Inspector Abberline and the Gods of Rome

by Simon Clark

  ‘Ah … that is my secret … I will not tell it, unless I have your word as English gentlemen that you will not kill me.’

  William lowered the pistol. ‘Very well, sir, you have my word.’

  ‘Thank you. I am Italian. A true patriot. I will gladly die for my country. However, I do not wish to surrender this earthly life until my work is complete.’

  Thomas snapped angrily, ‘And what work is that? Frightening poor maidservants half to death?’

  ‘I would never have harmed her,’ he replied. ‘Yes, I often employ brutal methods, gentlemen, but I don’t kill innocent ladies.’

  Abberline nodded. ‘The Gods of Rome … that’s your work, isn’t it? Your quest?’

  ‘Ha, indeed. Bravo, Inspector, you are astute. I did hope you would reach that conclusion before anyone else. Our policemen could learn much from you.’

  ‘That’s why you took the carving of the pagan god from the shrine at Fairfax Manor. You wanted to prove to your superiors that you were making progress in your search for the gold statues known as the Gods of Rome.’

  William had questions of his own. ‘I have given you my word not to put a bullet in your conniving brain. So tell me this secret to which you attach so much importance?’

  Franco nodded. ‘Of course, you must know. After all, my information might save your life. Though, in truth, it might be beyond saving.’

  ‘Stop playing games,’ William said curtly. ‘Tell us what you know.’

  ‘I confess. I have been watching you and your house, Signor Denby.’ Franco spoke in a matter-of-fact way. ‘And in a most discrete fashion, I also observed your late brother, Sir Alfred, at Fairfax Manor.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Coincidentally, I discovered that another man was spying on him. I saw him on several occasions in January this year. I saw the same man here at Newydd Hall. He was spying on you, signor.’ Franco looked William in the eye. ‘He was spying on you – and he carries a rifle. I believe he is an assassin. He will kill you, I’m sure of it.’

  Abberline spoke briskly. ‘William, ride with the soldiers. Return to the house as quickly as you can.’

  ‘What will happen to this fellow?’ He nodded at Franco.

  ‘He has a bullet wound in his arm. With your permission I will see that the injury is dressed.’ Abberline turned to Franco. ‘And with your permission I would like to ask you some questions.’

  ‘To be interviewed by the world-famous Inspector Abberline of Scotland Yard? It would be an honour, signor.’ He gave a bow. ‘Though I may refuse certain questions. You do understand?’

  ‘You are a professional spy,’ Abberline said. ‘I’m sure very little of what you say to me will be the truth.’

  ‘This will be a delicious experience, Inspector. I am looking forward to it. Ah ….’ Franco turned to gaze at Laura Morgan who sat mute and unmoving in the carriage. ‘Two years ago, something very precious was taken from the lady. Take care of her. She has suffered. ’

  CHAPTER 33

  They returned to the manor house. William Denby took Franco Cavalli to have the bullet wound in his arm cleaned and bandaged. Thomas, meanwhile, helped Laura Morgan down from the carriage. Her hands had the chill of a stone tomb.

  Laura suddenly gave a sharp intake of breath. ‘I saw what nobody else could see … I saw what’s to come. The spirit gave me visions of you fighting the man in yellow. And I know what will happen to you, sir.’ She looked directly at Thomas. ‘You will be killed, sir. I swear to God, sir, it’s true.’

  Abberline said gently, ‘You will be cared for now. No one will hurt you. You’re safe.’

  ‘Thank you, sir.’ She swayed.

  Abberline put his arm round her shoulders. ‘Lean against me, I won’t let you fall.’

  ‘You tried so hard to stop those ladies from falling. Inside my head, I see you walking through the darkest part of the city. You tried to save the women, sir, but they were cut to pieces by a smiling man. I see him working with a knife in a room full of blood, and he’s always smiling. Later, you stood in the same room, with the poor, butchered girl lying there on the bed.’

  The housekeeper, walked across the courtyard toward them. Two young maids accompanied her.

  ‘Here’s Miss Groom,’ Abberline said in a reassuring voice. ‘All is well now, Laura.’

  Laura whispered, ‘I saw him, sir. In my head, I saw the man they call the Ripper. The smiling man. He wants to torment you … the smiling man will visit you again. He has a gift for you.’

