Two Bronze Pennies

by Chris Nickson

  ‘I’m here,’ he assured her, twining his fingers through hers.

  ‘I know you are. But it made me understand. I always want you here. What if Mrs Harper hadn’t come for me? I wouldn’t even know what had happened. You could have died and I’d never have found out. I’ve already lost one man.’

  ‘I’m a copper.’ He felt breathless and desperate. ‘Things can happen.’

  ‘I know that, love.’ Her voice was calm, soothing. ‘I’d not stop you from doing that any more than I’d have stopped Martin going down the mine. But I love you. I’ve fallen for you. And I don’t know what you want.’

  ‘I want you,’ he told her and he believed it with all his heart.

  ‘Do you?’ Elizabeth asked. He could hear the plea in her voice. ‘I need you to be honest, love. Don’t just tell me what you think I want to hear.’

  ‘I want you,’ he repeated, not sure if she was crying or not. He could make out a hand reaching into the pocket of her dress, then swiping at her face. Reed felt like one of those men he’d seen at the circus, walking along a high wire. One slip and he’d be falling and falling, away to the ground.

  She sniffled and caught her breath, then moved and quickly kissed him. ‘Mrs Harper said something when we were coming down here this morning.’

  He could taste her on his lips. ‘What?’ His voice was a croak.

  ‘She’s opening another bakery. She said that if I lived in Leeds she’d ask me to manage it for her.’

  ‘Where is it?’

  ‘Burmantofts.’ Elizabeth’s tongue stumbled over the unfamiliar word. ‘Is that right? That’s what she told me, any road. Do you know it?’

  He waited a moment, wanting to be sure of what he was about to say. ‘We could get married. You and the children could move to Leeds.’

  She was silent for a long time. He wondered what she was thinking, hoping it was the same as him.

  ‘We don’t have to.’ She sounded tentative, trying to find her way around the thoughts in her head. ‘We can live over the brush if you want. I don’t mind, Billy. Really, I don’t.’

  ‘Whatever you want,’ he told her, feeling the exhaustion creep over him. ‘I need to sleep some more. You go and talk to Mrs Harper, see if that job’s still open.’

  Harper sent the cart to collect Fields’s body. Later he’d walk over to Hunslet and see what Dr King had discovered. He shrugged off his coat, scattering snowflakes across the floor to melt. Kendall gestured from his office.

  ‘Close the door, Tom.’

  He turned the knob, cutting out the noise from outside.

  ‘Have you been to see Reed?’ the superintendent asked.

  ‘As soon as I knew he was awake. He can talk, but he doesn’t remember what happened.’

  ‘That’s common enough.’ Kendall grimaced. ‘Maybe it’ll come back to him in time. What about the body?’

  ‘It’s Fields. I could smell the fish on him.’

  ‘What do you make of it?’

  ‘I wonder if he’s a sacrifice.’ He’d had time to consider it on the walk back into town. ‘Maybe his friends think if we have his body, we won’t bother going after the rest of them.’

  ‘Friends.’ The superintendent snorted.

  ‘Something that puzzles me, sir,’ Harper said.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Why were they out Meanwood way? None of them live there.’

  ‘Maybe that’s why they were there. Staying out of the way.’

  ‘Perhaps,’ the inspector agreed. ‘I’m going to have Ash go through all the pubs out there, to see if anyone knew them.’

  ‘That’s a good plan.’ Kendall nodded and let out a slow breath. ‘The funerals of the kiddies out at Wortley are going to start on Monday.’ He glanced out of the window at the falling snow. ‘Even in this.’

  ‘It’ll never be the same out there, will it?’

  ‘No,’ the superintendent agreed grimly. ‘You know, they’re already arresting con men in Wortley. They say they’re collecting for a memorial. They won’t be the last, either. You think you’ve seen how evil people can be, and something new comes along.’

  ‘We’ll never be out of a job, that’s for certain.’

  ‘Sometimes I wish that wasn’t true. What about the attack on Reed? Any progress?’

  ‘Not yet. I can’t even find a single lead on Alfred. No one’s even heard of him.’

  ‘Keep pushing,’ Kendall told him. ‘I need results.’

  The quickest way to reach Hunslet was to walk. With Ash at his side, Harper crossed Crown Point Bridge over the River Aire. Snow swirled around them and the bitter wind blew hard.

