‘I’ll set some constables to gather anything else that can be salvaged,’ Henry promised. ‘But in the meantime, you can tell me what this is.’ He handed the envelope to Benjamin who seemed reluctant to take it. ‘Apparently, Mr Atkins made certain that this came to me. Perhaps you can tell me why? And why the address is for one Charlie Butcher, brother of Sammy Butcher, the boy that Atkins’ thugs beat so badly and carved up so efficiently.’
The two brothers looked at one another. ‘We know nothing about this,’ Benjamin began.
‘Do not lie to me.’ Henry’s voice was suddenly very harsh and very cold. ‘And do not take me for a fool.’
Mickey glanced at his boss, but did not intervene. He could see how angry Henry was from the coldness of his eyes and the stiffness of his shoulders, but on this occasion he thought that some anger was justified and that the brothers should suffer the brunt of it.
‘What did Atkins hope to find in your house and what did he hope to gain by sending this to me?’
‘Inspector,’ Abraham said softly. ‘Believe me when I say that you could search our homes, raid my brother’s businesses, examine our accounts and you would find nothing untoward. Atkins was angry with me because he believed I was doing business that he did not know about and from which he did not get his cut, but I paid my dues to him. There is nothing owing.’
‘This is Joseph’s handwriting, isn’t it?’ It suddenly occurred to Mickey what all this might be about – that in some way they were protecting the dead boy.
Even though he didn’t answer, the look on Benjamin’s face told them everything they needed to know.
‘What was he doing? We know that he had a way of making money because that’s what he told Adelaide Hay.’
‘You believe anything that girl told you? That girl is a murderess.’ Abraham was furious.
Benjamin looked confused, and Henry realized that the news had not filtered through to the rest of the family.
‘You haven’t told your brother?’
‘You only informed me late last evening. I went home, I have no telephone and this morning everything was somewhat disturbed. I had intended to come over later today and explain everything in person.’
‘She killed him? Dear God.’
Henry glanced his way but pushed on relentlessly. ‘And so how was he going to make his money? Abraham, so far your nephew is dead and a fourteen-year-old boy, Sammy Butcher, is scarred for life. He came looking for you and someone identified him as being involved with the Elephant mob. It’s reported that children recognized him and chased after him, presumably those he had known when he was younger and lived close by. Joseph knew him – or at least knew his elder brother. Did he know Joseph was dead? Had he come looking for him? Was he bringing this to Joseph, or to you? And why? Why is one address crossed out and another written? What fortune did he intend to make from this?’
The two brothers looked at one another again, but this time it was a despairing look. Benjamin seemed to have been stricken into silence.
‘I have nothing to tell you,’ Abraham said. ‘Nothing at all. Joseph is dead and that is all I know.’
And that was all either brother would say. Henry had no doubt that Abraham spoke the truth when he said that they could search what was left of his home, or his brother’s home or their places of work and business, and nothing would be found.
‘And what about the Goldmanns?’ he asked, his anger building now. ‘Have you warned them, too? Will whatever secret you are keeping also be kept by them?’
‘Inspector’ – Abraham rubbed his face with his palms, as Henry had noticed he often did when he was tired or distressed – ‘there is nothing more to say. We are grateful for all you have done, but I am exhausted and I cannot pursue this matter.’
‘And I cannot let this matter drop,’ Henry told him. ‘This isn’t done, Mr Levy. It is far from done.’
THIRTY-FOUR
‘And so what now?’ Mickey asked as they returned to the car.
‘We go to St Thomas’s and we talk to Sammy Butcher. And we find out what this envelope originally contained, because I am betting there was more to it. My guess is that there was money involved. A passport may be saleable – and we must have it checked against the list of registered aliens – but the jewellery has no value. Joseph was looking for cash, so either there was money in this envelope that needed changing – perhaps it was a foreign currency – or there was something in here of value that could be exchanged for cash. Or he sent the money ahead to be looked after, perhaps shared with the Butchers in payment for making use of their address or their connections. He could not risk having it sent to his own home; he had sisters and a mother who I am guessing would probably inspect his mail out of simple curiosity, and a father who does not miss a trick within his own domain.’
