by Granger, Ann
‘When you say “they” had to move it, you mean your brother and Jeb Fisher. Was he in on the robbery?’
She shook her head. ‘No, Raggy didn’t know nothing. Billy had the idea to move her. I thought about it and agreed it was a good plan, so Billy went out to find his wife’s father, because he had a cart.’
‘They are legally married, your brother and Fisher’s daughter?’
Britannia raised puzzled eyes to my face. ‘As good as,’ she said.
‘And pretending not to find the bloodstains on the carpet until later in the morning of the day, that was also to give Billy time?’
‘I tried to clean it off,’ said Britannia, scowling. ‘But I couldn’t. So I had to think of something else. I covered it over.’
There was a horrible practical logic to all of this. I still persevered.
‘Billy, too, must have had blood on his clothing, surely?’
Britannia nodded. ‘On his shirt. He took it to Ma to wash it. She didn’t know that the blood was old Clifford’s! He said he’d been helping out at the slaughterhouse, fetching and carrying the carcasses. He didn’t want to take the shirt back to his place to be washed because his nippers would see and remember bloodstains on their pa’s shirt. They might go mentioning to some other kids, and word get round.’
I tried to question her about Harry Parker, but learned nothing.
‘You keep asking me!’ snapped Britannia. ‘I didn’t kill her. I didn’t move her and I didn’t leave her in that yard. All I did was let Billy into the house.’
‘Nothing excuses crime, Britannia. Nothing excuses what happened to Mrs Clifford. Nothing excuses your colluding in robbing her or your attempts to mislead the police. You cannot claim you did no wrong.’ I was so angry with her now I was almost shouting myself.
‘That’s it!’ snarled Britannia. ‘Everything I did was wrong. Mrs Clifford, she had rights, according to you. She was as mean as they come and I never had a kind word from her. Me, I’ve got no rights. I can starve. Ma can starve.’
Britannia threw out her hand. ‘The fuss you’re making about her! You’d think it was someone special who’d died. It was only old Clifford! No one cried over her, the mean old witch! She didn’t have no family, no friends. The people who borrowed money from her hated her. Well, Mr Inspector Ross, what about me – and Ma – and what about my brother’s little’uns? Ma will finish in the workhouse. My brother’s wife and kids very likely end up there, too. What about them? You’ve got nothing to say about them, have you? Well, I’ve got no more to say to you.’
Britannia swivelled on her chair to face the wardress. ‘I want to go back now. I’ve finished talking to him. I’m not saying another word. Not if you make me sit here all day, I’m not.’ She turned back to me. ‘So you can go home. You’ve probably got a nice cosy home to go to. Well, out there . . .’ Britannia flung out a hand to indicate the world beyond Newgate’s walls, ‘out there half the people don’t know where their next meal is coming from! Some of them has no homes to go to. Some of them commit what you’d call crimes because there’s nothing else they can do!’
She pressed her lips together. ‘I’m finished,’ she said.
So was I. I took my leave of her, but the memory of her scowling defiant face remained with me for a long time.
There was no getting anything out of Billy Scroggs. He had retreated into a private hell of simmering rage and spite. When he did speak, it was to hurl abuse at us. Then, when he learned how talkative his sister had been, he’d found more foul language to use about her. He made no inquiry about his wife and children, or even his wretched father-in-law whom he’d made a reluctant accomplice.
Raggy Jeb himself had begged us to believe he had not known of the planned robbery. He had been dismayed when Billy came to tell him what had happened. He had not wanted to move the body. He swore to this with such passion that we believed him. But Billy was the father of his grandchildren. What could he have done but try to help? They’d had to abandon the original plan to take the body to the river, because there were so many people about that evening. Raggy Jeb Fisher, scared out of his wits, had been too much of a tremble even to push the cart! So they’d dumped the victim in Skinner’s Yard and parted company. Raggy Jeb had gone to the Clipper public house, where he’d left Billy’s little girl, Sukey, in the care of the barmaid, and found her asleep in a corner. Raggy had a pint or two of ale, to restore his presence of mind, and while he was drinking someone came running in and said a body had been found in Skinner’s Yard.
