A Date with the Executioner

by Edward Marston

  ‘He knows.’

  ‘Who are you talking about?’

  ‘Skillen knows that we were responsible for last night’s attack.’

  ‘But that’s impossible.’

  ‘Is it?’ asked Hamer. ‘Then perhaps you’ll explain how the two dogs were dumped outside my front door, one of them shot dead and the other trussed up. They were left there by Paul Skillen. The message was unmistakable.’

  ‘I see,’ said Carr, wincing. ‘That is unfortunate, I grant you. My intention was to give him such a fright that he’d stop getting in our way.’

  ‘He’s much more likely to get in our way now, Rawdon.’

  ‘That’s not necessarily the case. Besides, Skillen has no proof whatsoever that we were in any way involved. If he challenges us, we simply swear that we had no part in the business.’

  ‘What if the men you hired were caught?’

  ‘They weren’t, I assure you. I paid half their fee in advance so that I’d have confirmation that the job was done before they had their money in full. They said that it all went as planned.’

  ‘Finding two dogs outside my house this morning was not part of the plan,’ said Hamer, sourly. ‘The sight of them almost made me puke.’

  ‘I’m sorry about that.’

  ‘Now you can see why I sent for you.’

  ‘I can, Stephen, but we have nothing to worry about. Skillen has made a wild guess that we arranged that attack. We simply deny the allegation. I’ll say that we spent most of the night at my club before rolling back to my house. The notion of setting a pair of dogs on him would never occur to us.’

  ‘It occurred to you, Rawdon.’

  ‘They’ll never know that.’

  Carr took the wine glass proffered by a servant. He poured himself a generous amount from the decanter then had a first sip of it. Hamer remained anxious.

  ‘Cheer up, man!’ said Carr, patting his shoulder. ‘Brace yourself. You’ve faced enemy soldiers in battle. Why are you so upset by a couple of mangy dogs?’

  ‘How would you like to see them outside your front door?’

  ‘Frankly, I wouldn’t.’

  ‘We’ve been found out,’ stressed Hamer. ‘That could be awkward.’

  When the doorbell rang, he sat up with a start. Carr was unperturbed.

  ‘It’s probably not him, Stephen. It’s just a tradesman calling.’

  ‘Then why has he come to the front door?’

  ‘Stay calm. There’s no need for concern.’

  ‘I sincerely hope that you’re right.’

  They drank their wine and Hamer relaxed slightly. Moments later, there was a tap on the door and it swung open to reveal a servant.

  ‘A Mr Skillen is asking to see you, sir.’

  ‘Tell him I’m not at home,’ said Hamer, tensing.

  ‘No, don’t do that,’ advised Carr. ‘That will only strengthen his suspicions. Let’s face him together and send him packing.’ After thinking it over, Hamer gave an affirmative nod. Carr took over. ‘Show the gentleman in.’

  The servants withdrew and Carr moved to stand behind his friend. It was a matter of seconds before Peter was escorted into the room. When the servant left this time, he closed the door behind him. Peter looked from one to the other.

  ‘You are Mr Carr, I presume,’ he said, directing the question at him.

  ‘Heavens!’ exclaimed the other, ‘you have a very short memory, Mr Skillen. We shook hands on Putney Heath but two days ago.’

  ‘You are mistaken, sir.’

  ‘Have you taken leave of your senses?’

  ‘They are in excellent condition, Mr Carr. Let me introduce myself properly. My name is Peter Skillen. The person who acted as Mr Bowerman’s second was my brother, Paul.’

  ‘Your twin brother, I see,’ said Hamer, staring at him.

  ‘I’m here in Paul’s stead.’

  ‘Then you must meet Captain Hamer,’ said Carr, indicating his friend.

  Peter pretended to look around. ‘I see nobody of that name in this room.’

  ‘He sits before you.’

  ‘That’s not Captain Hamer,’ said Peter, levelly. ‘It’s Lieutenant Hamer.’

  ‘Confound you, man!’ cried Hamer, getting to his feet. ‘I’ll have you know that I was a captain in the Royal Horse Guards. The Blues are one of the finest regiments in the whole world. We fought at Waterloo.’

  ‘Your regiment distinguished itself at Waterloo and it has my admiration and gratitude for doing so. But you were no longer a member of the regiment at that point in time, were you, Lieutenant?’

