The Best British Mysteries 3 - [Anthology]

by Edited by Maxim Jakubowski

  ‘Not exactly,’ Dickens said. ‘I am on good terms with a man who keeps an inn not far away from here, and it would please us if Bella accompanied us there.’

  The fat woman frowned and indicated their surroundings with a wave of a flabby hand. ‘This is her home, sir. She doesn’t care to go out much.’

  Dickens said with animation, ‘But this is our one and only night in the locality! Who knows when we will return? My friend and I wish to enjoy a memorable finale to our sojourn south of the river!’

  He passed her another sheaf of notes, and the woman caught her breath. So did Collins. Clutching the money tightly in her fist, as if fearing that he might change his mind, the brothel keeper whispered, ‘Well, sir, the circumstances are obviously exceptional. Very exceptional indeed.’

  ‘I’m glad we understand each other. Now, if we can be shown to Bella’s room?’

  The woman glanced at a battered old clock on the sideboard and let out a snort of temper. ‘I’m sure she won’t be long. Perhaps you’d like to make yourselves comfortable in the parlour while I see what’s what?’

  She shuffled back into the malodorous passageway, and they followed her into a rear hall, from which a narrow flight of stairs ran up to the floors above. Opposite the bottom of the staircase was an open door leading to another room. A bald, unshaven man in shirtsleeves, heedless of the chill of evening, was standing there, a tankard in his hand. He glanced at the two visitors, but seemed more interested in savouring his ale. Collins surmised that he was a ‘watcher’, retained to keep an eye on the girls and customers of the House of the Red Candle.

  Someone was coming down the stairs, taking them two at a time, stumbling over her skirts so that it seemed that she might at any moment trip and fall head over heels. The fat woman demanded, ‘Where d’you think you’re hurrying off to, Nellie Brown?’

  Nellie came to rest at the foot of the stairs. She was a stooping, round-shouldered woman in a lace cap and a maid’s uniform. Pulling a handkerchief from a pocket, she blew her nose long and loudly.

  ‘Nowhere, m’m,’ she croaked.

  ‘I have two gentlemen here with an appointment to see Bella. You took His Lordship up a good three-quarters of an hour ago. You left the key with him, didn’t you?’

  With eyes downcast, Nellie said, ‘Yes, m’m.’

  ‘Well, he never needs longer than thirty minutes. What are they doing up there?’

  Nellie, evidently reluctant to meet Mrs Jugg’s gaze, bowed her head and declined to speculate.

  ‘Lost your tongue, girl? Why, he was supposed to be out of there a good fifteen minutes ago!’

  ‘Yes, m’m.’

  ‘I can’t abide cheats, whatever their airs and graces! He paid for half an hour, no more. If he wanted longer, that could have been arranged.’

  Nellie’s shoulders moved in a hapless shrug as she considered the threadbare carpet.

  Dickens shifted impatiently from foot to foot, and the woman snapped ‘Well, I can’t keep these two gentlemen waiting. You’ll have to rouse her.’

  Nellie darted a glance at Bella’s visitors before shrinking away from them, as if fearing a slap, or worse. Collins thought she was afraid of Dickens; he had a fleeting impression of dark, secretive eyes and a disfiguring mark on her left cheek that she was striving to shield from his gaze.

  For a moment Dickens seemed taken aback, but then he said, ‘Yes, my friend and I have made a special journey. We prefer not to waste our time.’

  Collins was disconcerted by the sudden urgency in his friend’s tone. His mood of excitement had given way to fascinated apprehension. The whole evening had taken on an Arabian Nights quality. Dickens had a hedonistic streak, but his taste did not usually extend to houses of ill fame quite as unsalubrious as this.

  ‘Take them up with you, Nellie,’ the fat woman commanded. ‘Bang on the door until he leaves her be. I don’t care if he hasn’t got time to button up his trousers, d’you hear? He’s long overdue!’

  ‘But...’ Nellie sniffled. Her distress was unmistakable.

