‘Oh, we will find out who…did him in…never fear.’
‘You’ve taken a long time over it.’
‘Keep a civil tongue in your…’
Freddie now swung round towards the customs officer, crying, ‘Don’t tell me to keep a civil tongue in my head! You have got me here without warrant or justice note. I can get up and walk out and you can’t do anything about it. So you please keep a civil tongue in your head.’
‘Now, now, now!’ The Chief Constable’s hand was wagging now, ‘Mr Musgrave, mind…mind your words.’
‘I am minding my words, sir. You tell your subordinate here to mind his words. I am not a prisoner.’
‘As yet.’
It looked for a moment as if Freddie would strike out at the glowering customs officer, but he gritted his teeth and returning his attention to the suave man, he said, ‘You do realise that I was but a lad when all this happened? I can scarcely recall anything that took place.’
‘Then you wouldn’t know what happened even to a very valuable hoard of jewels that you carried across the river to Mr Gallagher?’
‘No, I wouldn’t.’ Each word was emphatic. ‘Anyway, what would I, a lad in my position, have done with a hoard of jewels? I would have been terrified of handling them in the first place. And who in my family or neighbours could I have trusted them to? What could they have done with them that wouldn’t have landed them right here or in the House of Correction or further up still? Jewels!’ He tossed his head.
‘I see your point, and believe me, Mr Musgrave, I take your word for it. But unfortunately there are more serious matters to go into. For instance, you did come across the river that night with Miss Hewitt, did you not?’
Freddie returned the man’s stare but said nothing.
‘All right, we will let that pass. But it has been suggested.’
‘Who suggested?’
‘Mr Musgrave.’ The suave man’s voice spoke of patience. ‘And it is known that Mr Gallagher was murdered that same night.’
‘And you think I murdered him? A little strip of a lad twelve years old?’
‘Oh, Mr Musgrave’—the man was smiling now—‘I understand from those who remember you, you were a very sprightly little strip of a lad with a lot about you, a clever mind, even in those days. You may not have done any such deed but you may be cognisant of the facts and perhaps could enlighten us as to what might have happened, I say might have happened, that brought about Mr Gallagher’s death.’
Cognisant of the facts. He hadn’t heard that word before but he got its meaning. Oh yes, he was that all right, and he was now feeling sick to the depths of his stomach. These fellas were clever. They had probed this far but they were stuck, and my God, they would have to remain stuck! He would have to be careful from now on of every word he ever uttered. And so, sighing, he looked at the man and said slowly, ‘Cognisant or aware of, or any way you like to put it, I’ve told you when I last saw Mr Gallagher. I can tell you no more and I ask you one and all’—he now cast his glance around the other men—‘can you remember back to things you did as a lad? I mean, to pinpoint things and to people you met?’
No-one answered for a moment, but then the customs officer spoke, saying, ‘Yes, if it was a time when there was a robbery, a murder and an abduction. Yes, I’m sure we could all cast our memories back to that time; in fact, I’m sure it would have caused us some sleepless nights for many years after. Do you sleep well?…’
It was the suave man holding his hand up in the direction of the customs officer while he looked at Freddie, saying, ‘I think it would be best, Mr Musgrave, if we leave the matter in abeyance for a little while, don’t you think? Perhaps if you talked the matter over with Miss Hewitt, she being an older person would be able to recall incidents…pertinent incidents that will refresh your memory and doubtless hers too.’ He rose to his feet now, adding, ‘I thank you very much for your co-operation. I’m sure you won’t mind if I were to call on you at a later date, say Monday, when we could have a ride into Newcastle.’
‘Newcastle?’ Freddie was on his feet too now. ‘Why Newcastle?’
‘Well—’ The man gave a slight smile and his voice had even an apologetic note as he went on, ‘You see, my office is in Newcastle and it is more accommodating than here, although I thank the Chief Constable’—he inclined his head towards that worthy—‘for the use of the Court House. Yes, I would rather we talked in Newcastle. Shall we say then Monday morning at ten o’clock?’
