The Slum Reaper_Murder and corruption in Victorian London

by David Field

  ‘Vows can be broken. Ask your average nun. Can we confirm Friday?’

  ‘I’ll check with Esther. Now go away, please.’

  ‘It’s almost dinner time and the meat pies are on me.’

  ‘One of them certainly will be, if you don’t eat it carefully.’

  ‘As a comedian you make a fine police officer.’

  ‘I may have to consider the music hall if you get me sacked from here.’

  ‘Then the sooner we step outside, the more secure will be what you choose to call your career.’

  Ten minutes later, they were bringing each other up to date and Jack was eager to get in first.

  ‘There’s not been a report of murdered twins anywhere in the Met for the past few months — since March anyway. And Victor Bradley has a country estate in...’

  ‘Horning,’ Percy cut in with a grin.

  ‘If you knew why did you waste my time?’ Jack complained.

  ‘I wasn’t to know that the man himself would tell me, was I?’

  ‘You’ve interviewed him?’

  ‘I spoke to his verbal stone wall, certainly. And he was most insistent that his involvement with the Bethnal Green housing demolitions was a shining example of inspired business acumen rather than a nasty piece of civic corruption.’

  ‘That’s about as believable as the suggestion that the Pope’s wife shops at Marshall and Snelgrove.’

  ‘Obviously. But he seemed to be able to establish that he only became a director of Gregory Properties after the Council decided to flatten the centre of The Old Nichol. He bought in for twenty thousand and here’s the page from the company accounts to prove it.’

  Percy handed over the sheet from Bradley’s safe and Jack began to examine it as Percy carried on talking regardless.

  ‘Mind you, some things don’t quite add up. Mallory was obviously anxious to prevent me speaking to Bradley when he fed me that rubbish about Bradley being absent from duty on account of sickness. And when I spoke to that girl Clara Manders in custody in Bethnal Green, it turns out that she was a friend of Emily Broome’s, and Emily told her that the twins had been kidnapped by Michael Maguire. Are you listening to all this, or taking lessons in company accounting?’

  Jack had been staring at the page handed to him by Percy and now he looked up with a puzzled frown.

  ‘Remind me of how much was paid over in ransom for those twins.’

  ‘A hundred thousand, according to Mallory. Why?’

  ‘Probably just coincidence, but shortly after the ransom money must have been paid, Gregory Properties got an injection of exactly the same amount — one hundred thousand.’

  ‘Give me that!’ Percy demanded, read it for himself, then slapped his forehead by way of punishment.

  ‘Thank you for that much-need refresher course on basic policing — read the whole bloody thing! I was so busy trying to prove that Bradley was lying that I missed something potentially more significant.’

  ‘We don’t know if it was cash,’ Jack reminded him.

  ‘They could have purchased bearer bonds or something to hide the fact that they’d suddenly had a massive cash donation. Presumably I don’t have to spell out what this suggests?’

  ‘That Mallory staged the kidnapping of his own twins in order to acquire one hundred thousand of his own money to pay it into the company’s account? That doesn’t make sense.’

  ‘It does when I tell you that it wasn’t his money! On his own admission, the money came from some sort of trust of which his wife was the beneficiary. The company was in deep financial trouble up until then, as you can see from the state of its balance sheet immediately before the one hundred thousand was paid in. They were in urgent need of finance and didn’t want to look for more investors with whom to share this little fortune in the making, so they rigged up a fake kidnapping in order to get money from the wife’s trust fund.’

  ‘Do you think the wife was in on it?’

  ‘Who knows? When I interviewed her in connection with Emily Broome’s disappearance she didn’t seem at all distracted or emotional, but then we didn’t discuss the children, because I didn’t know at that stage that they were missing. The good news out of all this is that those poor wee mites are probably still alive somewhere. At least, it’s to be hoped that they are, given that Michael Maguire was hired to do the job, at least according to Clara Manders, who claims to have got it from Emily herself. Did they put all the meat in your pie, by the way and sell me just the crust?’

  ‘You sound like a man in need of a lamb roast.’