  ‘At once, or it’ll be the worst for you!’

  The maid began to drag herself up the stairs as if her limbs were made of lead. At a nod from the old woman, the two men followed. When they reached the landing on the first floor, Collins whispered in his friend’s ear, ‘Both of us with the same girl? Taking her to a nearby inn? For heaven’s sake! What are you thinking of?’

  ‘I asked you to trust me,’ Dickens muttered.

  The only illumination came from the faint glow of the moon through a skylight. The ceiling was low and a taller man would have needed to bend to avoid banging his head against it. Three doors led from the landing. From two of the rooms issued the unmistakable cries of men and women in the throes of ecstasy. Nellie halted in front of the thin door, and it seemed to Collins that a tremor ran through the whole of her body.

  Dickens hissed, ‘Is that Bella’s room? Come, there is no need to be frightened. You can see we are gentlemen! I swear, we mean her no harm.’

  She shot another glance at them, taking in Dickens’ extravagant clusters of brown hair and Collins’s fancy yellow waistcoat. Her lips were pursed, as if she were thinking: not quite gentlemen, actually. Her dark eyes, misty with suspicion, held something else as well. Collins realised that it was terror. Did this pitiful creature really believe that she would be called to join Bella in satisfying their lusts? The thought had the same effect as a drenching by a bucket of icy water.

  ‘My friend is right,’ he said. ‘And we mean you no harm either. What are you afraid of, Nellie? That Bella’s customer will want to punish you for disturbing him? We won’t allow it, do you hear? We simply won’t let him take out his anger on you, will we?’

  Dickens nodded. ‘The sooner the blackguard is gone, the better.’

  Tears began to form in Nellie’s eyes. ‘But, sir...’

  Dickens patted her on the shoulder. ‘I am sure you are a good friend to her, Nellie,’ he said meaningfully. ‘So let me tell you this. The sooner you introduce us to Bella, the better for everyone.’

  The maid seemed to have been paralysed. Even when Collins gave her an encouraging nod, she did not move an inch.

  ‘He has the key to this room,’ she said. ‘All I can do is knock. If he don’t answer...’

  Dickens took a step toward her. ‘Does he hurt her, Nellie?’

  She choked on a sob. ‘I...I can’t say.’

  ‘We must stop this,’ he said. ‘Will you knock at her door?’

  ‘Sir, I —’

  She was interrupted by a sound, from inside the room. A low groan. And then, unmistakably, a man’s hoarse voice.

  ‘Please...help me!’

  As the voice fell silent, Nellie screamed. Dickens leapt forward, hammering the door with his fist. ‘Let us in! For pity’s sake, let us in!’

  Collins rushed to his friend’s side and pressed his ear to the keyhole, but he could detect no further sound from inside. The door was locked. Nellie’s head was in her hands and she had begun to weep. Dickens put his shoulder to the door in an attempt to shift it, but to no avail.

  The commotion must have roused the watcher down below; for a coarse voice roared, ‘What’s to do? What’s to do?’

  One of the doors to the landing was flung open, and a half-dressed man appeared. ‘What’s happening, for God’s sake? Are the peelers here?’

  Within moments the place was in uproar. The man who feared the arrival of the police was fastening his britches with clumsy desperation. A grizzled old fellow emerged from the second room, wheezing so frantically that Collins feared that he might succumb to a heart attack at any moment. The bald ruffian from the parlour was lumbering upstairs, with the fat brothel-keeper trailing in his wake. Looking into the other rooms, Collins could see two naked girls cowering in the shadows. Their clients jostled past the bald watcher, the younger man taking the steps two at a time in his haste to escape.

  The watcher grabbed Dickens by the arm. ‘C
ausing trouble, mister? Why did she scream?’

  ‘We heard the voice of Bella’s client,’ Dickens said.

  ‘He sounded frightened and in pain. But the door is locked and I cannot force it open.’

  The man pushed him aside and heaved against the door. Timber splintered, but the lock held. Puffing furiously, the fat little woman arrived on the landing.

