Brass Lives

by Chris Nickson

  ‘People watching him all the time?’

  The superintendent nodded. ‘I have a man posted inside the hotel at night now.’

  ‘Good, good.’ It was all they could do.

  ‘We’re following up every lead on Fess, we might have something today. And this third Yankee …’ He shrugged. ‘I’ll have them beating the bushes, but he’s just a rumour. For all I know, we could be looking for a ghost. Something about the story doesn’t feel right to me.’

  ‘Nor me. But check.’

  For a few hours, Harper forgot about dead Americans. He lost himself in the routine of memoranda and preparing a report for the Home Office about the effectiveness of plain clothes policemen. It felt like a pointless exercise, something to make a civil servant in London feel important; that was why he’d put it off until the last minute.

  By three o’clock he was close to the end. As he was blotting the final page, the telephone bell began to ring.

  ‘Harper.’

  ‘Da? It’s Mary.’ She didn’t sound like herself. Instead of the cheerful cockiness, she seemed … worried? Scared?

  ‘What is it?’ he asked quickly. ‘Has something happened?’

  ‘A man came.’ Her voice seemed to quiver. ‘That American you and my mam talked about. The one who was at the Victoria.’

  ‘Mullen? Has he gone now? What did he want?’ He was already on his feet, ready to dash over there.

  ‘Yes.’ She took a breath and started again, more composed. ‘Yes. He was only here for a minute. Came in and said, “You must be Mary Harper. You’re even prettier up close. I can see why your father is so protective.” Then he just looked at me like … I don’t know and left.’

  ‘I’m coming down right now. Are you sure you’re all right?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, still unsteady and afraid. Then again, more firmly. ‘Yes. I’m fine. The others are here, the girls.’

  ‘Lock the door and don’t let anyone in until I arrive.’

  He disconnected, then asked the operator for Millgarth police station.

  63 Albion Place. Before he entered, he glanced up at the windows. Mary’s business was at the top, with the company name painted on the glass. He climbed the steps to the second floor. The corridor was neatly swept, a shining brass spittoon sitting on the landing.

  Ash was waiting, his face as dark as a storm. He’d known Mary her entire life. Harper had a good idea what the man was thinking.

  He tapped on the door. ‘It’s me.’

  A key turned and he put his arms around his daughter. She was strong, very independent and determined. They’d brought her up that way. But she was still young and the world could be a harsh place.

  ‘Don’t worry, it’s fine now,’ he said, stroking her hair. She trembled a little, face buried against his shoulder. ‘Talk to the rest of them,’ he told Ash. ‘Let’s put together a statement.’

  Mary kept him close for a full thirty seconds before she finally pulled away and wiped at her eyes. She tried to smile and reached into her handbag. ‘I must look a mess.’

  ‘Don’t be daft. You look wonderful.’

  ‘Da, you can’t lie to save your life. Give me a minute.’

  Ash had everything in hand with the women, softly asking his questions and noting down their replies.

  When Mary returned, she’d brushed her hair, powdered her face and put on fresh lipstick. Her back was straight, as if she was in charge of everything. In control again. A lie, of course, and he knew that as well as she did. But it was a useful pretence.

  ‘Do you want to leave early? I can take you home.’

  She shook her head. ‘No. We have too much to do and I’m not going to run away because of any man.’

  That was the girl he knew; just like her mother.

  ‘Then let me arrange for a constable to escort you to the tram.’

  ‘He wouldn’t dare do anything with people around.’ But even as she spoke he saw she was gripping her handkerchief tight, fingernails digging into her palms.

  ‘No,’ he agreed. Mullen would choose somewhere quieter.

  ‘We’ll keep the door locked here. And if I have to go out, I’ll take one of the girls with me.’

  It was sensible. It shouldn’t have to happen, and he’d make damned sure it never occurred again. But in the meantime, she was doing all the right things.

  ‘I can always get Len to come here for me if we’re going somewhere.’

  Len. He’d forgotten about him. The last thing he wanted was for the lad to go after Mullen. That wouldn’t be a contest; it would be slaughter.

  ‘Don’t tell him,’ Harper said. ‘Please.’

