The Reaper's Kiss

by Robert Southworth

  “That is because tonight is for family, William. All will be revealed with a new day.” He gave William a mischievous smile, knowing all too well that his son’s curiosity had been aroused, and that curiosity would gnaw at him for the remainder of the night.

  ***

  The following morning William rose early from his bed. He dressed in silence ensuring that he did not wake Emily. As he closed the door to his room, he immediately heard his father’s voice. However, to William’s surprise, the noise was coming from the upper reaches of Cloveney Hall. He could not fight the urge to investigate.

  Cloveney was not a small building, and it was ten minutes before William felt he was closing on his father’s location. Tomkins rushed passed him, the house employee wearing a mask of irritation. William was going to speak but decided to let the man continue in his duties.

  His father’s voice could still be heard, but William was at a loss to whom he was speaking. Then quite abruptly, the sound of his father’s voice was replaced by a series of bangs and scraping. Apart from the occasional curse word, his father fell silent. William placed a foot on the highest stairwell in the Cloveney household. It had been many years since he had ventured on those steps. They led to the hall’s attic; as a boy, his mother had taken him to the very heavens of Cloveney. In the vast storage space, she had hidden away many of her paintings that were not for public viewing. William and his mother had spent many hours going through the canvasses and the reasons she loved each of them. Even as a boy he knew that the paintings were kept private because of their special meaning and not because of any imperfection. His mother was not the type of woman to keep inferior work for sentimental reasons.

  He took each step cautiously. For some reason, he felt as though he was encroaching on his father’s personal space, although he had never known him to visit the attic before. However, the door that lay at the top of the staircase was ajar. If his father wished for solitude, then surely it would have been closed, removing the space beyond from the rest of the world. Moments later, William was stepping through the doorway and allowing his eyes to adjust to the dim light. He spied his father in the distance. His father seemed to be struggling to move a substantial chest. He toyed with the idea of retreating to the lower levels of Cloveney, but he was gripped by curiosity.

  “Father, what are you doing?” Simeon Harkness turned, but thankfully there was no sign of the scowl that William had been expecting.

  “I haven’t been up here for years. It seems those that I employ are incapable of keeping the place in good order.” He held up his hands with obvious dismay at his staff’s shortcomings.

  “What are you looking for?” William moved closer and as he did so, he observed his father slide the chest out of the way to reveal a large crate. A smile emerged on the older man’s face.

  “I thought Emily would appreciate this.” Simeon Harkness unclipped the top of the crate and allowed the wooden frontage to drop to the floor. William could not prevent a gasp escaping as he spied what lay within.

  “I didn’t realise that you had kept it.” Moving forward he felt the tears well in his eyes. The ornate rocking horse brought memories from a time of great happiness flooding back. He stretched out a hand and touched the cold wooden surface, delighting in the contoured shaping of the mount’s form. The dappled grey body enhanced by the thick black real horse hair, which hung as mane and tail. He traced the muscles of the animal, down the flank and leg until he reached the ornate curved stand. He observed the beautifully sculptured lettering that spelt out his name.

  “Some possessions are not for sale. Besides, the blood, sweat, and tears to make it, and also the smile on your face when we gave it to you, ensured that it would never be sold.”

  “I never knew.”

  “You were a child. There was no need for you to know.”

  “But still...I have never known you to turn your hand to craft. It’s beautiful, Father.”

  “That was your mother’s influence. She had a gift for showing the world a different side to Sir Simeon Harkness. She was a remarkable woman.”

  “Yes, she was,” William replied. He wasn’t used to hearing his father mention the woman they had both loved and lost. In the past, William had found it a source of annoyance that his father avoided such intimate talk with vigour. “I am only just realising that she also had a remarkable husband. I am sorry it took me so long, Father.”

  Simeon stretched out a hand and gave William’s shoulder a squeeze. He coughed as if trying to clear a lump in his throat. “Would you and Emily like it?”

  “Yes of course. Thank you.” There was a lull in the conversation as William continued to admire the horse. Eventually, however, his mind pulled him back to more pressing matters. When do the other guests arrive?” He tried to sound matter of fact.

  “I am expecting them from midday. Your men and their families will need time to rest from the journey. Abberline, Faraday, and Fitzgerald have been invited too. There are some other people I wish you to meet.” William’s heart sank believing his father still wished to involve him in the world of privilege, take his place as rightful heir of Cloveney Hall. Simeon Harkness must have noticed the crestfallen look on his face. “Not those sorts of men, William. I am not trying to be dramatic, but these men are my soldiers. They wage war on my behalf, not usually with pistol or blade, but it does happen. They have talents that we require if we are going to bring the Ripper to task. It’s clear that the man, and his followers we hunt are capable of hiding their finances. These men will discover all that is concealed

  “If Scotland Yard cannot find...”

  “Scotland Yard has a rulebook. Men like Abberline may skip a few pages, but essentially, he holds that book as dear, as any bible. My men have only one rule, and that is to find their target.”

  “Then why have you not set these men to the task before now, father?”

