The Girl from Kingsland Market

by June Tate

  It was late afternoon and Arthur was tidying his stall when a small boy walked over and stood before it.

  ‘Bugger off!’ snapped Arthur.

  ‘I’ve got a message for you,’ the boy said and handed over a piece of folded paper. ‘Some old bloke told me to give it to you and you’d give me a tanner for my trouble.’

  Arthur opened the note and read it. He immediately looked round to see if anyone was watching, then handed the boy a sixpence and sent him on his way. Then he read the note again.

  It gave the address of one of their secret lock-ups and a message. Be there at midnight, bring change of clothes. Don’t be followed! He scrunched the paper up and put it in his pocket and continued to tidy his display, still gazing around casually. But no one was taking any notice of him. Inside he was fuming. Fucking Percy! Why couldn’t he leave him alone? He had a good life now and again his brother was interfering with it. There was no way he could ignore it because Percy wouldn’t leave him be if he did, this he was certain of. He had no bloody choice, he thought.

  He locked his stall away at the end of the day and went to the nearest pub to down a few pints and wonder what Percy had in mind. He’d better take a few pounds with him to give to his brother with the idea that Percy could use it to get away from Southampton and him. With a bit of luck, that would be the last he would see of him. He ordered another beer. Ben, being ever watchful, had seen the boy hand over a piece of paper, and the look on Arthur’s face when he read it. It had to be from Percy, who else would do such a thing? Certainly not the girlfriend, surely? No, if it was from her, Arthur wouldn’t behave so furtively.

  He wandered over to Phoebe. ‘Look, darling, I’m sorry, but I can’t walk you home tonight. Will you be all right?’

  She assured him that she would be, so Ben closed up early, allowing him to find a place to watch Arthur’s movements unseen. He saw him go into the pub and hid away to wait for him. While he waited, he saw a policeman doing his rounds and stopped him, explained who he was and what he was doing, and asked him to inform the station that he thought something was going down and to let the police watching the house know. But to tell them if Arthur Stanley left his house, he wasn’t to be stopped, just followed. Then he waited until Arthur left the pub and walked home.

  The house lights were extinguished just before eleven o’clock. Ben surmised that if he’d been summoned by his brother, Arthur would try and sneak out by the back door, so as not to be seen, therefore he positioned himself where he could see the end to the alleyway at the back of the houses and waited.

  Half an hour later, Arthur, clutching a bag, quietly opened his back door and closed it, then, at the back gate, he peered out and listened. There was no noise or movement. Closing the gate behind him, he crept along the back walls of the other houses until he came to the end of the alleyway. Here he stopped and poked his head round the corner to see if there was anyone there. Eventually he stepped out, and keeping close to the wall, walked swiftly away. His heart hammering, expecting any moment for a hand to grab his shoulder. When this didn’t happen, he began to relax and congratulate himself on fooling the police, who would certainly be keeping a watch on the house.

  Eventually he reached his destination and walking to the door of the lock-up, he stopped and looked around, calling softly, ‘Percy! Are you there?’

  A hand covered his mouth, making him jump.

  ‘Shut your mouth, you stupid sod! Of course I’m here. Open the bloody door, will you!’

  On hearing his brother’s voice, Arthur fumbled in his pocket for the key and unlocked the door. Percy shoved him roughly inside and shut it behind him. ‘I hope you were sure you weren’t followed!’ he snapped.

  Arthur spun round and glared at his brother. ‘Of course I wasn’t, I’m not stupid!’ Then, seeing the bedraggled state of Percy, he said, ‘Christ, you look rough!’

  ‘What do you expect, I’ve been on the run for days.’ He walked over to a small chest of drawers, and turning it upside down, removed a bundle taped to the bottom.

  ‘What’s that?’ asked Arthur.

  ‘My way out!’ Percy opened the bundle to uncover a wad of notes. He held them up for Arthur to see.

  ‘You miserable bastard! You never told me about that. There’s a small fortune there!’