  Her eyes flashed. Her mouth set with anger. ‘But he’s my—’

  ‘Look, I know you don’t want to keep anything from him. But the man who came here, he’s killed people in New York. Shot them and beaten them to death. If Len starts something with him …’ He let his words sink into her mind. ‘We’ll handle it,’ he told her. ‘He won’t be back again. I promise.’

  Mary took a deep breath and nodded.

  ‘Will you be all right?’

  ‘Yes.’ She glanced over her shoulder. Ash was putting away his notebook. ‘And Da … Thank you for coming.’

  ‘Of course,’ he said and squeezed her hand. ‘Any time, any time at all. What do you think a father’s for?’ You looked after your own. You protected them if you can. And you hurt anyone who tried to do them harm.

  Back outside, the air felt heavy and sticky with all the smells of the city. Engine fumes and smoke. He stared at the crowds of people and traffic moving up and down a few yards away on Briggate.

  ‘The constable following him probably didn’t realize your daughter had a business here,’ Ash said.

  ‘No,’ Harper agreed.

  ‘We’ll talk to Mullen.’

  ‘I’d like to be there.’

  ‘Better if you’re not, sir. What you don’t know can’t come back to hurt you.’

  The man was right. But he wanted to beat seven bells out of Mullen and leave him bruised and bloody. No one did that to his daughter. No one.

  ‘Maybe.’

  ‘Don’t you worry. He won’t be giving her any problems in the future.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Thank God for good, loyal men.

  ‘He did what?’ Annabelle exploded. By the time he reached her, she’d torn off the apron and was halfway across the room. Harper grabbed hold of her arms before she could reach the door.

  ‘It’s being handled,’ he said. She tried to pull away, but he kept a firm grip on her dress.

  ‘It’s being handled,’ he repeated, staring into her face until she understood. ‘It won’t happen again.’

  ‘I’ll kill him myself.’

  ‘No one’s doing that.’

  Anger flared in her eyes and faded again. ‘If I see him …’

  ‘Don’t worry. Mary will be fine.’ He hesitated. ‘Best not to tell her what’s going to happen, though.’

  Her mouth was set hard, but after a second she nodded her agreement.

  Mary was safe enough now, he felt sure of that. But in the morning he cancelled his driver and took the tram into town with her. He walked to Albion Place and checked the stairs and her office before he left. She said nothing, but once she saw everything was clear, the strain left her face. She kissed him on the cheek and for once he felt he was on the side of the angels.

  A tap on the wood and the chief constable stood in the doorway.

  ‘Mind if I come in, Tom?’

  ‘Help yourself, sir.’ He gestured to one of the empty chairs. ‘Miss Sharp, could we have some tea, please?’ He looked at Parker. ‘Something important?’

  ‘Yes and no.’ He puffed on his cigar and leaned back to watch the smoke drift towards the ceiling. ‘Have you heard anything more about Special Branch and Miss Lenton?’

  ‘Only that they followed her from Armley to Chapel Allerton. Would you like me to check?’ He picked up a pen.

  �
��No, there’s no need.’ He waited until the tea sat in front of them. Lilian Lenton wasn’t the reason he’d come downstairs, Harper thought. Parker wanted it to seem that way, but it was just the prelude. The main act was about to begin. ‘My neighbour is a doctor at the infirmary. He stopped in for a drink on his way home last night and told me about his final patient of the evening.’

  Harper felt the small crawl of fear rising up his spine. But he kept his face blank and said nothing.

  ‘An American who’d taken quite a beating. Two teeth gone, a mass of cuts and bruises. Lucky that nothing was broken. From the description, he sounds like the one you told me about.’

  ‘Mullen. Did Mr Mullen say what had happened to him, sir?’ Harper held his breath as he waited for the reply.

  ‘No. Refused point blank to say a word about it. Doesn’t Ash have a man following him?’

  ‘He does, sir. On my orders.’

  ‘Then find out what happened, Tom. We can’t have visitors to Leeds assaulted like that.’

  ‘Absolutely not. I agree.’

  Parker downed his tea in a single swallow. ‘You wouldn’t know anything about it, would you?’

