"Even liars don't like liars."
Fisher frowned. "When we begin, I advise you to answer truthfully. Anything you say we will be written down and may be placed before a jury of your peers."
"To be sure."
"Nothing you want to say?"
"About what?"
Fisher drummed his fingers once on the table, then gave up all hope of an easy confession. "Interview begins regarding the murder of Margaret Docherty or Campbell, and the harbouring of the revenant that she became." Murder. They had the body, it seemed. "Tell me about Docherty, Mr Burke. Tell me how you met her."
#
"I don't know her." William stared hard at Fisher.
"The woman at Mr Burke's house three nights ago?"
"Just a woman. Didn't know her name."
"Who else was there?"
"Me, Maggie, Bill, Nel, a woman."
"That was Madge Docherty."
"If you say so."
"Mr Hare. I can keep you in that cell for a very long time."
"Not much I can do about it."
"You could tell me about Madge Docherty."
"Just some woman. She danced, and drank."
"Did Mr Burke know her?"
"Ask him. He's down here somewhere. I know you got him."
"I'm asking you."
"Your mistake."
#
"What you tell me here will be recorded, and presented to a jury of your ..."
Maggie flapped her hand. "I know all that. Think it's the first time I've been banged away? I've not been a respectable landlady all my life, you know. You need to be speaking to Nelly M'Dougal."
"Helen M'Dougal is helping with our enquiries."
"Watch that one. She's all innocence and light, but she's a temper that would make your skin shrivel and your soul burn. Murderous temper, that one. Always said so."
"Are you ..." Fisher sat back, scratching his chin. "Are you saying that Helen M'Dougal ..."
"Murdered the old bird right there in her house, bold as brass? Wrapped her hands around her neck and choked her dead. Made my William and that nice Mr Burke cover for her evil crimes. Oh, the things that man would do for love! Blinded by it, so he is. Can't see her, if you take my meaning. Not for what she is. Leave a deader alone with her and watch what happens, eh? It's on its feet before you can blink, biting people for its tea. No coincidence, that."
Fisher leaned over to read back what his clerk had written. "Is this your sworn testimony, Mrs Hare? This is what you say happened?"
"What? Course not, and don't be daft. Didn't know we'd started. I wasn't there, was I? How should I know what happened. Could have been that, though. Ask Nelly M'Dougal."
#
"Mrs M'Dougall? Are you all right?"
She blinked, and the dark and oppressive room closed around her again. She was finding it difficult to remember herself, and where she was. She looked at the lamp, like a tiny sun lighting her day. There were swirling things in that light, like the ghosts of angels.
"Mrs M'Dougall?"
"I'm sorry, sir. I'm very tired." How that could be, when she had done almost nothing since arriving but sleep, she did not know.
"I would like to make this as brief as I can, if you'll let me. But you must answer my questions."
She smiled at him, and he shared a concerned glance with the notebook man. "What was the last question?"
"I asked you whether you ever had cause to strike Madge Docherty."
"Oh, she was a happy old thing. I liked her surface face. It was very convincing." A doubt plucked at her. That was wrong. That wasn't what she had to say. "No. No, I didn't like her. She was too familiar with Bill. I threw her out on Halloween."
"When I visited your home, Mr Burke told me that was somebody else on the night previous, October thirtieth."
"That's right, yes. I liked Mrs Docherty. She was very happy."
#
"What was the man's name?"
Bill shrugged. "Should I have asked, do you think?"
"Well, let's see. You say he knocked on your door and asked you to caretake a box for him, a large tea chest, for a couple of days. Gave you sixpence to do so. While he was there he placed something under the straw of your bed, but you weren't stirred to wonder what it might be." Fisher looked up, his face impassive. "I think I might have been curious enough to ask his name, in your shoes."
"Well there's the thing about being such a trusting soul. These things never occur to you until later. I checked under the bed when he was away, of course. That's when I realised it was a dead body."
"And what did you do then?"
