“Yes, but you have an interesting, flickering tongue, like my snakes.”
“I didn’t know that,” Percy casually remarked and placed his knife back in his pocket.
Hood could not put it off any longer and went over to the tank labelled DOOM VIPER. It had hardly moved an inch all day. “My American kingsnake is getting worse. I thought it might have lasted out to Christmas, but it is unlikely to survive for more than a few weeks at best.”
“When the time comes, will you put another kingsnake in the tank with it? Those greedy sods eat one another if there’s half a chance.”
“Never! It will have a proper burial.”
“For a snake?”
Hood gave Percy a withering glance. “They are beautiful creatures, Percy.”
“I don’t have any interest in animals or reptiles.”
“I remember you had a dog that you were very fond of.”
“My son loved that animal.” Percy began to rub the back of his hand on his nose, but when Hood sharply tapped his cane, he immediately stopped. “I could have stabbed the coastguard man the other day. I don’t know why I didn’t.”
“Then he would have had a quick exit from the world, something he denied to your son and the rest of the crew of the ship.”
“They must have been screaming in that storm, yet he whistles merrily to himself when he climbs the 199 Steps to coastguard station. He must suffer.”
“He will, believe me. Soon, he will meet a phantom.”
Percy looked askance. “How will you get phantom to appear?”
Hood grinned as the puzzled look on Percy’s face transformed into a grin of realisation.
“I’ve always fancied being a phantom,” Percy said.
“We will slowly drive the man mad. When the time is right, you can use your knife.”
“I’ll look forward to it.” Percy scratched his beard and a breadcrumb fell to the floor. “Are you looking forward to your weekly visit to Meredith Watson later?” he asked mischievously.
“I was happy to oust Marsh from his studio after what he did to her daughter. Meredith was...unusually grateful for my help, shall we say.”
Percy chuckled and then looked pensively at his empty glass. “You can say that again. She’d always make me pay through the nose.”
Hood flinched. He certainly didn’t love Meredith, but the thought of the bushy-bearded Percy naked on top of her was mildly unsettling. “She has had a very hard life, but Meredith is a good lady.”
“She adores you.” A sly grin emerged. “It wouldn’t surprise me if I walked in your house one day to see her putting up new frilly curtains.”
Hood shook his head in disgust. “That day will never come, Percy. A brief visit to her house once a week is sufficient for me. If you have truly loved a woman, no other woman can take her place.” He sighed. “Let us have another drink in memory of Eleanor. She will be difficult to replace.” Hood went over and topped up Percy’s drink before topping off his own.
Percy lifted his glass. “To Eleanor.”
“To my little angel.” Hood raised his glass.
Percy sniggered. “Shall we drink a toast to Tanner next?”
Hood glared. “Only when he is dead and buried.”
“Did he give you a hard time last night?”
“I admitted to knowing Eleanor and that she helped me feed and care for the snakes and cooked me delicious meals.”
“Did he believe that?”
“That does not concern me. He cannot arrest me. You are my alibi, remember, if he calls you in for questioning. East Whitby would rally to defend me if I were in jeopardy.”
In truth, Hood was damned if he’d let Percy or anyone know that Tanner got the upper hand during the interrogation. Percy was in awe of him, and he liked to keep it that way. Hood needed to make up for this disappointment. At least with Jack, he was on sure footing from start to finish. He guessed that Percy’s next words would be about Jack, and he was right.
“Are you worried about Jack? He lost his job when he didn’t take them cigars back.”
Hood raised his severed thumb. “This is cast-iron proof that Jack is a coward. I do not need to waste my time worrying about him. Let us go to The Frigate Arms. While it was good sport to have humiliated Tanner, it will be more entertaining to have some fun with Jack this evening.”
“But how can you be sure he’ll be there?”
Hood flashed a wry smile. “My psychic powers, Percy!”
INSIDE THE FRIGATE ARMS, Hood and Percy saw Jack sat in a corner, gulping from his tankard of ale.
As soon as Hood and Percy got their drinks, they strode over to Jack but did not sit down. “I was hoping to see you Jack,” said Hood.
“You stole me map!” Jack spat flecks of phlegm as he spoke.
“You spit like my cobra Chief Constable. But your spit is feeble. My snake’s spit would blind you if it went into your eyes. Even worse would happen if it were to bite you since that would mean certain death.”
“It’s just another trick with a harmless snake. You can’t fool me a second time.”
“I have harmless snakes, but the Chief Constable snake is deadly. That is why I never take it out of its tank.”