  The police station was down Hunslet Road, a building of soot-blackened brick. The inspector pushed open the door and turned to go down a staircase, then along a corridor that smelt of carbolic. Harper could hear a wavering voice behind a door singing something he didn’t recognize.

  ‘I didn’t know Dr King liked opera,’ Ash said softly, his voice echoing on the tiles.

  ‘He’s an odd man.’

  Now somewhere around eighty, the police surgeon had been in his job for years. He was a commanding presence, with a voice that boomed and demanded, but he possessed sharp eyes and a quicksilver mind. He ruled down here. King’s Kingdom. It was no place for the faint-hearted. He dissected bodies and carried out his experiments on stray limbs and organs; no one dared to ask where they came from.

  The inspector pushed open the door and entered. King had Fields naked on the slab, flesh so pale the blue veins seemed to shine through his skin.

  ‘I was wondering how long before you’d be down here,’ the surgeon said without turning. ‘I know what you’re like. Always impatient.’

  ‘What have you found, sir?’

  ‘You can see for yourself, the marks on his neck. Strangled from behind. He put up a fight, though. There’s flesh under his fingernails.’

  ‘When did it happen?’

  King frowned as he wiped his hands on a dirty rag. His waistcoat and shirt were spattered with blood and other stains; there was something yellow on his collar.

  ‘Last night,’ he said slowly. ‘It’s difficult to be certain with the weather. I can’t be more exact than that.’ King glanced at Ash. ‘Someone new?’

  ‘Constable Ash. We’re trying him out as a detective.’

  ‘Welcome, lad. At least you haven’t passed out. Most of them do, the first time here.’

  ‘You’ll have to do better than this, then, sir,’ Ash said with a grin.

  ‘I could, don’t you worry about that. I’ve spent most of today looking at the bodies of those children who died in the fire. This actually makes a pleasant change.’ He paused. ‘That sergeant of yours has come round, I hear.’

  ‘Yes. And he’s talking.’

  King nodded. ‘That’s a good sign. They’ll look after him at the infirmary.’

  ‘I hope so.’ He paused. ‘What else can you tell me about Fields?’

  ‘Is that the one on the table? Well, if you don’t know he worked with fish, you’re a worse detective than I imagined. Gutting them or something, I’d guess. There are small scars all over his hands and arms. I thought he might be an albino at first, but he’s not. Malnourished, of course, but that’s nothing remarkable. I can cut him open and tell you his last meal if you like,’ the doctor added wryly.

  ‘No need, sir.’

  ‘For right now, that’s all I can manage, then,’ King said gruffly. ‘Miracles cost more.’

  ‘Pity I’m on a policeman’s salary, then,’ the inspector said, and the doctor chuckled.

  Outside, the wind blew snow hard into their faces as they set out towards the river.

  ‘Is he always like that, sir?’ Ash asked.

  ‘No. You caught him on a good day,’ Harper replied.

  TWENTY-TWO

  Reed was sleeping when the inspector arrived. Elizabeth was dozing, too, head down on her chest, hands gathered primly together in her lap. Harper tapped her lightly o
n the shoulder and she stirred.

  ‘Come on,’ he whispered. ‘Let’s go back to the Victoria.’

  ‘But—’ she started to object.

  ‘Billy’s going to need plenty of rest. He’ll still be here tomorrow.’

  For a moment he thought she might refuse, but she gathered up her coat and followed, stopping at the door to glance back. Elizabeth stayed quiet in the hackney, watching the snowy streets. It was already dark, so little traffic around that Leeds could have shut down. The cab moved slowly, the driver preferring caution over speed. Harper directed him to Marsh Lane before going on to the Victoria, to Lewis’s shop for three portions of fried fish and chips.

  She followed him up the stairs and into the rooms above the public house. He took her coat and hung it on the peg, and picked up a poker to push it into the banked fire.

  ‘I’ll do that,’ Elizabeth offered. ‘Make myself useful.’

  ‘I’ll find some plates,’ the inspector said. ‘I don’t know about you, but I’m starving.’

  She smiled, the first expression he’d seen on her face that day.