Raggy had nearly fainted with the shock of it. They’d expected it would be some hours, daylight perhaps, before the murdered woman was discovered. Raggy started off home with the child on the cart. Where Billy had gone, he had no idea. Scroggs had not come home until dawn, and then so drunk they’d had to carry him into the old chandlery and leave him on the floor to sleep it off.
To question either Billy or Raggy Jeb about Parker had been useless.
I was on my way back to Scotland Yard from Newgate when, once again, I felt that tingle between the shoulder blades, the sense of being stalked. It increased until it became a certainty. Whoever followed me, he was hurrying his step. He was trying to catch up with me. It was a strong step, not a stealthy one. I decided he did not intend to attack me. Rather, he wanted to speak to me. To oblige him, I stopped and turned to face him. Then I received a shock.
About ten feet away, breathing heavily, stood Harry Parker. For a moment I really believed it was Harry himself, even though I had viewed his dead body on a mortuary slab. My pursuer was a small man with those same pinched features and little dark eyes. His gaze flickered nervously as he debated whether to stand his ground or turn and flee. Then the answer to the riddle struck me.
‘You are Harry Parker’s brother, the one who lives in Limehouse,’ I said.
To be recognised both startled and frightened him. I thought he would run away, so I added quickly, ‘Don’t be alarmed! You bear a remarkable resemblance to your brother. Were you twins?’
He ventured a little closer, studying me all the while with those rat’s eyes. ‘No,’ he said hoarsely, ‘not twins. Two years between us. He was my younger brother. I’m Barney – Barney Parker, stableman by line of work.’
Now he was nearer I could see he was an older man. His hair was touched with grey, the lines around his mouth deeper. He was a little heavier in build than the late Harry.
‘You’re Inspector Ross, right?’ he asked.
‘I am.’
‘You got Billy Scroggs in the clink?’
‘He’s locked up in prison, yes.’
‘Not going to let him go, are you?’ asked Barney anxiously.
My nose caught the acrid tang of horses. He was a stableman, as he claimed.
‘He’s a bad’un, is Billy Scroggs,’ croaked Barney. ‘I couldn’t come to you before. I wanted to, mind!’
‘When you learned of your brother’s death? That’s when you wanted to contact the police?’
‘Yus!’ He blinked several times and nodded, resembling an automaton that had been set in motion. ‘But not any p’lice officer! It had to be you, Harry said so. But I couldn’t come to you while Billy Scroggs was out there on the loose. I couldn’t finger him to you. He’d have heard about it. I’d have joined poor Harry in the river!’
‘You believe Scroggs killed your brother?’
‘He done for poor Harry, right enough. Harry was afraid of him. He left Deptford and came to me because he was scared. But then he went back. He shouldn’t have gone back. Billy found him. Harry was afraid that Billy would. He told me, if anything happened to him, I was to go and find you. That’s what I’m doing now. Billy’s locked away, so now I can tell you what Harry told me, the night he came over to Limehouse.’
‘You’re doing the right thing, Barney,’ I told him. ‘Do you want to come with me to Scotland Yard? We are not far from there. Or would you prefer to talk elsewhere privately?’
I hoped he wo
uld come to the Yard. I needed a witness. But I didn’t want to frighten him off.
After a moment’s deliberation, he said, ‘I’ll come to the Yard with you. I don’t like standing about talking to you on the street like this. Anyone could pass by and see us. Same in a pub. You don’t know who’s looking, do you? It might get back to Billy. I know you’ve got him in a cell. But he’s got friends, ain’t he? Out here . . .’ Barney waved a hand to indicate our general surroundings. ‘That’s why I couldn’t come to you in Deptford. Best thing is, I’ll follow you. When we get near the Yard, you turn and grab me. You march me into the building like you’ve arrested me. No one could blame me for going with you then!’
I understood his logic. Informers are not liked. So I set off again, knowing he was dogging my footsteps a short way behind. Near the Yard, I turned, took his elbow and said sternly, ‘Come along with me. No nonsense, now!’
