‘You liked it?’
‘I did. It even has a garden.’
‘Can we afford it?’
‘The rent’s cheap and—’ She stopped herself.
‘What?’ he asked. ‘What’s wrong?’
Elizabeth stared at him. He could still see her clearly. His sight had held, it wasn’t even beginning to waver.
‘I just need to be sure. About us.’
He reached out and placed his hand over hers. ‘I’m positive,’ Reed assured her. ‘Go and take that house tomorrow.’
‘I will.’
‘What about you?’ he asked. ‘Moving to Leeds, it’s a big wrench.’
She beamed. ‘Honestly, I’ve never been more certain about anything in my life, Billy Reed. My mam’s sad, but she’s happy for me, too. You’ll love the house. I can’t believe there’s so much room. Two bedrooms! And a woman down the street has a mangle and a big copper for washing clothes.’
He smiled at her. He’d do right by her for the rest of his life.
The door to the room was open. The sergeant moved his head for a moment, glancing at the people who were passing in the corridor. Suddenly his eyes widened and he started struggling to sit up.
‘Him,’ he croaked. ‘That’s him.’
Harper marched out of the room, ordering the constable to take Briggs back to his cell. The second session had taken time, grinding through and sweating him until he wore the man down. Five hours had passed until Briggs had finally given up and admitted it all. He’d been there when Levy and Padewski were killed. He’d taken part on the attack on Billy. Helped set the fire at the synagogue. But Briggs refused to plead to the strangling of Clem Fields. That one had been just Jack Anderson. He hadn’t even known about it until later, he swore.
The inspector had pushed on, wearing Briggs down. And eventually, there was Alfred. He’d met them the same way he met the other group, talking and drawing them in, offering them money, then arranging to meet them every week out at the George the Fourth.
‘How much did he pay you for the fire?’
‘A pound each.’ Briggs had no resistance left. Harper had pulled down every barrier; all the man had left was the truth. He wasn’t going to stop until he’d dug out every scrap. ‘But he wasn’t happy because it didn’t burn the place down.’
‘How much to attack Sergeant Reed?’
‘A pound. He didn’t want him dead.’
‘Was Alfred there when it happened?’
‘He came along when we were beating him. Told us to leave him, then he bought us all a drink and paid us.’
Whoever Alfred was, he was bloody cold. Harper clenched his fists.
‘What about the murders?’ he asked. ‘How much did they bring you?’
‘Two quid apiece.’ He looked down at the floor, his voice low.
‘Two pounds for a life,’ Harper said. He grabbed Briggs’s hair and jerked his head up to look into the eyes. ‘And you’re going to hang. Does that seem like a fair bargain?’ He waited a moment, staring at the man. ‘The pennies. Why did you leave them on their eyes after you’d killed them?’
The man shrugged. ‘He told us to. Didn’t say why, just to do it.’
‘Who did?’
Briggs lifted his head. ‘Alfred.’
‘And what’s Alfred’s real name?’
‘I don’t know,’ Briggs mumbled. ‘That’s the only name he told us. He never said and we didn’t ask, not as long as he was giving us money.’
‘You know. What is it?’
‘I bloody don’t!’ He yelled the words.
Harper believed him.
There were more questions to ask, but they could wait for morning. Down in the cells they’d feed Briggs and give him a blanket for the night. He’d have time to think and grow colder. Tomorrow, the inspector would milk the man for the rest.
In the office he’d been standing by the fire for a few minutes, taking off the chill of the interview room, when Ash entered, a grim smile across his face.
‘What did you get from Hill?’ Harper asked.
‘Mr Hill has admitted to killing Levy and Padewski, the fire and the attack on Sergeant Reed,’ he announced with satisfaction. ‘What about you, sir?’
‘The same.’
‘I sent him back down.’ He hesitated. ‘He did slip and hurt himself, sir. Should I write it up in my report?’
‘Just mention it like that. Accidents happen.’
The constable nodded. ‘Slippery floors and clumsy men. It’s a devil of a combination, sir. But he seemed happy enough to talk once I got him started.’