  ‘I could murder a cup of tea.’ Elizabeth stopped herself, put a hand over her mouth and reddened. ‘I suppose I shouldn’t say that to a copper.’

  He filled the kettle and settled it on the hob, then took the food out of the newspaper, searching in the drawer for knives and forks. Harper heard the door close and Annabelle’s voice. He sensed her behind him, then felt her arms around his waist.

  ‘Fish and chips and making tea?’ She kissed the back of his neck. ‘You must be looking for a job here. I’m sorry, love, but my servant’s position’s already filled.’

  ‘You couldn’t afford me, anyway.’ He handed her a plate.

  ‘I’m sure we could come to an arrangement.’ She winked, looked around and asked in a hushed voice, ‘How is he? Thank you for sending me the message.’

  ‘He’s been awake and speaking, and he seems like Billy. Fingers crossed.’

  ‘That must be a weight off her mind,’ Annabelle whispered and went into the parlour, sitting at the table. Fish and chips was a working man’s supper, hot, filling and cheap, and just the thing for a bitter, snowy night.

  ‘It’s good news, isn’t it?’ Annabelle said to Elizabeth. She nodded her reply, wiping the start of tears from her eyes.

  ‘He can’t see properly yet, not clearly, but it’s getting better. And he’s sleeping a lot.’

  ‘That’s natural, the nurse said,’ Harper told her.

  ‘Yes, she said that to me, too.’ She looked at Annabelle. ‘Thank you. For coming to fetch me. For everything.’

  ‘It’s nothing. You and Billy, you’re family.’

  ‘We talked a bit when he was awake,’ Elizabeth began hesitantly. She took a drink of tea. ‘We might get married.’

  ‘Really?’ Annabelle asked, eyes widening with pleasure. ‘He meant it?’

  ‘I told him we didn’t need to be wed.’ She blushed a little. ‘I just want to be with him.’

  ‘However you do it doesn’t matter,’ Annabelle agreed. ‘Men never understand that, do they? Daft as brushes, the lot of them.’

  ‘You live in Middleton,’ Harper pointed out.

  ‘I know.’ Elizabeth lowered her head. ‘But … Mrs Harper said something to me yesterday.’

  He looked at his wife and saw she was smiling.

  ‘About the shop?’ Annabelle asked.

  ‘Yes. I … I didn’t know if you really meant it.’

  ‘Oh, I did, love. The job’s yours if you want it.’

  Harper sat and listened as the women talked. He finished the meal, letting it settle warm in his belly, and drank the tea, reaching to pour himself another cup. Within two minutes they’d moved on to finding a house to rent, where the couple should live with enough room for the children, when Elizabeth could start work.

  ‘It’ll be a while before Billy’s back at the job.’ He spoke into a brief moment of silence.

  ‘Doesn’t matter, Tom,’ Annabelle told him. ‘She’ll look after him. And you’ll have him good as new again when he’s ready.’

  The two of them didn’t need him here. They were busy making their plans. He slipped out of the room and down the stairs, scraping away the frost on the inside of the landing window to look into the darkness. The snow had stopped but it lay thick on the ground. Roundhay Road was deserted.

  The bar downstairs was subdued, dotted with the few regulars who’d appear no matter what. A fire burned in the hearth, a full coal scuttle standing next to it. Two old men playing dominoes, a pair of widows with their small glasses of stout. One or two others scattered around.

  ‘We won’t make any money tonight,’ Dan said. He was standing behind the bar, reading the evening newspaper. ‘Pint, Tom?’

  He stood at the bar, sipping and chatting, nodding to those he recognized. A cabbie came in needing a warm, downed a glass of gin in a single gulp and left again.

  ‘I’ll be glad when this weather breaks,’ Dan sighed. ‘I can’t remember the last time it was this dead.’

  ‘Give it a few days. It’ll pass,’ Harper told him.

  ‘Aye, in time. She won’t be happy when she sees the takings, though.’

  ‘I think Annabelle has other things on her mind right now.’

  Billy married, he thought. That was a turn up for the books. He knew the sergeant liked Elizabeth but he’d never really spoken about her. Not that he ever said much about himself; still, the man had always seemed a confirmed bachelor. He’d visit the infirmary again in the morning. He needed to see if he’d remembered anything about the attack. Or about agreeing to marry. God help him if he’d forgotten that.

