The Penny Green series Box Set

by Emily Organ

Chapter 25

  I remained a few paces behind the boy as we walked along a wooden corridor lit only by the candle in his hand. We entered a high-ceilinged brick and timber room with a large fire at the centre of it.

  The walls were lined with boys dressed in ill-fitting clothing. Some of them removed their pipes from their mouths to whistle or to make crude remarks about me. I stopped and looked around for Edward Keller. My mouth felt dry and there were prickles of perspiration on my forehead and under my arms. I felt as though I were about to be preyed upon.

  My spectacles misted up from the warmth of the fire, and I wiped them with my trembling, gloved fingers. I had thought my decision a brave one, but now I began to consider it foolhardy. If these boys decided to harm me I would be entirely defenceless.

  “Miss Green!” called out a voice from somewhere above me.

  I looked up to see Ed Keller climbing down a ladder from a gallery I hadn’t noticed until that very moment. Once he had descended, he strode up to the fire and gave a short whistle. A small terrier wearing a silk neckerchief trotted out from the shadows to join him.

  I stood taller than Ed, but I had no doubt that he was my superior in strength. He had a wispy moustache and his face appeared younger than I guessed he was. He wore a top hat and a dark frock coat over a colourfully striped velvet waistcoat. The gold of his tie pin and watch chain glittered in the firelight.

  “You know my name?” I asked in surprise.

  My voice sounded timorous in the large room and I was uncomfortably aware of all the eyes fixed upon me.

  “Hev’ryone knows who the reporter is.” He grinned at me, displaying two rows of crooked yellow teeth. “Where’s your mate the inspector today?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Ain’t he your friend?”

  “He’s investigating the murders and I am working on the news stories surrounding them.”

  “So ’e ain’t your friend?”

  “We are colleagues, nothing more.”

  Ed laughed. “I get it.” Then he winked. “I wouldn’t of let yer in if yer’d been with ’im. The coppers ain’t welcome round ’ere. He ain’t waitin’ outside, is ’e?”

  “He doesn’t know that I’m here.”

  “Don’t he?”

  Ed sat himself on a stool by the fire, spread his legs wide and ran his tongue along his upper lip as he looked me up and down. “Yer didn’t tell ’im yer were comin’ ter see me? This ’ere’s a dangerous place for ladies. We don’t usually allow women in ’ere, do we boys?”

  There was a murmur of agreement from the rest of the room. The dog lay down next to the stool and licked itself.

  “Can I offer yer some ’ot gin, Miss Green?”

  “No, thank you.”

  “Go on, I insist. I’ll tek offence if yer refuse.”

  He clicked his fingers and a boy with a large birthmark on one cheek approached me with a clay flask in his hand. I reluctantly took it from him and the sharp smell immediately struck my nose.

  “Go on, Miss Green!” Ed cajoled.

  Although I didn’t want to drink a single drop of it, I felt too afraid not to. I took a quick sip and tried not to choke as the gin burned my throat. Once the burning sensation had gone, I was left with a warm, pleasant feeling in my forehead and I finally understood why so many people found comfort in this particular drink.

  The boy with the birthmark retrieved the flask from me.

  “There you go. Ain’t too bad, is it?” said Ed with a wink.

  “Why do they call you the Earl of York?” I asked.

  “I calls meself it. And I calls me dog Prince Regent. Will all this be goin’ in yer newspaper, Miss Green?”

  “Not all of it. I thought I could ask you a few questions about Jack and the other terrible murders. Then I will write up your answers and it will be published.”

  “I like the sound o’ that. I ain’t never been in a newspaper before!”

  I removed my notebook and pencil from my handbag and noticed that my hands were shaking as I did so.

  Ed had also noticed.

  “Give ’er a bit more gin, Pie Face.”

  I took another obligatory sip and couldn’t help but gasp as it burned my throat again.

  Ed laughed. “Good stuff, ain’t it, Miss Green? Now you sees why hev’ryone’s drinkin’ it day and night. What questions yer gonna ask me, then?”

  I held the notebook in my weak right hand and prepared to write with my left.

  “Tell me about Jack.”

  Ed scratched his chin.

