Two Bronze Pennies

by Chris Nickson

‘Someone for Mr Harper.’ He heard the voice and stood.

  Kendall walked into the room. His face was pinched and serious, the top hat clutched tightly in his hands.

  ‘Mrs Harper, I’m sorry to intrude, but I need a word with your husband.’

  ‘Of course.’ She flashed Tom a look. He had no idea why the super had come. The only time the man had been in the Victoria was for their wedding reception. Whatever the reason, it must be important.

  ‘Sir,’ he said.

  ‘I’ve just come from the infirmary,’ the superintendent began and Harper felt his spine stiffen. ‘I’d been called down there. There was a do for children at some place in Wortley and a fire started.’ Harper heard Annabelle draw in a sudden breath. ‘Half of them were badly burned. While I was there a copper found me. They’d brought Billy Reed in. He’d been attacked up on Woodhouse Moor. He’s unconscious, Tom. He’s in a bad way.’

  ‘Christ.’ The word slipped out.

  ‘I have to go out and see where the fire happened. You’re in charge until I’m back. Call in as many men as you need.’ An iron edge entered into Kendall’s voice. ‘Do whatever you have to do. No one hurts one of my men.’

  ‘Sir?’

  ‘I can’t stay, there’s a hackney waiting for me outside. Get yourself to the hospital, then to the station.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  He was gone, and Harper was reaching for his overcoat when Annabelle said, ‘Elizabeth.’

  He turned to stare at her.

  ‘She needs to know, Tom.’

  All he remembered was that she lived in Middleton. No address. He couldn’t even recall her surname.

  ‘I’ll have someone send a message to the Middleton police. They might know her.’

  ‘No,’ she said firmly. ‘I’ll go out there and bring her to the infirmary.’

  ‘It’s dark. You don’t even know how to find her,’ he objected.

  ‘Then I’ll knock on every bloody door in Middleton!’ Her eyes blazed. ‘For God’s sake, Tom, you don’t want a copper telling her. Ted Lomax was downstairs earlier. He’ll take me to the railway station in his cart and I’ll catch a train.’

  For a moment he thought about saying no. He didn’t want her wandering around a strange place at night. But Elizabeth would need some kindness, a shoulder to cry on. And if it came to the worst …

  ‘Just look after yourself,’ he said, giving her a swift kiss before vanishing out into the bitter darkness.

  They’d put Reed in a room on his own. The constable guarding the door saluted as the inspector arrived.

  A nurse stood by the bed, holding a thermometer up to the light.

  ‘How is he?’ Harper asked.

  She turned to face him, a hawk-faced woman with large brown eyes, wearing a severe uniform with a crisp white cap and apron.

  ‘The same as when he arrived,’ she answered calmly. ‘Who are you?’

  ‘Detective Inspector Harper. I work with the sergeant. What can you tell me?’

  ‘I’m Sister Richards. Your sergeant has been beaten very badly.’ She bit her lip. ‘There are bruises all over his body. We’ve no idea what damage there might be inside.’

  ‘Has he woken yet?’

  The sister shook her head. ‘He took blows to his head, too. He’s still unconscious.’

  ‘Has the doctor seen him?’ Harper asked urgently.

  ‘As soon as he was admitted, Inspector.’

  ‘What did he say?’ He was desperate, pressing for any kind of answer. Something definite, something hopeful.

  ‘We don’t know,’ she answered, her voice professional and calm. ‘With injuries like this you can’t tell for a while. I’ve seen people wake up as if nothing’s happened.’

  ‘And others?’

  ‘Sometimes there can be serious problems.’ She hesitated. ‘Or he might not wake up at all.’ The nurse stared directly at him. ‘I’m sorry, but that’s the truth.’

  Harper looked down at Reed. His body was covered by a sheet and blanket, a bandage wrapped around his forehead. His jaw was swollen, eyes closed and sunken. But he was breathing steadily. That was something.

  ‘Sister …’ he began but she shook her head.

  ‘No, Inspector,’ Sister Richards told him. ‘I’m not even going to guess. But I’d pray if you’re a praying man. It might help, and it can’t hurt.’

  ‘There’ll be someone coming later,’ he said. What could he call Elizabeth? ‘She’s the sergeant’s fiancée. Let her sit with him.’