  Percy grinned. ‘This was my emergency fund. In our game you never know when you need the readies to get you out of a mess. Now I need it.’

  ‘What about me? What if I’d ever needed them?’

  ‘You didn’t, you had me watching your back instead.’

  But Arthur was incensed. ‘Watching my back? Lot of bloody good that was! Who murdered Frank Clarke? Not me! That was down to you!’

  ‘You shut your face! I’m taking this. It’ll buy me a passage out of here. You won’t see me again. You can live your miserable life, I’ll be glad to see the back of you.’

  ‘That’s bloody fine with me!’ raged Arthur. ‘I’ve never been so happy since you were arrested. I have a better life without you, so bugger off. I’m glad to see you go.’

  He opened the door and they both stepped outside to be blinded by a mass of light from several torches.

  ‘Arthur and Percy Stanley, you’re nicked!’

  Chapter Twenty

  Percy tried to run but was soon stopped by several policemen and held to the ground. As he felt his hands being cuffed behind him, he yelled at his brother.

  ‘You useless bastard! You were followed. I warned you about it, but you couldn’t even get that right. I should have smothered you the day you were born!’

  ‘Shut your mouth, Stanley!’ snapped one of the policemen, as he hauled him to his feet. The brothers were placed inside a police van with two constables sitting with them and taken to the police station.

  Arthur silently glared at his brother during the journey, his hatred for him growing by the second for getting him in this situation. Once they arrived, they were separated and taken into the cells to wait.

  DI Jack Bentley was walking up and down in his office, trying to think of the best way to question Arthur. It was obvious that he had no love for his brother and that since he’d been living alone he had enjoyed his freedom from Percy’s domination. But if he was persuaded to confess to his part of the murder of Clarke, he too would serve a term of imprisonment. Would that be enough to make him cover for his brother?

  The man in question was sitting contemplating his future. He was livid that Percy had now implicated him in helping an escaped prisoner. Prior to that, the police had nothing on him. Would that lead to a custodial sentence? His anger boiled up inside him. Percy had never had any consideration for him. It was always ‘do this’, ‘do that’, never ‘would you like to’, or ‘shall we?’ Not him! Then he sat up and began to smile. However, he now had the upper hand. For the very first time, he could decide his brother’s future. Pay him back for the years of misery. But that would come at a price. Was he prepared to pay it? That would be what his brother was banking on – his fear of prison.

  Arthur was hustled into an interview room. His handcuffs were removed, then he was told to sit down at the table. Opposite sat DI Bentley and another detective.

  Bentley sat looking at the man before him, trying to ascertain his mental state. He saw a look of trepidation on the other’s face. No wonder, he thought, Stanley knows he’s in a really serious situation.

  He took out a packet of cigarettes from his pocket and lit one, then seeing the look of longing from his prisoner across the table, he pushed the pack over to him with a lighter.

  Arthur removed one with hands that trembled.

  ‘I don’t have to tell you, Arthur, that you are in a load of trouble, burglary being the smallest crime, I’m sure you know this, then aiding and abetting the escape of a prisoner for another – but covering up a murder, now we are talking about a serious crime.’

  Arthur’s eyes widened in surprise. ‘I don’t know nothing about a murder!’ he exclaimed.

&
nbsp; ‘Oh, come now! Lying at this time really is foolish. I thought you had more sense.’

  ‘I haven’t murdered anyone!’ Arthur’s voice got nervously higher.

  ‘No, but your brother did.’

  Arthur glared at Bentley defiantly. ‘Prove it!’

  ‘Oh, we can do that … we have a witness.’

  Stanley paled at the comment. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘We have a witness who saw your brother knife Clarke, lift his body and put it in the lock-up, then walk away. No doubt Percy came rushing home to you to help him remove the body to the cemetery. We know that you both cleaned up by the lock-up outside with sand and water, and then inside.’ At the mention of the sand, Arthur looked stunned. ‘You are seriously implicated, my friend. Your brother has placed you deeply in the brown stuff! Shame, really, because you’re not like him. You don’t have it in you to kill anyone. But there is blood on your hands, nevertheless.’