  ‘“Lead kindly light”, as the old hymn goes. Friday’s tasting good already.’

  ‘One thing I’ll say for you Enright males,’ Esther muttered as she removed the last of the supper things from the dining table, ‘is that you lack subtlety. Percy ate his supper like it was his last, while Jack didn’t eat his with the speed of light as usual, suggesting that he’s nervous. Only one thing makes Jack nervous, in my experience and that is the risk of incurring my wrath. I can safely assume, can I not, that you both want me to get involved in another of your schemes designed to get me killed?’

  ‘Do you remember how to use needle and thread?’ Percy asked with an appreciative smile.

  ‘Why? Is there some repeat axe murderer out there whose lips you want sewn together?’

  ‘You can begin by writing a letter.’

  ‘To whom, and what about?’

  ‘This time I want you to pose as a seamstress looking for private customers along the leafy lanes of Hampstead.’

  ‘I’m sure they all have accounts with society tailors in the West End, so what exactly is this all about?’

  ‘The lady who employed Emily Broome — the mother of the missing twins — was very impressed with Emily’s ability to employ needle and thread,’ Percy explained. ‘Her husband told me that, and it was probably one of the few pieces of truth I got out of him. Now that Emily’s no longer in her service, she may be in the market for a part-time seamstress, so I want you to write her a letter, making it seem like one of many that you’ve sent to potential customers in the high end of town. You’re a young married mother of two, whose husband brings in an inadequate income, you’re bored and you want to supplement the family income employing the old skills you’ve had to abandon since marriage.’

  ‘At least I won’t be telling any lies this time,’ Esther replied acidly, ‘except for the abandonment of my old skills. The scrapes that Jack gets into at work require me to convert his suits into coats of many colours, to quote from the Old Testament. Blame my Jewish upbringing.’

  ‘So, you’ll do it?’ Percy asked eagerly.

  ‘Only if you tell me why,’ Esther insisted.

  ‘Ah yes, nearly forgot that bit,’ Percy conceded. ‘The thing is that the lady — a Mrs Millicent Mallory — didn’t seem unduly distracted or bereft when I interviewed her in connection with Emily. In fact, her lack of concern ran to the extent of not even mentioning the kidnapping of her twin sons. Her husband fed me a load of lies about not wanting to tell the police before they paid over the ransom money, but he also confided that the twins weren’t returned after the money was paid.’

  ‘We’re pretty sure that the kidnapping was a ruse, in order to extort money from the wife’s private family trust,’ Jack added.

  ‘Was the wife in on it, and does that explain her silence on the subject?’ Esther asked.

  Percy nodded. ‘That’s one of the things I need you to find out. During your professional visits to the house, pick up anything you can that suggests, one way or the other, whether the mother was in on the kidnapping of her own twin sons.’

  ‘And that’s all?’ Esther said suspiciously.

  ‘If you learn anything more about Emily’s disappearance, that’ll be a bonus,’ Percy added, ‘particularly for your friend Alice.’

  ‘And I pass anything I get on to Jack? Or is this a devious scheme to get more roast lamb suppers?’

  ‘Thought you’d never
get round to making this a weekly arrangement,’ Percy replied, smiling. ‘What’s for pudding?’

  Chapter Thirteen

  ‘How are our guests enjoying our fine cuisine?’ Percy enquired with heavy sarcasm as he walked past the front desk, then stopped on a hand signal from the sergeant.

  ‘The girl seems very grateful fer the best cell in the place an’ the chop ’ouse down the road’s enjoyin’ the increased custom, but Inspector Mitchell wants ter know who’s payin’. An’ as fer Martha Crabbe, we’d all deem it a great favour if yer’d get ’er moved ter the jail. She’s been charged like yer instructed, so she shouldn’t be ’ere any longer an’ she’s givin’ us all grief. Apart from the shoutin’ an’ carryin’-on, she spits like an alleycat.’

  ‘Women show their affections in different ways,’ Percy replied, chuckling, ‘but you’ve just given me an idea. Is she in one of those cells with bars instead of a door?’

