Skin Like Silver

by Chris Nickson

  ‘Get your coats,’ Harper ordered. ‘We’re going to Holbeck.’

  ‘Sugden?’ the sergeant asked hopefully.

  ‘Carr.’

  The route took them through the Arches, passing under the railway station, a uniformed bobby from Hunslet accompanying them. Scaffolding was up, and men were laying bricks and building the thick walls that would hold the new platforms. It was hard to believe the fire had been so recent. Everything was covered in dust, and the soft smell of mortar filled the air.

  Harper tried to pick out the spot where they’d discovered Catherine Carr’s body. But it was impossible. It might have happened somewhere else. Another town, another country. The only image left in his head was the silvered skin in the dim light.

  The public house had a few lunchtime drinkers who stared as the policemen entered. Harper had told the uniform to stay outside. Just in case. When the inspector turned his head again, half the customers had quietly disappeared. The landlord bustled out of the back, face dropping when he saw them.

  ‘I don’t like coppers in here. I don’t want trouble.’

  ‘Then we’ll make sure there isn’t any,’ Harper told him with a smile. ‘You’ve had a man spending the night upstairs.’

  ‘What the lasses do is their business,’ the landlord said. ‘Nowt to do with me.’

  ‘Then it won’t bother you if we go upstairs, will it?’ He paused. ‘Which room is it?’

  ‘Third door along on the left,’ he answered reluctantly. ‘I don’t want no trouble,’ he repeated lamely.

  They climbed the stairs quietly. Reed stood on one side of the door, Ash on the other as the inspector knocked. Silence, then the pad of bare feet on the boards and a girl turned the key.

  Without waiting, Harper forced his way in, the others right behind him. Carr was still in the bed, awake and naked.

  ‘What the hell …’ he began, sitting up.

  The inspector grabbed him by the hair, dragging him out of bed to stand white and exposed.

  ‘I’m arresting you for the murder of Catherine Carr,’ Harper told him. ‘Get yourself dressed.’

  Without a word, Carr obeyed, each action fast and deliberate until he sat to lace his boots.

  ‘Handcuffs,’ the inspector ordered.

  Carr glared as Ash snapped them on his wrists, and they marched him out into the daylight.

  ‘I didn’t kill her,’ Carr said haughtily.

  ‘You arranged it,’ Harper told him. ‘Barnabas Tooms has admitted it and we have the man who used the knife on her.’ He put a hand on the man’s back and pushed him so hard he almost stumbled.

  ‘Can I have a cigarette?’

  After a brief hesitation, the inspector nodded, and Carr stopped, moving his hands awkwardly towards his pocket. Then, as they were standing, he began to run. Just a few yards’ start.

  ‘After him!’ Harper shouted. But Carr had already turned the corner.

  Before they’d gone two paces the shot boomed. Then another. Both barrels of a shotgun.

  He saw Carr face down on the pavement, a lake of blood already spilling from his chest, and Sugden sprinting down the street, the weapon still in his hand.

  ‘Stay here,’ the inspector ordered the bobby. If Carr wasn’t dead yet, he would be very soon. It was too late to help him.

  He ran, hearing Reed and Ash just behind him. They sprinted along Sweet Street, footfalls echoing off the brick walls.

  They followed Sugden around to Marshall Street, towards the big mills. Gaining ground. Only a yard or two, but getting closer.

  The man swerved out into the road and ducked behind a cart; the driver raised his whip in astonishment. Next to him, Harper could hear Reed breathing hard.

  Marshall’s Mill lay ahead, but Sugden turned once more, dashing up the steps in front of Temple Mill.

  He hadn’t had time to reload, Reed thought. His eyes were on Sugden as the man pulled back the heavy doors and vanished.

  The sergeant had passed the building hundreds of times in his life. Someone had once told him that the front of the place, with its pillars and strange carvings, was copied from an Egyptian temple. Now he hardly noticed as he pounded up the stairs and dragged back the door.

  He heard Harper shout, ‘Round the back,’ and Ash’s heavy footfalls disappearing.