  Miss Groom spoke briskly, ‘Come now, girl. Let’s get you to bed.’

  ‘Yes, Miss Groom.’ Laura allowed the maids to lead her.

  The housekeeper nodded at Abberline. ‘We’ll look after her, sir. Don’t be concerned.’

  ‘With you in charge, madam, I’m sure she is in the best of care.’

  Miss Groom smiled, flattered. She raised her hands and made a motion with them as if rinsing them in water. ‘Thank you, sir. That’s most kind. I treat my staff like they are my own children.’

  Laura suddenly stopped dead. She glanced back. ‘Sir, I’ve seen so many things that others can’t. I saw a white figure in my room. A ghost man – or perhaps he was one of the Gods of old Rome. Today I saw lost babies in the bulrushes. Nobody else could see them. But I saw them plain. I saw their sad eyes and their hands stretching out.’ Tears glistened in her eyes. ‘They wanted to be picked up and loved.’

  The maids gently coaxed her toward the house.

  ‘I’m sorry about that, sir,’ Miss Groom said. ‘I fear that the girl has lost her mind.’ With that, the woman followed Laura and the maids back to the house.

  Thomas turned to Abberline. ‘When Laura talked about the room full of blood, she was describing the room where Jack the Ripper killed Mary Kelly, wasn’t she?’

  ‘She mentioned a smiling man, too.’

  ‘Of course, she would have read about the Ripper slayings in the newspapers.’

  Abberline appeared deep in thought. At last, he sighed. ‘Laura claims that there are supernatural beings that we can’t see. I have a feeling that all around me are clues that are relevant to the Denby murders. Yet why can’t I see them? What am I missing that’s so crucial to finding the killer?’

  ‘You, yourself, told me that the assassin is cunning. They make the deaths seem like accidents.’

  ‘Perhaps my eyes are getting too old to see what might be in full view in front of me?’ He suddenly walked toward the house. ‘Come on, Thomas, it’s time we spoke to Signor Cavalli. Perhaps he has witnessed something significant on his spying missions – even though he, himself, might not realize it, he might help us solve this mystery.’

  Franco Cavalli sauntered into the room Abberline used as an office. A sling cradled his injured arm. The bloodstained yellow coat hung over the other arm. His large, brown eyes swiftly devoured every detail of his surroundings, including the blackboard covered by the white sheet.

  Thomas realized that here was a formidable human being. Cavalli was clearly one of Italy’s most effective secret agents. Charisma and intelligence shone from the man’s handsome face. Thomas could vouch for the man’s strength, too. He doubted if many men would get the better of Cavalli in a fight. If it hadn’t been for the bullet in in his arm, he would have easily defeated both William and Inspector Abberline.

  ‘Thomas,’ Abberline said, ‘would you lock the door please?’

  Franco Cavalli raised his eyebrows. ‘So, after all … I am your prisoner, Inspector.’ The man spoke with a strong Italian accent. ‘I have diplomatic immunity, si? To hold me against my will is to offend protocol. This could cost you your rank.’

  Abberline said, ‘There are just the three of us here: Mr Thomas Lloyd, you, Signor Cavalli, and myself. I don’t want us to be disturbed.’

  ‘Then I am free to leave whenever I wish?’

  ‘I will call for a carriage to take you to the station, if that’s what you’d prefer.’

  ‘No, signor. I
relish this opportunity to speak to you. I am certain, Inspector, that I shall learn far more from you than you will from me.’ He smiled. ‘You are the greatest detective of our age. I am humbled to be in your presence.’

  Abberline didn’t react to the blatant flattery. He extended his hand toward a chair. ‘Please sit down, signor.’

  ‘Thank you. A bullet in the arm does, as you English say, take the wind out of one’s sails.’

  The Italian chose a straight-backed chair near the window. Sunlight flooded over him and he basked in its warmth.

  Abberline didn’t waste time with small talk. ‘Signor Cavalli, what is your purpose here in Britain?’

  ‘I am a spy. My government ordered me to watch the Denby clan. But please call me Franco. We are friends now.’

  ‘You suspect the Denby brothers being involved somehow with the Gods of Rome?’