The inspector could see the grazes on Ash’s knuckles.
‘What about Alfred?’ he asked.
‘Oh yes.’ The constable beamed. ‘Gave him up after a little persuading. But they only knew him as Alfred. Never got a real name.’
The inspector nodded. He’d hoped for more, for some clue, but he hadn’t expected that Hill would know more than his friend. ‘What about Anderson? Does he know where he might be?’
‘If he does, he’s not telling.’
‘Briggs doesn’t have a clue, either. He’s going to spend the night thinking about his own mortality.’ He sighed. ‘Write up what he told you, and we’ll go at them again tomorrow.’
‘Yes, sir. At least we’ve got them.’
‘We have.’
But it wasn’t finished yet. There was one more still out there. And there was Alfred. He sat at his desk and rubbed his temples, trying to ease the headache that throbbed between his eyes. He didn’t even notice Tollman enter.
‘There’s been a telephone call from the infirmary, sir,’ he began, and Harper’s stomach lurched. Bad news. ‘Seems Sergeant Reed has something he needs to tell you urgently.’
He dashed through town, cutting through the courts and lanes. Smoke rose from the chimneys, lights burned in the public houses, and he heard the raucous sound of voices.
At the corner on to Great George Street, the infirmary just yards away, he felt it. The hearing went in his ear again, just as surely as if someone had turned a switch. The inspector stopped for a moment, closing his eyes and breathing deeply.
He placed a hand over the right ear, then moved it away. It wouldn’t help, he knew that, but he could hope. Not a thing. He remembered what the doctor had said. It would keep happening, it could come – and it would go. And finally it would never return at all.
Harper stood up straight and entered the hospital.
He’d expected to find Elizabeth there, but Reed was alone in his room, sitting up in the bed.
‘You’ve remembered?’ he asked breathlessly.
‘I saw him,’ the sergeant said. ‘Alfred. He was here.’
‘Here?’ He looked around the room. ‘Where?’
‘He was going down the corridor. It was just the back of his head, but I knew, Tom. It was him.’
‘I’ll—’
‘I sent Elizabeth to ask one of the nurses.’ Reed continued, his voice was low and intense. He stared up at the inspector. ‘His name’s Phillip May. He’s Councillor May’s son.’
‘God.’ It fitted. He had money and power. The councillor hated foreigners. Like father, like son. Harper had met him once, briefly. He had the memory of a good-looking young man, fastidiously dressed, with an educated voice.
‘Do you remember him there when you were attacked?’ he asked desperately.
‘No. I keep trying, but there’s nothing. It’s just blank.’
‘We got two more of them,’ the inspector told him. ‘Arrested them this morning. They’ve confessed to beating you. They admitted the murders in the Leylands, too, and the fire at the synagogue. There’s one still out there.’
The sergeant sighed. ‘Who are they?’
Harper kept his head angled to hear properly. ‘Tim Hill and Robert Briggs. They didn’t know Alfred’s real name. He never told them.’ But he had it now. In the morning he’d go and arrest Phillip May. ‘I need you to try to remember what
happened, Billy. If you can put Alfred there, we’ll really have him. No jury’s going to doubt the word of a policeman.’
‘What the hell do you think I’ve been doing all day?’ He was filled with frustration. ‘Do you know what they did this afternoon? They helped me out of bed. All I could manage was two steps. Two bloody steps, Tom, then they had to put me back here. I marched across fucking Afghanistan and now I can only manage two paces.’
‘You’ll get better, Billy,’ the inspector told him. ‘Just take your time.’
Reed turned his head. Tears were running down his cheeks. ‘Two steps. Don’t you think I’d remember everything if I could?’
He sat by the fire. The cup of tea on the chair arm had turned cold as he stared into the flames.
‘Penny for them,’ Annabelle said, and he tried to smile.
‘I don’t think they’re worth that much.’
‘The hearing’s not back yet?’
He shook his head. ‘No. It’s not that, though. Work.’
It wasn’t over yet. Not by a long chalk. But tomorrow … tomorrow he’d see it all through.
