A Missed Murder

by Michael Jecks

  ‘Do you remember this toad, Simeon?’ she said now.

  He turned his attention to me. It made a change from staring down her cleavage, I suppose. Unconsciously, I found myself clenching my fists. She had been a good companion for a bedchamber gallop, and to see the little strumpet being fondled by this oily runt made my blood warm.

  ‘Him?’ Simeon said. ‘He’s just a second-rate purse-snatcher, isn’t he? I’d heard he learned under Bill, when he was the fence-master near the river, but Bill was never much good himself.’

  ‘Yes, I’ve always been unsuccessful,’ I said sarcastically. ‘Do you remember my silks, Jen? In my large house? All the silk lining my best clothes?’

  ‘Yeah? What happened to them, then?’ Simeon sniggered.

  Before I could answer, Humfrie cleared his throat. ‘We’re off to see Mal, Jen. Will you come with us?’

  ‘Mal? That bonehead?’ Simeon said, and gave a little laugh.

  Simeon had one of those laughs that is a cross between a horse whinnying and a stylus scraping down a slate. It made me shudder, and I gave him a look of contempt. ‘I’ll be sure to tell him what you think of him,’ I said, and was rewarded by a look of absolute terror.

  ‘You should be careful about threatening people with men like him,’ Jen said tartly. ‘I don’t think he’ll like to see you much.’

  ‘All I want is—’

  ‘To find some money, I know. Well, I don’t know if I can help you there.’

  ‘I just want you to speak to him.’

  ‘Ha! Yes, but then you won’t share the money, will you? I know you, Jack. You’re unreliable. Leaving me alone while you went off with your floozy! I shouldn’t have to put up with that.’

  ‘Yeah. And she’s happier with me, anyway,’ Simeon sneered.

  ‘I find that hard to believe,’ I said.

  ‘She’s with me, isn’t she?’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I said to Jen. ‘Second best is always hard, I imagine.’

  ‘You callin’ me second best?’

  ‘No,’ I said. ‘You don’t even measure, you shit-sack!’

  ‘I’ll have your guts!’ Simeon shouted.

  Humfrie stepped a little closer to me. ‘Sorry, Simeon, but this fellow is useful to me. I won’t have anybody try to harm him for now.’

  ‘Oh, yes? What, you think you can stop me, old man?’

  That was a mistake. I knew it, and from the look on Jen’s face, she did, too. She flapped a hand at Simeon while fluttering her eyelashes at her father, who was standing like a man bound to a tree. His face was white, and his stance that of a man held taut by unimaginable emotion. It almost seemed to me that the whole of nature paused as if cocking an ear for the inevitable explosion. Birds, I imagined, stopped their singing and twittering to listen; dogs searching trash piles for the odd delicacy halted; even hogs snuffling in the alleys stopped their foraging. For an instant I thought Humfrie might draw a knife and explain to Simeon in stabs of one syllable that his words could be construed as rude, and although I do hate the sight of blood, this was an opportunity I would not have missed for the world. But then the world stopped teetering, birds returned to their songs, dogs snapped up things unmentionable, and the hogs sauntered on. Humfrie’s tension relaxed and a small smile appeared on his face.

  ‘Yes,’ he said. Suddenly, his hand snapped out. He caught hold of Simeon’s collar and pulled. There was a mild squeak, which might have been the bench on which Simeon was sitting, but might have been the man himself, and then he was sprawled face down on the floor, his right arm up in the air, the wrist gripped firmly in Humfrie’s hands. I saw Humfrie’s foot lift, and then it slammed down into Simeon’s back as Humfrie twisted. There was a crackling sound, and I suddenly had an urge to throw up.

  Simeon gave a sharp yelp and was still.

  Humfrie dropped his arm. ‘Child, I need your help.’

  ‘What have you done to him?’

  ‘You’re not so old I can’t put you across my knee, you know, Jen!’

  ‘You’ve killed him!’

  I chose to be quiet at this point. It was obvious to me that Simeon was breathing, but I could see that this was a case where paternal persuasion would weigh more effectively with the strumpet. And I had no wish to see Humfrie irritated with me in the same way as he was with Simeon.