  ‘What’s all this to-do?’ she demanded, turning furiously to Nellie. ‘Where’s Bella?’

  The maid was sobbing piteously and unable to speak. Fearing that the fat woman would strike her servant, Collins interposed his squat frame between them and said, ‘We heard her visitor. Something - is very wrong.’

  The watcher grunted and took a step back before charging at the door. They heard the wood giving way. He charged again and this time the door yielded under his weight. Bella’s room was no more than twelve feet square. Apart from a tall cupboard and a double bed, the only furniture was a cracked looking glass and a battered old captain’s chair on which were piled a pair of tweed trousers and an expensively tailored jacket as well as a man’s underthings, evidently discarded in haste.

  Stretched out on the bed lay the body of a naked man. His wrists were tied to the bedstead by lengths of rope, his glassy eyes staring sightlessly at the ceiling. Collins had a sudden fancy that he saw in them a look of horrified bewilderment. Tall and broad-shouldered, with heavy jowls, the man had a shock of jet-black hair. His lips had a sensual curve. Blood dripped onto the sheets from a gash in his stomach, an inch above the navel.

  The watcher uttered an oath. ‘She’s done for him!’

  ‘Murder!’ the fat woman cried. ‘Oh, Bella, you stupid little bitch!’

  Behind them, Nellie retched. Dickens was the first to move. He rushed into the room and bent by the corpse, searching for a pulse. After a moment he said, ‘Nothing. Nothing at all.’

  ‘There’s her weapon,’ the watcher said, pointing to a pair of scissors lying on the floor. They were dark with blood.

  The brothel-keeper lifted the man’s coat from the chair.

  A leather wallet tumbled from one of the pockets. She picked it up and folded it open. They could all see that the wallet was empty.

  ‘So she’s a thief as well as a murderess! She’ll swing for that. Precious little bitch, just see if she won’t!’

  Only four of them were in the room: the fat woman, the bald man, Collins, and Dickens. Outside the door Nellie was wailing, her head in her hands. Of Bella there was no trace.

  ‘She must be in there!’ the fat woman cried, waving at the cupboard.

  The two friends held their breath as the bald man flung open the cupboard door. Collins was not sure what he expected to see: a cowering woman, stripped and covered in blood, he supposed. The cupboard was crammed to overflowing with gaudy gowns and dresses. As well as a pair of tasselled boots, there was a mass of lace and ribbons piled high on the cupboard floor. The watcher tore the clothes aside, as if to unmask his quarry, lurking behind them. But there was no sign of her.

  The room had a small rectangular window set high in the wall above the end of the bed. Collins could detect no other means of egress. The watcher ripped the blankets from the mattress, but found nothing. He got down on his hands and knees and peered underneath the bed, discovering only dust.

  Unable to help himself, Collins cried, ’Where is she?’

  The fat woman clasped a podgy hand to her heart. ‘The window is bolted shut. Besides that, there are bars outside.’

  ‘Could the bars have been tampered with?’

  The bald watcher clambered onto the bed and shoved at the window. There was no hint of movement. Shaking his head, he said, ‘I couldn’t move ‘em, never mind a young slip of a girl like her.’

  ‘How can she vanish into thin air?’ Collins demanded.

  ‘This Bella, is she a wraith, a phantom?’

  ‘All her clothes are in the cupboard,’ the fat woman gasped. ‘Every stitch. But where is the key?’

  ‘The girl must have it,’ the watcher said. ‘She is hiding somewhere.’

  ‘Not in here,’ Dickens murmured.

  Beyond argument, he was right. Dickens pointed to the corpse. ‘This man came here alone, I take it?’

  ‘Oh, yes. He was one of her regulars. Always paid handsomely for her time.’

  ‘When he arrived, you handed him the key and asked Nellie to escort him up to this room?’

  Mrs Jugg nodded. Ain’t that right, Nell?’

  The maid, still snivelling out on the landing, managed a grunt.