"Ah, furious I was. He came back that evening. 'Take it away,' I told him. 'You'd no right to leave such a thing here.' He wouldn't hear it though, and left me with a body under the bed and guests due for Halloween. What could I do but leave it, and hope it didn't start to stink? When I told my good friend William Hare about the dreadful predicament I was in we got to thinking, and one of us, I don't recall who, well we remembered all those queer stories of bodies being sold up at Surgeon's Square."
"I can almost guess the rest."
"That's the clear ring of truth and good sense echoing across to you there. We arranged to have the body moved up to the doctor's in the very same tea chest the man had left with us, as much to be rid of the thing as to scrape any form of profit from our situation you understand."
"Oh yes. And what was Mrs Docherty's corpse worth?"
"Mrs Docherty? How can it have been Mrs Docherty? She left at seven in the morning of All Saints Day, worse for the late night and the whisky but fit other than that."
Fisher stared at him. "So whose body did you arrange to have delivered to Surgeon's Square?"
"How am I to know that? I'd never seen the person before in my life. It's the man who delivered him that you should talk to."
"The 'ordinary looking man' whose name you can't tell us?"
"That'll be the one."
Fisher scraped his stool back on the stone floor and stood. "Do you realise that I'll also be talking to your wife about this? And Mr Hare? And his wife? And a half dozen other witnesses?"
"It's as though you doubt my word, officer. And here I am, cooperative as can be."
"You're not helping yourself, Mr Burke. You're not helping yourself at all."
Bill dropped his genial act, and let the weariness he felt into his voice. "So you say Mr Fisher, but I beg to disagree with you. I'm doing what I have to. I'm helping how I can." He sat back against the wall and watched the officer leave.
#
Monday, November 10th, 1828
William Hare sat at the familiar table of the interview room, wanting to blink at the light of the lamp but refusing to let himself. It seemed so much brighter after another week in the cell, and he wanted to cover his face in case the heat flashed out and burned him.
Fisher watched him for a moment. The man had shaved since they last spoke, and his suit was more official than the workaday uniform he had last sported. "I've had some very important meetings this morning, William. Deciding who to prosecute, and for what. We've found more, you see. That big idiot Daft Jamie. Some reformed whore called Mary Paterson. A few other names. Word's out. Burke and Hare have been picked up for murder. Didn't take long for more reports to come in. Even got witnesses, for some things. How many were there? Five? Six?"
"Don't know what you're talking about."
"You do, William, and you're going to tell me. If you won't, your friend will."
"Why's that then?"
"To save himself, and his woman. I've got permission to make you each an offer, but only one of you can take it. First come, first served. I hope it's you, to be honest. You're a misguided lad, and your friend's a charismatic man. An easy man to follow, no matter where the path leads." He sighed. "On the other hand, you haven't been very helpful so far. I'm probably wasting my time. I should speak to Burke first." He rose and stepped towards the door.
"Wait," said Willia
m. "What offer?"
#
"You don't look well there, Mr Burke. A bit peaky. I hope it's nothing to do with our hospitality." Fisher was as deadpan as ever, but there were hints and suggestions beneath his words.
Bill tried to match his stare but couldn't do it. He looked down instead, at his dirty, shaking hands. No matter how he concentrated, he could not compel them to be still. "Bit rough around the edges officer, as you can see. I don't think the accommodation is entirely to blame."
Fisher laughed, and sat. "Neither do I. Can I get you anything?" Bill ground his teeth. "Anything at all?"
"I wouldn't say no to a cup of whisky, as you're asking." It shamed him to say it, so close did it feel to begging.
"Whisky, is it? I know you like a drop, Bill. I've spoken to your neighbours. Your friend, Mr Rhymer. Why, they say it's your very favourite pick-me-up. Do you need picked up, Bill?"
"It's rude to refuse your host's hospitality, that's what my mammy always told me."
