with Enoch lying next to him in bed, his head resting on his chest. So much for cold and distant, he thought. How has it come to this?
Enoch had come into his room the previous night with a bottle of brandy. It was a peace offering, bought with the money Marcel had sent him. They spent hours drinking and chatting, and somewhere during the night Enoch had bewitched him with that endearing smile and that perfect combination of wild cunning and boyish innocence.
The sun shone brightly through the window. It wasn’t normally this sunny when Billings got up. He reached for his pocket watch on the bedside cabinet and looked at it. It was half past nine.
“Damn it!” he said and jumped out of bed.
Enoch raised his sleepy head. “What is it?”
“I’m running late.” Billings picked his clothes up off the floor and threw them on. As he put on his jacket, a letter slipped out of the pocket. It was the letter Simeon Hirsch had given him in Croydon.
“Damn it!” Billings said, picking up the letter.
“What’s that?”
“I was supposed to post it yesterday.” He rushed towards his desk, opened the drawer and rummaged in it. “Blast it, I have no stamps!”
“You can stop at the post office on your way to work,” Enoch suggested.
“No, I can’t! I’m already running late because of you!”
Enoch smiled. “I didn’t force you to fuck me.”
Billings frowned. “Be quiet.” He nodded at the door. “Mrs Appleby might hear you.”
Enoch laughed. “She’ll have heard us last night, John. You were like an animal.”
Billings frowned again and gave him a warning look. “I don’t like you talking like that, Enoch.”
“Why not?”
“It’s not polite conversation, for one thing.”
“Would you rather we talked about the weather?”
“And for another thing, it’s dangerous. You must remember that there is a sodomy law in this country. That careless, flippant chatter of yours could land us both in trouble.”
Enoch cast his eyes to the ground and stifled a smile. “I’m sorry.”
Billings was still holding the letter in his hand. “What am I to do about this, then? It should have been delivered already.”
“Why don’t you give it to me? I’ll buy some stamps for it.”
“It’s private.”
“I won’t read it.”
Billings hesitated.
“You can trust me.”
“Very well.” He threw the letter at him. “I have to go.” He rushed towards the door.
“What about my goodbye kiss?” Enoch asked as Billings was about to leave the room.
Billings stopped, turned around and frowned. He blew Enoch a kiss. Awkwardly. Half-heartedly. This made Enoch laugh.
Billings felt stupid. “Goodbye,” he said and rushed out of the room.
17. Five Dead Anarchists
When Billings came into the office four days later, he saw Clarkson sitting upright at his desk, nervously twiddling his thumbs. Billings was used to seeing his colleague leaning back in his chair with a newspaper in his hands and his feet on the table, so he knew immediately that something was wrong.
“What happened?” he asked.
“We have to attend an urgent meeting with Chief Inspector England.”
“Why?”
“Levi Hirsch has died and Simeon Hirsch has run away.”
“What!”
“Flynt messed up during his shift, and now all hell’s broken loose.”
Flynt entered the office at that moment. “In the meeting room. Right now,” he said, without looking at his colleagues. His face was tense and pale. There were bags under his eyes. It was clear that he hadn’t slept all night.
The three detectives walked quietly towards the meeting room, where England was already waiting for them. He was sitting at the oval table, his eyeglasses on the table top, rubbing the bridge of his nose.
“Well,” he said as the three detectives took their seats. “Things aren’t going very well, are they?”
Billings could tell by his flushed face and tightened jaw that England was only just able to contain his seething anger.
“Perhaps Mr Flynt can enlighten us as to what exactly happened last night during his shift.”
Flynt cleared his throat. “Of course.” He sat up in his chair and began relating his story. He kept staring ahead of him as he did so, not daring to look anyone in the eye. “Levi Hirsch started feeling unwell at around eight o’clock at night. He complained of a headache, which gradually got worse. He went to bed at eleven but was forced to abandon it several times because he had to throw up. In fact, he spent practically the whole night vomiting. He became worried and anxious about his sudden malaise. So much so that, along with the headache and nausea, he was also starting to have problems breathing. At around five o’clock in the morning, his condition became so bad that I sent one of the guards for a physician. By that time, Levi Hirsch was fighting for breath and was also suffering from convulsions. The convulsions were so violent that he kept banging his head against the floorboards and injuring himself. His brother Ruben and the other constable helped me to constrain him during his seizures. Somewhere during the panic, Simeon Hirsch managed to slip out of the house. We didn’t realise he was missing until the physician arrived, at which point Levi Hirsch was already dead.”