  Inside, the room was huge, vanishing into the distance. Shouting and the constant clack of machines filled the air. His eyes looked around for Sugden. Nothing. Then a woman at one of the looms raised her arm and pointed to the stairway off at the side.

  The sergeant nodded and began to run. He’d only lost a second. Not long enough for the man to put more shells in the gun. One flight, two. He could hear the echo of boots above him, and the inspector close behind, panting heavily.

  He looked up. Another flight and that was all. A wild shriek of metal as a door was dragged open. Reed pushed harder. He had Sugden on the run. This was the best chance he’d ever have.

  He came out to a shock of sky, a cold wind scouring his face and making his eyes water. It was a landscape he’d never imagined. Far away the hills vanished into the low clouds.

  The roof was filled with cones of glass, dozens of them. Light for the factory below. Each one was wide at the base and as high as his waist. For a second he had to stop and stare; it seemed so unreal, as if he’d stepped into another world.

  ‘I’ll take the far side,’ Harper told him breathlessly. ‘You go down this one.’

  Then he was moving. Slow, cautious strides, scanning everywhere for Sugden. The movement caught his eye. The man had ducked down, trying to hide. The shotgun was broken open, and he fumbled inside a pocket for more ammunition.

  ‘There,’ Reed shouted and began to run, dodging between the cones. His mouth was dry, excitement surging through his body. Quick enough and he’d take Sugden before he could slip the shells into the weapon.

  The man looked up and for the first time Reed could see him. The empty, flat expression. The hate in his eyes as his fingers moved. The long beard, matted and dirty.

  He was too far away. Sugden would have time to reload, to close the breech and take aim. One round for each of them. A hell of a thing, Reed thought. Survive Afghanistan and die on a rooftop in Holbeck. No glory there.

  But he moved ahead. This was his job.

  Sugden stood. He held the barrel of the shotgun tight in one hand. Quickly, he glanced over his shoulder. Then he turned and began to run.

  The sergeant looked across at Harper, picking his way along the other side of the roof. The inspector nodded. They were going to take him. Here. Now.

  A low wall ran all around the edge, a few courses of brick capped with stone. Sugden halted there, his gaze off somewhere on the horizon.

  Reed slowed. He could feel the blood pounding in his neck. He felt he was aware of everything, the way it had been in Afghanistan, the way it was during a fire. His eyes were locked on Sugden.

  The man was standing at attention, his back straight, head back. His hands moved, a quick series of shifts, one, two, three, until he held the gun at port arms.

  ‘Drop it!’ the inspector shouted, but the wind seemed to tear his words away. Sugden didn’t turn. He didn’t even seem to have heard. They were close now, no more than ten feet away. He could see the heavy streaks of grey in Sugden’s long hair. The dirt caked on his coat and trousers.

  Nearer, step by step. Reed took a deep breath.

  In one swift movement, Sudgen stepped on to the wall and jumped.

  They dashed to the edge and peered down. The body was sprawled on the ground, the shotgun a few feet away. Ash was already there, his fingers on the man’s neck. He looked up and shook his head.

  The sergeant took out a cigarette, surprised to see his hands shaking. The wind extinguished three matches before he gave up.

  ‘I saw his army record,’ Reed said emptily. ‘He was a good soldier. One of the best.’

  ‘Things happen, Billy. Something snapped. You said that yo
urself.’ But he knew what the sergeant was thinking.

  There was nothing more to say. It was over, all of it. Carr dead, Sugden dead. The only thing that remained were the reports. Then the recriminations.

  ‘Come on,’ Harper said quietly. ‘We might as well go down.’

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Workers had gathered in the yard, staring at the body but keeping their distance as they talked in low voices. As they walked between them, Reed managed to light the cigarette, drawing the smoke down greedily then kneeling over Sugden’s body.

  He reached down and turned the head. The sightless eyes. A trickle of blood from the mouth. It wasn’t a great distance down from the roof. Just far enough. He stood and sighed. Harper was talking to Ash, their heads bowed as they concentrated. The inspector made small hand gestures, pointing up to the roof, then the arc down.

  It was over. The biggest hunt in the history of Leeds. And no satisfaction in the ending. No one to try, or hang. Just a bag of broken bones lying on the dirt behind a mill in Holbeck.