Freddie made no answer, he simply stared at the man, for now he was knowing real fear and it was creating a sickness deep inside him. All he wanted to do at this moment was to get back to Maggie, and yes, yes, talk to her, for no matter what happened she must be protected from an enquiry such as this. She wouldn’t be able to stand it. God Almighty! What was happening to them? Why had this come about after all these years? And who was it who had supplied the information? Well, before Monday he’d pay a visit to Connie Wheatley and that father of hers. He dismissed the thought of the Harpers, theirs was only surmise created by what they had seen when the boat landed on the north side; they would know nothing whatever about what had taken place at the other side of the river. So who had started all this? After all these years the whole business had been forgotten. At least, so he had made himself believe.
He was about to turn away when he forced himself to look at the man again and, in tones as firm as he could muster, say, ‘You’ll get me to Newcastle, sir, when you can present me with a note from the Justices.’
The man made no retort. And now Freddie went from the room, but not before he levelled his glance at the other three men. In the hallway he had to stand aside while two policemen dragged a drunken man in, and from the look of the man’s clothes and the smell that emanated from him he had been dragged through the mire of some particular street.
Outside, he found that his stride was impeded by the shaking of his legs. He had the desire to run, to scamper as he had done when as a lad he sensed danger was imminent.
When he reached the house he fully expected to find Maggie dressed and downstairs, but it was his mother who greeted him, saying, ‘I had to put her back to bed’—she jerked her head upwards—‘she was for gettin’ into her clothes. But she had a spasm; it doubled her up. I’ve given her a dose. What’s the matter anyway? What’s happening?’
‘Nothing at present, Ma.’ He stood before her, for a moment feeling the need of her strength, at least her physical strength. He had almost a childish feeling that he wanted her arms about him. He said slowly, ‘They’re on to the business, Ma. Somebody’s been writing letters, somebody who’s been puttin’ two and two together.’
‘About Belle?’
‘Yes, and other things.’
‘What other things can they get against you and her?’
‘They’re probin’ into where the jewels went that I was carrying that night and, more so, into how Gallagher met his death.’
‘My God in heaven! They don’t think that you…?’
‘Ma, you never know what a policeman thinks, much less a customs officer or excise man. Anyway, keep your tongue quiet, don’t mention this to me da, ’cos you know how he gets chattin’ to his cronies, and the less said from our side about this the better.’
As he moved from her towards the stairs she said quietly, ‘This could be enough to polish her off.’ And as he mounted the stairs to Maggie’s bedroom he thought to himself, Yes, she’s right; it’s enough to polish her off.
As soon as he entered the room she said, ‘Police and customs?’
He nodded once, then drew up a chair to the side of the bed.
‘What happened?’
‘They questioned me—the two who came here, and the Chief Constable.’
‘In the Court House?’
‘In the Court House.’
‘Who could have done this? Look lad, I’ve been thinking: that Wheatley lot not only feathered their nest that night with a lot of loose change wh
ich could have meant a hoard of sovereigns, enough to get them started, but they likely took that bag of jewellery because it wasn’t on him, was it, when he was taken from the river? And a thing like that doesn’t float away out of a pocket or a body belt. When he got on his horse he had left that bag of stones behind, and they knew it.’
‘I can’t think that Connie Wheatley would do anything like this, Maggie, she would be potching herself. Yet I’ve made up me mind to go and have another talk with her, ’cos there’s her father and he’s already opened his mouth to Freeman.’
‘Were the stones mentioned; I mean did they ask any questions about me taking those three stones to Mr Taylor?’
‘No, no, that didn’t come up; so let’s hope they know nothing about that.’
‘Well’—Maggie pursed her blue lips now—‘I bet your life that those Wheatleys picked the lot up and likely got rid of them in Scotland for not a crumb of their worth but enough to set them up, together with what else they took.’
‘I’m goin’ to see her tomorrow.’
‘Yes, I would do that, but’—her hand came out and she clutched at his now—‘about the other, they…they could never prove anything, could they? There were no witnesses, it’s just all suspicion.’
