‘Apparently so. Looks like you’re going to be moving.’
Reed grinned. Two of his teeth had been knocked out, leaving black gaps in his smile. ‘I don’t mind.’
‘Just as well.’ He paused. ‘We found one of the killers. Fields, the fish gutter.’
‘Where?’ He was curious, the first hint of the outside world, his real world, in days.
‘Meanwood Road. He was dead. Strangled. My guess is one of the others did it.’ He paused. ‘The attack. I need to know, Billy. I’m sure it was Alfred.’
‘I’ve tried.’ The sergeant shook his head in frustration. ‘Really, Tom, I’ve tried. I just can’t remember it at all. The last thing I know I was on a bus that had stopped.’
‘There must have been more than one of them.’
‘I don’t know,’ he said emptily. ‘I can’t remember. None of it.’ He tried to bunch his fingers into a fist but the bandages stopped him. ‘Bloody nothing.’
Harper began talking urgently. ‘It must have been revenge. Had to be.’ He listed the reasons on his fingers. ‘You weren’t robbed. That’s strange enough. So someone was after you, and this murder is the only thing you’ve been working on lately.’ The inspector sat back, straightening his jacket. ‘You said Alfred looked at you as if he knew you.’
‘Maybe,’ Reed admitted after a few moments. ‘He scared me, I remember that.’
‘It wouldn’t have been too hard to follow you from the station.’
‘Tom,’ Reed pleaded, ‘if I knew, I’d tell you.’
‘Just keep trying, Billy, please.’ He was about to say more when the door opened and Elizabeth walked in. She’d borrowed one of Annabelle’s dresses, too tight around her waist, the hem damp and trailing on the floor. She hesitated, unsure whether to enter.
‘Come in, love,’ Reed told her and glanced at the inspector. ‘Tom, I’ll try.’
Harper nodded and stood.
‘It’s wonderful news.’ He looked at Elizabeth. ‘I don’t envy you keeping him in line, though.’
She smiled. The sleep had taken the strain out of her face. ‘I’ll train him well, don’t you worry about that. Right, Billy?’
‘We’ll see,’ the sergeant said happily.
‘What did he want?’ she asked as she settled on the chair. She took off her coat then unpinned her hat from her hair, and rested them on the bed.
‘To see how I was. He’s a good friend, you know that. And he needs to know if I’d managed to remember anything.’
‘Have you?’ she asked, her fingertips stroking her arm.
‘No.’
His vision still wasn’t right. For a few seconds his eyes could pick out every detail of her face, then it would start to wobble a little. A few more days, that was what the doctor had told him on his rounds. He’d given Reed a full examination then declared he’d been lucky; there didn’t seem to be any lasting damage. Even so, it would be weeks, maybe a month or two, before he’d be ready to return to work. Time to mend and regain his strength.
Earlier, when he was alone, he’d slowly pushed back the covers and tried to stand. But he simply didn’t even have the strength to push himself to his feet. He was an invalid. A baby. Weak.
It gnawed at him. Shamed him. How the hell could he have let someone jump him that way? He’d been a soldier, he knew how to fight. But instead he’d been beaten bloody and broken, and he couldn’t even recall it happening. Now he was stuck here, useless to the world, in a place where he spent his days breathing in the bloody carbolic soap they used everywhere.
The only good thing to come from all this was Elizabeth. Married. Six months before, he’d never have believed it. But he had no regrets, no second thoughts about proposing. Becoming a father to her children terrified him, but he’d manage. He’d do his best.
‘I love you,’ he said.
TWENTY-THREE
The black bulk of the Town Hall brooded behind them, the snow deep and dirty on the pavement. Harper looked longingly across the Headrow to the Victoria Cocoa House. The windows were dark, the place closed. Sunday.
‘I could use a drink of that,’ he sighed.
Ash smiled. ‘Something warm, sir? Come with me.’
He crossed the road and cut down a small alley that led off Park Row to a tiny yard. He brought his fist down three times on a wooden door, paused, then three more times before turning to wink at the inspector. After a short wait, Harper heard a key turning and the door dragged open.