  ‘There is no “somehow” about it. We know that statues cast from gold were concealed fifteen hundred years ago when barbarians invaded Italy. The emperor ordered that the statues be hidden in a cave. After the Roman Empire fell, the statues’ whereabouts were lost. Twenty years ago, a farmer searching for a goat found those fabled gods once more.’

  ‘The find wasn’t reported to the authorities?’

  ‘The statues are made of gold, Inspector. The farmer wanted to be rich so he sold them to a criminal family. They sought a purchaser for their treasure. Sir Alfred Denby was the man who bought the statues. He had them shipped to this country two decades ago.’

  ‘How do you know all this?’

  ‘A mafiosi, a man by the name of Aldo D’Silva , faced execution for murder. D’Silva did a deal with the government. In exchange for his life, he told the police all he knew about the Gods of Rome: how they were found, how they were sold, and how the scoundrel, Sir Alfred Denby, smuggled them out of my country. We even know that Denby planned to give the gold Faunus to your queen as a gift. He hoped to be … how do you put it? Elevated to the aristocracy … as a reward for his generosity. Being a lord would open doors for Sir Alfred. He would become more powerful, more wealthy.’

  ‘So, you were ordered by your government to find out where the Gods of Rome were hidden, and ... what? Steal them back?’

  ‘Why should I need to steal what, after all, is the property of my people?’

  ‘You believe that the statues are concealed on land belonging to the Denby family?’

  ‘In some basement, or behind a false wall, or some out of the way stable, will be a pantheon of golden gods which were created by the greatest artists of the greatest of all empires: the empire of Rome.’

  ‘You do realize that your spying activities are highly illegal?’

  ‘Si.’ Franco’s smile was as pleasant as ever. ‘But I am part of the ambassador’s staff. The police cannot prosecute. In fact, I am the innocent victim. I could complain to your superiors that I was enjoying a stroll in the Welsh countryside when British soldiers fired at me for no reason.’ He touched his wounded arm. ‘A British bullet gashed my flesh. What’s more, British policemen pounced on me.’

  A knock sounded on the door.

  Abberline turned to Thomas. ‘Best see who it is.’

  Thomas opened the door to reveal a maid in her black dress and white apron. She carried a tray, on which was a glass of golden liquor.

  ‘Sir,’ she said politely. ‘I’ve been told to bring this to your visitor. The injured gentleman.’

  Franco stood up before giving a low bow. ‘Thank you, my lady. Most kind.’ He smiled warmly at the maid who blushed bright pink. ‘Ah, brandy, the elixir that restores.’

  He took the glass from the tray. The maid curtsied.

  Abberline spoke to the maid. ‘Would you ask the butler to come see me? I would like to ask him a question.’

  ‘I’m sorry, sir. That won’t be possible.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘A shipment of port has arrived. Mr Ashton lists the bottles in his book, and puts them in the wine cellar himself.’

  Thomas rolled his eyes. ‘More port? The house must be awash with the stuff.’

  Franco chuckled. ‘Today, men are shot, men fight with their fists, there is an assassin nearby – he lurks in the dark of the forest – and still the most important task of the day is the laying down of port in the cellar. How delicious … how British!’

  The maid smiled, charmed by the Italian’s charisma.

  Abberline’s expression was unreadable. He merely turned to the maid and said, ‘Perhaps you could help me with a small matter?’

  ‘Of course, sir.’

  ‘The butler, Mr Ashton, how long has he served the Denby family?’

  ‘Oh, he’s been here ever such a long time.’ She smiled. ‘He always says that he started work here as a boy cleaning boots. He worked himself up to footman, under-butler, then butler, sir.’

  ‘He’ll have worked for the Denby family for at least twenty years?’

  ‘Oooh, yes, sir. More years than that. In fact, he was footman to the old master. That would be Mr William’s father.’

  Abberline smiled. ‘Thank you, what you’ve told me is extremely useful.’

  The maid withdrew from the room. Inspector Abberline opened the drawer in the table and took out a photograph. ‘We can speak frankly to one another, can’t we, Franco?’

  ‘I am delighted that we converse as friends.’

  ‘Because I would like to show you a photograph I found today. You’ll find it of great interest.’

  ‘Oh? Where did you find this photograph?’

  ‘Let us say that it came to us from the underworld.’

  ‘Ha, you are more remarkable than I could have believed, Inspector. If you receive help from the land of the dead, then I am in awe.’