  “It was your world, William, one in which I was not welcome. That changed when they killed my,” he paused briefly to correct himself, “when they killed our friend. I could not stand by, no matter the differences between us. You still have command, William. I am merely placing my resources at your disposal. I hope you will be accepting of my help.”

  “The time for egos is at an end. I am grateful for any assistance. Besides, Obadiah would want us to avenge his death walking side by side.”

  “That he would, my boy...that he would.”

  ***

  The day marched on, and as it did, Cloveney gave new guests sanctuary from the wintry world beyond. The first to arrive was Isaac and Rebecca. To William’s surprise, Dr Fitzgerald had shared a carriage with them on the journey from London. The doctor smiled and displayed an almost playful side to her character. William could not decide whether he was amused at the change or unsettled. A smiling, playful Fitzgerald somehow disrupted the natural order of things.

  Isaac seemed oblivious to Fitzgerald’s behaviour and only had eyes for Rebecca. He was clearly delighted to have her on his arm. He insisted in introducing Rebecca to almost every member of the household and that included a number of the staff. To Rebecca’s credit, she took the attention in good grace. William guessed that she must feel overwhelmed by her surroundings. It was so different from the world that she knew, so far removed from the grime of London.

  The next carriage to arrive carried Jack, Gossup, and Alfie. The young lad did not stray far from Gossup’s side. William had offered him a home at his house in London or Cloveney if he preferred, but Alfie chose to live with Gossup. To William’s surprise, his former private had not protested. The old rogue even seemed to revel in his new parental role.

  Abberline was the next to arrive. As William watched the Inspector disembark from the carriage, he was shocked to see that he was not alone. He became suddenly aware of how little he knew of Abberline, other than that he was a fine policeman. For some reason seeing Abberline with a female came as a shock. William was rooted to the spot and Abberline and his guest appro
ached him before he could regain his composure or offer welcome. The female burst into laughter.

  “You must be William. Fred told me that you were a handsome fellow.”

  “I said no such thing,” Abberline interrupted.

  “Fred!” A voice sounded from behind William. It was quickly followed by hurrying footsteps and moments late, Emily was planting a kiss on Abberline’s cheek. “And this must be Emma? I have heard all about you.”

  “What!” William interrupted. “I am sorry but am I the only person who doesn’t know who you are?”

  “Calm yourself, William.” As she spoke, Emily placed a hand on his cheek. “This is Fred’s wife, Emma.”

  “You’re married – why have you never told me?” William’s tone was a little stern. However, he did feel a little let down that Frederick Abberline had kept such a large part of his life secret.

  “My husband believes that I am safer if kept away from his life in the city. I just think I embarrass him.”

  “That you do, but I would still keep you safe.” Abberline gave a smile and received a playful slap from Emma.

  William realised he was being foolish. “Where are my manners, please forgive me. Emma, I am delighted to meet you.”

  “Don’t apologise, Fred can be the most difficult man,” she replied.

  “All men are stunted when it comes to emotion,” Emily announced. “Shall we leave them to talk about violence and murder.” Emily took Emma by the arm and led her away. Moments later, both women could be heard in joyful laughter. William had a suspicion that he and Abberline were more than likely the source of their merriment.

  William turned to Abberline. “Why didn’t you tell me, Fred?”

  “I have spent my whole life dealing with filth. My days have been spent covered in blood or shit. I have no wish to spoil the only thing of beauty in my life. In the not too distant future, I will leave Scotland Yard. It would be nice to have something pure with which to spend the remainder of my days. Does that make any sense?”

  William looked at Abberline. It came as a shock that the old copper had thoughts of leaving Scotland Yard. Up until this moment, William had thought Abberline would only leave in a wooden box. He had always respected Abberline, and this somehow reinforced that respect, Frederick Abberline was not just a starched collar blindly following a law book. He was an ordinary man with ordinary ambitions but with a sense of duty, which all culminated in an extraordinary policeman. “Of course, it makes sense. Now let me get you a drink.”

  The two men walked into the main hall. William did not ask the staff to fetch a drink. He collected two glasses and went to a shelf on which stood a large decorative vase. He reached inside and pulled out a bottle of his favourite whiskey. Abberline barked with laughter.

  “It never hurts to be prepared,” William announced.

  “Oh, Faraday sends his apologies. He has been given the task of driving the gangs out of the docks. I doubt we will see him any time soon.” Abberline gave a mischievous grin.

  “Is it a fool’s errand?”

  “It is an impossible task. The gangs run the docks. For a small percentage, they keep the crime level down because few individuals would risk upsetting any of the gangs.”

  “So why bother?”

  “Because some bloody politician has probably decided to sweep clean the docks as part of a moral crusade. They should take a brush to politics first,” Abberline growled.

  William was about to reply when he observed his father heading in his direction with three men in close attendance.

  Chapter 5

  Sir Simeon Harkness strode across the main hall. The three men to his rear gave off an impression of confidence despite each one of them not suiting their opulent surroundings.

  “William, Abberline, we are still waiting on some guests, but I wanted to introduce you to some of my men who will hopefully prove useful to our investigation.”

  “Our investigation,” Abberline asked.