‘Mr Ash!’
The man was small, and clothed in layers of rags. His face was grubby with ingrained dirt, his hands mostly hidden in fingerless gloves. He ushered them into a warm kitchen.
‘Not seen you in a while, Arthur,’ Ash said. ‘Looks like you’re doing well.’
‘Getting by, getting by,’ the man said. He scuttled around. His sharp nose and constant movement reminded Harper of a rodent. ‘How about you, Mr Ash?’
‘Mustn’t grumble, Arthur, thank you very much. This is Detective Inspector Harper. We thought you might be willing to make us a cup of that cocoa.’
‘Of course, of course.’ The man’s movements quickened as he worked, surprisingly deft and exact. In a few minutes the inspector was drinking and letting the cocoa warm him inside and out. Arthur stood apart, head lowered, rubbing his hands together.
‘That’s grand,’ Ash said, and Arthur beamed.
‘It’s very good,’ Harper agreed. ‘Hits the spot.’
By the time they were back in the alley, the door closing behind them, he felt refreshed, ready to face the rest of the day. He fumbled his watch out of his waistcoat. Almost nine o’clock. Time to do some real work.
‘How did you know someone would be there?’ he asked.
‘Old Arthur lives just off the pantry,’ Ash told him. ‘Been there donkey’s years, since Mr Stephens opened the place. Known him since I was little.’
The constable was full of surprises, Harper thought.
‘See what you can find on Meanwood Road.’
They needed to find Alfred. But the inspector had tried everything he could imagine and found nothing at all. Now all he had was the hope that something would break, some thread he could follow. No one would be around so early on a Sunday. He needed to do something, to be somewhere. Anything to get these feelings out of his head.
It didn’t take long to reach the Leylands. The grubby snow had been trampled down by people on their way to work. The Jewish Sabbath had ended the night before. This was just another day here. Harper could hear the machines humming and buzzing in the sweatshops, and voices chattering away in Yiddish.
The weather kept most people off the streets, but somewhere in the distance children were shouting, playing a game of some kind. Off to the west the clouds were heavy, pale and pearlescent. At least the wind had dropped.
He found Forsyth on Melbourne Street, standing on the corner outside the Brunswick Brewery. It was a place that brought back too many memories for Harper. He’d reported for work there six days a week, twelve hours of rolling and stacking barrels, then cleaning out the empties before going home, aching and exhausted. After that, becoming a police officer had seemed like sweet relief; all the miles walked on the beat were easy.
‘Any trouble last night?’ Harper asked. There’d been no word of it on his desk.
‘No, sir,’ Forsyth said. ‘The Golem weren’t out. Can’t blame them. Not likely to be many creeping around in this snow.’
A night without angry young men was a good thing, even if the weather was the cause. Maybe a break would take the fire out of their blood.
‘What’s the mood?’
The bobby weighed his words before replying. ‘It’s changed since the rabbi’s funeral, sir. There’s been plenty of muttering. A lot of them are scared there’ll be more killing. The young ones are angry; most of them idolized Mr Padewski. There’s a few round here who think this Golem thing is right, sir, and enough who reckon we’re not really trying to find the killers.’
>
‘We found one of them yesterday,’ Harper pointed out.
Forsyth said, ‘I’ve been telling them till I’m blue in the face. Do you know what one of them said to me today? “It’s easy to call a dead man a killer.” And that was Mr Hyman. He’s fifty, not one of these young hotheads. Putting them in the dock is the only thing that’ll satisfy them, sir. They don’t trust us any more.’ The admission seemed to pain him.
But he was right, the inspector knew that. People wanted arrests and trials, and a hanging for retribution. They needed to see justice done.
‘Just tell them we’re doing everything we can, will you?’ Harper said.
‘I’ll try. What about the others you’re after, sir?’ Forsyth asked hopefully. ‘Any closer?’
‘Not yet,’ he admitted. ‘But keep that to yourself.’
‘And what about Sergeant Reed? Do we know who did that?’