‘And he could not have things sent to Abraham’s address because Abraham would have realized what was going on. Whatever, this involves both brothers, and the Goldmanns are implicated, too.’
Mickey agreed. ‘What do you think he will do now?’ He meant Abraham and how he would fare, now that his livelihood was gone. But Henry wasn’t thinking along those lines at all.
‘When I have sufficient leverage, he will answer my questions,’ Henry said.
THIRTY-FIVE
Sammy Butcher was still in hospital, but some of the dressings had been removed to reveal the long cuts on his arms where he had tried to defend himself and the criss-cross cuts on the left-hand side of his face. His empty eye socket was now covered with a lighter dressing and, unwrapped from the heavy bandages, he looked very young and very small.
His mother had been in to see him, as had most of his siblings, the ward sister told them. In fact, she’d had a hard time maintaining the rules that there should be only two visitors and that visiting hours were there for a reason.
Having arrived outside of those set hours, Mickey and Henry were aware that this criticism was aimed also at them.
‘And how’s the lad doing?’ Mickey asked.
‘Better, although he’s sunk into something of a depression, and the doctor thinks he should be allowed home as soon as his wounds are in a fit state. We don’t want him picking up an infection from insanitary conditions, but equally we are aware that he is just a child and he needs to be with his family.’ Momentarily, the sharp tone gave way to something softer and then she recovered herself. ‘Ten minutes, gentlemen. No more. There are other patients to think of and the hour is late.’
Not so late, Henry thought, although visiting had indeed ended some time before. He nodded agreement. Ten minutes should be all they needed for now.
They pulled up chairs on either side of the bed, and Sammy Butcher eyed them warily. ‘I don’t know nothin’.’
‘Of course you do,’ Mickey chided him. ‘You know that Joseph Levy is dead and you know that the package you were taking to his uncle was taken from you by those men who did so much damage – but I know you know nothing about them and I’m not going to ask.’ Go down that path and he was betting on a loser, Mickey knew.
Sammy looked only slightly less wary.
‘When did you hear about Joseph?’ Henry asked.
‘Dunno. We ’eard he ’adn’t come ’ome. Didn’t come to pick up ’is parcel, did ’e, so we asked about and ’eard he’d not come ’ome.’
‘And then you heard that his body had been found?’
The boy nodded.
‘And he’d sent the package to you. The one Atkins’ men took away?’
The wariness increased at the mention of the men, but he nodded again.
‘Was this the first time he’d sent something to your address?’ Henry asked.
‘Nah, be three times now. Charlie reckoned ’e couldn’t sent things to ’ome because they’d get pinched or summat. So ’e … redirected them our way and gave us a cut.’
‘And this was the last package. He collected the other two?’
Sammy nodded.
‘And wa
s there money in the packages?’
‘Money, papers, bits of jewels. He telled Charlie that he would share the money with us but we had to ’ang on to the papers and give ’em to Joseph when ’e came to visit.’
‘Joseph came to visit you?’
‘Old friends wi’ Charlie.’
‘That was foolish of him,’ Mickey said. ‘A kid who has relatives still living in Atkins’ domain visiting a member of the Elephant mob.’
‘Charlie ain’t no Elephant,’ Sammy objected. ‘That’s me bruvver Mike. Anyway, Annie knew about it. She said she ’ad a use for Joseph and ’e talked to ’er one night. They drank beer together.’
Henry could guess who ‘Annie’ might be. ‘A use for him?’
Sammy shrugged and then flinched. ‘Don’t know no more ’n that,’ he said.
Henry let that go. ‘And was there a lot of money? What did Joseph do with his share, do you know?’
‘Looked like a lot to me.’
‘You seem happier to talk to us this time,’ Mickey observed.
