"You'll need his help if you don't answer me now."
"No," said Lawrence.
"Yes," said Higgins, reaching for the man's hand. He grasped it firmly and stroked the blade across his palm."
"I had my way with her," shrieked the man. "I took Amelia there on the floor and used her as a woman."
"Yes, you did, didn't you," said Higgins. "You filthy dog. And then you left her, and cowardly crept away to let others, that is me, suffer for your unspeakable actions. Actions, which I will punish in due course. But for now, let's talk about why."
The man sighed and put his hands to his hooded head. Blood trickled down his wrist, pooling into his cuffs. "If I tell you, do you promise not to hurt me?"
"Don't be ridiculous. You're tied up and at my mercy. Why would I make promises I can't keep?"
"Then don't torture me. Make it quick."
"Coward."
"Whatever you say. I don't care anymore. What I've done is monstrous. He made me."
"He? What do you mean? Please don't blame it on disembodied voices."
"That's not what I mean," gasped the hooded man, before lapsing into a coughing fit.
"Start at the beginning," said Higgins. "I want every last detail, and if I get it, then you get to keep the rest of your fingers."
"Take the hood off."
"Not yet. Perhaps if you start convincing me – now, your murder spree started with Amelia?"
"No. It started with Eliza Carter, but I didn't do it."
#
"Someone abducted Eliza Carter and Mary Seward," said the man.
"Hold the front page," said Higgins, sarcastically. "We know."
"I mean people traffickers took them."
"That's only a rumour," said Lawrence, adjusting his position on the crate.
"No. It's the truth, and I know because I saw it happen."
"You saw someone kidnapping the girls?"
"Not the two elder ones. The abduction I witnessed was Susan Luxton's."
"The little girl found at Ludgate?" asked Lawrence
The man's hooded head bobbed up and down. "Yes, her. I didn't know what I'd seen until I read about it in the papers, but then it all added up, and I realised what had happened to the older girls."
"Do you know who took her?" asked Higgins.
"Oh, yes. I knew them very well," said the man with a touch of satisfaction.
"And like a good law-abiding citizen, you informed the police".
"Not exactly."
"Not at all," snapped Higgins. "You let it happen, and you didn't say a word."
"I said a lot of words," said the man. "And it kept the wolves from my door for many years."
"You blackmailed him," said Lawrence.
"Such a nasty word," said the man. "And no. I blackmailed her."
Higgins and Lawrence exchanged glances. "Her?" they said in unison. "Who?"
"Ha. Not so clever now, are you?"
Higgins unseated himself, picked up the dismembered finger and plopped it onto the man's lap.
"What's that?" the man asked in alarm, patting his stomach.
"A reminder to keep you on track," said Higgins calmly.
The man recoiled. "Alright. Sorry. The laundress in West Road," he said. "She was the contact."
"Contact?"
"The go-between. She got the girls and drugged them, and then her accomplices took them by cart to Ludgate."
"But Susan escaped?"
"No. She was too young for that. The old woman saw a bobby at the station and took fright. She abandoned the girl there and legged it and never risked another after that day. But I told her what I'd seen and that I'd squeal if she didn't pay me to keep quiet."
"She can't have had much to give you," said Higgins. "A laundress is hardly a gold mine."
"They'd paid her well for the girls," said the man. "And I suppose I had most of it, in the end."
"So," said Higgins, conversationally. "Explain why you decided to violate and murder Amelia Jeffs eight years after a spot of blackmail. It's quite a change of tactic."
The man grasped his finger stump and sighed. "Give me a handkerchief or something. It's still bleeding, and I feel faint."
Lawrence rummaged in his pocket. "Pass him this," he said, handing a silk square to Higgins.
"It's more than he deserves," muttered Samuel, but took it anyway and dropped it on the man's hand. He seized it eagerly and wrapped his bleeding appendage.
"You were saying..." Higgins continued.
"I was short of money," said the man. "Times were tough, and I didn't have a job. They'd laid me off."
"Your occupation?" asked Higgins.