  ‘Yeah, mainly so we can see what she’s up ter when we goes down there wi’ ’er food.’

  ‘Has she been fed this morning?’

  ‘No, not yet.’

  ‘Very good. I’ll be back down in a few minutes for her bread and lard.’

  ‘Bugger off!’ was Martha’s initial response when Percy appeared in front of her bars.

  ‘Nice to see you again too, Martha. I take it you don’t want this fine repast?’

  ‘Shove it up yer arse!’

  ‘Tut tut! And here I was, all prepared to discuss a little arrangement under which I’d drop the current charge against you — which, remember, would qualify you for an appointment with the public hangman — and have you transferred to Newgate, where the food’s better.’

  ‘What yer got in mind?’

  ‘Well, this may sound a little unusual, coming from someone in my profession, but I want you to agree to be transferred out of here into Newgate and then send word to Mangler Maguire that you want to be rescued.’

  ‘An’ why would I do that?’

  ‘I just told you. A reduced charge — perhaps no charge at all, depending on the outcome — and a change of scenery. But if Mr Maguire does accept your request for a rescue, don’t expect to be out for long.’

  ‘Yer plannin’ summat, aren’t yer?’

  ‘Obviously, but that’s for me to know and you to wonder. But from your perspective, it’s the only show in town at the moment. Do we have a deal?’

  ‘Yeah, but if Mangler decides ter do me in once ’e gets me out…’

  ‘Yes, I know,’ Percy joked, ‘you’ll never speak to me again.’

  ‘Do you have any references?’ Millicent Mallory enquired over the lip of her tea cup at Esther seated across the low table from her.

  ‘I haven’t worked for some time, as I explained,’ Esther replied in what she hoped was the right mixture of eagerness and deference. ‘Before I was married, I was employed in a garment factory in Spitalfields, but unfortunately the proprietor died shortly after I left. I’ve had several replies to my letters, but there’s no-one as yet who could confirm my ability.’

  Millicent reached across to the settee at her side and handed Esther a child’s nursery bib that contained an inch-long tear. Then she put down her tea cup, stood up and walked to a small wicker basket on a low table by the window, from which she extracted a needle with a length of thread already attached. She handed it to Esther with a smile.

  ‘I won’t need any references, if you can show me how good you are with this.’

  Esther lost no time in running a perfect line of holding stiches down the tear as she smiled down at the garment.

  ‘You have small children?’

  ‘Just two into their double figures now. Lawrence is thirteen and Lydia’s just turned eleven. If I employ you, one of your tasks would be to teach her how to sew and darn. At present her world seems to revolve around those dreadful novel things that are really not appropriate for a young lady of breeding.’

  ‘Some would say that neither is being a seamstress,’ Esther smiled deprecatingly. ‘Have you something more challenging than this child’s bib?’

  ‘I have a tea blouse with fraying around the cuff,’ Millicent replied. ‘May I go and get it for you?’

  ‘Yes, please do.’ Esther smiled eagerly, then took a good look round the sitting room while her prospective employer was out. On a side cabinet was a photograph of two grinning infants, beaming out at the world from some sort of pushchair. It hadn’t gone yellow yet, like the few that Esther had seen in the past had done, so she could assume that it had been taken fairly recently. There was a bustle in the doorway and Millicent Mallory reappeared carrying an elegant silk blouse.

  ‘I’m quite fond of this,’ she advised Esther, ‘but as you can see, it’s become badly worn with use.’

  ‘Would I be permitted to cut it?’ Esther asked.

  Millicent nodded. ‘Provided that you know what you’re doing.’

  With a reassuring smile, Esther asked for the workbasket on the nearby table, then set about cutting the cuff from its join with the lower sleeve and reversing the material before re-sewing it using a thread of approximately the same colour as the blouse. Millicent’s eyebrows rose in admiration and she smiled broadly as she advised Esther that her services had just been acquired.

  ‘Thank you very much,’ Esther replied humbly.