  Who knew what Sugden had seen in Afghanistan? What had he done that turned his mind? They could only guess.

  The sergeant dropped the cigarette and ground it out under his boot. He felt deflated, empty. The only thing he wanted to do was go home and wrap his arms around Elizabeth. If he didn’t do that he’d sink to the bottom of a bottle of brandy.

  ‘Stay here until they take the corpse,’ Harper said when they were done. Ash nodded.

  He walked away, putting a hand on Reed’s shoulder. ‘Let’s go back to Millgarth.’

  They walked slowly, not talking, across the Victoria Bridge, letting the city wrap itself around them. The air stank of smoke and soot.

  ‘We couldn’t have stopped him,’ the inspector said as they crossed by East Parade.

  ‘I know, but …’

  He understood. Such a small word but so, so big.

  ‘Maybe he thought it was better than anything else. He said it would be his last act. He knew. He made his choice.’

  They’d just passed Holy Trinity Church when Reed asked, ‘How do you think Sugden knew Gordon Carr had murdered his sister?’

  ‘I don’t know that he did,’ Harper replied slowly. ‘We didn’t until Tooms told us. My guess is that he was going to kill them all. Neville, the old man.’

  ‘But he knew where to find Gordon.’

  ‘Did he? No idea, Billy. He’d been an army scout.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Maybe he used that skill.’ He shook his head. ‘It doesn’t matter any more. They’re both dead. Good riddance to the pair of them.’

  ‘There’ll be an inquiry,’ Kendall told them after he heard the tale. ‘How could you let Gordon Carr be killed? He shouldn’t have got away from you for a second, never mind try to escape.’

  Harper stared at him. He expected nothing less; it was procedure. But he already knew the conclusion. The police would have quickly recaptured Gordon Carr if it hadn’t been for Sugden. And no one could have predicted he’d be there.

  Neville Carr might complain, but probably not. His son might have been acting on his behalf, and Tooms had plenty of secrets to spill if he chose. If a few of those came to light, any political career for Carr would be over before it started.

  And the old man, Catherine’s husband? He’d have to live with the knowledge that his own grandson had arranged it all. Soon enough he’d have to explain all his failings to his maker.

  Reed and Ash stood. It was done. But the inspector remained seated. As the door closed, Kendall said, ‘What do you need, Tom?’

  It was time to bite the bullet. If he didn’t do it now, he’d only put it off longer and longer, until it was too late. He could feel his heart racing.

  ‘It’s about my hearing, sir.’

  Kendall took out his pipe, filled it slowly, then struck a match and filled the air with smoke.

  ‘Your right ear, isn’t it?’ he said.

  ‘Yes,’ he replied, trying to keep the shock off his face.

  ‘Tom, it’s not a secret.’ The superintendent smiled. ‘We’ve all known for a while.’

  ‘I see.’ He wasn’t sure what he felt. Relief? Fear? Both?

  ‘Why do you think I haven’t sent you for a medical?’

  ‘What would happen?’ He didn’t want to hear the answer but he needed to know.

  ‘You’re good at your job.’ Kendall pursed his mouth. ‘Very good, although I don’t want you getting a swollen head over it. The force isn’t going to lose a good copper over something so minor. Your other ear’s fine?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then I don’t see it as a problem. It hasn’t stopped you doing your work, has it?’

  ‘No, sir,’ he agreed.

  ‘Don’t worry about it. People know. It doesn’t matter. I’ve had a bad back for years but it doesn’t prevent me doing my job.’ He chuckled. ‘Not that there’s much to do these days, beyond sitting at a desk.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Harper didn’t know what else to say. Whatever he’d feared wasn’t going to happen. As long as one ear worked well, he’d have his job.

  ‘Tom,’ Kendall said, ‘just a quiet word of advice. You’ve told me. That’s enough.’

  The inspector smiled. ‘I understand, sir. Thank you.’

  ‘He offered you that?’ Elizabeth asked. ‘An inspector?’

  Reed nodded. He’d left Millgarth after talking to the superintendent. His work was finished there, and he could go back to the fire service if he wanted. Or he could take up Kendall’s offer.