  ‘I will show you this extraordinary photograph,’ Abberline told him. ‘And you will tell me all you know about the other man who has been keeping watch on this house and Fairfax Manor.’

  ‘I wish I could help, but I simply don’t know anything about the other spy.’

  ‘You might not realize it, but a fact that appears insignificant could be the key which unlocks the mystery.’

  Franco raised his brandy glass. ‘Here’s to you, Inspector. And to you, Mr Lloyd. You, Mr Lloyd, must see what I see. Inspector Abberline is an extraordinary policeman. He is the pivot on which this case of murder and theft tips from mystery to enlightenment. We are in the presence of a genius. Salute!’

  For the next hour Thomas sat quietly listening to Abberline and the master spy, Franco Cavalli, talk. Thomas suspected that there was mutual respect. The Italian was clearly awed by Inspector Abberline. Abberline, himself, recognized that Franco was the consummate professional. Franco explained that he’d travelled to the country estates tenanted by the Denby brothers. He’d kept watch in the hope he’d find evidence that the Gods of Rome were secretly stored at one or more of the houses. However, he’d found no clues to indicate that they were. Abberline asked why Franco had ventured into one of the balloon sheds.

  ‘Simply by chance,’ Franco Cavalli answered. ‘I have a professional curiosity in all things. When I saw that military airships were being tested here I decided to take a look for myself, make sketches then pass them to my superiors.’

  Thomas said sharply, ‘They are British balloons, sir. There might come a day when we depend on them to protect our nation.’

  ‘Ah, Mr Lloyd, but what if your warships of the sky fire their guns at Italian cities? Isn’t it my duty to protect my nation? The drawings I made will enable our scientists to build airships that will counter yours.’

  Thomas held out his hand. ‘You may have diplomatic immunity, but I demand you hand over the drawings.’

  Franco smiled quite pleasantly. ‘As you wish.’ He touched his forehead. ‘My memory is very good, however. I will remember every detail of what I have seen.’ The man pulled sheets of paper from his yellow coat, which he handed to Thomas.

  ‘That is a distinctive coat,’ said
Abberline.

  ‘Isn’t it a wonderful garment? Such a shade of yellow. Buttercup yellow!’

  Abberline leaned forwards to examine it more closely. ‘What’s unusual, too, is that it can be turned inside out. Then people will only see the brown lining.’

  ‘I believe the term for such a garment is reversible, si?’

  Abberline allowed himself a smile. ‘I imagine you ask people for directions to places, even though you know where they are. No doubt you also take a glass of beer in local taverns; therefore ensuring people see a foreigner in a striking yellow coat. Accordingly, witnesses will then give that description to the police.’

  ‘You have a formidable mind, Inspector.’

  ‘When you wish to disappear from view you turn the coat inside out. And, hey-presto, the coat is now a dull, earthy brown, and the police will search fruitlessly for a man in yellow. I see you also have a brown cap in your pocket that no doubt replaces the widebrimmed hat.’

  ‘Exactly. You have learnt the secret of my disguise.’ Suddenly the Italian’s accent vanished to be replaced with the impeccable tones of an English gentleman. ‘Top hole, my man. You really are rather good at this detective lark, aren’t you?’ Franco smiled. ‘I have rehearsed certain phrases so that I further merge with the crowd. I become an English gentleman in a dull coat.’

  ‘Hardly a gentlemen,’ Thomas said with a hot burst of anger. ‘You mistreated the maid. You kidnapped her.’

  ‘I found her in the building with the airship. She had a jar of oil and matches. The lady intended to burn everything – foof!’ He waggled his fingers to simulate flames. ‘Not only did I believe it necessary to take her away to avoid raising the alarm, I also feared that she would set herself alight. Lamp oil is very dangerous.’

  Thomas wouldn’t be deflected from what he saw as inhuman treatment of the woman. ‘You would have killed her to prevent her describing you.’

  ‘I do not kill innocent men and women, Mr Lloyd. A remote barn would have kept her out of harm’s way for a few hours. She would have been released before I vanished back into the night, as it were.’

  Abberline held the photograph out for Franco to examine. Thomas saw that it had been sandwiched between two pieces of glass – a wise precaution considering where the photograph had come from.