And so we entered the Yard, linked like a courting couple. As it turned out, the first person we saw was young Dr Wellings, apparently on his way out.
‘What are you doing here again?’ I asked sourly. I had had more than enough of the young wastrel.
‘The superintendent called me in,’ Wellings said, eyeing me nervously. ‘He told me you have arrested the person responsible for the death of Mrs Clifford and I am no longer a suspect.’
‘You are extremely fortunate, Dr Wellings, and I trust we shall not see you at the Yard again!’
‘Who’s the young gent?’ inquired Barney, when Wellings had scuttled away.
‘Just someone who came to make a statement, as you are about to do,’ I told him.
When we were seated in my office; and Biddle had appeared with his notebook, Barney at last relaxed. He looked round him with interest and studied Biddle in particular.
‘That one’s going to write it all down, is he? Everything what I say? Because I don’t talk fancy.’
‘We only want you to use your own words. Then you will have a chance to read it and sign it.’ Doubt struck me. ‘Can you write?’
Barney looked shy. ‘I has to make my mark.’
‘That’s all right. We’ll read it out to you. You will make your mark and I will sign my name beneath, with a statement that it is your mark, made in my presence.’
Biddle held up his pencil at the ready. Barney gazed at him admiringly. ‘It’s a wonderful thing to have an education.’
Biddle blushed scarlet.
‘Well, the night it all happened,’ Barney began, ‘was just like any other. It goes to show you never know what’s going to hit you. Harry, my brother, was walking along, minding his own business, as you might say, when he saw the rag-picker ahead of him with his cart. That’s a fellow called Raggy Jeb; they know him everywhere. Been around for years! But the funny thing was, what took Harry’s attention, that Raggy Jeb wasn’t pushing the cart. It was all piled up with rags and old clothes, like it might be at the end of the day. But pushing it was Billy Scroggs, and that did make Harry wonder. He never knew that Billy had anything to do with collecting old clothes! He would sign on as deckhand on any ship that would take him, though he’s got himself a bad name on account of his violent ways. The way Billy was pushing the cart, too, like it was really heavy. Billy is a big strong fellow. Why would he be making heavy weather of pushing a cart of rags? So, all in all, Harry got curious and he followed. He took care they didn’t see him, because Billy Scroggs wouldn’t like anyone wanting to know his business.
‘They got near to Skinner’s Yard and they stopped. Raggy Jeb had put his hand on Billy’s arm. Raggy looked really scared. He was looking all about him and the people. It was busy, streets crowded with all sorts of folk. Some seamen went by, arguing. Harry tucked himself in behind them and got a bit closer. He heard Raggy Jeb say, “It’s too far to the river, I tell you. There’s too many people about!” Then he pointed into the yard and said, “Leave her here!” It seemed like Billy wasn’t keen on the idea, and the two of them argued a bit. Harry couldn’t hear it all. But, in the end, they turned into Skinner’s Yard.
‘Harry waited until they came out. They wasn’t in there for long. But when they did come out, it was Raggy Jeb pushing the cart, like he usually did. So Harry reckoned they’d shed part of the load, the heavy part. Raggy went off in one direction, with the cart. But Billy turned right round and walked back the way they’d come – and he walked right up past Harry and saw him! So Harry, he just mumbled, ‘Evening, Billy!’ and went on, like there was nothing unusual. He was afraid Billy might come after him. But Billy didn’t; and when Harry had enough courage to look behind him, there was no sign of Scroggs.’
Barney paused and said sadly, ‘If Harry had had any sense, he’d have got as far away from there as possible, as fast as he could. But he was curious, see? When he was certain Billy Scroggs really had gone, he went back. He slipped into Skinner’s Yard and looked to see what they’d left there. He stumbled over something, looked to what it was and— he near died of fright, Mr Ross! It was a woman’s dead body! That’s what he told me and that’s the truth, you can believe. Why, even when he was telling me about it, he was all of a-shake. He turned and ran out of the yard – and straight into a constable on the beat! Talk about bad luck! Of course, the bluebottle grabbed Harry and wanted to know what was wrong? It would have been no use Harry telling him nothing was wrong, not in the state Harry was. So he took him in and showed him the body.’