"You're a courteous man. I'll see what I can ..." he made to stand, then sat back down again. "What am I thinking? If my colleagues learned that I was plying an arrested subject with whisky, I'd be out on my ear."
"I don't like that word. Subject."
"Because it's what the doctors call the bodies?" He didn't answer. "I've spoken to the doctor, too. And his assistants. And his doorman, Davey Paterson. I've learned many interesting things. Want to know how many revenants they say you delivered, all fresh and unmarked?"
"I'd like that whisky."
Fisher sat back, said nothing, and watched him tremble.
#
"Helen? Helen M'Dougall? Nelly?" The voice and face were familiar, but not compelling enough in themselves to force up the memory of names. An older man with a badge. Not an angel. She was only interested in angels.
"I told you, sir." This from a tall man with a truncheon and a rough Glaswegian accent. "She's been like this for the last couple of days. Eats and drinks. Does her business. Sleeps. And smiles. She willnae answer to her name or anything else."
The older man bent over the table, staring into her eyes. She let him. His breath smelled of apples, and his cheeks were smooth. That was different from whenever she'd seen him before. His face had been rough with stubble then. He looked nice. Kind.
He pulled back. "Is it an act?"
"Buggering good one if it is. Hasn't dropped it once."
The kind man rubbed his eyes. She nearly found energy enough to ask if he was okay, but it vanished before she could use it, like a wave smashed to nothing on the shore. "Put her back in her cell. I want her as comfortable as can be, Jim. Last thing I need is some sort of complaint in court that we had anything to with this. And put somebody in with her. Women. Rotate them on shifts. I don't want this one left alone."
"Sometimes saves trouble. Leaving them alone. Let them take care of themselves."
"Not this time. It's a case. A big one. Everything's going to be examined. Clear?"
"As day. I'll sort it."
Nelly smiled, and nodded.
#
Maggie was ready for him this time. She had it worked out in her head, how Nelly was behind it all. William would thank her later. Even Bill might, given time.
John Fisher sat. "Mrs Hare," he said. "If I may, I'd like to pick up on some details from your last statement."
She opened her mouth, then snapped it closed as her middle cramped hard. Something loosened inside her, and fluids ran down her legs and soaked her skirt. "Oh! Baby! Baby's coming!" Her hands balled into fists as the contraction twisted inside her.
Fisher jumped up, smashed his knee on the table edge, and hobbled to the door. "Guard! We need a midwife here!"
#
"It's a better story then you gave last time, I'll give you that." Fisher was standing, ignoring the stool. Earlier, he had limped in, his leg stiff and awkward.
"It ..." Bill's voice cracked, and he got hold of himself. "It's got the benefit of simplicity, sure and it does. The old woman drank herself stupid, collapsed on the bed, and suffocated in the straw. We tried to sell the body on, but what of it? A bird in the hand, isn't that what they say?"
Fisher nodded. "Simple. I just don't think it's true."
Bill whimpered, then turned and spat onto the floor, disgusted with himself. "Can I still have that whisky?"
Fisher looked at the cup in his hand, frowning as though he had forgotten it was there. "I don't think so, Bill. I'd be happy to toast the truth with you, but we're not there yet."
"It's the best I can do."
"But it isn't true."
"But it's the best I can do!"
#
"I know you murdered the woman, the pair of you. I think you did more, in the long run. Hare and Burke? I think more likely Burke and Hare. I don't mean to insult you William, but he has all the brains."
William said nothing.
"I want a prosecution. I want somebody to swing. Word is out on this, William. The crowds you draw to this station every day, not even knowing about it ... it beggars me." Fisher sat, keeping his injured leg out to one side. "I have three names. James Wilson, who you'd better know as Daft Jamie. Mary Paterson. Madge Docherty. Three murders, and the only witnesses I have are their killers." He leaned forward. "You've heard of turning King's Evidence?"
"No."