  “He lived here with you, I understand? Where did he come from?”

  “I dunno where he comed from. I found ’im shinin’ shoes on Shaf’sb’ry Avenue. I had words with ’im ’cause my boys was shinin’ shoes there ’n’ all. But he were good at what he done, so I told ’im if he come and lived and worked ’ere and gived me a cut that would do us all jus’ fine.”

  “How long ago was that?”

  “Abaht two years, I reckons. He were a good ’ard worker, but he ’ad an ’abit o’ not always doin’ what he were told. There’s certain rules what we all got ter stick to ’ere. It’s all abaht survival. Yer must understand that, Miss Green. The boys ’ere ’as ’ard lives.”

  “I can imagine they do.” I glanced around at their watchful faces. “What did Jack do wrong, exactly?”

  “He didn’t do nuffink wrong in the usual sense o’ the word, but if I told him to go a-cadgin’ then he’d go a-thievin’, and if I told him ter go a-shinin’ e’d go a-cadgin’. See what I means?”

  “I think so.” I began to relax as I took down my notes. Perhaps it was the effect of the gin, or perhaps I had begun to feel reassured because Ed was being so co-operative. “Did Jack ever mention his family?”

  Keller shook his head. “That’s one o’ the rules. We don’t talk abaht fam’ly ’ere. Why d’ya think we’re all ‘ere? This is our fam’ly. Ain’t no use in talkin’ abaht the people what’s let us down.”

  “Is that what happened to you?”

  “I ain’t talkin’ nuffink abaht that.” His jaw tightened and he inhaled deeply as he sucked on his pipe.

  “May I ask how old you are?”

  “Twenny-seven.”

  “And how long have you lived here?”

  “Since I were eleven or twelve.”

  “And you get by through begging and stealing?”

  “The boys do shinin’, carryin’, sellin’, sweepin’ and they takes messages from one place to anuvver. Then we gots a few crippled boys and they do the cadgin’, ’cause there’s nuffink else they can do, is there? And people takes pity on the cripples. Them lot earns more money than the rest of us! I trains the stronger boys to box. We makes money off o’ some of the boxin’, depending on whether we wins or loses. And we looks after fings fer people.”

  “Such as?”

  “Pubs ’n’ shops. If the landlord o’ The Three Feathers don’t want no stones thrown at ’is windows, ’e’s gotta pay a few of our boys to keep a lookout, like.”

  “The boys threaten to throw stones if he doesn’t pay them?”

  “Nah, Miss Green!” Ed laughed. “You got me wrong, you ’ave. All wrong. And when we does thievin’ we only thieves from the rich people ’cause they can spare a bit, can’t they?”

  “Jack took my bag. Do I look like a rich person?”

  “Yer got proper togs on and yer got food to eat and someplace ter live.”

  “But I’m not rich.”

  “Nah, but that’s what were wrong wiv Jack, weren’t it? He weren’t s’posed to go nickin’ yer bag like that. I never asked ’im ter do it.”

  “So he did something wrong?”

  “Yeah. He were one o’ me best, but he done things wrong ’n’ all.”

  “Did you punish him?”

  “Yeah, now ‘n’ then like. ’E’s gotta stick ter the rules like ev’ryone else.”

  “How did you punish him?”

  “I ain’t sayin’. That�
��s private.”

  “Did you tell him that if he kept on doing things wrong he would have his throat cut?”

  “Now, that ain’t right, Miss Green.” Ed got up from his stool and walked towards me with his jaw pushed out. Prince Regent followed behind him, emitting a low growl.

  “You take that right back! Yer can’t say nuffink o’ that sort. I punished ’im when I ’ad ter, but I never laid no finger on ’im. That ain’t ’ow I do fings. Ain’t I right, boys?”

  There were mutters of agreement from all directions as Ed stared me in the eye, unblinking.

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I don’t wish to upset you. I just want to find out who killed Jack.”

  “We all wanna find out who killed ’im,” said Ed. “You fink I don’t miss ’im? He reminded me of meself when I were younger. I were right fond of ’im. What’s ’appened is he strayed onto the Daly Boys’ patch and they’ve got all upset abaht it. I’ve got some of me own boys lookin’ into it.”

