Two Bronze Pennies

by Chris Nickson

  ‘Did you see anyone go in that pub after me?’

  ‘No one,’ Harper answered. ‘Why?’

  ‘We’d been there at least five minutes before Alfred arrived.’ He raised an eyebrow.

  ‘So he was either already there or he came in a different way.’

  ‘Yes,’ the sergeant nodded. ‘And he doesn’t live round here. He’s far too posh for Kirkstall.’ They covered another block. ‘He’s dangerous. Slippery.’

  ‘And he paid them?’

  ‘Two shillings. Just for being there.’

  It was a good day’s wages. For a man without work, it could be a lifeline, Harper thought. ‘We’ll arrest Alfred after he gives you your task tomorrow.’

  Reed shook his head. ‘Don’t. He’s the type who’d have a lawyer at the station in an hour, Tom. Let’s see where it goes.’

  ‘We don’t have time, Billy.’ Tomorrow was the deadline the superintendent had given them.

  ‘We need it to stick,’ Reed reminded him, and the inspector knew he was right. They had to be certain of a conviction in court. Solid evidence that couldn’t be doubted.

  ‘Go back to the Cork and Bottle tonight,’ Harper told him. ‘It would look strange if you didn’t.’

  ‘And tomorrow?’

  ‘Come back out here. I’ll be around.’

  ‘What are you going to do?’

  Right now, he wasn’t sure.

  It was almost five o’clock and full, gloomy dark when Harper alighted from the tram at the bottom of Roundhay Road. With dusk, the freezing fog that had been threatening all afternoon had clamped down hard. The air was thick, and left the acrid taste of soot and dirt in his mouth. He could only see about ten yards along the street, and heard coughing as people walked past with wet lungs and raw throats.

  The lights of the Victoria glowed soft and welcoming. Inside, the fire was warm and embracing, burning bright in the hearth. The bar was full, men standing and talking in groups. He slipped through and up the stairs.

  Annabelle was sitting at the table, waiting, a teapot and empty cup in front of her. He kissed her forehead and slowly took off his scarf and overcoat.

  ‘Turned bad out there.’

  ‘Tom,’ she said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Sit yourself down.’

  He’d hoped he could glide past the subject. But he should have known better. She didn’t forget. Harper pulled out a chair and faced her.

  ‘How’s your ear?’ Annabelle asked.

  ‘Fine now. My hearing came back during the morning.’ He smiled at her.

  ‘It scared you. I saw it on your face. And you said it wasn’t the first time.’

  ‘That’s right.’ He kept his voice low, staring down at the tablecloth, feeling her stare.

  ‘I’m your wife, aren’t I, Tom? We got ourselves wed back in the summer, didn’t we? I didn’t imagine it?’

  ‘You know you are.’

  ‘Then you’d better tell me what’s going on.’ It wasn’t begging, it wasn’t a request; it was a demand. She put a small hand over his. ‘I love you. I married you. But I can’t help you unless I know what’s happening, can I?’

  He nodded. He’d kept the secret for so long that hiding it had become second nature.

  ‘It’s happened twice. The last was a couple of days ago. Just for a few minutes.’

  She waited, then said, ‘Go on, Tom. All of it. Please.’

  He took a deep breath, glancing up at her face.

  ‘About six years ago I was chasing a thief. I was still in uniform back then. He started fighting when I brought him down and hit me on the ear. Hard.’ Without thinking, he raised his hand and rubbed his right ear. ‘I don’t know what happened, but I’ve not been able to hear properly since.’

  ‘Just the right ear?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Have you seen anyone? A doctor?’

  ‘Three of them.’ His voice was bleak. ‘The best any of them could say is that my hearing might fully return in time.’ He shrugged. ‘I’m still waiting.’

  ‘What about it growing worse? What did they say about that?’

  ‘That it could happen,’ he admitted.

  She sighed. ‘Why the hell didn’t you tell me, you daft sod?’

  ‘Because … because I’ve never told anyone. If they find out at the department they might sack me. You can’t have a deaf detective.’

  ‘You’ve managed so far, haven’t you?’

  ‘Yes,’ he agreed.

  ‘Then we’d better see what can be done to get your hearing back.’