‘I know,’ Harper said. ‘I just can’t find the bastard. If you hear anything about someone called Alfred, young, well-off, I want to know straight away.’
He started on the walk out to Roundhay, tempted to stop at the Victoria as he passed. But he kept going, out along the long, slow hill up to Harehills. On a good summer Sunday this was a gentle stroll. With the snow and ice, each mile seemed twice its normal length as his boots slipped on the ground.
Eventually the houses gave way to woods and the start of Roundhay Park itself. The air was clean, the surface just unbroken acres of white across Soldiers Field. He followed the Wetherby Road, finally turning up the drive of Oakwood Grange and knocking on the door. His legs ached and he was grateful when the maid showed him through to the parlour where a fire burned in the grate.
He had to wait for a quarter of an hour until Lizzie Le Prince and her son Adolphe arrived, but that was no hardship. It gave a chance to ease the cold from his limbs and dry out his boots a little. She’d taken the time to put on her glad rags, he saw, an expensive silk gown with a fashionable small bustle at the back, her hair up in an elaborate style. Or perhaps she always dressed that way. She took one look at him, turned and called for tea.
‘I’m sorry, Inspector. I hadn’t expected you to call.’
‘I wanted to apologize for leaving so suddenly yesterday,’ he said. ‘I didn’t want you to feel I was ignoring you.’
‘Of course.’ She gave a tight smile. ‘I heard about your colleague. I understand. It’s very good of you to come out here.’
It was also wise, Harper knew. Mrs Le Prince’s father had the ear of the chief constable and councillors. The woman might have no evidence, but there wasn’t any point in making enemies where it wasn’t needed. He already had enough of those.
The maid arrived with a tray, placing it on the low table in front of the hearth.
‘Sit down, please, Inspector.’ She poured for them all.
‘You said you’d received a letter,’ Harper began.
‘Yes. From a friend in New York. Adolphe, would you fetch it, please? It’s on the bureau.’
The young man returned in a moment and she picked out a sheet.
‘Here we are,’ she said. ‘She’s heard that Mr Edison plans to file a patent on his moving picture camera before spring. He appears to have brought his plans forward. What does that tell you?’
‘I don’t know,’ Harper replied truthfully. ‘I’m not privy to the whole situation. The best I can do is try to pass on the information to Capitaine Muyrère so he can investigate. He should be arriving in New York. After that, it’s up to him.’
‘I’d be very grateful if you would.’
‘Of course.’ He gave a small bow and finished his tea. ‘Was there anything more?’
‘Not for now, Mr Harper.’ She extended a hand for him to shake. ‘I’ll be in touch if I learn anything more. Give my best wishes to your wife, please.’
It was easier walking downhill, less tiring. Even so, he was weary by the time he reached the bottom of Roundhay Road, and slipped into the Victoria. Annabelle was behind the bar, chatting with three of the regulars. He pointed upstairs and she nodded, calling Essie to take over.
‘Long morning?’ she asked as they embraced by the fire. She slapped lightly at his fingers. ‘Watch where you put those hands, they’re freezing.’
‘I’m on my way back to the station. Mrs Le Prince sends her regards.’
‘Very nice of her.’ She brought bread and jam through from the kitchen and settled at the table. ‘That should keep you going. Tea’s mashing.’
‘I stopped in to see Billy again this morning,’ he said as he ate.
‘How is he? Any better?’ She swept her cap off her head, brushing out her hair with her fingers.
‘Much. Except he still doesn’t remember what happened.’
‘I hope he remembered he’s getting wed.’
‘He does. Even seems happy about it,’ Harper said with a laugh.
‘Just as well, for his sake. He’s getting a prize there.’ She cut herself a slice of the bread and smeared it with raspberry jam.
‘Elizabeth arrived just before I left.’
‘She’s popping back to Middleton this afternoon.’
‘To tell the children?’
Annabelle nodded. ‘And get some fresh clothes. Those kiddies really love him, from what she says. Her mam will be sad to see them go, but it’s not the moon, is it?’
‘Just a few minutes on the train.’