‘Yes, Maggie, it’s just all suspicion. There’s nothin’ for you to worry about, not a thing.’
‘Huh!’ The sound seemed to come from deep in her throat. ‘I’m not worryin’ about meself, lad, my time is so short. It wouldn’t matter to me if they found out this minute, I’d be gone before they could carry me downstairs.’
‘Maggie, for God’s sake!’ He tried to pull his hand from hers. ‘Don’t talk like that, woman, I can’t bear it.’
‘All right, all right, calm down; but this is another thing you’ve got to face up to, as I’ve told you before. And anyway, we’ve all got to go sometime. That’s an odd sayin’, isn’t it, we’ve all got to go? And where are we goin’? I’ve been lying here on and off these last few weeks askin’ meself just that question, where do we go? Certainly not to the heaven that so many people are hanging their coats on, expectin’ to be walkin’ in flower gardens with God. No, I threw that idea over when I was twelve because I reasoned out’—she gave a little chuckle now—‘that if there were flower gardens up there the rain would sometimes fall the opposite way, it would have to, to keep them goin’.’
‘Oh, Maggie. Maggie.’
When she saw the slight smile on his face she said, ‘Well, don’t you think it is as good reasoning as any. Anyway, I’ve got a sort of assurance inside meself that wherever I’m bound for it will be peaceful, like a dreamless sleep. And after all, there’s nothing more refreshing than a dreamless sleep…But tell me, have they finished with you?’
‘Oh, no; no, Maggie, they certainly haven’t finished with me. He’s comin’ back on Monday to escort me to Newcastle.’
Her breath caught in her throat, and as she attempted to heave herself up onto the pillows she brought out between gasps, ‘But…why? They…can’t, they can’t…have anything on you. You were…a bit of a lad.’
‘Don’t agitate yourself, woman. Yes, I was a bit of a lad, but, as they say, I was a bright boy. Oh, yes, they stressed that, I was a bright boy.’
‘But not bright enough to murder a man.’
He closed his eyes tightly, saying, ‘Maggie. Maggie, don’t put it like that. If you hadn’t done what you did, you wouldn’t be here today, neither would I, nor Belle. It was he who meant murder.’
‘Yes, Freddie, I know; but who’s going to believe that?’
‘Nobody, ’cos it won’t come out. It can only come out through me.’
He didn’t add what had just come into his mind: And I could be called an accessory after the fact, or some such, and be in for a long stretch. He didn’t say it because likely the thought hadn’t occurred to her, as it hadn’t occurred to him until a minute ago. And once again there the feeling was of sickness in his stomach. To change the subject, he said quickly, ‘She was goin’ to write straight away when they got to London, wasn’t she? If she had we would have received it this morning.’
‘They wouldn’t get there till late on Wednesday, and if she wrote it on Thursday, it would be with luck that we got it today. You know what the post is like here on a Saturday.’
He rose from the chair now, saying, ‘You’ve had your medicine?’
‘Yes, I’ve had my medicine.’
‘Then you should be ready for a dose.’
‘I’ve already had the dose and woken from it.’ She smiled wryly. ‘Go on now and get something to eat, because your mother will want to get off home.’
He stood looking down on her for a moment, then turned and left the room; but before descending the stairs he stood for a moment and covered his eyes with his hand.
Connie Wheatley opened the side door to be confronted by Freddie.
‘May I come in?’
‘Yes, yes, of course.’
She led the way up the stairs; but as soon as they entered the sitting room she went hastily across to the door at the far side and closed it; then coming back to him, she said, ‘Sit down.’
When he was seated he looked at her where she was perched now on the edge of a chair, and he said, ‘There’s trouble brewin’, Connie.’
‘Yes, yes, I guessed that.’
He stared at her for a moment before he said, ‘You wouldn’t write an anonymous letter, would you?’
‘Anonymous letter? Me, write an anonymous letter? What would I write about, if I could write? I can hardly write me name. I can reckon up figures; I’m good at that.’