  “You think he was killed by a rival gang?”

  “Yeah, so it won’t do yer no good tryin’ a blame me fer it. Watch what yer sayin’, ’cause you can be dealt wiv if needs be.”

  He tapped his foot on the ground, and when I looked down I noticed a trapdoor beneath him. My breath quickened as I thought about the miserable cellar it almost certainly led down to.

  “Have you ever seen the man in the mask?” I asked.

  “Yeah, I seen ’im. What of it?”

  “Do you know who he is?”

  “A lunatic, proberly.”

  “Do you think he could be the killer?”

  Keller shrugged. “How’d I know?”

  “How many times have you seen him?”

  “Dunno. Three, four p’r’aps. Some of the boys ’ave seen ’im ’n’ all.”

  “Doing what exactly?”

  “Just walkin’. I’ve ’eard ’e only comes out night-times.”

  “Did you see him on the evening of Jack’s murder, or the night when Mr Larcombe was murdered?”

  “Nah.” Ed returned to his stool and I began to relax once again.

  “You did some work for Mr Larcombe, I believe?”

  “Yeah, and I were one of ’is best customers. A lotta the jewellery in that pop-shop’s mine by rights.”

  “Actually yours?”

  “Yeah, from people what ’ave paid me wiv jewellery for favours.”

  “I’ve heard that Mr Larcombe was ruining himself with drink.”

  “Who ain’t?” Ed laughed.

  “Did you have a good relationship with Mr Larcombe?”

  “A good relationship?” Ed repeated, mocking my accent. “What’s that mean, Miss Green?”

  “Did you get on well?”

  “Sometimes. The drink got to ’im, as yer say. It ain’t easy doin’ business wiv someone when they’ve bin drinkin’ a lot, like.”

  “Were you still doing business with him up until the day of his death?”

  “Not so much. Some o’ me stuff ’ad gone missin’, and I weren’t too trustin’ of ’im after all that.”

  “What stuff?”

  “Things what yer don’t need to worry about. He were killed by one of ’is customers.”

  “Which one?”

  “How would I know? It’s obvious, ain’t it? The drink took a hold of ’im and ’e ’ad a fallin’ out with just about hev’ryone what knows ’im.”

  “So you think Jack and Mr Larcombe were murdered by two different people? What about Mrs O’Brien and Mr Yeomans? What do you know about them?”

  “Enough now, Miss Green. Time to ask you a few questions o’ me own.”

  He ran his tongue along his upper lip once again.

  Chapter 26

  “I don’t need to answer any questions. I’m a news reporter.” My voice still sounded weak.

  “My place, my rules. Where d’ya live, Miss Green?”

  “Cripplegate.”

  “And you ain’t married?”

  “No.”

  “Fancy marryin’ the finest yer can find in St Giles?”

  He emptied his pipe onto the floor before getting up from his stool and taking off his frock coat. He walked over to me with his hands on his hips.

  “I have no desire to be married, Mr Keller.”

  “Yer don’t?” He loosened his necktie. “Well then, yer don’t know what yer missin’, do yer, Miss Green?”

  He was close enough for me to smell the tobacco and gin on his breath.

  “Who do you think killed Jack and Mr Larcombe?”

  I fixed his eyes with mine in the hope that I could bring him back to the conversation in hand.

  “Put yer pencil and notebook down, Miss Green. We’ve finished wiv all that.”

  His hand gripped my left wrist, and I noticed that his fingernails were yellow and dirty. I pulled my arm away and quickly put my notebook and pencil in my bag, my heart thudding against the wall of my chest.

  I had to get out of there as soon as possible.

  “Thank you for agreeing to speak to me, Mr Keller. I’ll take my leave now.”

  “There’s no need ter leave quite so quick, Miss Green. ’Ows about some more gin?”

  “I must go.”

  I glanced behind me, hurriedly looking for the door through which I had entered.

  Pie Face appeared at my side with the clay flask.

  “That’s a nice jacket yer wearin’, Miss Green,” said Ed. “Does it unbutton easy?”

  He grabbed the hem of my jacket and tugged at it.

  “Get off me!”