"House painter," muttered the man, "as if you don't know."
"We were only nodding acquaintances if you remember. I wasn't sure where you worked. But I know as well as you do that houses have been going up thick and fast for the last few decades and house painters are in demand. Why weren't you?"
"None of your business. I needed money and that's all you need to know."
"You can have that one," said Higgins. "But that's your last chance. You needed money having bled the laundress dry. What did you do next?"
"I went to Ludgate," said the man, "and hung around for a few days. I'd heard there were still traffickers even after all that time, but I didn't come across any at first. Next day was a different matter, and I met a man who was looking for them too. He wanted a girl, you see, for domestic purposes. He was there the following day when I returned, and we got talking. I said he should advertise in the newspaper and he laughed at me. He said he had certain urges for girls that he couldn't legally satisfy. Well, I seized my chance and asked him how much he would pay if I got him a girl myself. And the sum he offered was extraordinary. I said I would do whatever it took and arranged a time and place to meet him a week later. The trouble is that kidnapping is harder than you think. You've got to find the right person, be in the right place at the right time and get your mind prepared. I'm not a violent man – at least I wasn't then. It took a lot of courage."
Higgins snorted. "Courage. You worm. There is nothing courageous about what you did."
"Alright. But it wasn't easy. And I couldn't do it that week. I found someone, but I couldn't bring myself to touch her. And Mr Carnaby was very particular about the type of girl he wanted. Not too young, but not grown up and most definitely an innocent. I'd got nowhere with it by the time we arranged to meet up, and I asked him for another fortnight to find her. But when I still hadn't come up with the goods, he got angry and gave me one more week. If I didn't bring a girl by then, I could forget all about it. Well, I was desperate for the money, and it was now or never."
"Never would have been a better option," Lawrence interjected, but the man ignored him.
"Charles Jeffs had lived in West Road for over a decade. He'd moved houses once or twice but never far away, and I came to know his routines. I knew he would send Millie for a fish and chip supper that night because he always did. And I knew she would go along the Portway. Sure, it was dark, but it was darker still going the back way across the scrubland. Luckily, my house was right next to the entrance to the unused land, which led directly to the rear doors of the new houses. I didn't work there at the time, but my mate Tubby Warner had employment as a paperhanger, and he told me everything I needed to know to get in. You see it's a perk of the job to use the builds for shelter when married workmen go out tot hunting. They want more than a thrupenny upright and need somewhere comfortable to take the girls. Well, one of the finished houses is ideal, especially one that's watertight and not due for immediate occupation. Tubby had a sweetheart and was taking her to the Portway house to get her to give up the goods, and he said that the keys were under the stone, as usual."
The hooded man stopped, took a deep breath and scratched his chin through the sacking.
"Are you still listening?" he asked.
"Oh, yes," said Samuel Higgins, his lips set in a thin line. "I'm taking in every w
ord. Do carry on."
"I didn't plan it," said the man. "But I was getting desperate for the money, and I thought I would go out and see if the Jeffs girl left home as usual. Their new house was almost opposite mine but too far to see from my window. So, I slipped out and loitered a few doors down. It was just before half past six. I was only waiting a matter of minutes when the door of number thirty-eight opened, and there she was. It was a sign – a sign for me to act. And without planning it, I ran down the alleyway and onto the scrubland at the rear of Portway. There was only one stone big enough for a key, and sure enough, it was underneath. Quick as a fox, I unlocked the rear door, and ran to the front of the property, opening the door just in time to see Millie walk by. I looked up and down the road. It was empty, so I called her name. She turned and smiled. She knew me, you see. Had done since she was a girl, and she asked me what I was doing there. I told her that our cat had crept in and had her kittens upstairs in the bedroom, but they were in a bad way, and I needed to take them home. I asked her if she would help me. She didn't hesitate and followed me into the house and upstairs like a lamb to the slaughter. And when we arrived at the top floor bedroom, I pointed to the cupboard and said the kittens were in there. She opened the door, and I stood there for a moment, paralysed with the sudden realisation that I hadn't planned what to do next. I had the girl, but how was I going to subdue her and get her to Carnaby? I slammed the door shut, and she screamed in fright, then after a few moments, she asked me to stop playing pranks and let her out. All the time, my mind was racing. If I could subdue her, I could keep her in the house overnight, and possibly for a few days longer. Then Carnaby could collect her from here. How he did so was his problem and not mine. But how was I to keep her quiet? The only thing I could think of on the spur of the moment was to knock her unconscious. I looked around for something suitable, but the room was empty, and I couldn't go looking for an object as there was no lock on the door and no way to fasten it. Then Amelia started screaming. She yelled at the top of her lungs and hammered on the door. Anyone walking by would hear her and I realised I would have to act quickly. I yanked the door open, put my arm around her neck and clasped my hand over her mouth. But the little vixen bit me, drawing blood and almost causing me to let go. She fought like a tiger, biting, scratching and narrowly missing my eye. She wouldn't stop. If only she'd stayed quiet, I would have let her live. It was her fault – hers, do you hear?"