  Humfrie’s face had coloured now. ‘Don’t talk wet, maid! I dislocated his shoulder. He’ll be fine. But you will need to come with us.’

  ‘Why, just to help Jack? I’d rather be sent to the Tower!’

  ‘Just this once, can’t you pretend you’re a helpful child to your father?’

  ‘After what you did to Simeon?’

  ‘He was being rude.’

  ‘Rude? You’d kill a man for being rude?’

  ‘He’s not dead!’

  ‘And all for some money!’

  ‘I paid a fortune to see you raised properly, Maid!’

  ‘Oh, yes? What, like that old sow Maggie, who you paid to tup her every evening? She was a very expensive nursemaid for your daughter, I’m sure!’

  ‘She was … a good woman,’ Humfrie said, but he had reddened, and I saw his head drop a little as though ashamed.

  ‘She was good for one thing, I know that now!’ Jen said.

  ‘Ow! My arm, I—’

  Without looking down, Humfrie brought his foot down and Simeon yelped and was silenced again. ‘She was a good, kind woman, and she looked after you well, while I was out at work.’

  ‘Work! You were doing things for others before my Thomas came.’

  ‘I helped him.’

  ‘Yes. And now he’s disappeared.’

  ‘We still need your help,’ Humfrie said.

  ‘Then I want half the money.’

  ‘Come, Jen,’ I said. ‘If you can help us, you will be saving my life.’

  ‘Your life? So what?’

  ‘I have been threatened with death if I don’t find these purses. There are men here who want to take advantage of your father and me, now that Thomas is no longer here. They say, “Falkes is dead” or “Thomas Falkes? He can’t stop us now!” and they plan to take over all his operations.’

  ‘All?’

  ‘Aye, all. From the strumpets to the thieves to the gambling. And you know what happens at times like this? The first people who’ll end up taking a dive in the Thames wearing chains bound to a stone will be the men who were most helpful to Thomas. All those who helped him and supported him – they’ll be the first to disappear. Especially once Mal the Loaf tries his takeover. He won’t do well, but he’ll want to get rid of those he sees as his competition. People like your father. And me.’

  She lifted an eyebrow at that and glanced at her father.

  Humfrie nodded with a hangdog look.

  ‘Oh, very well. Just this once. But I still want half.’

  Mal was not a prepossessing sight.

  He was definitely one of those men who tends to run to muscle, with the largest and least used being the one inside his skull. It was fresh, his brain, by which I mean he used it as often as a chicken. And if you have ever looked after chickens, you will know that I mean him no compliment when I say that.

  He was no taller than me, but he didn’t have to be, because he was so wide he had to turn sideways at doorways. His chest was like a barrel, and his arms could barely touch the sides of his ribs, because of the overdeveloped muscles on his arms. Hands that were as short and stubby as a collection of sausages, but were thick with strength, hung at his side when his mind was at ease, which was often, but as he walked, they clenched and released with his steps, making his advance towards a man alarming. It looked as though he was thinking about pummelling you to death.

  His face was different. Whereas his body gave the impression of malevolence and aggression, his face was often clear of all emotion. He looked like a man who was waiting mildly for the next thought to occur to him, rather than a man planning the downfall of his previous superior. He had deep br
own eyes, a round face, and thick eyebrows that almost met over his nose. The nose, though, was more descriptive of him. It had been broken so many times that now it resembled a vegetable that had been pounded with a hammer: squashed, pulverized, and left as a grim reminder of what any man could expect were he to stand in the path of a fist large enough to knock Mal down.

  ‘’Allo, ’Umfrie,’ he said.

  He was standing in the gambling den that Falkes had created all of five years ago. There were many people in London who disapproved of such places. Bowling alleys were not the places of relaxation and mild entertainment that they could be in a country tavern. Here in the city they were the dives where men would go to enjoy gambling and whoring in all their forms. Those foolish enough to be gulled into putting down money for a game were those who could most easily be fleeced. Thomas Falkes knew that only too well when he set up his little bowling alleys, and he made sure that those who wanted to visit had every amenity at their disposal, from ales and women to the gull gropers who would offer to help the poor victims by loaning them money at exorbitant rates of interest. Any man who refused to pay their debts would have to meet with Mal to explain why, and he was hard of hearing when people asked for sympathy.