England took a deep breath. His fists were clenched, and he was biting his bottom lip. “How on earth could Simeon Hirsch have run away? He was lame, for God´s sake! He used a walking stick! Di
d you search for him after you realised he had gone missing?” he asked.
“The two constables searched the immediate area. A phaeton carriage carrying two people was seen rushing away in the direction of London. We believe Simeon Hirsch was in it.”
England looked aghast. “A phaeton carriage?”
“We believe the carriage was outside waiting for him.”
England frowned with irritation. “You keep saying we. Who is we?”
“I’m sorry. It’s just a manner of speaking. I believe the spectacle was orchestrated by Simeon Hirsch. I believe he poisoned his brother in order to cause a distraction and run away.”
“And the carriage?”
“I think he arranged for it to wait for him.”
“How?”
“I don’t know.”
Billings suddenly thought of the strange letter Simeon had asked him to post. Could it have been a coded message to an ally? His heart began to pound in his chest. How could he have committed such a blunder?
England put his eyeglasses back on his face and picked up some papers he had lying before him. “Well, I have the coroner’s report here, which does actually corroborate Mr Flynt’s suspicions. It turns out that Levi Hirsch was indeed poisoned. Cyanide was found in his body.”
“I knew it!” Flynt said, banging his fist on the table.
“Where did Simeon Hirsch get the cyanide from?” Clarkson asked. “Wasn’t the cottage supposed to be free from household poisons? Wasn’t that the whole reason why we had food delivered every day?”
“The cyanide was found in a pork pie that Levi Hirsch had consumed.”
“A pork pie?”
Billings’ heart almost leapt out of his chest.
“How did Simeon Hirsch get hold of pork pies?”
Now it was Billings’ turn to clear his throat and confess. “I… um… I brought the pork pies.”
“You?” England asked.
“I was given a basket of pork pies. I brought it to Saffron Cottage thinking I might cheer the Hirsch brothers up with it.”
“Who gave you the pork pies?”
“Ada Hirsch.” Billings saw his colleague raise his eyebrows when he mentioned that name. “I bought the basket from her when I saw her in the market. By way of sympathy.”
“Perhaps she poisoned the pies,” England suggested. “Perhaps she was in cahoots with Simeon Hirsch.”
“She can’t have poisoned the pies,” Billings said. “I ate one of the pies myself. And so did my dog, and so did my landlady. The pies were not poisoned when I brought them to the cottage. They must’ve been poisoned after I brought them.”
“But how? There was no cyanide in the house.”
Suddenly an idea occurred to Billings. “Cherries!” he said.
“Cherries?”
“Simeon Hirsch ordered some cherries at the cottage. Detective Sergeant Clarkson bought some for them. Cherry pits contain cyanide. Simeon may have crushed the pits and added them to the pies.”
“Why do you assume it was Simeon?” England asked.
“Because he’s the one that went missing.”
“That doesn’t necessarily make him the culprit. Perhaps Simeon simply took advantage of the ensuing panic to make his escape. Levi could just as easily have been poisoned by Ruben Hirsch.”
“Where is Ruben Hirsch?”
“He’s back in the holding cell. I think our first move should be to interview him and find out what he knows.” England picked up his files, got up from his chair and made his way to the door. “Come on.” He beckoned his colleagues to follow him. “We have no time to lose.”
Ruben was huddled in a corner of his cell. The four detectives were staring at him through the bars.
“So you’re back?” England said.
Ruben looked up and frowned but did not answer.
“Five brothers dead. Only two left.” England waited for a reaction from Ruben, but there wasn’t any. “Levi’s death certainly makes it easier for us to find the murderous brother. It’s either you or Simeon.”
“It wasn’t me.”
“So you admit that it was Simeon who poisoned the pies?”
“I don’t know who poisoned the pies. I’m just telling you that it wasn’t me.”
“Well, if it wasn’t you, then it must’ve been Simeon. There’s no one else who could’ve done it.”
Ruben looked up at Billings. “Detective Sergeant Billings could’ve done it. He’s the one who brought the pies into the house.”
England ignored the accusation. “Where is Simeon?”
Ruben shrugged.
“He was seen driving away from the house in a phaeton carriage. Whose carriage was that?”
Ruben shrugged again.