  Arthur was shocked into silence.

  ‘You’re looking at serious time behind bars for something you didn’t do. Now, I don’t think that’s fair. But of course, there is a way you could do yourself some good and perhaps the judge would be lenient in his judgement when the case comes before a court, which it certainly will.’

  Arthur was now sweating profusely. Wiping his forehead with a handkerchief he asked, ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Well, the way I see it: why should you carry the can for a crime you didn’t commit? Your brother gave you no choice in the matter. Knowing the man, I’m sure he bullied you into helping him. What else could you do? However, if you make a statement, giving us the facts, the judge would most certainly take this help into consideration.’

  Arthur glared at him. ‘I’m still looking at a term inside!’

  ‘You’re going down anyway, but an accessory is a serious charge with a long custodial sentence, unless your statement was a help in solving the murder. Then it would be very different.’ He let Arthur think about it for a while, then added, ‘Just think, when eventually you do get out, Percy will no longer be around to interfere with your life. You are still a young man. You could do as you like, when you like and with anyone who takes your fancy. You could live, Arthur! Please yourself for the rest of your life!’

  Bentley could see Arthur thinking about it all. It was a lot to ask and Arthur wasn’t the brightest of men; however, he wasn’t stupid enough not to understand the situation and the offer before him.

  ‘Tell me about your brother,’ Bentley asked.

  Arthur looked puzzled. ‘Like what?’

  ‘As kids together, for instance. Was he a good older brother?’

  With pursed lips Arthur answered. ‘No! He was always a bully. If he couldn’t get his own way, he’d beat me up. He scared away all my friends.’

  ‘He ruined your childhood, then?’

  ‘If Mum gave us money for sweets, he’d take mine too!’ Arthur was growing more resentful with every memory, playing into the hands of the detective.

  ‘What about girlfriends? Did he have any?’

  ‘Women were scared of him. He was a wicked bugger. He expected everyone to do as they were told. No woman likes that. If they upset him, he’d give them a slap, so they stayed away. In the end he used brasses for sex. Otherwise he wasn’t interested.’

  ‘Not like you and your girlfriend, Ivy?’

  Arthur smiled. ‘She likes me. Wants to move in and take care of me. No one ever said that to my brother!’

  ‘I can understand that. After all, you’re a fine figure of a man.’ Arthur looked pleased at the compliment. ‘I’m sure you’d be kind to a woman. Think, one day you could have a family of your own if you so wished, but of course this couldn’t happen if you were shut away for years − and believe me, Percy won’t appreciate your keeping quiet. By keeping quiet you’re not doing him any favours. He’s going to be arrested for murder, anyway. All you’re doing by keeping silent is just adding more years that you have to serve in prison, which seems to me pretty pointless.’

  Bentley and his companion rose from their seats. The detective pushed a writing pad and a pen over to Arthur. ‘I’ll give you some time to think about it. Keep the cigarettes.’

  Outside the room he turned to his associate. ‘With a bit of luck, he’ll come clean. We’ll leave him be to stew on it. Come on, I desperately need a cup of tea.’

  After their break, the two detectives entered another interview room and waited for Percy to be brought in. This time the handcuffs stayed in place. Percy glared at the two men, waiting for them to speak.

  Bentley smiled softly. ‘I cannot tell you how happy I am today. I knew you’d killed your mate Clarke and now I can put you away.’

  Percy wasn’t fazed. ‘Don’t give me that old bull. You don’t have any proof. You’re all mouth!’

  Bentley leant back in his chair. ‘You couldn’t be more wrong. We have a witness!’

  Percy laughed. ‘Of course you do.’

  ‘Let me tell you what happened. You quarrelled with Clarke, it came to blows and you ended up outside the lock-up. You actually had him on the ground, by the throat at one point.’ At this piece of detailed information, Percy looked stunned. ‘But he managed to get to his feet,’ Bentley continued. ‘He turned towards you and then you took out a knife and stabbed him.’ Bentley paused to let his words sink in. ‘After, when you realised he was dead, you picked him up, put him in the lock-up and walked away. That was when you got your brother to help you take the body to the cemetery and clean up the blood.’