  She looked doubtful. ‘I don’t know. That’s very unusual.’

  ‘He’s a policeman. You just said yourself that he might die. Let her sit with him, please.’ Reluctantly, she nodded. ‘And as soon as he wakes up, can you send word to Millgarth police station?’ When Billy wakes up, he thought, not if. When. When.

  ‘Of course.’

  He placed a hand on Reed’s shoulder before leaving.

  With no carts or omnibuses on the roads the hackney made good time. He was at the station within five minutes. Inside, men were moving around quietly, all of them looking grimly determined. What had happened to Billy Reed could have happened to any of them.

  The night sergeant looked at him, and the inspector shook his head. No news. He strode through to the office, finding Ash waiting, standing by the fire and smoking a cigarette.

  ‘What are you still doing here?’ Harper asked.

  ‘I heard the news when I came back from that raid on the Anchor. I thought I’d stay around and see what I could do to help.’

  ‘Thank you.’ He was grateful; he’d need all the men he could muster.

  ‘What’s the latest, sir?’

  ‘Nothing new. He’s still unconscious. Someone gave him a proper going over.’ He saw the constable frown. ‘Did you find any of them at the pub?’

  ‘Came up dry. But like the landlord said, they’re never there on Thursdays.’

  ‘What about the houses? Did the constables check there?’

  Ash nodded. ‘Looks like they’ve all scarpered. Briggs was in lodgings but the other two are married men.’

  ‘Do we have descriptions?’ the inspector asked.

  ‘Better than that, sir.’ His eyes twinkled. ‘I told the coppers who went out to ask for a photograph. We have those on Hill and Anderson.’

  ‘Well done.’ It was a simple idea but one that wouldn’t have occurred to him. ‘What else?’

  ‘That’s it, I’m afraid, sir. We’ve put the word out to all the divisions.’

  Harper nodded. ‘Where’s the constable who found Billy?’

  ‘Changing room, sir. Dare say he’s having a cup of tea.’

  ‘Did anyone take his statement?’

  ‘It’s on your desk.’

  The inspector read it through quickly. Out on his beat, Constable Gerald Harrison, 624, heard someone yelling on Woodhouse Moor. When he investigated, he found a man unconscious and he blew his whistle to summon assistance. The police sub-station was only a couple of hundred yards away; someone had arrived within a minute.

  ‘Let’s talk to Constable Harrison, shall we?’

  He was an older man, close to fifty and running to fat, thick fingers curled around a mug of tea. He’d unbuttoned the collar of his uniform. Four cigarette butts littered the floor around his polished boots. Probably a lifetime as a bobby, Harper thought. Harrison’s flabby face was pale, blue eyes staring somewhere ahead. He stirred as the inspector and Ash entered.

  ‘How is he, sir? Do you know?’

  ‘Still unconscious,’ Harper told him. ‘It says in your report that you heard someone yelling on the moor.’

  ‘That’s right, sir. With no lights out there, took me a little while to find him.’

  ‘Did you get the name of the man?’

  ‘Didn’t need to, sir. It was old George Willis. Known him for donkey’s years.’

  ‘So you don’t think he was involved?’

  ‘Him?’ Harrison looked astonished. ‘Never, sir. He
just found the sergeant, that’s all.’

  ‘When did you realize it was Sergeant Reed?’

  The constable chewed his lower lip. ‘Not until we had him in the station. I went through his pockets and found his identification.’

  ‘His wallet was in his jacket?’ the inspector asked in surprise. He’d thought it was a robbery that had gone badly wrong.

  ‘Yes, sir, and coins in his pocket. So we sent a message down here straight away.’

  ‘What time did you find him? I didn’t see it in your report.’

  ‘Must have been a little after seven,’ Harrison answered after a little thought. ‘It was twenty past when we got finally him into the light, I know that.’

  Harper pulled out his pocket watch. Twenty-five past eleven. How long had Billy been lying there before someone found him? And why had he been walking over Woodhouse Moor? He knew the man’s routine. Reed always took the omnibus to Hyde Park Corner. All too often he’d stop for a drink at Mould’s Hotel.

  ‘Was there anything strange out there tonight?’ he asked.