  ‘I told you—’

  ‘Tom.’ Her voice overrode his. ‘When was the last time you saw anyone about it?’

  ‘Three years,’ he admitted quietly.

  ‘Then you need to have it checked again. Look,’ she told him, ‘I have money. We can afford the best. Let him take a look and see what he says.’

  He twined his fingers through hers. ‘Thank you.’

  ‘Who’s the top man at this in Leeds?’

  ‘Dr Kent.’ He kept an office on Park Square, expensive, prestigious surroundings. His services were beyond anything the inspector could afford on a policeman’s salary.

  ‘Make an appointment.’ She smiled. ‘We might not be as rich as those Whitleys and Le Princes but we’re not on the streets just yet.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Course I am. I’m your wife. Go ahead and arrange it. I’ll come down with you.’

  ‘Don’t tell anyone, please.’

  Annabelle closed her mouth and grinned. ‘Schtum, don’t worry.’

  ‘Thank you,’ he repeated. What more could he say? ‘What about you? Anything more on that shop?’

  ‘Oh aye.’ She pulled a shawl from the chair back and wrapped it around her shoulders. ‘He came down a little more on the rent, so I said yes.’

  ‘The big shop or the smaller one?’

  ‘Big.’ She gave a small laugh. ‘In for a penny, in for a pound.’

  ‘What next?’

  ‘I’m meeting the carpenter there tomorrow. The same fellow who did the other bakeries for me. He does good work and he’s reasonable.’ She scrabbled in the pocket of her gown, bringing out a notebook and the stub of a pencil before scrawling a note. ‘I need to talk to the printer, too. Get some notices up about the opening.’

  ‘When is it?’

  ‘I’m planning on the twenty-sixth of January. It’ll give them time to anticipate so they’ll be waiting when we open.’

  ‘Interesting idea.’

  ‘It’ll work,’ she said with confidence. ‘I did it with the other bakeries. Then I’ll give them good quality at a fair price. That’s what keeps them coming back.’

  ‘As long as they do.’

  ‘They’d better, for what I’m spending on this place.’ She shrugged. ‘Open a business and you take your chance. I’ll know more in six months.’

  ‘That long?’ Harper asked. It seemed like forever.

  ‘You have to give it a chance to build,’ she explained. ‘Offer customers what they want and they come back and tell others. By July I’ll have a good idea if it’s going to make money or not.’

  ‘And if it’s not?’

  She shrugged. ‘I’ll close it. There’s no point throwing good money after bad. I’ll look around and try somewhere else. But I wouldn’t be opening the place if I didn’t think it couldn’t make a bob or two.’

  There were times he realized that she was beyond his understanding. Capable, ambitious, a businesswoman in a man’s world. Around Sheepscar they loved her. She was generous but always practical. He’d spend the rest of his life trying to keep up with her.

  TWELVE

  ‘In my office,’ Kendall said as he marched past. Fog swirled against the windows, as if Millgarth police station stood on its own, apart from the rest of Leeds.

  Harper waited while the superintendent removed his overcoat, muffler and hat, coughing up the soot that filled the air outside.
r />   ‘I had to see the Chief Constable yesterday. Rabbi Feldman had a word with him.’

  ‘About the fire?’

  ‘The fire, the murder.’ He sighed. ‘The Chief wants someone in the cells.’

  ‘Reed met Alfred yesterday. He has to go back today.’

  ‘Then it had better be good. I mean it, Tom With all the men I’ve put in the Leylands we’re stretched so thin we’re going to tear.’

  ‘Yes, sir. But we still need evidence.’

  ‘Then find it, Inspector.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘We have to convict someone for this. And we can’t afford to fail.’

  Before twelve Harper was out by the Cross Keys in Kirkstall. In town the fog had felt thicker than ever, like a blanket around his face, heavy and choking. Out here it was lighter, wispy. He found a place to watch the public house. Close enough to see everything but far enough not to be noticed. A cloud of mist drifted over the river in the distance. Every sound was deadened, muffled.

  He saw men arrive in ones and twos, then finally Reed on his own, trudging out from Leeds, still wearing the battered old bowler hat, head bowed against the weather. But there was no one who looked as if he had money. No Alfred. They were all working men with their heavy boots and steady pace.