‘I’m going to take her over to Burmantofts tomorrow. She can see the shop and we can look around for a house. I think George Hardy owns a few places over that way. I’ll ask him; they’ll be as decent as they come and he won’t charge the earth in rent.’
He chuckled. ‘You’ve got it all planned, haven’t you?’
‘Me?’ She batted a hand against his arm. ‘I just want to make it easy for them. Seriously, Tom, Elizabeth’s a godsend. She knows shops and she’s a good head on her shoulders. I’m lucky.’
‘Maybe she thinks she is, too.’
‘I’ll work her hard. I told her that.’
‘No harder than you work yourself,’ Harper pointed out.
‘I can’t expect anyone to do more than I would, can I?’
‘There’s plenty who don’t think that way.’ He paused. ‘Do you think they’ll be happy?’
‘Yes,’ she told him with absolute certainty. ‘I do. They just need to get settled before we open.’
‘Have you booked the church for them yet?’ he asked and she hit him again, harder this time.
The clouds were still threatening as Harper entered Millgarth, but no more snow. He rubbed his hands by the fire in the office and glanced through the papers on his desk. His eyes moved to the clock; Ash wouldn’t be back for another hour at least, and no guarantee he’d have found anything.
The inspector sat for a minute, then began to pace around the room. The walls seemed to be pressing in on him, and the minutes dragged by so slowly. Finally he grabbed his coat and walked out into the cold.
Late afternoon and the mercury had fallen once more. The chill in the air seemed to pierce his lungs as he breathed. Harper pulled the scarf over his mouth and nose, put his head down and marched back to Millgarth. He’d gone out to the hospital again; it had been good to talk about the case with Billy. The way things ought to be. They way they’d be again, once the sergeant was on his feet and back at work. Even if it had gone nowhere, he still felt a little better.
Ash was standing with his broad back to the fire, hogging all the heat. But he had a satisfied smile on his face and a cup of tea in his hand.
‘Well?’ the inspector asked. ‘You look like you found something.’
‘Do you know a place called the George the Fourth, sir?’ the constable said.
The inspector tried to place it and failed. ‘No. Is that close to where we found Fields’s body?’
‘About a quarter of a mile, sir. Turns out a group of men used to come in every Thursday night.’
‘Did they now?’ he as
ked with sudden curiosity.
‘They’d take over the snug at the back for a couple of hours. Door closed.’
He could feel his heart beating faster ‘Did you get a description?’
Ash pursed his lips and frowned. ‘That’s the problem, sir. The landlord wears spectacles. I’ve seen bottles that weren’t as thick as his lenses. I doubt he could describe me and I was as close to him as I am to you.’
Damn it. Harper slammed a hand on the desk.
‘How many of them? Could he at least tell you that?’
‘Five. He’s certain of that.’
‘Five?’ They only had the names of four in the band of murderers. And one of them was dead now.
‘This is where it gets interesting, sir. The landlord said one of them spoke posh.’
‘What?’ The inspector shouted the word. Christ. An educated voice. If it belonged to Alfred, that changed everything. He could have used the men to attack Billy. Find Fields’s comrades and they’d lead him to Alfred. Harper could feel his blood pumping. He bunched his fingers into fists.
‘Did you press him?’
‘As much as I could, sir. He just doesn’t know.’
‘What about anyone else who works there?’
Ash shook his head. ‘He only has help during the day. They do most of their trade from the works around there. Nights are quiet. He’s not lying, sir, I’m sure of it. He’s just old, that’s all. And a bit gormless. He’s about as much use as a doorpost. It doesn’t look as if the place has been cleaned since the Queen took the throne, either.’
‘What do you think?’ Too many things were suddenly running through his mind.
‘It has to be Alfred, doesn’t it?’ the constable said. ‘There can’t be two toffs spending time with people like that.’
Harper nodded. For the first time, he began to believe they were getting somewhere. He’d catch the men and pry Alfred’s real identity from them. He could almost taste it, and it was sweet in his mouth.
‘What now, sir?’ Ash asked.
‘Did you try the other pubs out there?’
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