  ‘Captain Hamer, if you please.’

  ‘Show my friend due respect,’ insisted Carr.

  ‘He doesn’t deserve it. As you well know, Lieutenant Hamer was court-martialled for conduct unbecoming an officer. He was drummed out of the regiment before it got anywhere near Waterloo.’

  ‘Where the devil have you got these disgraceful lies?’ demanded Hamer.

  ‘They came to me via the Home Secretary,’ said Peter, easily. ‘As a favour to me, he made contact with the War Office and enquired about your military career, such as it was. In claiming to have been a captain, you’re acting fraudulently.’

  ‘We don’t have to endure this nonsense,’ said Carr. ‘Be off with you, sir.’

  He moved forward to touch Peter but saw the look in his eye and pulled back.

  ‘I’m staying until I’ve said my piece,’ asserted Peter. ‘My first question is this. Posing as a captain, you fought a duel ostensibly for the hand of Miss Somerville. Is the lady aware of the deception you practised?’

  ‘Mind your own business,’ snarled Hamer.

  ‘Is the regiment itself aware of what you’ve been doing in its name?’

  ‘Don’t answer that,’ counselled Carr. ‘He’s trying to goad you.’

  ‘The former Lieutenant Hamer doesn’t need any goading, if you ask me,’ said Peter. ‘He’s almost straining at the leash. On the subject of leashes,’ he continued, ‘what’s happened to the two dogs we left outside your front door?’

  ‘They’ve been buried,’ grunted Hamer.

  ‘But one of them was still alive.’

  ‘He was shot.’

  ‘That’s poor reward for what he did at your behest. He and his companion ran all over the gallery. If it hadn’t been for the quick thinking of my friends, someone could have been seriously injured, perhaps even killed.’ He leant forward. ‘Being guilty of attempted murder is far worse than conduct unbecoming an officer.’

  ‘Get out!’

  ‘Or was it you who hired those men to batter down the doors?’ asked Peter, turning on Carr. ‘Your friend gives the orders and you run the errands.’

  ‘Be quiet!’ yelled Carr, shaking with righteous indignation. ‘You know nothing about us. We were not party to any attack on the shooting gallery. If you want the real culprits, look elsewhere.’

  ‘I don’t need to,’ said Peter, coolly. ‘They stand before me.’ He turned to Hamer. ‘My brother learnt something very interesting yesterday. The dagger that killed Mr Bowerman belonged to you. Is that true?’

  ‘It might be,’ admitted the other, ‘but I never put it there.’

  ‘We’re resolved to find out who did use it,’ declared Carr, ‘no matter how long it takes us.’ After taking a deep breath, he resorted to an attempt at charm, smiling warmly and speaking softly. ‘Come, sir, we should not be enemies. We want the same thing as you and your brother and that’s to catch the killer. That is where our energies are directed. Someone stole that dagger from here in order to embarrass the captain … my good friend, Stephen Hamer, that is. We should be combining resources and working together. The Runners will never find the villain in a month of Sundays. It therefore falls to us to do so.’

  ‘Then you must work on your own,’ said Peter, with biting contempt. ‘We don’t make common cause with a blatant liar like former Lieutenant Hamer and his pet monkey.’

  ‘I’m nobody’s monkey!�
� cried Carr.

  ‘I speak as I find, sir.’

  ‘Take care, Mr Skillen, I warn you.’

  ‘How many dogs do you intend to set on the gallery next time?’

  ‘We haven’t a clue what you’re talking about,’ said Hamer, dismissively, ‘so we’ll thank you to stop making unsubstantiated allegations.’

  ‘I endorse what the captain says,’ added Carr.

  ‘Except that he never attained that rank,’ Peter reminded him. ‘Since you’ve issued a warning to us, I’ll reply with one of our own. My brother and I will carry out an independent investigation and, if you try to hamper us in any way, Paul and I will come looking for you. Is that plain enough for you, gentlemen?’

  He had the satisfaction of seeing both men shift their feet uneasily.