"A contract between you and the King. You stand as witness against your partner's crimes, and in return you are granted immunity from prosecution yourself. Do you understand? Sign that contract and you can unburden yourself of all the things he made you do, then walk free at the end of the day." He leaned back. "What do you say?" William paused, suspecting a trap, and Fisher leaned back on his stool. "Or I could go and speak to Bill Burke. Perhaps he'd better understand the opportunity here."
"What about Maggie?"
"We'd drop all charges against her."
"I'd need to see your contract."
"You could read and sign it in the presence of an independent solicitor appointed by the court to act on your behalf."
William considered, unable to see how it could go against him. If there were a truer sign that he was meant to be free, spreading his gift far and wide, he could not imagine what it might be. "I'll do it."
Fisher stood, forgetting his bad knee to his evident regret (his face creased with pain as the joint bent), and limped to the door. "I'll have the papers drawn up this afternoon. You can read and sign them in the morning. After that, it's to be a long day for you, Mr Hare. A lot of talking to be done." The man's relief and delight were evident, a rare glimpse past his impassive armour. He stopped at the door, and turned back. "Oh yes, I meant to inform you. Mrs Hare has just given birth. A little premature, but the baby's well. Congratulations, Mr William Hare. You've just become a father."
Chapter 33
William Burke
Wednesday, December 24th, 1828
Sitting next to him in the courtroom, Nelly looked confused and anxious. Her eyes were dilated, and it was hard to tell whether she was understanding much of what was happening in the room. Unlike Bill, who had arranged to have his smart blue, buttoned coat and a new cravat sent to him for his court appearance, she had given little thought to how she looked. Dressed miserably in a threadbare printed cotton gown, with a drab stone-colored bonnet on her head, she was a wretched thing. They had embraced when they were led into the long and narrow courtroom, so packed to bursting with sheriff officers, members of the press, and other learned gentlemen that the police offers had been forced to push and shove to bring them to their defence counsel. Since that hug, she had been distant. He spoke kind words to her, smiling as testimony was added to testimony against them, distracted from the deliberations that would seal his fate by worry for her and shame at having made her so.
The court went to session not long after ten in the morning. It was, he was appalled to realise, Christmas Eve. The crowds outside the court were deep and boisterous. Although he had known the case had m
ade the papers, and had even been given an issue or two to pore over by candlelight in his cell, incarceration had so separated him from the world that none of it had felt real until he saw it with his own eyes. There were no shouts as the black prison wagon drew up to the court, nor as he stepped out into the light, blinking furiously as his weakened eyes struggled to adjust. There was only pregnant silence, more shocking coming from a hundred people than it would be from one man alone. Faces followed him as police officers gripped his arms and walked him in, and for the first time he understood how powerful hard the city had been rocked by his rumoured deeds.
Somebody had cracked a window open before the trial began, and an icy breeze dropped down on the courtroom. Many wore hats and scarves, but Bill was bareheaded. Despite his high collar, his neck was frozen stiff. He refused to let discomfort show on his face.
They had been charged with three murders, with himself cited as murderer and Nelly charged with aiding and abetting in those murders. The first of the corpus delicti was Mary Paterson, who had said farewell to the sisters of the Magdalene Asylum only a day before having the misfortune to meet him. Daft Jamie was second, and Madge Docherty the third. Mr Moncreiff, his defence counsel, had won an immediate victory at the start of the day. Nelly could not be linked to the first two of the murders in any way, and he challenged the justice of her standing as a co-defendant on those matters. When the prosecution had asserted that natural justice demanded that Bill answer for all three of the crimes, he had slammed his hand on his table. "Justice? You seek in one fell and easy swoop to indict a man of three unconnected murders, each suspected to have taken place at a different time, and for good measure wrap it together with the trial of another defendant who you have not even alleged to have had any concern with two of the murders of which he is accused! You appear to consider this, one of the most exceptional trials in recent history, to be little more than a formality. I submit that this hastily bundled accumulation of defendants and offences is not necessarily for public justice, and exposes the accused to intolerable levels of prejudice."
The Flesh Market Page 27