"So, you killed her," said Lawrence.
"I had no choice in the matter."
"Tell me what you did," said Higgins. "Every detail, don't forget."
"As I said, she wouldn't shut up. She was wearing a coat and scarf, and I grabbed the scarf and tightened it a little. The screaming stopped, and she relaxed in my arms, so I released it, and she started fighting me again. I threw her on the floor and straddled her body, pulling the scarf until she stared bug-eyed back at me. Her nose started bleeding, and she frothed at the mouth, so I let it go again, hoping that she would fall into unconsciousness. But it didn't happen. When I released the scarf, she struggled, and when I tightened it, she looked half dead. I couldn't make it work. And there was an unexpected side effect. As I controlled her breathing, holding her life in my hands, I lost my original purpose in waves of pleasure from this new power. Amelia Jeffs hung between life and death for my amusement for the best part of half an hour. From that day to this, I have never recaptured the thrill of that first time."
The man's voice had changed in tone and timbre as he dreamily stroked the palm of his hand with his thumb while reliving the memories of his first kill.
Higgins jumped to his feet and without hesitation, kicked the man between his legs.
The man howled in pain and curled into a foetal position, smearing blood from his finger stump over the floor. "Why did you do that? You asked me for details," he cried.
"I didn't ask you to enjoy it," snapped Higgins. "And you've missed an important point. Did you violate her before or after she died?"
"After," muttered the man. "I did it when I realised that I had taken things too far. I had killed her for pleasure instead of using her for money. She was a good-looking girl," he continued as if seeking justification. "And if I hadn't, Carnaby would have."
"Carnaby wouldn't have known she existed without you," said Higgins, "assuming there was any such man."
"Of course, there was," said the man. "He tried it himself the very next day."
CHAPTER 30
Who?
"Carnaby? Who did he kill?" asked Higgins in surprise. "There were no other murders committed the month that Amelia died."
"That's because he didn't succeed," said the man. "Turns out he wasn't as clever as me."
"What do you mean?"
The hooded figure coughed again, a raspy, tickling sound that went on and on. "For God's sake, take this sack off," he complained. "I can't breathe. My throat is so dry that I can hardly talk and there's a lot to tell."
"Very well." Higgins walked towards him, pointing the knife. Lawrence flinched and looked away, but Higgins sliced through the cord and removed the sack. "You haven't changed much," he said, staring into the pallid face of Gilbert Cooper.
"That's more than I can say for you," said Cooper, grimacing.
Higgins moved his face to within a few inches of Cooper's. "This should have happened to you," he said. "Mind your manners."
Cooper recoiled. "I didn't do it."
"You caused it, but let's not dwell on that for now. Tell me about Carnaby. What did he do?"
"He tried to capture another girl," said Cooper. "I suppose he couldn't wait. Kerridge, her name was. He pretended to hire a servant and got her into a house. But he couldn't hold onto her, and she escaped."