  When a couple of hours had passed, Impey began to give up hope that she would come. Though Mrs Mallory had expressed a desire to transact business with his bank, she admitted that she intended to speak to other banks before she committed herself. Impey came to suspect that she’d been offered a more cordial welcome or better terms elsewhere and reproached himself for not impressing her the previous day with his eagerness to serve her. Another hour dragged by and he accepted defeat. Then, out of the blue, she turned up with her chaperone and was shown in by the chief clerk. Impey was on his feet at once, holding the chair until she sat in it and pouring out a veritable flood of niceties. Having sent the clerk out, he enjoyed once more the frisson of pleasure at being so close to Hester Mallory.

  ‘I thought you had deserted us,’ he said, hands fluttering.

  ‘Not at all, Mr Impey – I had other bank managers to visit, that is all.’

  ‘Yet you’ve come back to us.’

  ‘Nobody was able to accommodate me with the same readiness as you.’

  ‘Any friend of Jacob Picton’s will get preferential treatment here. Now,’ he continued, sitting behind his desk, ‘you said that you were in need of money to engage the artist who is about to paint your portrait.’

  ‘That’s true and, of course, I will need expenses while I’m here in London.’

  ‘What is the total amount that you require, Mrs Mallory?’

  ‘I feel that a thousand pounds will cover all eventualities.’

  ‘I can authorise a loan at a very reasonable rate of interest.’

  ‘Your trust in me is heartening, sir, but I’d like to offer additional proof that I am a bona fide client. As well as the letter from Mr Picton,’ she said, taking a document from her bag, ‘I have a bond for £2500, in Mr Picton’s name, to offer as security for the loan.’ She got up to pass it to him. ‘The important thing is that my husband must know nothing of the portrait I intend to give him as a birthday gift. When he receives it, of course, he will be overjoyed and will reimburse Mr Picton without delay. I am sorry that a certain amount of deceit is involved but Mr Mallory deserves a complete surprise. He has been the dearest of husbands.’

  ‘As well as the most fortunate,’ said Impey, venturing a compliment.

  She smiled. ‘Thank you, kind sir.’

  ‘I can see that you and Mr Picton have been co-conspirators.’

  ‘None of this would have been possible without his assistance and advice.’ She stood up. ‘But you’ll need time to study the bond before you advance any funds. I’ll come back this afternoon.’

  ‘No, no,’ he said, ‘there’s no need for that. Give me a moment to examine it then I will open the safe myself and take out the specified amount. My only concern is that you should be leaving here with such a large amount of money. This is a very dangerous city, Mrs Mallory.’

  ‘I have a carriage waiting outside.’

  ‘That’s very sensible of you.’

  ‘We are all too aware of possible jeopardy,’ she said. ‘It’s the reason my husband will never allow me to travel with money or with jewellery. Highwaymen will have no rich pickings from me. All I brought of real value was the bond and that is useless to any gentlemen of the road.’

  ‘You and Mr Mallory have behaved very sensibly.’

  ‘We always look ahead. It is an article of faith with us.’

  Charlotte Skillen had been alarmed when they’d been roused from their beds with the information that the gallery had been attacked. Peter had gone to inspect the damage and returned to tell her that everything was now under control. Nevertheless, it was only when she went there later that morning that she was persuaded the building now had stouter defences. Ackford had mended the doors and Huckvale fixed large brackets to the jambs so that he could slot in some thick planks of wood.

  ‘We’ve done everything but install a portcullis,’ he said.

  ‘You’ve done well, Jem,’ said Charlotte. ‘It must have given you a terrible shock, having two large dogs running up the stairs to attack you.’

  ‘It did. They sounded as if they wanted to eat us alive.’

  ‘This is very upsetting. First, we have the Runners bursting in and arresting you. Then we have last night’s attack. What next?’

  ‘Whatever it is,’ promised Ackford, ‘we’ll be ready for it.’

  ‘And where will the trouble come from?’

  ‘It won’t be from the Runners, I’ll wager.’

  ‘Gully is right,’ said Huckvale. ‘In raiding the gallery, they went too far. They’ll have been given a stern reprimand by the chief magistrate. Chevy Ruddock may get more than a rebuke.’

  ‘So I should hope, Jem.’

  ‘Peter is still certain that Captain Hamer instigated last night’s assault. That’s why he and Paul took those dogs to his house. Oh,’ she went on, ‘I shouldn’t be calling him a captain any more. The Home Secretary had word from the War Office and passed it on. It turns out that Hamer never rose to the rank of captain and he was dismissed from the regiment after a court martial.’

