‘Orders from the top.’ His voice was firm. ‘You’ll have to make time for him.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Just bring me results.’
Muyrère was waiting for him, bundled into his coat but still shivering as he finished his breakfast.
‘How did you sleep?’
The man gave a rueful smile. ‘Not so well,’ he said. ‘I had the blankets and my coat and I was still too cold.’
‘Who do you need to see while you’re here?’
The Frenchman pulled a notebook from the pocket of his suit, fumbled with a pair of spectacles and found the page he needed.
‘Madame Le Prince, of course. They live with her parents. Her maiden name was Whitley, and Louis works for the family business. He has a workshop, too. All of those.’
Harper glanced at the addresses. ‘The workshop’s very close. Just up the street.’
‘Then we should see it first, non?’
Their breath plumed as they walked, wearing hats, mufflers, gloves and overcoats, the armour of winter. The inspector could taste the soot in the air. Muyrère raised his eyebrows.
‘Is it always this dirty here?’
‘Yes.’ It had been that way as long as he’d been alive. Skin and clothes were always grubby. Women hung out the wash and took it in with a layer of grime. People coughed all winter. It was the season, it was Leeds.
The house on Woodhouse Lane was stone, darkened by the years. He knocked and looked in the windows, seeing a shadow flit across at the edge of sight. Then the door was opened by an older man wearing a buff apron over his jacket, a cap jammed down tight on his head.
‘Hello, sir. I’m Detective Inspector Harper, Leeds Police. This is Capitaine Muyrère from France.’
‘You’ll be here about the gaffer. I was wondering when someone would come.’
His name was Frederick Mason. He’d worked for Le Prince for three years, he said, a woodworker who fashioned the cases for the cameras.
‘When did you last see Monsieur Le Prince?’ Muyrère asked.
‘Back in August. ’Fore he went to France. We built new cases for moving the camera. He was going on to join Mrs P. in America and see about the patent.’ Mason glanced up with sad, heavy eyes. ‘You know about the patent?’
‘I do,’ the captain assured him.
Harper was content to let the other man ask questions. It was his business, he knew what information he needed. His eyes wandered around the workshop with its smell of fresh wood. Everything was neat, the floor swept, workbench empty, items stacked on the shelves, an old, worn tool case sitting on the floor. There were boxes in different stages of completion and a device standing in the corner.
‘Is that the camera?’ he asked.
Mason chuckled. ‘No, sir. It was.’ He pointed. ‘You see that? Sixteen different lenses. That was Mr P.’s first effort. We keep it in here to remind us.’
It looked like drawings he’d seen showing the eye of a fly.
‘What’s the camera like now?’
‘Just the one lens now.’ The man smiled. ‘Have you seen the moving pictures?’
‘No,’ Harper replied. Muyrère shook his head.
‘You should. You really should.’ He spoke with the enthusiasm of a disciple. ‘You’ll never see anything like it. It’s like looking through a window. He’s done something unbelievable, has Mr P. It’ll change the world, you mark my words.’
‘Tell me, Monsieur Mason, what do you think happened to him?’ the captain asked.
The man shook his head slowly. ‘I don’t know. I wish I did. He doesn’t make enemies, doesn’t Mr P. Never even gets angry.’
‘Did he work here or at the foundry?’ Harper asked.
‘Here, mostly,’ Mason answered. ‘If he needed something casting he’d go over to Hunslet; they have the equipment there.’
‘His father-in-law and brother-in-law still work there?’ Muyrère wondered.
Mason nodded. ‘Mr John and Mr Theo, the pair of them together, but Mr John isn’t there so much any more. He’s getting on a bit.’
‘Thank you.’
Outside, in the frigid wind, they walked back into town.
‘Was that helpful?’
‘I don’t know.’ Muyrère sighed. ‘I need to go to that foundry in Hunslet.’
‘Can you manage by yourself? A hackney can take you there and back.’
‘Of course. You have work.’
‘A murder.’
He saw Muyrère wince. ‘You should have said. That’s far more important than my wild …’
‘Goose chase?’