‘Anything I can do?’ she asked.
‘Not really.’ He changed the subject; anything was better than his thoughts. ‘Did you take Elizabeth to Burmantofts?’
‘I did.’ She grinned, her face lively. ‘Tom, she’s a find, she really is. She had some suggestions for the shop, putting the counter on the other side so customers can see everything properly. All sorts. Do you know what else?’
‘What?’
‘She said we ought to hire a man with a sandwich board to walk all round for a week before we open.’
‘To advertise the place? That’s not a bad idea,’ he conceded.
‘We found her a house, too. She talked to Billy about it when she saw him. They’re going to take it. I can’t believe it. She’s perfect.’
He’d seen Elizabeth when he returned, talking merrily with Annabelle in the kitchen. One look at his face and she’d hurried off to bed.
‘As long as they’re happy together, that’s what matters,’ he said.
‘She loves him, you know that. You’ve just got to look at her.’
‘And he loves her. I think it all scares him, but he’ll be fine.’ He stretched and saw her staring at him. ‘He will.’
There’d been no more snow overnight. He’d barely slept during the long hours, lying on his back, staring into the darkness, trying not to move and disturb Annabelle.
His eyes felt gritty, his tongue large in his mouth, as he caught the early tram. And nothing in his right ear. More than twelve hours on and he was still deaf there, the longest it had lasted yet. Maybe this was it. Maybe it would never come back.
He slipped out into the cold morning, feeling it bite against his cheeks. The air was so thick he almost believed he could cut through it with his hand, acrid and foul. On one of the front seats of the tram a man with a deep, liquid cough kept hawking phlegm into a handkerchief. Harper alighted on Vicar Lane and marched through the streets to the Yorkshire Post offices. The librarian was already there, cutting old articles to go into marked folders. The inspector explained what he needed. Ten minutes later he was back on the street, a photograph safely in his pocket, and he made his way to Millgarth Station. The constables were just leaving for their beats, a flurry of salutes as they passed him. He drew Forsyth aside.
‘I need you to tell the people in the Leylands that we got the men who killed Abraham Levy and the rabbi,’ he said. ‘They admitted it yesterday.’ There was no need to mention Alfred. Not yet.
‘I’d heard, sir.’ His face was serious. ‘But we didn’t get all of them, is that right?’’
‘One’s still out there,’ he admitted. ‘We’ll catch him. And find out if those bloody Golem were out last night. I’ll be along later.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Sergeant Tollman was in his usual position at the desk, checking through the log.
‘Constable Ash in yet?’ Harper asked.
‘Went through to the office not five minutes ago, sir.’
‘Right. Bring Hill and Briggs up to the interview rooms.’
‘It’s still early, sir. They won’t have eaten yet.’
‘Then they can skip a meal,’ the inspector said.
‘Yes, sir. It says here that Mr Hill seems to have injured himself.’
‘The way I heard it, he fell down.’
Tollman shook his head. ‘Clumsy buggers, these criminals, aren’t they, sir? I’ll see they’re brought up directly.’
Ash was hogging the fire, genial and smiling as the inspector entered the office. ‘Good morning, sir. Think we’ll wrap it up today?’
‘With luck.’ He gave a big grin. ‘Sergeant Reed’s identified Alfred.’
‘Really? He remembered what happened?’
‘It was pure luck. Alfred was visiting someone at the infirmary and Billy saw him.’
‘So we know who he is, sir?’ Ash asked hopefully.
‘Oh, yes.’ Harper smiled. ‘He’s Councillor May’s son.’
He was about to say more, but turned at the sound of boots running down the corridor. Then the door swung open and Tollman was there, his face almost grey.
‘You’d better come down to the cells, sir,’ he said breathlessly.
TWENTY-SIX
Harper ran, Ash on his heels, Tollman close behind, down the stairs and into the chill of the cells. Each one had a solid metal door with a flap to look inside. A constable stood by one, looking so pale he had to lean against the wall. The key was still hanging in the lock.