  ‘That tells us a lot about his character.’

  ‘If he’s a disgraced soldier,’ said Huckvale, ‘he could have been Mr Bowerman’s killer, after all.’

  ‘I doubt that, Jem.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘It looks as if he’s joined the hunt for the killer. That’s what prompted last night’s crisis. Hamer wants Peter and Paul out of the way so that he can have a clear field. If he solves the crime, he can claim the reward. Bills have been printed and posted up everywhere. Whoever catches the assassin stands to make a lot of money.’

  ‘We can use it to repair the gallery properly,’ said Charlotte. ‘Peter and Paul have set their minds on apprehending the man who murdered Mr Bowerman.’

  ‘Hamer is going to have serious competition.’

  ‘It won’t only come from Peter and Paul,’ Huckvale pointed out. ‘You’re forgetting the Runners.’

  ‘They’re too slow.’

  ‘They do solve some crimes. Give them credit for that.’

  ‘I will,’ said Ackford, ‘though some of their so-called successes come about because of all the informers they retain, most of them seasoned rogues. No, Micah Yeomans will do his best but he’ll always be trying to catch up with Peter and Paul. Hamer is the problem. We can ignore the Runners.’

  Having been turned away the previous day, Yeomans and Hale called at the house again that morning. Given the same message that Miss Somerville was not to be disturbed, they camped on her doorstep and vowed to wait there until she was ready to admit them. It was noon when Laetitia finally relented and had them shown in. Removing their hats, they entered the house respectfully. Wearing a black velvet dress and an expression of deep sadness, she was seated on the edge of a sofa. Yeomans introduced himself and his companion. Her only response was a slight movement of her head. Hale felt that they were intruding on her grief.

  ‘Perhaps we should come back another time,’ he whispered.

  ‘We’ve waited long enough already,’ said Yeomans.

  ‘Miss Somerville may not be in a fit state to answer questions.’

  ‘She’s as eager as we are to see this murder solved.’ He t
ook a step towards her. ‘Isn’t that true?’

  ‘Yes, it is,’ said Laetitia. ‘I want to see Mr Bowerman’s killer hanged.’

  ‘We’ll find him for you,’ said Yeomans.

  ‘Thank you.’

  ‘But we’ll do so much quicker if we have a little help from you.’

  ‘How can I possibly be of assistance?’

  ‘You knew the gentleman – we did not.’

  ‘That’s true.’

  ‘What manner of man was he, Miss Somerville?’

  ‘He was the most wonderful friend I’ve ever had,’ she said, dabbing at a tear with her handkerchief. ‘I’ve lost a rare jewel among men in Mr Bowerman. He changed my life when he came into it. How I shall manage without him,’ she added, voice cracking, ‘I simply don’t know.’

  ‘You have our sympathy.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Hale, ‘we’re sorry to bother you in your bereavement.’

  ‘It is, however, necessary,’ said Yeomans. ‘Tell us a little more about Mr Bowerman. Take your time and go at your own pace. There’s no hurry,’ He took out a notebook. ‘When and where did you first meet? How close were you and he? How did you feel when Captain Hamer turned up as if he had a claim on your affections?’

  After waving them to some chairs, Laetitia spoke slowly and with great emotion. She talked about the fateful dinner party at which she’d first encountered Bowerman and how there’d been an immediate affinity between them. The courtship, she hinted, had been gentle and unforced. At no point was there any threat to their happiness. She admitted to being startled by the sudden reappearance of Stephen Hamer and insisted that she no longer considered him to be a friend, still less a suitor. When Yeomans asked her if Hamer should be viewed as a suspect, she shook her head firmly. She had no doubt whatsoever of his innocence.

  ‘Do you have any idea who did murder Mr Bowerman?’

  ‘No, I don’t, Mr Yeomans.’

  ‘Did he ever talk about his enemies?’

  ‘How could he when he had none? Nobody could dislike Mark … Mr Bowerman, I should say. He was such a thoroughly decent man in every way.’

  ‘We’ve known other thoroughly decent men who’ve been murdered,’ said Hale, darkly. ‘On closer examination, they turn out to be less angelic than they’re painted.’