‘It feels like it.’ He smiled sadly. ‘So far I’ve been all over France and I’ve had the chance to come back to England. When I leave here I have to go to America. It’s too many miles to go for nothing.’
‘Too many mysteries?’
‘Yes.’ He gave another deep sigh. ‘And my wife insists that I buy her an American gown in New York.’
Harper grinned. ‘You’d better do it, then.’
‘Yes.’ The man’s expression was doleful. ‘But she didn’t say what colour or style. Tell me, Tom, would you buy your Annabelle a gown?’
‘I wouldn’t dare.’ He laughed. ‘You can only hope.’
‘Indeed, monsieur.’ He sighed. ‘Tomorrow I need to see Madame Le Prince.’
‘I can come with you for that.’
Muyrère hesitated before he continued, ‘I wondered … since your wife knows her, if she might accompany me instead. Maybe it would put Madame Le Prince more at ease. I know it’s very forward, but you understand, perhaps?’
For a moment the idea shocked him. He’d never imagined involving Annabelle in his work. It was his, he kept it separate from home. Policing was a man’s job. But Muyrère was right; Annabelle would be a familiar face for Mrs Le Prince. And she’d never given a fig for convention.
‘I can ask her,’ Harper agreed finally.
‘Thank you.’ The man sounded truly grateful. ‘I wasn’t certain if you’d allow it.’
Harper burst out laughing. Muyrère stared at him in confusion.
‘I’m sorry,’ the inspector said. ‘You’ve met Annabelle, Bertrand. She does exactly what she wants to do. I’ve learned it’s best to let her.’
Muyrère raised his thick eyebrows. ‘That’s rare, monsieur. A woman like that.’
‘I knew who she was when I proposed.’
‘And you seem happy.’
‘I am, believe me. Very happy.’
At noon Harper was back in the Midland railway station, hands deep in the pockets of his coat. He paced up and down, eyes darting around to spot Reed, praying that things had moved along swiftly.
Suddenly someone was keeping step next to him. From the corner of his eye he saw the sergeant, so different without his beard. It made him look younger. Plainer.
‘Got anything for me?’
Reed grimaced. He smoked a cigarette held cupped in his palm, and he was dressed in a threadbare jacket and trousers, a dirty shirt with a grubby kerchief tied round his neck. An old overcoat hung loosely on him.
‘Nothing worthwhile. They were moaning about the two you arrested. About money, Jews, Irish. You name it.’
‘But?’
‘But none of them are saying they killed anyone,’ he said with frustration. ‘They haven’t even mentioned the bloody murder.’
‘We’re running out of time, Billy,’ Harper told him. ‘I need something. I need the murderer.’
‘I’ll try,’ Reed promised. ‘Have you managed to find anything else?’
The inspector shook his head. What was there to find? ‘You’re sure they don’t suspect you?’
‘I think they’re cautious,’ the sergeant answered after a moment. ‘They don’t trust me yet.’
Harper stroked his chin, feeling the bristles under his fingertips. ‘Is there a weak link in the group?’
‘Boyd,’ the sergeant said without hesitation.
‘Then get him
alone and work on him,’ the inspector ordered. ‘But any bad feeling at all, get out of there.’
‘I can look after myself, Tom.’
‘Don’t get too bloody cocky,’ he warned and glanced across. ‘Where did you get those clothes, anyway?’
‘I went down to the second-hand stalls on the market.’
Harper grinned. ‘I’d steer clear of the uniforms. Dressed like that, they’ll be taking you in for vagrancy.’
The freezing wind blew directly into Harper’s face as he walked along North Street. He hunched down into the coat, plodding along until he reached the shop. The bell tinkled lightly as he entered and he breathed in air warmed by a small stove in the corner.
A man bustled out from the back room, tape measure flapping against his chest, then stopped and grinned.
‘Tom.’ His mouth turned downwards in disappointment. ‘You’re not wearing your new suit.’
‘I wore it on Christmas Day.’ That seemed an age ago now. ‘It’s a work of art, it really is. How are you, Moses?’