  ‘This is the first I’ve heard, sir.’ He could say that with some measure of honesty. It was the first he knew that the beating had happened. ‘I’ll get to the bottom of it.’

  ‘Please make sure you do.’ He smiled. ‘We don’t want it happening again.’

  The man knew. He might not have had any proof, but Parker had pieced it together. The visit was a warning, and Harper didn’t need to be told twice.

  ‘I talked to the constable following him,’ Ash said over the crackle of the telephone line. ‘After Mullen left your daughter’s office, he went back to the Metropole and didn’t leave again before our man went off-shift at six.’

  ‘What about the night men?’

  ‘We have several off ill at the moment, sir, so I could only spare one man outside the hotel. The first he saw of Mullen was when a taxi dropped him off around nine last night, all bandaged up and walking very gingerly. As far as he was aware, Mullen had never gone out. He was shocked and asked what had happened, but Mullen said he wasn’t going to discuss it.’ Ash’s voice was steady, even, utterly bland.

  ‘I see.’

  ‘If he wants to make a complaint, I’ll follow it up, of course. In the meantime …’

  ‘Yes, yes. The chief wants us to make sure nothing else happens to him. You’d better let me have your report in writing.’

  ‘I shall, sir …’

  Friday morning, half past eleven. Harper sat in the chief constable’s office, listening to Inspector Cartwright of Special Branch. Beside him, Sergeant Gough’s face was so red with anger that he looked as if he might explode.

  ‘None of my men had seen any sign of Miss Lenton, so I knocked on the door first thing this morning and asked to see her. I wanted to know if she was well enough to be returned to Armley Gaol.’ Cartwright spoke as if he was reciting from his notebook in court.

  ‘Go on,’ Parker said. He clamped down on the cigar in his mouth to hide his amusement.

  ‘The maid told me that she wasn’t there. My men searched the house from top to bottom and the information was correct. She was not there.’

  Parker studied the rising smoke. ‘Have you discovered what happened?’

  ‘She escaped, that’s what happened.’ Gough was close to shouting.

  Harper raised an eyebrow. ‘How?’

  ‘As best as we can ascertain, sir, she was in disguise,’ Cartwright continued, avoiding their eyes as he stared at the wall. ‘She arrived on the Tuesday. Late that afternoon a delivery van appeared on Westfield Terrace. It was driven by a young man. He had a boy with him. We observed the boy eating an apple and reading a copy of Comic Cuts. The driver called out “Groceries.” A servant opened the door and said, “All right, it’s here.” The boy took a basket into the house through the back door.’ He went silent for a moment, glaring at the sergeant. ‘Shortly after that, the delivery boy reappeared with an empty basket, returned to the van and it drove away.’

  ‘The delivery boy who came out was Lilian Lenton in disguise?’ Harper asked.

  ‘Yes,’ Cartwright said through clenched teeth. ‘That’s what we’ve managed to discover. I talked to the grocer. He told me everything as soon as I threatened him with prosecution. Miss Lenton was taken a mile away to’ – he consulted his notebook – ‘Moortown, where her friends had a taxi waiting to drive her to Harrogate. We’re pursuing our enquiries from there. At this point we have every reason to believe she’s fled the country.’

  ‘That’s very unfortunate,’ Parker said. ‘And it makes the Special Branch look pretty poor.’

  ‘Yes, sir, it does.’ Cartwright was staring daggers, but he had to sit and take it. His men had messed up. They’d allowed the woman to escape as they sat and watched. ‘You can help us, if you’d be so good.’ He looked as though they were the hardest words he’d ever had to speak.

  ‘What do you need?’ Harper asked.

  ‘If you could ask the force in Harrogate to talk to people they know and discover where she’s gone, that would be a great help. The sooner we can find out the better, of course.’

  ‘We will.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’ The men stood.

  Before they could leave, the chief said, ‘A word to the wise, Inspector. I’d advise you not to prosecute the grocer. If this comes out in court, you’ll look an utter fool.’

  Cartwright gave a quick, angry nod and the door closed. Harper reached into his wallet, took out a pound note and placed it on the desk.

  ‘Three days. You were spot on, sir.’