  ‘We haven’t discussed the details, of course,’ Millicent reminded her, ‘but I’d initially require you here once a week. The girl who used to do this sort of work walked out on us without warning some weeks ago now and there’s quite a bit to catch up on. If it’s convenient for you, I’d like you to come on Wednesdays, since I have a weekly bridge club on that day and our meetings sometimes run late. It would be convenient to have you here when the children get home from school and of course you could then begin teaching Lydia what she needs to learn. I’ll pay whatever your professional rates are, per garment, and you could start this coming Wednesday, if that would be convenient?’

  ‘Definitely!’ Esther enthused as she stood up to leave. ‘Next Wednesday, then.’

  On the appointed day, Esther presented herself, carrying her own sewing box and was immediately set to work with a pile of assorted pieces of running repair, from a boy’s school jacket to a ball gown that needed to be let out at the bust. She’d been at it for two hours or so, seated at the sitting room table, when a maid delivered tea and biscuits and was followed into the room by Millicent Mallory, who invited Esther to take a break and share tea with her.

  ‘Tell me about your own children,’ Millicent invited her and Esther was grateful that she was not required to invent a family for the occasion.

  ‘My eldest is a girl called Lillian, but we just call her Lily. She’s four now, and I have a two year old called Bertie.’

  ‘Is that short for Albert? It’s become such a popular name since the Queen married her handsome prince.’

  ‘Yes, I think that’s why we chose it,’ Esther confirmed. ‘My husband and I are such admirers of the Queen and her beautiful family.’

  ‘What does your husband do for a living?’

  ‘He’s employed in an insurance brokerage,’ Esther lied. ‘He’s only a junior clerk at present, but he hopes to climb the ladder over the years and perhaps finish up as a broker himself.’

  ‘Hence the need for you to supplement the family income with your own skills.’ Millicent nodded with a degree of condescension. ‘I’m very fortunate that my own husband is a highly successful lawyer in The Strand. Lord Combermere is one of his clients.’

  ‘You must have been very young when you had your children, if I might make so bold,’ Esther said in the hope of drawing the conversation in the desired direction. ‘You don’t appear to be much older than thirty, although I’m sure you must be.’

  ‘I’m thirty-six,’ Millicent advised her, clearly flattered. ‘It helps to have your children when you’re younger, I believe. I have friends of my own age who have ballooned out quite alarmingly through hav
ing their third or fourth when in their thirties. Now, if I might revert to more mundane matters, could you get Lydia to take off her school dress when she comes in and hand it to you? The hem’s hanging after one of her boisterous games at her school and it makes her look such a drudge. If they continue to tolerate that sort of thing, we’ll be obliged to change her school. Now, since you seem to have enough to occupy you for the time being, I’ll go up and change ahead of my weekly appointment at my bridge club. They serve a light luncheon there, so I’ll be eating out, but I’ll ask cook to send you in some sandwiches later on.’

  ‘Thank you very much,’ Esther replied dutifully, then changed her seat for the comfortable one near the front window, from which she could watch comings and goings.

  An hour later, while munching appreciatively on a salmon sandwich, she saw a man she took to be the family coachman walk from round the side of the building to what appeared to be the stables and lead out a horse which he attached to a brougham. A few minutes later Millicent Mallory stepped out from the front door and the coachman opened the coach’s side door with a slight bow of respect as Millicent climbed in, immaculately dressed in a blue outdoor coat with matching feathered hat and gloves. The coachman slapped the reins and the carriage ground down the gravel drive into the side road beyond, turning left towards the main road.

  Less than thirty minutes later, Esther looked up in surprise as she heard the coach returning and watched the coachman reverse his earlier actions before disappearing back down the side of the house, where he presumably had his accommodation. Shortly after that the maid appeared to retrieve the leftovers from Esther’s snack and smiled as she saw the flowered shawl that Esther was working on.

  ‘I wish I could sew like that. Me Ma always promised ter teach me, but then she ran off when I were only twelve, leavin’ just me and me Da. I’m Jane, by the way.’

  ‘Esther. I’m only here for the day, doing some sewing work for the family.’