‘Good, good.’ He rubbed his hands and rolled his eyes. ‘Oy, that wife of yours. She must love you, Tom. Only the best for you, doesn’t matter what it costs. Please, send me a hundred more like her.’ He started to roar with laughter.
Harper and Moishe Cohen had grown up together on Noble Street, just four doors apart. They’d played together as children and gone to the same school.
The man stared at him. ‘You haven’t come to thank me for the schmutter, Tom. I know you, you’re here about Abraham. He was a good boy. Loud, sometimes, but who’s to say he was wrong? These young ones, my Isaac, my Israel, they were born here. All they know is England.’ He shrugged. ‘What do they care about an old country they’ll never see? They want to be part of this one.’
‘So I’ve discovered.’
‘Have you seen the signs people are putting up?’
‘Samuel Levy showed them to me,’ the inspector told him sadly. ‘It’s not my Leeds, Moses, you know that.’
Cohen gave a helpless nod. ‘Maybe it will all change in time. God willing.’
‘What about your boys? How do they feel?’
‘Isaac’s happy enough. He’s quiet, goes to temple every week.’
‘And Israel?’
‘Israel.’ Cohen pronounced the name very slowly. ‘He was a friend of Abraham’s, did you know that? He does his work every day, but he’s out every night except Friday.’ He shook his head. ‘We’ve had one death around here, Tom. I’m scared there might be more.’
‘I need to know what’s happening around here, Moses. What people are saying and doing. Maybe it’ll stop anyone else being killed.’ He needed something, and he needed it soon. With each step in the Leylands, he felt he could taste the tension and the fear. He had to find the killer.
Cohen gave a wan smile. ‘And you want me to help you?’
‘I hope you can.’
‘Tom,’ he sighed, ‘we might as well be zeydes for all we matter to these children. We’re old, we might as well be grandfathers. I can keep my eyes open, I can listen. But it doesn’t mean I’ll hear anything. They’re young, they don’t talk to me. They talk to each other.’ He paused. ‘But if some little bird sits on my shoulder and tells me secrets, I’ll let you know.’
‘Thank you. I have to know what people are thinking round here.’
‘I can tell you that very easily, Tom,’ Cohen told him seriously. ‘We’re very angry. And very, very scared.’
Harper pulled out his pocket watch. After four, already dark. The air was growing thicker; he felt smuts of soot in his throat as he breathed. He was close enough to walk home to the Victoria. There was little more he could do; he’d put in a long day. For now it was all up to Billy.
Annabelle was in the bar, an apron over her work dress as she filled a small bucket with beer for a boy whose head barely reached above the bar.
‘You watch out for yourself going home. Try not to spill too much.’ She watched with a smile as the lad walked carefully. ‘Honestly, some of them are too lazy to come for their own drink. They send the little ones out instead.’
He kissed her cheek. ‘What are you doing down here?’
‘I had to send Dan home. He was coughing so hard I thought his insides were coming out. It’s this weather. I gave him some chlorodyne and sent him on his way.’
‘No one else to cover?’
‘I don’t mind.’ She shrugged and ran a damp cloth over the polished wood of the bar.
‘I was back over in Burmantofts this morning. The chap who owns one of those larger shops I was looking at has offered me a good price on rent.’
‘Are you going to take it?’
‘I said I’d let him know tomorrow.’ She was smiling. ‘Mind, if he’s that desperate I should be able to get him down a little more. Let him wait.’
‘You’re an evil woman.’
‘That’s why you love me, Tom Harper.’ She darted close and gave him a kiss. ‘You look perished.’
‘I swear it’s getting colder out there.’
‘There’s a good fire upstairs. Go and get yourself warm, and have Kitty make you a cuppa.’
‘What about you?’
‘I’m going to look after things down here for a bit.’
‘You work too hard.’ He put his arms around her.
‘Someone has to. It won’t run itself.’ She rested her head against his shoulder and sighed with pleasure.
‘I was out with Captain Muyrère this morning.’
‘Oh aye? Has he found anything yet?’
‘He’s off to see Le Prince’s widow tomorrow.’
‘Poor woman.’
‘He asked if you’d go with him.’