  ‘Mal,’ Humfrie said.

  Mal ignored me. He nodded once to Jen and then returned his attention to the meat pie in his hand. Gravy oozed and dribbled down to his stomach, but I suppose he didn’t notice. He was only wearing a poor, rather threadbare jerkin over his shirt – not that he would have cared if it was a silk jacket worth a king’s ransom. Some people have no idea how to look and behave in company.

  ‘What is this, ’Umfrie?’ he rumbled.

  ‘Have you heard that Thomas is on his way back?’ Humfrie said.

  ‘No!’ Mal’s eyes widened. ‘When?’

  ‘I don’t know. But there are some things that he’ll be worried about. Jen, his wife here, is keen to make sure that all is well, but Thomas was asking about two purses that you are looking after for him. The ones that Jeffry of Shoreditch gave you to take care of.’

  ‘They’re nothing to do with Thomas.’

  ‘Oh, good. You can explain them, then. I was worried Thomas had been lied to about them. So you have them both?’

  Mal scowled. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Where are they, Mal?’ Jen asked.

  Mal did not answer. He was staring at Humfrie, his expression darkening.

  ‘Mal?’ Humfrie said.

  It was rather like watching a filthy rainstorm on its way. You know how it is. Sometimes, when I was a lad, I would run away from home and sit up on a local hill and watch the weather. From up there, I could look out to sea, and from miles away I could see the storms coming. Sometimes as fast as a flight of geese, others as slow and stately as a swan on a river.

  The thunderstorms were always best. The thick, black clouds darkening the sea beneath, the waves turning grey and evil, as though a blanket was being drawn over the world, while flashes erupted deep within them. They were always exciting, their raw ferocity thrilling rather than terrifying – until I saw a tree struck only a few tens of yards from me. That was enough to curtail my interest in observing storms.

  Watching Mal’s face was a bit like that, as though he was about to start spitting lightning and rumbling like thunder that was not far enough off.

  ‘You come in ’ere and try to threaten me about those purses? You try to tell me I should be passing ’em over to you? Do you have any idea what they were for, eh?’

  ‘No, but I’m sure Thomas will want to know,’ Humfrie said, as if unconcerned.

  ‘’E’ll want to know about the purses, will ’e?’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Humfrie said.

  ‘You don’t know everything, do you? You come ’ere, spinning some cock-and-bull story about Thomas coming back, when you all know ’e’s dead! Even ’e knows it, since ’e saw to it that Thomas was captured!’ he added triumphantly, pointing at me.

  I confess, this was a new thought that I had not considered. I knew that Thomas had been captured back at Woodstock, but as to what happened to him after that, I had no more idea than, well, Humfrie.

  Humfrie clearly wasn’t so convinced of my innocence. The look he gave me was one of his milder glares, but I still had the feeling that I had been pinned to the wall behind me. ‘Tell me, Mal, what is said to have happened to him?’

  ‘’E met Master Blackjack there at an inn. ’E was going to catch Jack, but although ’e had two men with him, Jack managed to call the local officers, and Thomas and ’is men was caught and executed on the spot!’

  ‘No, they weren’t,’ I said. ‘They were captured, yes, but only for a minor affray in a tavern. No one would have hanged them for that.’

  ‘They wasn’t: they was executed as threats to the realm,’ Mal said sneeringly. ‘They were caught just down the road from Woodstock Palace, and everyone thought they was planning on breaking in and rescuing ’er.’

  ‘How do you know that?’

  ‘Because one of ’is men came back and told me!’ Mal said gleefully. ‘Didn’t expect that, did you?’

  Humfrie bent his head. I didn’t. Not because I didn’t like the backsliding, devious felon or his companions, you understand. Of course I didn’t, but it wasn’t that, just as it wasn’t because I was no hypocrite. I could pretend sorrow for another man’s passing whether I knew him or not, if there was a possible gain in it for me – such as a weeping widow to console, or handy purse dangling within reach – but no, this was for the sudden reflection that if Humfrie thought I had lied to him, or not told him all the truth about Falkes, he might take it into his head to forget his earlier words about disliking inflicting pain and seek to persuade me not to lie again.