“It is imperative that we find your brother. Without him, you are the number one suspect, and we will not let you go this time. You’ve embarrassed us enough. You’re going to hang unless we find Simeon.”
Again, England paused for a reaction, but Ruben didn’t answer.
“Who helped Simeon escape from Saffron Cottage?”
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do. I saw it in your eyes when I mentioned the phaeton carriage. You know who it belongs to, don’t you?”
Ruben hesitated. “It might be Mrs Crampin’s.”
“Who?”
“Mrs Sylvia Crampin. She’s Simeon’s student. I’ve often seen her ride in a phaeton.”
“And why would she help him escape?”
Ruben looked down at the ground. “I think they’re in love.”
“In love?”
“Mrs Crampin is married to some ignorant brute. She fell in love with my brother while he taught her French. And he with her. I think they were planning to elope before we got arrested.”
“So you think Simeon poisoned your brother in order to elope with his student?”
“I don’t think Simeon poisoned my brother.”
“Well, then who did?”
“I don’t know.”
“But it can’t have been a coincidence that Levi died on the day that Simeon planned to escape?”
“I think that Simeon took advantage of the chaos to make his escape.”
“But then how did Mrs Crampin know that she should wait for him with the phaeton on that day? And at that time?”
Ruben shrugged.
“Did Simeon have a correspondence with Mrs Crampin while he was in Saffron Cottage?”
“I believe he did.”
Billings’ heart pounded in his chest as he listened to the interview. That damned letter! Why did he send it? Clenching his fist behind his back, he turned towards England and confessed.
“I, um…I posted a letter for him.”
“What?”
“To Mrs Crampin. He wrote a letter to her that I posted. I didn’t think anything of it at the time, but in retrospect, I think that there may have been a coded message in that letter.”
England looked at him aghast. “You posted it?”
“I made a copy. It’s in the file in my office.”
England frowned. “This just gets worse and worse!” he mumbled. “Show me that blasted letter!”
The detectives followed Billings back to the office. Billings took the file off his desk and retrieved the letter. “There’s a list of numbers at the end of the letter.” He showed the letter to England and pointed at the numbers. “I think they may be the key to deciphering the code.”
England looked at the numbers. “But good God, man! This is the most basic form of code that there is! How could you not have spotted it?”
“I don’t know anything about coding, sir.”
“The numbers at the end of the page tell you which words to take out of the text. If you read these words in isolation, you get the following:
Meet Me Sunday 12thSafr Oncott Age Creud On Distract The Guards While I Slip Out
“How could you have sent that letter, Billings? Your incompetence astounds me!”
Bill
ings hung his head. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Flynt smirking at him.
England saw the smirk as well. “And wipe that smile off your face, Flynt,” he shouted. “You’re no better than him! You are all to blame for this shambles! Billings for sending that letter, Clarkson for buying those cherries, and Flynt most of all for allowing Simeon Hirsch to escape! We must visit this Mrs Sylvia Crampin at once! I take it you did remember to copy her address?”
“I did,” Billings replied.
“Well, go then! We can’t afford to lose any more time!”
18. Six Dead Anarchists
The sun beamed down on Billings, Clarkson and Flynt as they wandered into Bethnal Green. They had taken the omnibus into the East End but were forced to walk the next three miles to Mrs Crampin’s house – or rather the house to which Simeon Hirsch had addressed his letter.
Flynt, who was better accustomed to sitting behind his desk than to walking, and who was therefore plumper than the others, was struggling.
“Hey, chaps! Slow down a little, will you?” He was lagging behind his colleagues, huffing and puffing. “Why don’t we sit down for a couple of seconds and catch our breath?”
“No time,” Billings called back. “The quicker we get there, the more chance we have of finding out what happened to Simeon Hirsch.”
Flynt stopped and stamped his foot on the ground. “I give the orders around here, Billings! And I demand we stop for a few beats and catch our breath!”
Billings and Clarkson stopped reluctantly and waited while Flynt rested his hands on his knees and panted.
Billings looked at his pocket watch and frowned. “Perhaps you could stay behind, sir, while Clarkson and I march on ahead?”
“Don’t you talk to me like that, Billings! You weren’t in such a hurry when you received those letters from the landlord.”
“What?”
“The letters for Joseph Hirsch. If you hadn’t insisted on waiting for a warrant before opening them, we might have caught him already, and we wouldn’t have to be dealing with all this mess!”
Anarchy Page 13