Sammy looked abashed. ‘Me mam said if it were to do wi’ Joseph, then I’d better spill – ’e were a good ’un.’
‘I see,’ Mickey said, echoing the boy’s solemnity. ‘So tell me, Sammy, why were you taking those documents and those bits of jewellery to Abraham?’
‘Jewels were fake, no use for pawning or owt else. Like I said, Joseph said the papers ’ad to be kept safe and given back. He said folk depended on them to prove who they were.’
Mickey cast a quick glance at Henry. He was aware that the ward sister was hovering now.
‘But it was a dangerous thing, to be taking this package to Abraham in the territory of a rival gang. Did Charlie want you to take such a risk?’
Sammy looked embarrassed for the first time. ‘Charlie di’n’t know. Mam di’n’t know eiver. But Joseph said people depended on ’em to be safe, and now Joe was dead, and I thought I’d be just fine and dandy, quick in and quick out, but it di’n’t work out that way.’ He paused. ‘Me ma’s so mad wi’ me. Says she won’t ever let me out of ’er sight again.’
‘Did you not think of just posting it?’ Henry asked.
He was rewarded with a withering look. Sammy clearly regarded the question as imbecilic. ‘Don’t be daft. Atkins ’ad all Mr Levy’s post taken to ’im first. That’s why Mr Levy’s brother always got Joe to take things to ’im hisself.’
The sister made it clear their time was up and the policemen left.
‘So Atkins may be intercepting Abraham Levy’s post,’ Mickey said thoughtfully. ‘Fact, do you suppose, or just paranoia?’
‘Where Atkins is concerned, I think a healthy dose of paranoia would be advised. The boy’s a mess,’ he added. ‘He’ll carry those scars for the rest of his life.’
‘Most of us do,’ Mickey observed. It’s just that not all of them show.
THIRTY-SIX
It had, Mickey thought, been a tricky day, but it was not about to let them go quite yet. It was already past nine when they returned to the central office, hoping to report in and then head for home. A phone call was put through to Henry’s desk.
Addie’s suicide was not noticed until late that evening, by which time her body was already growing cold. The method she had used, the police surgeon thought, showed a rare commitment and determination.
‘They had, of course, taken her outdoor clothes and given her a prison uniform of calico and canvas, so very hard to tear. Prisoners have been known to use whatever is to hand to hang themselves, of course, and this is why they are given only blankets and not sheets that can be torn into strips.’
‘So how did she contrive to arrange her suicide?’ Henry was already angry with the world after his visit first to the Levys and then to see young Sammy Butcher. His impatience must have been evident because the surgeon was eager to say, ‘All that could have been foreseen had been dealt with. This was a very, very determined young woman.’
‘Of course.’ Henry tried to modify his tone.
Mickey was leaning in to listen to the call and he laid a placating hand on Henry’s arm. ‘Just listen to the man,’ he said softly.
‘So the young woman was checked at four in the afternoon and nothing seemed untoward. She had been allowed her hour of exercise, in the yard, with the other inmates. No one noticed that she had picked up anything from the ground, but she had. As I say, she was very determined.’
Henry’s irritation was growing more inflamed by the second.
Mickey took the phone and spoke to the doctor, introducing himself. ‘I’m terribly sorry but the inspector has just been called away.’
Henry sat back in his chair and fumed, but he knew his sergeant was right. He was likely to say something that would upset a man who did not deserve it and, more to the point, with whom he might have to meet later when this case was placed before the coroner.
‘The yard is used also for hanging out the washing from the prison laundry. A broken dolly peg had been left on the ground from last time the washing had been pegged out. She must have picked it up. Back in her cell, she unravelled the blanket-stitched thread – a heavy woollen thread, you understand – that hemmed the blanket. An end must have come loose and she was very patient, I can tell you that.’
‘I’m sure,’ Mickey said. ‘So what did she do?’