  ‘It’s a pretty story,’ Stanley bluffed. ‘So who is this mysterious witness you’re supposed to have?’

  ‘I’m not at liberty to say. You will find out when we go to court.’ The detective leant forward. ‘I can already hear the trapdoor opening!’

  Percy tried to get to his feet. ‘You bastard!’ But a constable standing behind him pushed him back onto the chair.

  ‘Oh, and by the way, don’t think your brother is going to help you. As we speak, he’s writing out a statement, which, with a bit of luck, will have the judge place his black cap on his head as he passes sentence on you.’ He rose to his feet. ‘Charge him,’ he told the other detective and left the room.

  After he’d been charged, Percy was sent back to his cell before being transported to a prison to await his trial. He’d been shaken to be told there had been a witness at Clarke’s murder. The very fact the detective knew he’d had Clarke down on the ground and held by the throat could have only come from someone who was there. But who? In his mind he went over the scene. There was no one around when Clarke had arrived and as far as he knew they were alone when they had their fight. Then he remembered the cat jumping down after a box tumbled onto the ground. That was it! There had to be somebody hiding and who’d disturbed the pile. He’d taken it for granted the cat had been the cause. It was the only answer to the mystery. But who the hell could it have been? Who would have had reason to be there? The market was long closed. The stalls put away, the place empty. It had to be a passer-by or … someone who had a reason to be there and that could only be a stallholder. That girl, Phoebe someone, was the only one to store her stuff just along from his lock-up.

  He sat up straight. Of course! That would explain why she’d been terrified when he’d appeared to pick up some of her fruit and handed it to her in the lock-up that time. She’d screamed with fright! That would explain her behaviour ever since the event. It had to be her. His eyes narrowed. Why hadn’t she gone to the police the next day? He cursed the fact that he hadn’t realised before.

  In the meantime, Arthur had been thinking. He wasn’t about to commit himself to any written word without some detail of how long a judge might consider he’d have to serve if he gave the police the information they wanted. After all, he now held the upper hand. A real bargaining point. No, he’d wait. He wasn’t very intelligent, but he was a good salesman.

  Detective Inspector Bentley entered the room with his associate and w
as disappointed to see an empty pad before his prisoner. He sat down, looked at the pad and then at Arthur.

  ‘What’s all this, then?’

  Arthur looked at him. ‘It seems to me that I could have a serious piece of information that you require to close your case. I’m not saying I do, only that it’s a possibility. However, you haven’t really offered me anything concrete in return. All you’ve said is a judge would take a statement from me into consideration. That’s not enough!’

  Bentley stared at him, thinking, You are a cunning little sod. ‘So what do you want in return?’

  ‘What are you offering?’

  Bentley thought for a moment. ‘No charge brought against you for burglary.’

  ‘You’ve only proof that my brother sold the goods. None that I had anything to do with it. You have to do better than that.’

  ‘We’ll drop the charge of aiding and abetting the escape of a prisoner.’

  Arthur wasn’t impressed and it showed. He waited.

  ‘You had nothing to do with the murder, only in covering it up and helping to hide the body.’

  With a sly smile Arthur said, ‘That doesn’t sound to me like a crime that would be enough to put me inside for very long and … if I were to help, then it would be even less, wouldn’t you say?’

  The detective had to agree.

  ‘In your estimation, how long?’

  ‘A couple of years with time off for good behaviour, probably eighteen months would be my estimate.’

  Arthur lit a cigarette and sat back. He puffed slowly on it, enjoying his moment as the others waited for his answer. ‘Eighteen months, you say?’

  Bentley nodded.

  Although he hated the thought of prison, Arthur thought eighteen months wasn’t nearly as bad as he’d expected. After that, his brother would be out of his life and he would be a free man.