‘No, I didn’t think you would; in fact, I felt sure you wouldn’t, Connie. But then there’s your father.’
She glanced now towards the far door. ‘Yes,’ she said, ‘there’s been me father and what damage he’s done. He must have done it before three weeks ago because he’s had a stroke.’
‘Oh. Oh, I’m sorry.’
‘Oh, you needn’t be sorry, because if I was speaking the truth the only one I’m sorry for is meself at the moment, because, I can tell you, since we left The Towers all those years ago he’s been a trial. I think me mother would have been here the day if it hadn’t been for the worry of him; at times I’ve even thought he would see me out. He was all right when he could keep off the bottle, but a couple of glasses of the hard stuff and God knows what he would say…what he has said. It got that way that the pollis brought him back twice in the last few months. Once I understand he ended up in the pollis station, the Central in the city, yelling his head off. God only knows what he came out with. For days I could hardly sleep expectin’ a knock and somebody to walk in and say, “Where did you get the money to start all this?”’ She now looked straight at Freddie. ‘It could be the first question they would ask, couldn’t it?’
He hesitated. ‘Yes,’ he said, ‘yes, I suppose so, Connie.’
She drew in a long breath, then joined her hands tightly together in her lap and her voice was low as she now said, ‘They say that no-one prospers from ill-gotten gains; but when we rifled through those places and the stuff he had stacked away, we all thought we had earned what we took.’ She now raised her head and said, ‘But we didn’t clear the place, just took enough that we thought would start us up, except…’ She stopped abruptly and placed a hand on the top of her head as if she was trying to press it down onto her shoulders.
‘Except what, Connie?’ he asked her.
‘It doesn’t matter, it doesn’t matter…Can I get you a drink?’
‘No, thanks. But can I ask you this: have you any idea of what your father let slip? Could he have told them about driving me and the child to the dockside?’
It was some time before she answered, ‘I don’t really know, Freddie. I don’t really know. The only thing I can say is that he came in here yelling one day that he had…well’—her head wagged now before she finished—‘potched you. And when he was sober I tried to get it out of him what he had
said, but, you know, he couldn’t remember a thing. And now he’s lying there’—again she motioned her head towards the far door—‘as helpless as any child, unable to speak or move. He’s lost the use of everything except for one hand, and the doctor tells me he could lie there like that till God knows when. During the week I’ve got a woman who comes in and cleans him and washes him because I’ve got to be downstairs. But how long I’ll carry on there, I don’t know. You know’—she leant towards him—‘I’ve got the feeling, a silly feeling as if I want to pick up my skirts and run right back into the past when I was a little lass, or more than a little lass. Anyway, before this happened’—she now tapped her face from one cheek to the other—‘when I only had me eye to worry about and I was happy workin’ in The Towers…But we can’t go back, can we?’
‘No, Connie, we can’t go back.’ He now rose to his feet and went over to her and put his hand on her shoulder, saying, ‘I suppose it’s a silly thing to say, me being in the precarious position that I am, but if I can help you in any way you’ve just got to give me a shout.’
She rose to her feet and gripped his arm, saying, ‘I liked you as a lad, Freddie, and I like you as a man. And you know something—I can say this to you—I envy the woman you’ll eventually take. I’m thirty-eight and past marriage, but you know’—she gave a cynical laugh now—‘I had an offer and only last week. Yes, yes, I had. He’s got a shoe business along the street, but it doesn’t make a quarter of the money that I do, and so he’s willin’ to put up with me face.’
‘Aw, Connie’—he was gripping her hand now—‘beauty is as beauty acts and once anyone gets to know you they forget about the rest. And you say this fella has a shoe shop? Well, you know’—he brought his face down to hers—‘that could have been me, because that was what I wanted more than anything else in life when I was a lad, to have a shoe shop, not a cobbler’s mind, but a real shoe shop. I’d seen one here in Newcastle full of boots and bonny ladies’ slippers and things, and I used to dream about it at nights. Yes, that fella along at that shop could have been me.’
The Harrogate Secret (aka The Secret) Page 29