  He ran a hand along the tree trunk that hid him; it was damp from the fog. At least it wasn’t as frozen as yesterday. Cold, but bearable to stand and wait. Time still dragged, though. He imagined them inside, by the warmth of a fire.

  Eventually they came out again. A gaggle of them together, vanishing along the road. But no Reed. Harper tensed, hands pressed into the pockets of his overcoat, pushing on to the balls of his feet.

  Then the sergeant was there, alone, moving slowly back towards Leeds. The inspector let him go. Alfred would show himself soon enough.

  Reed heard the footsteps approaching quickly. He tensed and turned, ready. If they were coming for him, he’d give them a fight. The figure approached quickly, like a ghost, a dark outline against the fog. The man was close before he could make out the inspector and he breathed again.

  ‘God, you scared me there, Tom.’

  ‘What happened?’

  ‘They’re planning something, that’s all I know.’

  ‘What?’ he demanded.

  ‘They wouldn’t tell me.’ He could hear the frustration in the sergeant’s voice. ‘I had to stand outside the room while they talked. I’m meeting them tonight at the top of Briggate. Ten o’clock.’ He paused. ‘You were going to follow Alfred.’

  ‘He had a chaise waiting at the back of the pub. I couldn’t even get a glimpse of his bloody face.’

  ‘What are they planning?’ Kendall asked.

  ‘I don’t know, sir,’ Reed answered. The sergeant had come back to Millgarth with the inspector. ‘They wouldn’t tell me. I think it’s a test.’

  The three of them were sitting in the superintendent’s office, the door firmly closed.

  ‘I don’t want Billy there, sir,’ Harper said. ‘It’s too dangerous.’

  ‘What are you going to do, then?’

  ‘Nab them. If they’re really planning something, they’ll have weapons and tools on them. The top of Briggate is only a few hundred yards from the Leylands and the synagogue.’

  ‘I know exactly where it is, Inspector,’ Kendall told him coldly. ‘But we need them committing a crime.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ Harper agreed.

  ‘Meet them,’ the superintendent ordered Reed. ‘We’ll have men around.’ He thought for a few seconds. ‘Go with them. Find out what they’re doing. As soon as you get where you’re going, run. We’ll take care of the rest. Understood, sergeant?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Good. Be there on time tonight and ready.’ Kendall waited until Reed had left, closing the door behind him.

  ‘You didn’t see this Alfred? Not even a glimpse?’

  ‘The chaise was right behind the pub and he had his head down. Took off up the hill. I wouldn’t have been able to keep up.’

  ‘When you arrest these man tonight, make sure you ask about him. I want to know who he is.’

  ‘So do I.’ Harper’s face was grim. ‘I want him in the dock, right beside them.’ The man had been too quick and too clever for him, almost as if he’d guessed someone would be watching. He wasn’t going to be bested by someone like that.

  ‘You know what to do, Tom.’ Kendall picked up his copy of that morning’s Yorkshire Post. ‘Have you seen this?

  ‘Not yet, sir. Why?’

  The superintendent gave a long sigh. ‘Councillor May again.’

  May was the bane of every copper’s life. He’d made sure he became head of the Watch Committee, which made every decision about the force. But he hated the police, in the same way as he seemed to despise the poor, all the immigrants, everyone who didn’t have money and lived in a way he approved.

  ‘What’s he saying this time?’

  The superintendent pushed the newspaper across the desk.

  ‘Bottom left corner.’

  Harper read it quickly. For the most part, it was May’s usual bombast. But there was one new twist: a threat to cut the police budget, ‘so they can learn to live the way honest people do, not profligate with money.’

  ‘Considering he’s rich, it doesn’t mean much,’ the inspector said when he’d finished.

  ‘He was talking to the chief about it yesterday.’ He gave a brief grin. ‘The way I heard it, the chief didn’t mince words telling May what he thought. We’d better watch out; he’s going to want the axe to fall. Fewer constables. We’ll maybe have to close one or two stations.’

  ‘It hasn’t happened yet, sir.’