  Dickens said, ‘You saw him enter the room?’

  ‘As he put the key in the lock,’ the maid croaked, ‘he told me I could go.’

  ‘So you did not see Bella herself?’ Collins asked.

  The maid shook her head, but the fat woman said impatiently, ‘Of course, Bella was in the room, waiting for him. She was here all evening, same as usual. Nellie brought her up and locked her in, same as always. The gentleman had an appointment. He called upon her every Thursday at nine, regular as clockwork.’

  ‘She must have done him in and then locked the door on him,’ the bald man said. ‘It’s the only way.’

  ‘If she’d come down to the ground, you’d have stopped her, wouldn’t you, Jack, my lad?’

  ‘She could never get past me,’ he boasted. ‘She’s tried it once or twice and I made her pay for it, so help me.’

  ‘Then,’ Dickens suggested, ‘if she is flesh and blood and not a poltergeist, she must be concealed in one of the other rooms on this floor.’

  ‘He’s right,’ the watcher said.

  ‘What are you waiting for, then?’ the fat woman demanded. ‘Let’s find her, quick!’

  They hurried out and into the adjoining bedroom. Dickens moved swiftly to Nellie’s side and whispered something to her before returning and pulling the door shut behind him.

  ‘What did you say to her?’ Collins asked.

  Dickens was staring at the pale flesh of the dead man.

  ‘Do you recognise him, Wilkie?’

  ‘The face seems familiar, but —’

  ‘This is the Honourable Thaddeus Whiteacre. You heard the woman refer to him as “His Lordship”? He liked to play up his noble origins. Besides that, he fancied himself as something of an artist, although to my mind his daubs were infantile. John Forster introduced me to him a year ago at a meeting of the Guild for Literature and Art.’

  ‘You are acquainted?’

  ‘Regrettably. De mortuis, Wilkie, but he struck me as one of the least agreeable men I have ever met. I recall a conversation in which he sought to convince me of the pleasure that could be gained from inflicting pain - and having pain inflicted upon oneself.’

  Collins shivered as he considered the corpse’s face. Even in death, the saturnine features seemed menacing. He found it easy to imagine that they belonged to a man with vile and sinister tastes.

  ‘Do you believe that Bella killed him?’

  Dickens put a finger to his lips. ‘Come, let us join the search.’

  The watcher and his mistress were opening and slamming shut cupboard doors and drawers scarcely large enough to accommodate a box of clothes, let alone a full-grown woman. It was absurd, Collins thought, to imagine that the missing girl could have taken refuge in a room where a colleague was entertaining a client - but where might she have concealed herself? The brothel-keeper was cursing and describing in savage terms what she would do to Bella once she was found. Nellie had scuttled off downstairs, while the shivering prostitutes hugged each other in a corner and tried not to attract the fat woman’s attention.

  ‘She’s been spirited away!’ one of the girls said. Her face was blotchy and tear-stained, her body covered in yellowing bruises. Collins doubted if she was yet sixteen years of age. ‘It’s the Devil’s work!’

  ‘Bella would never hurt a fly!’ the other girl cried. ‘Someone else has done this! Or something. Killed His Lordship and then kidnapped Bella!’
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  ‘Shut your mouths!’ the brothel-keeper shouted. ‘Bogeymen don’t stab strong fellows to death with scissors. And as for you, Jack Wells, don’t think I’ve finished with you - not by a long chalk!’

  ‘I told you, she couldn’t have passed me,’ the bald man said mutinously. ‘I never take my eye off the stairs when there are visitors in the house.’

  ‘Then where did she go? I’ve been by the front door ever since Nellie roused me at five.’

  ‘You reside on the premises, I suppose?’ Dickens said.

  ‘In the basement, that’s right. But it would have been impossible for her to get down there. Jack or I would have seen her. And there aren’t any windows she could have climbed through to get out of the building. Besides, her boots were in the cupboard. That’s her only pair. She can’t have got far without her boots!’