  ‘Strange, sir?’ Harrison frowned, then his face cleared. ‘There was a cart that lost its load. Backed all the traffic up for a good half hour. Had to keep my eye on that. It happened about six o’clock.’

  ‘What time did the sergeant leave here?’ the inspector asked Ash.

  ‘Probably about half past five.’

  A few minutes to walk and wait for the bus. He’d have been trapped in the traffic. Billy was never good at waiting. He’d have alighted and walked home to his lodgings, taking the quick way across Woodhouse Moor. But with the wallet still there, this was no robbery. So it had been deliberate. Revenge. The only thing he had worked on recently was the Leylands killings. Harper’s mind took a leap. The sergeant had said Alfred looked as if he could see through him. What if he really had known all along who Reed was?

  ‘Thank you, Constable,’ Harper said to Harrison. ‘You can go.’

  In the office he sat and thought, staring at Reed’s empty desk. Billy would be back. He’d recover. He’d return. Please God.

  Alfred. Bloody Alfred.

  The desk sergeant poked his head around the door. ‘Inspector, there’s a woman to see you.’

  A woman at this time of night, he thought, then he understood; Annabelle, on her way home. ‘Show her through, please.’

  It might have been late, but she still looked lovely. Composed and perfect, hands warm inside a fur muff, a hat with a feather perched jauntily on her head, a long wool cloak over her dress. It was the first time she’d been here and her eyes took in everything. The old paint, coloured by years of smoke, the shabby desks, the notices pinned to the wall.

  ‘Elizabeth is with him now,’ she said.

  ‘How difficult was it to find her?’ Harper asked.

  ‘Easy as you like,’ Annabelle said dismissively. ‘Her mam’s going to take care of the children until everything’s sorted out. I told Elizabeth she could stay with us. We have that spare room.’

  ‘Of course,’ he agreed. It was the least they could do. ‘At the infirmary I said they should let her sit with him.’

  ‘She’s torn apart, Tom. She really loves him. Spent half the time crying. I told her she has to be strong when she’s with him. I saw him in that bed. He looks bad.’

  ‘He is,’ Harper agreed solemnly. ‘Not that the doctors know much yet.’ From the other side of the room there was a cough. ‘Constable Ash, this is my wife.’

  ‘Pleased to meet you, Mrs Harper.’ He gave a nod of his head.

  ‘Ash, Ash.’ She pursed her lips and narrowed her eyes. ‘Do you have a sister called Dottie?’

  ‘Aye. Our Dorothy. She’s older than me.’

  ‘She was a cook at the Victoria when I started on there as a servant. Went to work for some family up in Chapel Allerton.’

  ‘That’s her,’ Ash agreed. ‘Left when she got herself wed. Has five nippers now.’

  Leeds was a large town, Harper thought. Hundreds of thousands of people. But sometimes it seemed no bigger than a village.

  Annabelle turned back to him. ‘Small world, eh?’ The brief smile left her face. ‘If you go back to the hospital and Elizabeth’s still there, send her to the Victoria, will you, Tom? I’ll pay for the cab.’

  ‘Of course.’

  She kissed him quickly, arms around him, then let her head rest on his shoulder for a few seconds. He knew the thought in her mind; it could have been him.

  ‘I’m going home,’ Annabelle said. ‘I’m exhausted. Come back when you can.’

  Then she was gone. In the silence, Ash said, ‘Who’d have credited it?’ He sighed. ‘Right, sir, how are we going to find the bastards who attacked Mr Reed?’

  Harper rubbed his hands down his face. ‘Did he tell you about Alfred?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘I think he has something to do with this.’

  ‘How?’ He frowned. ‘Why, sir?’

  The inspector explained his theory and Ash nodded slowly.

  ‘I still don’t understand exactly why he’d want to do it, though.’

  ‘To pay him out,’ Harper said. ‘He probably knew all along that Billy was a copper. As soon as it’s light we need to go and look up on Woodhouse Moor. I want to see where it happened. Maybe we’ll have a little more idea then. In the meantime, I want every constable hunting Fields and his friends.’

  ‘Is there any more word about those children in Wortley, sir?’

  The inspector shook his head. He hadn’t had time to give it another thought since Kendall had told him. He glanced at the clock on the wall. A few minutes past one.