  It would not matter that I had no idea about Falkes’s death. I couldn’t prove that, of course. So it was quite likely that at any moment Humfrie might decide to turn on me. And if he didn’t, what about Jen? She could well decide to launch herself on me. She was never all that logical, after all. I was just considering that Mal had no great liking for me either, and eyeing the distance between me and the door, when Mal suddenly beamed with happiness. It was as if the thunderstorm had miraculously abated, and instead the sun came shining through the clouds.

  ‘So you see, friend ’Umfrie, that all this is unimportant? It don’t matter, since Thomas is not coming back. And, I’m sorry, Mistress Falkes, for your loss. It must be a sore surprise to you to learn this. Still, it’s a bastard wind that doesn’t blow anyone any good, ain’t it?’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’ Humfrie asked.

  Mal set his head to one side. He looked like a pensive frog who’s just swallowed an over-large fly, his eyes still bulging with the effort. Mal never found thought particularly easy. ‘Think about it: you can ’ave your job still; Jen doesn’t have to worry about her ’usband finding out she’s been entertaining every free man in the city; and I don’t ’ave to worry about giving up the two purses.’

  ‘What were they for?’ Humfrie asked. ‘I saw him give them to you, and he looked relieved afterwards.’

  Mal gave him a sly look. ‘If anyone asks, they was gambling debts.’

  ‘So you didn’t do anything with it?’ Humfrie said. ‘You still have it?’

  ‘It’s my money,’ Mal said flatly. ‘No one else is taking it.’

  ‘What do you mean to say about me?’ Jen said at last.

  I had seen the slander brewing in her as soon as Mal mentioned that men had enjoyed playing hide the pudding with her. Her tone now was one I recognized. This time I took a step towards the door. I’ve already mentioned thunder and lightning, and if you knew Jen, you’d know that the way the air was fizzing now had nothing to do with lightning from the sky. This was coming from her. Pretty soon plates and jugs were likely to start flying.

  Humfrie turned to look at me in a contemplative manner. In his eyes there was a sudden cold ruthlessness which quite unmanned me. If there had been a seat nearby, I would
have collapsed into it. As it was, I smiled weakly at him, convinced that any moment now I would have my life ripped from me. I stood tottering, a smile of blank terror engraved on to my face.

  You see, Humfrie must have realized that his partnership with me was rather pointless. I had no money with which to pay him now. All I had was a nebulous relationship with a master who would no doubt seek to remove me since I was little use as an asset to him. After all, I had killed the wrong man and couldn’t possibly kill the man he wanted me to. And I couldn’t even pay my hireling to do it for me. What, really, when it all came down to it, was the point of anyone keeping me around?

  So I waited. If I could have bolted, I would have. However, when your bowels have turned to liquid, and your legs can barely support your weight, trying to run is not so appealing. I felt about as capable of running as a new-born foal.

  ‘Look,’ I said, desperate for an escape. I was too late.

  ‘You, Jack? I don’t know why you wanted to come here today, but it saved me going to find you,’ Mal said. He interlaced all his fingers and stretched his arms. All the joints cracked like ice breaking underfoot. I felt the gorge rising.

  ‘Mal?’ Humfrie said.

  Mal stopped and glared at him. ‘You can keep your job, yes.’

  ‘No, not that. I was wondering about this other purse. It was stolen the other night. I think someone’s been stiffing you.’

  ‘Stiffing me? What do you mean, “stiffing me”?’

  Mal’s eyes had narrowed into hard little chips of jet. Suddenly, the thunderstorm was back.

  ‘Thomas always kept a close eye on larger robberies. He didn’t want to lose the money when someone took a rich man’s purse, did he? Have you heard about the man who was robbed and murdered the other day over at the river’s side? Jack brought him there, but someone killed the man and took his money. And there was a lot in it, Jack reckoned.’

  ‘’Ow do I know Jack didn’t kill ’im and steal ’is purse?’

  ‘Me?’ I squeaked. I must have been convincing, because Mal gave me a really disdainful look.