  Parker sighed. ‘I’ll take your money, Tom, but I can’t say I’m happy about it. If your men had been watching, she’d have never slipped away.’

  He hoped not. He expected more from them than that. But he’d never know the answer.

  ‘I’ll give Harrogate a ring.’

  ‘Make sure they know the Branch was responsible. Let’s see if some real coppers can pull their irons out of the fire. Now, I hope you have some leads on the killing of this American.’

  He didn’t. Ash’s men were still digging, but so far they’d come up with nothing. No idea where Fess had stayed after he’d left Mrs Hardisty’s rooming house. No hint of the people he’d seen. As if he’d completely vanished until his body was found.

  ‘I know it seems impossible in a place like Leeds, sir,’ Ash said. His thick hair stood like wire as he ran a hand through it. ‘An American ought to stand out. But we can’t find a thing. Sissons thought he might have run out to the suburbs to stay, but that doesn’t make sense either. Not if he wanted to watch Mullen.’

  ‘What about this third American?’ Harper asked. ‘Any sign of him yet?’

  ‘No, and the more we look, the more I’m inclined to believe he doesn’t really exist.’ He shook his head. ‘But honestly, sir, the way things are, I’m not sure of anything right now.’

  ‘What about Mullen? Is he keeping his head down?’

  ‘Spends his days with his father. They’re either in the house on Somerset Street or off to the pubs. In the evening he goes out for a meal or meets one or two people. A very quiet life.’

  ‘Not been seen close to Albion Place again?’

  The two men smiled at each other. ‘Nowhere near, sir.’

  It wasn’t his case; he had to keep reminding himself of that. He had too many other things on his plate. But it had become personal as soon as Mullen showed up at the Victoria. Even more so when he’d gone to Mary’s office. The man was playing a game of some kind. That was obvious. So far one man had died because of it. But where was it going and how would it end?

  It wouldn’t be good; he was certain of that.

  He’d finally settled into the routine of a warm summer Friday afternoon, the world outside the window looking so much more appealing than the one within, when Miss Sharp announced his two o’clock appointment.
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br />   ‘Show them in, please.’

  Three women, and none of them intimidated by his office or his rank. They were all well dressed, not young, from money but with no need to flaunt it.

  He knew Isabella Ford. They’d met many times over the years. She was a friend of Annabelle’s, the woman who’d turned his wife into a suffragist organizer and speaker.

  ‘Sit down, please, make yourselves comfortable,’ he told the women, and waited until they settled.

  ‘Deputy Chief Constable,’ Miss Ford said. ‘Congratulations on your promotion.’

  He acknowledged it with a smile and a dip of his head.

  ‘I don’t believe you’ve met Miss Meikle. She’s from the West Riding Federation of the National Union of Women’s Suffrage Societies.’

  ‘How do you do?’ The woman looked polite and reserved, but the fire of belief burned in her eyes and her mouth was pursed and ready for debate.

  ‘And this is Mrs Renton. She’s the secretary of the Leeds Women’s Suffrage Society.’

  ‘Ma’am.’

  They probably both already knew Annabelle and that he was sympathetic to women having the vote.

  Tea arrived on a tray with four Viennese slices. Apparently Miss Sharp approved of the cause, too.

  ‘I trust you know that we’ll give the march all the help we can,’ Harper told them. ‘The police want everything to go smoothly.’

  A quarter of an hour and he was standing at the door, ushering them out. Miss Ford was the last to leave, shaking his hand and thanking him.

  ‘Annabelle tells me she’s going on the pilgrimage,’ she said.

  ‘Yes. She’s probably packing right now.’

  She kept hold of his hand and a wistful look came into her eye. ‘I wish I could go with her.’

  ‘Why don’t you?’ Harper asked. ‘She’ll be driving, you could go with her in the car.’

  She gave a sad little smile. ‘I have too many responsibilities here, I’m afraid. Next time, if it’s still necessary.’

  He was close to finishing for the afternoon. Saturday tomorrow, just a morning of work. After that, perhaps he and Annabelle could take a drive into the country. Skipton, maybe, and a stroll around the ancient castle, or up to Fountains Abbey where monks had once lived so far out in the wild. Somewhere away from here.