  ‘Go home,’ he said. ‘Get some sleep. There’s not much more we can do tonight. Be back at seven.’

  ‘Yes, sir. If anything happens …’

  ‘I’ll send for you.’

  He talked to the desk sergeant, looking at the day roster and arranging to pull men from their beats. He wanted an urgent sweep through Leeds for Field, Hill, Anderson and Briggs, one that wouldn’t stop until they were found. Until they had some more clues they couldn’t begin the hunt for Alfred. They’d almost finished when the officer whispered, ‘Just coming in through the door, sir.’

  Harper looked up. A pair of reporters, one from the Yorkshire Post, the other from the Leeds Mercury. Juniors, both of them. All the best reporters would be out in Wortley or at the infirmary. Both of them were young, their sideboards nothing more than down dusting their faces. They looked so eager, hopeful for a story that would help to make them known.

  ‘Sergeant, do you think we could find these gentlemen a cup of tea? They look cold.’

  Todd and Reeve. He’d met them before on cases when they’d sniffed around with their questions. He took them into his office and let them warm themselves by the fire, gave them tea and found some old biscuits in a drawer.

  They all knew which story would fill the front page, but this would demand space, too, and the inspector fed them just enough. A policeman beaten unconscious. That was an outrage. Add to it the fact that he’d been investigating the murders in the Leylands, and hints that this had been revenge, and it had everything. Hints that the force knew who was responsible and were undertaking a hunt across the town.

  He was certain they’d make the most of it. They were hungry to make names for themselves. They’d follow this and try to turn it into a sensation. He hadn’t named the men they were seeking, but once the story was out, everyone would be looking. By the time they left he could see that the reporters were desperate to write their articles.

  Almost two o’clock. He bundled himself in his overcoat and muffler and left the station, walking through the night up the Headrow. The rain had frozen into dangerous patches of ice on the pavement, reflecting the light from the gas lamps. Fog clung in places, hanging low and thick enough to taste. He coughed and moved on. The streets were empty, the only footsteps his own.

  Elizabeth was sitting by the bed, holding tight on to Reed’s hand.
She turned as the inspector entered. Her face was haggard, the tracks of dried tears on her cheeks.

  ‘Any change?’ he asked quietly.

  ‘Nothing,’ she answered in a husky whisper. ‘He won’t wake up.’

  ‘He will,’ Harper assured her, hoping it was true. ‘Just be patient. Look, why don’t you go to the Victoria and sleep?’

  ‘I need to be here.’ She squeezed the sergeant’s hand again.

  ‘You go,’ he told her. ‘I’ll sit here for a while.’

  ‘Do you know who did it yet?’

  ‘I have an idea, yes. We’ll find them. Billy’s one of ours, we’re not going to let anyone get away with that. Come on, I’ll make sure you get a hackney.’

  She was reluctant to leave. Gently he guided her out to the street and gave the driver of the single waiting cab the address, slipping him money to cover the fare.

  ‘Knock hard,’ he said to Elizabeth. ‘Someone will let you in.’

  Annabelle would look after her. A hot drink, a talk, and a bed for her rest. He made his way back down the corridor to the room, treading quietly, exchanging a wink with a nurse he passed.

  Reed’s breathing was low, even and steady. The inspector stood at the foot of the bed, staring down at him. It hurt to see him this way, like a fist in the gut, taking the breath from him. Billy was more than another policeman. He was a friend, too. Finally he had to force himself to turn away and leave.

  Harper found a press of people outside the children’s ward. They sat in sorrowful silence, families gathered together. Harper could hear the high, pained cries from beyond the closed doors. The worst sound any parent could endure.

  He moved past them and found Kendall sitting in a room with Superintendent Cross from D Division and Chief Constable Webb. The chief must have been dragged away from a night out; he was still wearing his black tailcoat, starched shirt and bow tie, hair carefully parted, shoes so polished they reflected the light. All three of them looked broken apart by what they’d seen.

  Kendall motioned him in. ‘How’s Reed?’ he asked.

  ‘The same, sir.’

  ‘Any leads?’

  ‘It wasn’t a robbery, sir. He still had his wallet when they found him. I think it has to do with Alfred. Revenge.’

  He saw the chief constable’s face darken.