  It was William who replied. “Yes, my father has kindly placed his resources at our disposal.” He was not sure how Abberline would react to Simeon joining the hunt for the Ripper. Abberline remained quiet and only gave a nod to show that he had heard William clarify his father’s role. Simeon must have sensed a possible problem because he quickly moved onto introducing the men at his side.

  “This is Bakari, Benjamin and...”

  “Richard Tallow,” William interrupted “we have already met.”

  “I wondered if you would remember me,” Tallow replied.

  “When a man shows up at a murder scene without good reason - I tend to remember his face.”

  “I am sorry. You father wished that we were introduced here at Cloveney. I thought it best to keep my true purpose for being at the rail tracks temporarily close to my chest.”

  “Well perhaps you will enlighten us now,” Abberline growled.

  “We had received information that Gilbert Wilde had links to the Cronos Cult and therefore, the Ripper.”

  “And you did not think to inform us?” Abberline’s tone made it clear to all present that he was not impressed with Richard Tallow.

  “We had no proof. I went to his home merely to get a look at the man.”

  “Tell me about this man Gilbert Wilde,” William interrupted, sensing that Abberline was starting to build up a head of steam and liable to roll over Tallow. Although, it seemed to William that Tallow was enjoying the confrontation, even if he was trying his best to hide the fact.

  “Gilbert Wilde worked in the city for Drummonds. Apparently, he was an established name in the world of banking when he was suddenly fired from his position.”

  “Caught with his hand in the till, no doubt,” Abberline suggested.

  “Wilde probably never saw a till. His expertise was raising capital for business. The reason for his dismissal has so far eluded us, but we do know that no charges were ever laid against him. We can only assume that Drummonds did not wish to raise concerns amongst their customers - or that Wilde left with information that could prove embarrassing to influential people. What we have been able to determine is that during his time at Drummonds he was responsible for certain businesses and landowners, one of which, was Sir Rufus Thom. Wilde’s signature also appears on a claim against Thom’s estate as a witness to the authenticity of the claimants.”

  William could not help being impressed. In a few months, Tallow and his friends had obtained more information about the possible financial movements of Cronos than he and Scotland Yard had managed in few years.

  “So, this information just fell into your lap. Tallow I applaud the work of you and your men, but if you are to be part of this investigation, then there must be no secrets.” Tallow looked to Simeon for guidance.

  “Tell him, Richard,” Simeon ordered.

  “We simply began by identifying how many men were capable of hiding a money trail from Scotland Yard.” Tallow held up his hand to prevent interruption. “I realise you may scream hundreds, perhaps thousands but you would be wrong. This is no blunt instrument used by a London gang, if they are detected then a fire usually consumes the evidence, and they disappear into the shadows of the City. The cult of Cronos would require something far subtler. They have to bribe officials to gather their information, so they need plenty of funds. They need properties and men they can trust. Remember that even identities within the cult will be unknown to one another, this may help prevent arrest but it is a logistical nightmare. William, I believe I am correct that Joseph Locke the first Cronos killer you thwarted, did not know the identities of the other members. He was a single cog in an elaborate clock.”

  “That is correct...he only knew them by the names given to them by the cult.”

  “My point exactly – you could not keep secrets with one property. You would need a number of safe houses dotted around the city, an entire spider’s web. I am guessing that you would also need a man capable of unearthing secrets...secrets that are hidden in documents, buried
in ledgers. You would need a man who knew the law but despised it. You would need a man reckless enough to work for killers but hold onto to enough common sense to stay loyal. Suddenly, that list of men has shortened dramatically.”

  “And you believe you know the identity of this loathsome fellow,” William asked.

  “Know him and have him,” Tallow crowed. “The man in question is Edgar Finch, and he currently resides in our care. He is a dishonest wretch, but he is no fool. He knows that his life is now in our hands. He also knows that the moment he divulges all of his secrets he loses importance, and his safety will no longer be our concern.”

  “Give me five minutes, he will talk,” Abberline announced.

  “I do not doubt your skill at interrogation Inspector, but Finch is trying to survive. Your knuckles against his flesh will not loosen his tongue. He will give us information but it will be a trickle, not a deluge. I have a plan to pierce the dam, but I will need your assistance.”

  “You will have it. Surely though, he has given you some information?” William’s tone was almost desperate.

  “The documents that Finch possesses contain very few names. We are relying on Finch, and his investigation into his own clients.”

  “His investigation?”

  “Oh, he was quite open about his future intentions. He knew one day the Cronos cult would break apart. When that happened - the followers would pay handsomely to keep details of their past from reaching the authorities. It seems there is no honour amongst killers. He gave us three names, Gilbert Wilde, James Courtney and Peter Simmons. I went to Wilde’s home and could tell that there had been a disturbance despite an attempt at hiding the fact. It was pure chance that I discovered you at the rail tracks as I was simply scouting the area. Bakari and Benjamin visited the home of James Courtney, he has no family, but his elderly housekeeper said that he had gone on a business trip and wasn’t expected to return for a number of days. He has still not returned. I can only imagine he is either dead or on the run. You know the fate of Peter Simmons.”