She pulled back suddenly and looked at him with astonishment. ‘Me? Whatever for?’
‘You know her. He thought it might help if there was a woman there.’
For once Annabelle seemed stuck for words. ‘Is that how they do it in France, then?’ She stared into his eyes. ‘Do you honestly think it might do some good, Tom?’
‘It could make her feel more at ease.’
She stood, arms folded, staring at the floor, thinking. ‘I suppose I could ask Arthur to help for a few hours if Dan’s not back,’ she began. ‘He was serious? You’re sure of that?’
‘I’m positive,’ Harper told her gently.
She grinned. ‘I don’t know. I’ve never helped a copper before. Might ruin my reputation.’
‘I’ll keep it quiet.’ He winked.
‘You’d better if you know what’s good for you, Tom Harper.’ She paused. ‘Do you really think it’s a good idea? It’s five years since I met her.’
‘That doesn’t matter. At least you’ll be familiar.’
‘All right,’ she decided with a nod. ‘Tell him I’ll do it. What time?’
‘I don’t know yet. I’ll see him in the morning and let you know.’
NINE
People hardly gave them a second glance as they sat on the bench. The trains sighed, whistles blew, steam and smoke billowed under the ceiling of the station. Reed looked down at the ground, a cigarette cupped in his hand. He’d found an old bowler hat somewhere, the shine all gone, dents dotting the crown. Unshaved, he looked down-at-heel, a man adrift. Next to him, Harper wore his new suit and gazed out at the swarming crowds. He picked hot chestnuts from a bag and chewed them slowly, the warmth filling his belly. For all the world they looked like two strangers forced close to each other by circumstance. The sergeant was speaking intently and quietly.
‘Boyd didn’t arrive on his own last night. But they did say they had friends who like to attack Jews and Irishmen.’
‘Any names?’ Harper asked urgently.
Reed shook his head. ‘They don’t trust me enough yet. But Boyd knows, I’m sure. I’m going to get him on his own tonight.’
‘Kendall was after me again today.’
‘I’ll do my best, Tom.’
‘I know.’ He held ou
t the rest of the chestnuts. ‘Do you want these?’
‘Had enough?’
‘They’re going cold.’
‘You’re all heart, Tom.’
Harper grinned. ‘Just looking out for the poor.’
He finished the working day in the superintendent’s office.
‘He’s getting closer, sir.’
‘How close, Tom?’
Harper explained what Reed had found out. Kendall listened, hands steepled under his chin. His nails were clean and all evenly cut.
‘Tomorrow.’ The superintendent’s voice was firm. ‘If there’s nothing by then, we’ll pull in these men from the Cork and Bottle again and force names out of them. You understand?’
‘Yes, sir.’ He prayed Billy could come up with something. Any lead they could follow.
‘Have you been back to the Leylands today?’
‘This morning. It’s quiet enough. No more fights.’
‘For now,’ the superintendent warned. ‘Anything else and God knows what might happen. I’ve had to put two more constables up there, as it is. If trouble starts to flare, the Irish in the Bank might get ideas.’
‘Has Rabbi Feldman complained?’
‘All it takes is one thing, though …’ Kendall shook his head. ‘What about that Frenchman? What’s he been up to?’
‘He went to see Le Prince’s widow today. He’s been to the workshop and the foundry the father-in-law owns.’
‘Make sure he tells you everything, Tom. This is our patch, we need to know what’s going on.’
‘I really don’t think there’s anything to find here, sir. He’s just looking for background. He’s off to America next.’
Kendall snorted. ‘All right for some, isn’t it?’ He gave a warning look. ‘Don’t you start suggesting you go gallivanting all over for cases, either.’
‘No, sir.’ He smiled. Not that he’d ever have the opportunity.
The tram stop was at the bottom of Roundhay Road. He dashed across the street and into the Victoria. Dan was back behind the bar, cleaning glasses before the workers came in at the end of shift, thirsty and loud.
‘Feeling better today?’
‘Cough’s not as bad. I bought some different medicine last night, it seems to have done the trick. Annabelle’s back in the kitchen. Want me to tell her you’re home?’
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