  He spent more than an hour just planting one foot in front of another, and kept seeing Stanley Sugden jumping off the roof, walking into the air. It could so easily have been him. Just the way the dice rolled. He stopped outside a pub, his hand on the door, aching for something to take away the taste of the day. But in the end he turned without going in.

  ‘What are you going to do, Billy?’ Elizabeth asked.

  He held her for a long time. No words, just the feel of her in his arms. Of life. Then, finally, he sat down and told her everything.

  ‘What do you think I should do?’

  She stared at him. ‘What do you really want to do?’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  ‘Forget about the money and the rank,’ Elizabeth said. ‘What do you really want?’

  That was the question. As a detective inspector he’d be giving orders instead of taking them. Cases would be his. He’d have the responsibility, the weight. With the brigade he’d be trained as a fire investigator; Dick Hill had promised him that. He’d be using everything he’d learned. And in time, there’d be promotion.

  Reed sighed. ‘The fire brigade,’ he replied, and realized that he didn’t regret saying it.

  ‘That’s your answer,’ she told him. ‘It was simple in the end, wasn’t it?’

  He laughed. ‘What would I do without you?’

  ‘So you’re in the clear?’ Annabelle asked. ‘He really said that about your hearing?’

  ‘Every word.’ Supper had been cleared away, devilled kidneys and mashed potatoes. Warm food for a cold night. Harper sat, a cup of tea beside him on the arm of the settee. For the first time in weeks nothing was worrying him. Catherine Carr and her silver skin had finally been laid to rest. His job was safe.

  For once, he felt content. Weariness was slowly rising through his body, the warmth of the fire making him sleepy. Soon he’d go off to bed, but he was too comfortable to move yet.

  ‘I’m glad you found out what really happened to Katie,’ Annabelle said, curling against him. ‘She deserves that.’

  And it had all been because a young man feared he’d end up with nothing. He’d spent the afternoon questioning Tooms and the man had given up everything. All in the hope of avoiding a hanging.

  Gordon Carr was afraid his inheritance would vanish if his grandfather died and Catherine Carr received everything. There’d been no love lost between them. She’d made clear what she thought of him and hi
s life. Having her murdered was his insurance. Once she was gone, life would be easy again. He’d gone to Tooms to arrange it, the way the man had fixed every other problem in the past.

  Had Neville Carr known? It was the only point where Tooms hesitated. Was it loyalty or did he really not know? The inspector had pressed and pressed, but never got an answer.

  ‘She never deserved what happened. Any of it,’ he said, placing his arm around her shoulder. It was done, everything bar the court appearances. ‘Did you make up your mind about the suffrage committee yet?’

  He felt her body stiffen a little. ‘I went out to see Miss Ford today.’

  ‘What did she have to say?’

  ‘I wanted to know just how much time I’d have to put in if I became a committee member.’ She shifted her head to glance up at him. ‘All the ones already on there, they don’t have any other jobs. They have money.’

  ‘So do you.’

  ‘And a pub to run. The bakeries.’

  ‘Elizabeth looks after those,’ he pointed out.

  ‘I still need to keep an eye on everything.’

  There was something else. Something she wasn’t saying. She was raising objections when there wasn’t even a problem.

  ‘What did you tell her in the end?’

  ‘That I’ll carry on speaking at meetings if she wants me to. But I couldn’t give them enough time to be a committee member. Not properly. I don’t want to be traipsing all over the country. They have it all mapped out. London, Manchester, Birmingham. I’d spent half my life on trains.’

  ‘How did she take it?’

  ‘I think she was disappointed. But she said she understood. Told me that they need more women like me.’ She gave a tiny giggle. ‘Common as muck, she meant.’

  Harper hugged her. Whatever the real reason, she’d tell him in her own good time.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  The crowd was large enough to spill out on to Roundhay Road, a pair of bobbies strolling around and keeping genial order. The tram stood on the tracks, fresh paintwork shining on a dull day.

  It was a curious looking thing, Harper thought. Smaller than other trams, and the poles that stretched up to the electric wires made it seem a huge insect. If he hadn’t seen it arrive he’d have doubted that it could work.