  I felt a swell of anger. I would do my best to fight him off if I had to, but I knew that he was stronger, and he had all his boys to help him. A few of them had gathered closer to us, surrounding me.

  “’Ave some gin. That’ll ’elp.”

  He took the flask and pushed it up to my face. I turned away and tried to walk towards the door, but he still had hold of my jacket.

  “I told yer this were a dangerous place for ladies, but yer didn’t listen, did yer? Get ’old of ’er skirts, Pie Face.”

  “No!” I cried out as loudly as I possibly could in the vain hope that the missionaries were still waiting for me in the courtyard.

  Ed laughed as the boy grabbed at my skirts. I kicked out with my foot and caught him squarely on the shin.

  “Ow!” he shouted, cursing loudly.

  “Bring a candle over ’ere!” Ed called out. “I wanna be able ter see what I’m doin’.”

  Then he gave me such a violent shove that I fell backwards onto the floor. I held my breath and screwed my eyes up tight.

  Was there any use in me fighting when I was so heavily outnumbered?

  I opened my eyes again to see Ed fumbling with his belt.

  “Get off me!” I yelled, kicking out my feet with as much strength as I could muster.

  Ed skipped back a few steps and laughed.

  “She’s a fighter,” he said. “I’ll ’ave ter knock ’er out.”

  He raised his fist threateningly.

  I covered my head with my bag, cowering beneath it. As I did so, I heard a loud crashing, splintering sound.

  “Leave her alone!” came a man’s voice.

  I remained where I was, waiting for the inevitable blow to come.

  “Mr ’Awkins,” said Ed in a calm voice. “And Mr Meares. Good mornin’ to yer both.”

  Tears of relief sprung into my eyes. I lowered my bag to see the missionaries’ concerned faces staring down at me.

  “No, Ed,” Hugo said, glaring at the gang leader.

  Ed backed away.

  “She were willin’,” he said. “She just needed a bit more persuadin’.”

  “Are you all right, Miss Green?” David bent down and helped me to my feet. “We heard you cry out. We should never have let you come in here alone.”

  My entire body was trembling. “It’s all my fault. I shouldn’t have come. I made a mistake. I didn’t realise what it would be like.”

>   I didn’t look back at Ed. Instead, I stumbled as quickly as I could through the door, along the dark corridor and out into the cold, murky courtyard.

  Chapter 27

  The foyer of St James’s Hall was filled with the bright colours of evening gowns and the glossy shine of silk top hats. Polite chatter and perfume mingled in the air.

  “I read your interview with the gang leader,” said Eliza.

  She wore a turquoise satin dress, which was unfashionably loose fitting. My sister had stopped wearing her corset the previous year and no longer had any desire to strap herself into a tight bodice.

  “Tell me more about him,” she said. “Was he frightening?”

  “A little. He was unpleasant.”

  “I think you’re extremely brave, Father would be proud of you.”

  “Mr Sherman is delighted with the interview and sales of the Morning Express were brisk yesterday.”

  I was trying desperately hard not to dwell on what had almost happened to me in King’s Head Yard.

  “How marvellous! And it’s so pleasing to see you in such a pretty dress.”

  My gown was of russet-coloured satin with fringing around the hips, a small bustle and a buttoned bodice. I wore a fur-lined cape over the top, which was beginning to make me overheat.

  “And you’ve lost your sling too, I see. Is your arm feeling fully recovered?”

  “Almost. It still feels weak, but I shall practise writing with my right hand again and that will soon strengthen it. How was your meeting with the London Society for Women’s Suffrage?”

  “Quite enlightening. There was a wonderful speech given by Miss Annie Hodgkins of the Isle of Man, where women landowners are permitted to vote. England really must do a lot more to catch up. The good news is that support is increasing within Parliament, particularly among the Liberal members. You must come along to the next meeting of the West London Women’s Society. There is so much more you could write about our work in your paper. On second thoughts, I suppose you’re quite busy reporting on these horrific murders these days. Will there be no end to them?”

  I sighed. “The funeral of Mr Larcombe was held today, and you should have seen the crowds. I feel so sorry for the people living down in St Giles. It must be terrifying for them to know that the killer is stalking their streets!”