Harper pushed the door wide and walked in. Hill was there, hanging from the barred window. Under him, a chair had been kicked away on to its side. The blanket from the sleeping shelf had been torn into strips and knotted together to make a noose. The man’s feet dangled inches from the floor, a small pool of piss between them. The inspector reached for Hill’s neck, feeling for any pulse, and hoping. But there was nothing. The man’s skin was cold and waxy under his touch.
‘Bloody hell,’ he heard Ash mutter.
‘Who was on duty down here last night?’ Harper shouted. To the constable waiting outside, he said, ‘Cut him down and get hold of Dr King. I want him taken over to Hunslet to be examined.’ The bobby dashed away in search of a knife.
Tollman was back behind his desk, hands firmly planted on the wood. He looked shaken, as if he couldn’t believe what he’d just seen.
‘Who was looking after the cells last night?’ the inspector demanded.
‘Constable Shaw, sir. We were short-handed, the night sergeant’s off ill. Shaw’s the senior man.’
‘Has he gone home?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Send someone to fetch him. Tell him to report to the superintendent’s office as soon as possible.’
‘Yes, sir.’
He didn’t even give Kendall time to remove his overcoat before he was there, breaking the news. The superintendent stood stock still, hands in his trouser pockets, glowering.
‘He’s supposed to check the prisoners every hour,’ Harper said.
‘I know that,’ the superintendent snapped. ‘How long before he’s here?’
‘I’ve no idea, sir.’
‘I’ll take care of this, Tom. It’s my station and I’ll get to the bottom of it.’ He pulled out a pipe from his jacket pocket and lit it, puffing furiously as he held a match over the bowl. ‘Christ, what a mess.’ Harper was shocked; in all his years here, he’d never heard the super blaspheme. ‘I’ll tell you what, Shaw’s going to be off the force before the day’s done. He’ll be lucky if he’s not up for negligence.’ He paused. ‘Have you seen Reed?’
‘Yesterday. He’s identified Alfred.’
‘What?’ Kendall started to rise. ‘Who is he?’
‘Phillip May, sir.’
‘The councillor’s son?’
‘Yes.’
For a long time the superintendent stayed silent, puffing on his pip
e, eyes narrowed in thought.
‘Did Reed remember the attack?’
‘No, sir.’ He explained what had happened. ‘I got a photograph from the Post this morning. Phillip May’s in it. I’m going to show it to Briggs for confirmation.’
‘Do that,’ Kendall said eventually. ‘Don’t tell him his friend is dead, though.’
‘Yes, sir. And after that?’ Harper asked. ‘Go and arrest May?’
‘No.’ The inspector opened his mouth, but Kendall cut him off. ‘We can’t, not with what we’ve got. Reed’s had a head injury, he can’t even remember what happened. Any competent barrister would tear him apart in court, and the councillor will start screaming that we’re harassing his family.’
‘But if Briggs confirms it?’
The superintendent shook his head firmly. ‘The word of someone who’s admitted murdering two people and attacking a copper? Who’s going to believe him? May’s lawyer can twist it so it looks like you pushed him to that.’
‘There’s the bunch from the Cross Keys. Billy was there.’
‘And heard nothing directly from this Alfred, according to his reports.’ His face softened. ‘Tom, if I really thought we could put him away, don’t you think I would? But you don’t have enough. If Reed remembers him being there when he was attacked, that would do it. But this? It’s not enough. I’m sorry. They’d crucify us and we already look bad enough.’
‘Yes, sir.’ He stood.
‘Get me hard evidence and I’ll send you after him with my blessing.’
‘I’ll try, sir.’ What could he get? Billy didn’t remember what happened.
‘Good.’ Kendall kept puffing on the pipe. ‘And I don’t want anyone in the office when Shaw’s here. Make sure that other prisoner’s under constant guard, too. I don’t care if it means putting a constable in the same cell with him day and night.’
‘Yes, sir.’
Harper stood by the door of the interview room, his hand tight around the knob. Briggs was in there, waiting, a constable watching him carefully. He took a breath and entered.
‘What’s going on?’ Briggs started to rise from his chair but the inspector pushed him back down.
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