  But it didn’t bring him any closer to finding Alfred. He was going to need Reed for that, for some memory to appear. Either that or more luck than he’d ever known. He was going round in circles and finding absolutely nothing. He was failing and it hurt.

  The inspector dawdled in the bar, making occasional conversation and sipping the beer. Half an hour passed, long enough for the women to put everyone’s lives in order. Finally he pushed the glass away and climbed the stairs.

  The parlour was empty, the door to the extra bedroom closed. Annabelle was in the kitchen.

  ‘Elizabeth gone to bed?’ he asked.

  ‘She was flagging, poor thing.’ She turned and gave him a peck on the cheek as she washed the plates. ‘Married, eh? Who’d have credited it?’

  ‘Not me.’ He leaned against the counter. ‘But she’ll be good for him.’

  ‘How’s your ear?’

  He shrugged. He’d been too busy to give even think about it since morning. An hour after leaving the doctor’s office, he’d removed the cotton wool, seeing it bright orange with wax. But his hearing was just the same; no better, no worse.

  Annabelle dried her hands and turned to look at him with hungry eyes. Her lips curled in a sly smile and she began to lift the front of her dress, showing stockings all the way to the knee.

  ‘What colour garters today, Tom? Take a guess.’

  ‘Red,’ he answered. His breath felt tight in his chest.

  ‘If you’re lucky you’ll find out in a minute.’

  When Harper woke, everything was silent. He sat up slowly, careful not to disturb Annabelle. It was Sunday. The factories were all still for the Sabbath, the shops closed. He washed, brushed his teeth with Jewsbury and Brown’s dentifrice, and dressed quietly, cutting a thick slice of bread and spreading it with jam before putting on his overcoat, muffler and hat. Almost quarter to six by the clock in the parlour. No rest for the wicked. Or for the police.

  At least the wind had dropped outside, but a good four inches of snow covered the street and thick grey clouds hung low with the threat of more to come. He set off walking towards Millgarth, chewing as he moved. God only knew when he’d eat again today.

  There was no traffic on the roads and hardly any footprints showing on the pavements. For a while, at least, felt as if he had Le
eds to himself, the only person alive among all the buildings. With no chimneys belching smoke, the air felt a little cleaner, and the smudged white coating made the place feel fresher, like a coat of paint over something old and tired.

  The restful mood evaporated as soon as he walked through the door of the police station. He was surrounded by noise and light and the smell of wet woollen uniforms. In the office he went over the reports. Nothing. All they had was Clem Fields’s body from the empty ground in Meanwood. Not a hint of Hill, Briggs or Anderson.

  And no Alfred.

  A constable brought tea. He read and thought. They needed to flush the men out somehow. He was still pondering it when Ash arrived, freshly shaved, his moustache trimmed, suit carefully brushed clean.

  ‘I want you to go to all the pubs along Meanwood Road,’ Harper told him. ‘Bang on the doors if you have to. Take those photographs you have. See if any of the landlords recognize them.’ It was a long shot. He knew that. But Fields’s body had been found out there. It was slender but it was something.

  Right now, anything was worth a try.

  At eight he walked along the Headrow, Ash at his side, past the empty Town Hall to the infirmary. The gas lamps still glowed; dawn might have broken but Leeds was still sullen with darkness. He stamped the snow off his boots and strode along the corridor.

  ‘Wait out here,’ he told the constable.

  Reed was sitting up in bed, pillow plumped behind him. The bruises on his face had darkened but he looked more alert, turning his head to the sound of the door opening.

  Harper stopped and stared at him. ‘For a condemned man you don’t look too bad, Billy.’

  The sergeant blinked. ‘Condemned? What? What are you talking about?’

  ‘I hear you’re getting wed.’ He sat on the chair. ‘Congratulations.’

  ‘True enough.’ He gave a raw chuckle, his voice still rough and gravelly. ‘I love her, Tom. I want to be with her.’

  ‘Then good for the pair of you,’ he said with a grin. ‘I’ll warn you, though, she and Annabelle were discussing all the details last night. Thick as thieves.’

  ‘Does she …’ He tried to clear his throat, reaching for a glass of water and taking a long swallow. He moved slowly, as if everything took great effort. ‘Does she have the job?’