  ‘It will if May has anything to do with it.’ He shook his head and tipped the Post into his rubbish bin. ‘Just make sure you do it right tonight. We can’t afford any mistakes.’

  ‘I’ll need men in plain clothes.’

  ‘Five enough?’ the superintendent asked.

  ‘Yes, sir. I’d like Ash among them.’

  Kendall nodded. ‘I’ll arrange it.’

  ‘You should look at him for promotion, sir.’

  The superintendent raised an eyebrow. ‘You think so? He’s barely been on the force a year or so, hasn’t he?’

  ‘Yes, sir. But I’ve worked with him and he can think. That’s more than you can say for most of them.’

  The superintendent lit his pipe. ‘He has your old beat off Briggate, doesn’t he?’

  ‘He’s put it in good shape. It took me a lot longer than that.’ He’d had to spend several years in uniform before becoming a detective. But Ash was ready. There was no reason for him to wait.

  ‘I’ll consider it.’

  He’d planned it carefully. Everything was riding on this. If they took the men cleanly, they could wrap up Abraham Levy’s murder.

  Harper’s small force was scattered around, close enough to watch but not near enough to arouse suspicion. They’d wait for his signal, ready to shadow the group wherever they went.

  He’d briefed them a few minutes before, smelt liquor on the breath of one man and sent him home. He wanted everyone alert, ready to go whenever he gave the word.

  They were all in place before ten. Harper kept his distance, a scarf pulled up over his mouth. With the fog clinging, no one would think it strange. He kept opening and closing his fists in his pockets. Come on, he thought. Bloody come on.

  Finally they gathered, four of them, dim shapes in the thick mist, standing, talking, smoking. Reed arrived, striding quickly down the Headrow to join them. A few quick words and they began to move off together. One man seemed to be in the lead, squat, a cap jammed down on his head

  No toff, no Alfred, but he’d never really expected it. He sounded like the type to give orders and keep his distance, never to get his hands dirty. The inspector raised a hand in a signal and his men followed.

  He could just pick out the group as they walked through the fog, haloed by t
he gas lamps. Past the Grand Theatre and out towards North Street. His heart was beating faster. They were going into the Leylands.

  He held back until they disappeared down Trafalgar Street. Then the inspector waved his men on. He dare not lose track of Reed and the others for long.

  The area was quiet, the mist clinging low. People slept early here, up before dawn to work for twelve or fifteen hours. Harper kept to the shadows, treading lightly. He was close enough to make out someone bend, pick something up and throw it. A window broke with the brittle shatter of glass. The group strolled on, careless, as if they owned the area.

  One window. Criminal damage, but it wasn’t enough. He wanted them for a real offence, and he could feel it coming. Another stone, another window broken further down the street. Then they were running like a small mob. A yell; they must have seen someone. He waited three seconds, then whistled loud.

  The inspector sprinted with the others, round the corner on to Bridge Street. They were there, a clump of men gathered around something.

  Harper was on them before they could scatter, grabbing someone by the collar and pulling him to the ground, jumping on his back and putting handcuffs around his wrist as he tried to wriggle free.

  There were shouts and punches, but they never had a chance. The policemen were trained, cold and angry. An old man lay on the cobbles, a pair of spectacles smashed by his side, his hat a few yards away. The inspector knelt beside him.

  ‘You’re safe now. I’m Detective Inspector Harper. The men who attacked you are under arrest.’

  Then man blinked slowly. He had a withered face filled with sorrow, his eyes watery, his beard soft and almost white. He’d be bruised and sore in the morning but there was no blood; they’d arrived in time. Harper extended a hand and gently helped the man to his feet.

  ‘Where do you live?’ he asked, then ‘V ton leben?’

  ‘Back Nile Street,’ the man answered in halting, heavy English.

  A pair of bobbies had arrived on the run, drawn by the sound. He spotted Maitland.

  ‘Help this man home,’ the inspector said. ‘I want you to talk to him and his family. Tell him we’re very sorry, but that the men who did it will go to jail. And make sure you get his statement.’

  ‘Yes sir.’ The constable picked up the hat and glasses. ‘Komm, los uns heym geyn,’ he told the old man with a smile, lightly taking hold of his arm. ‘I’ll look after it, sir.’