Barney paused. ‘And that was it. He knew, poor Harry, that when it got out that the body was found and the police had been led to it by a local man, naming Harry, well, Billy would hear of it. He’d remember he’d seen Harry that evening, near where he and Raggy Jeb had left the body. Harry could have told you, the police, that he’d seen Raggy Jeb and Billy, pushing that cart and all the rest of it. But Billy would know that, too! He’d be looking for Harry.
‘I told Harry he could stay with me in Limehouse. But Harry had no money and he couldn’t get work that side of the river. So he went back, back to Deptford. He shouldn’t have done that, Mr Ross.’
‘He should have confided in the police, Barney. That’s what your brother should have done. If he’d told me the whole tale, I could have protected him.’
‘Easy to say that,’ retorted Barney. ‘Not so easy to do, not for people like us.’
We read him his statement. Superintendent Dunn came in to witness Barney make his mark. When Parker had left, Biddle opened the window despite the icy chill of the air flowing in. It was needed to dispel the strong aroma of horses and manure that Barney had left behind him.
Dunn said, ‘You will be able to tell Mrs Ross that the matter is now cleared up, and young Wellings has nothing more to fear.’
‘She will be relieved, sir.’
‘Mm,’ said Dunn. ‘She and Miss Wellings went out to Egham and fetched that young fool back to London, after he decided to run off, didn’t she?’
‘Yes, sir.’ There was no point in denying it now.
‘Pity we can’t enlist her in the force,’ said Dunn with a rare smile. ‘Although, if we did, I dare say there would be no need for the rest of us!’ He paused. ‘Not for the detection part of it, anyway. I suppose we males will be needed for the violent side of things!’ He indicated my swollen cheek. ‘A medical man has seen that, I suppose?’
‘Yes, sir, he doesn’t think it broken but I was lucky.’
‘Good,’ said Dunn, and went back to his own office. One doesn’t expect thanks from one’s senior officers and it is just as well.
Chapter Nineteen
‘THANK MR Dunn for his kind words,’ said Lizzie, when I reported the day’s events that evening. ‘Of course, women make excellent detectives, why shouldn’t they?’ She frowned and studied my bruised face. ‘Is your throat still very sore?’
‘Getting better,’ I told her.
‘Well, I do think Mr Dunn should have shown you more consideration. He could have given you a day or two at home to recover from that horrible man’s attack.’
‘As far as Dunn is concerned, if an officer can walk into the Yard on his own two feet, he is fit for duty. Anyway,’ I added, ‘I am fit for duty. The bruises will fade and I will be able to swallow properly.’ I was on a diet of soup and stews and felt myself no better than an invalid.
‘You see?’ said Lizzie. ‘Men always have to be so – strong and show no weakness, and such nonsense.’ She turned her face to the fire and watched the crackling flames for a few moments.
‘My dear,’ I rasped, ‘there is something ticking away in your always active brain and it has nothing to do with my injuries.’
‘Oh,’ said Lizzie, ‘it’s just that, well, that maid, Britannia . . .’
‘Ah, Miss Scroggs, once encountered, never forgotten.’ I’d never forget her, certainly, nor that murdering ruffian of a brother of hers.
‘They won’t hang her, will they?’ Lizzie stopped watching the fire and stared anxiously at me.
‘I have no idea,’ I replied, taken aback. ‘I am not judge or jury. She and her brother – and Jeb Fisher – have yet to stand trial. I dare say Billy Scroggs will go to the gallows. As for Britannia? Well, she did conspire to rob her employer and she did let her brother into the house. But personally I don’t believe that murder was any part of her plans. I am not so sure about Scroggs himself. We have discovered he has a reputation among the seafaring community and had been unable to sign on as deckhand on any ship for some weeks. Britannia feared it was only going to be a little time before Mrs Clifford realised she could not do her work, because of her increasingly crippled hands. They decided to steal the cashbox, sure it would be full of money.
‘But things went wrong from the outset and the robbery ended in bloody murder.