"We know about the Kerridge girl," said Lawrence. "How do you know it was Carnaby?"
"It stands to reason," said Cooper. "He wanted me to get him a girl, and the day after I got one, he did too."
"Did you talk to him?"
"No. We never met again. But every time I got a girl, he got another. One for one, tit for tat. Him then me. It was a game you see."
"Then why did you start killing in Walthamstow?" asked Higgins.
"I know why," said Lawrence. "And that's the message I was on my way to deliver, Samuel. That's why I was hot-footing it to the print works so I could leave it for you."
"I wasn't sure," said Higgins. "Stanley fetched me as soon as you were on the move, just in case. Well, if you know, then tell me why?"
"Because he moved to a new house," said Lawrence. "Isn't that right, Gilbert?" The sneer lingering on Lawrence's face did not bypass Cooper.
"Don't look so disappointed in me, Mr Harpham," said Gilbert Cooper. "You have lied too. You're no more a reporter than I am."
"You believed me at the beginning."
"Yes, stupidly. But it didn't last long. I wised up to you quickly, and it was pure bad luck that that brick didn't dash your brains out."
"Never mind that," Higgins interjected. "You moved where?"
"Buxton Road," said Cooper.
"Where you're lodging?" Higgins turned to Lawrence.
"Yes. A few doors down. I've been swapping ideas with this fellow ever since we started," said Lawrence. "It didn't occur to me until tonight that it might be him, though all the clues were there."
"Clues?"
"Paint-spattered overalls, living close enough to follow me and the damage to the bicycle. Who else could it have been? Hardly anyone knew it was there."
Cooper sneered. "I could hear you coming a mile off on that thing. And yes. I moved to Buxton Road because I ran out of money. The rooms were smaller and cheaper than those in West Road, but then my wife started running a shop, and she did alright. I worked when I needed to, and we managed, but I never forgot Amelia Jeffs or the way it made me feel. A year later, I took a contract on a building site in Walthamstow and worked there for the best part of three years, cycling to work every day. One Monday evening, I was riding home and I'd ju
st gone down Markhouse Road when I heard two people screaming at each other. I looked up to see a young girl fleeing the house barefoot with no coat or hat. Her mother shrieked like a banshee, cursing at her daughter and telling her not to come back. The woman was in her cups and didn't care enough to go looking for the child. Without further thought or a plan in my head, I left my cycle in an alleyway and followed the girl, watching as she walked barefoot to Collingwood Road. I loitered nearby as she knocked on the door of her friend's house and waited for half an hour until she left and walked to the house of another. I nearly gave up. It was bitterly cold and were it not for the memories of killing Amelia I would have gone home. But the girl moved on again, walking towards Low Hall Lane and I knew I was onto a winner. The area was familiar. I had walked there a few times, and I knew it was dark and lonely – just the right place to have my way."
"With a ten-year-old girl? Aren't you the big man?" Higgins slammed the knife into the packing crate, where it stuck, blade quivering in time with his rage.
"I told you. It was a game. A dare."
"You said you never saw Carnaby again?" Lawrence struck quickly, determined not to let the reprehensible creature before him get away with any detail.
"And I told you it didn't matter. It was part of the game. Words weren't necessary."
"Who killed Elizabeth Skinner?" asked Higgins
"Carnaby."
"Florrie Rolph?"
"I did."
"William Barratt?"
"Carnaby, obviously. I wouldn't touch a boy."
"On that basis, you killed Mary Jane Voller," said Higgins.
Cooper nodded.
"And by process of deduction, Carnaby killed Bertha Russ."
"Exactly." Gilbert Cooper crossed his arms and regarded Higgins with an air of satisfaction, like a man who had finally mastered a stubborn animal.
"Except it couldn't have happened, now could it?" said Lawrence.
"Well, it did."
"Then why did you follow me to Lawrence Avenue and attack me with a brick?"
"It was Carnaby," said Cooper sullenly.
"You admitted doing it only five minutes ago."
"I misspoke. Carnaby did it."
The Moving Stone Page 17