‘Well, I have to say, it was very clever. The thread could not possibly have taken her weight, of course, but that was not her intent. She wound the yarn round and round her neck and she used the peg like a tourniquet to wind it tighter and tighter, and just before she lost consciousness, she must have wedged the peg beneath her chin and somehow wedged her head in the little gap between the end of the bed and the wall so that it wouldn’t fall back when she became unconscious. She had placed the peg so that this had the effect of maintaining the pressure on the carotid artery, and eventually she lost consciousness and then died.’
‘Like a mechanical sleeper,’ Mickey suggested.
‘A very good analogy,’ the doctor approved. ‘Wrap your arm about a man’s neck and keep tight hold and he’ll pass out. Keep the pressure on for too long and he’ll expire. I have to say, though, it’s a strange method for a woman to employ. Women are rarely so technically inclined.’
‘I suppose desperation leads anyone to be inventive,’ Mickey suggested.
‘Well, quite so, but all in all hanging would have been swifter. We rarely leave the accused to strangle these days. It’s all very scientifically done, you know.’
Mickey rolled his eyes, thanked the doctor for his help and told him, yes, he supposed they would be coming for the inquest.
He settled the receiver back on the cradle and gave Henry the short-form version of events.
‘Damn the woman,’ Henry exploded.
‘Why? She’s dead either way. It saves the expense of a trial. You and I both know there would have been no mercy for her.’
‘I know and I know I’m being unreasonable,’ he apologized.
‘I’ll walk you home and bunk on your settee,’ Mickey said.
‘And why would you do that?’
‘Because we’re walking home via any and all public houses we might find. I’m not going to sleep sober tonight, Inspector Johnstone, and neither are you. And tomorrow we visit the Levy brothers again and we tell them what we already know. See if they come up with the rest of the tale.’
THIRTY-SEVEN
Ruth Levy greeted them like old friends when they arrived at Benjamin’s house the following morning, both slightly hungover and a little bleary, and grateful for the coffee she offered.
She showed them into the same room as before and said she’d tell her father they had arrived. It seemed they had been expected.
Henry took the opportunity to look around the room today. He’d been too agitated to take much notice the afternoon before. The house was Edwardian but the room was dressed in contemporary style, with Art Deco chairs and a marble clock garniture on the tiled mantlepi
ece. The old-fashioned cabbage roses on the carpet looked to be from an earlier time.
Benjamin Levy came in, shook hands and suggested they all sit down.
‘Where is Abraham?’
‘Not here, I’m afraid. We thought it best that he go away for a while, but he left a letter for you and asked me to explain the contents.’
‘A letter or a confession?’ Henry asked.
‘What is there to confess to? Search my house, raid my shops – you’ll find nothing untoward. My conscience is clear, Inspector, as is Abraham’s, and the Goldmanns’. The letter is an attempt to piece together a hypothetical situation, you might say. An attempt to suggest what might have happened. Of course, none of us know. None of us claim any part and none of us will deviate from that.’
Henry could feel his irritation rising again. He clamped down on it, knowing it would get him nowhere. Ruth arrived with the coffee and took a seat beside her father. She looked Henry in the eye, as though challenging him to be ill-mannered enough to upset her father in his own home. Her direct gaze reminded him of Cynthia. It was Ruth who handed him the letter she had brought in on the tray. It was thick and clearly held many sheets of paper.
Henry opened it and started to read.
In 1904, the British Government enacted the first of its acts of alien registration. Then came the war and the government tightened its control, interning many, including members of my family. Then in 1919 and 1920, they followed these actions with the Aliens Restriction Act and the Aliens Order, designed to keep out undesirables who came to this country without jobs or means of financial support, and with the requirement that all must report to the police, must register, must prove that they had work – and women prove that they were married according to the law of the land. A religious marriage or an informal but witnessed promise no longer counted under the law; a woman not wed according to British law could be deported, parted from her husband and infants, and sent away.
The Clockmaker Page 21