“I don’t believe it,” sneered Jack.
Hood signalled the landlord over. “Danny refused to believe I had any dangerous snakes, but I proved him wrong. Ask him if you do not believe me.”
The pot-bellied landlord with a badly scarred cheek leant forward. “Hood gave me a choice of putting me hand inside tank or a kitten Percy found in the street. Wisely, as it turned out, I pointed to the kitten. That cobra bit and killed it stone dead. Bloody horrible it was.” The landlord shook his head and returned to his business behind the bar.
“If I ever stoop so low as to invite you into my house, you would see the tank labelled ‘Chief Constable.’” Hood chuckled. “Except you would not have known, since you cannot read. It is in the largest tank of all, and the only one labelled in red ink for it is truly deadly.”
“You stole me map,” Jack persisted.
“Why would I steal a useless map from a worthless object like you?”
“It was in me pocket when I came in but not when I buggered off. Who else could have stolen it?”
“You probably lost the map yourself because of your immense stupidity. You should not put the blame on others.”
Jack glared at Hood. “I’m going to kill you.”
Hood tapped his cane sharply on the floor to gain the attention of the regulars. “Friends! Whitby’s biggest coward of the century—Jack Sheldon— has just threatened to kill me! I am quaking in fear!” Hood did a theatrical shake of his body. Some of the regulars began to laugh.
“You haven’t seen the last of me,” vowed Jack as he got to his feet and headed for the door.
Hood shouted after him. “What do you think of your photograph, Jack?”
“What photograph?”
Hood beckoned over his associates who were in the bar, Jasper, Uriah, Graham, and Alan. “It is on the wall behind the counter. Let us look, shall we?”
The men went to view the photograph. Jasper pointed as Jack stepped forward to take a closer look.
“You bastard!” he screamed. He tried to reach for it, but Jasper and Uriah pulled him away while Graham and Alan formed a barrier in front of the photograph.
“That image is priceless. It shows the most gormless idiot on God’s green earth,” said Hood as he twisted the handle on his cane and removed the sword from within its case. He waved it inches away from Jack’s nose.
At first, Jack stood with a defiant expression and then turned abruptly and ran away.
Hood and his merry men burst into loud laughter.
“I think we need another drink,” declared Hood. “Alan, I believe this is your round.”
“It’s not,” said Alan.
“It is,” insisted Percy, punching Alan’s shoulder.
Jasper chuckled. “Alan’s a tight
bastard. He never gets a round in.”
For the next hour, Hood observed with amusement the arguments and banter amongst his associates. They were not his friends; that title only applied to a small number of people, like Percy, whom he could completely trust.
But these men were useful, nevertheless. Jasper and Graham were cunning and adept at pickpocketing and were both tall and strong. He still regretted not getting one of them to operate the hoist in Lythe Castle instead of Percy. Graham had lost his left eye in a fight some years ago and wore an eye patch. Graham’s best friend Jasper had a badly scarred and virtually bald head, apart from a few tufts of hair at the back as a result of a failed burglary attempt when the homeowner and his two sons set out to teach Jasper a lesson by scalping him.
Uriah was four feet tall, dim, but agile at climbing over roofs and shimming up and down drainpipes to do burglaries. He’d once been working in the House of Wonders under the name of Tiny Man, but left after an argument with West. Uriah had thick brown hair and an attractive face. Had he been taller, Hood had no doubt the young women of Whitby would beat a path to his door.
Alan’s features resembled that of a sewer rat. He was the most light-fingered member of the group and would steal from his own mother given half the chance. There was a curious honour among thieves, but unfortunately, it did not extend to Alan who never bought a round of drinks and cadged beer, spirits, and tobacco off the others. Hood had always been wary of Alan. It was petty thieves with no honour or principles like Alan that could easily become police informers.
Hood had already killed one police informer. He had no qualms about killing another.
Alan gave a knowing wink to Hood. “I’ve had a close look at the print. Looks like you’re going to be murdered and Jack will cop it at end of a rope. I know all about Tate.”
Hood tightened his grip on his cane. Why was he getting unnerved about the supposed psychic claims of the Tate camera when he’d made up most of the claims himself? Patrick Tate was nothing more than a crook.
“You’ve smudged it with your dirty fingers, more like,” added Jasper.
“I can’t see nowt on it,” said Percy.
“I’m not surprised with yer bloody big beard,” sniggered Alan.
As the men’s conversation turned to other topics, Hood took another sip of his whisky and brushed his nagging doubts about the Tate camera to the back of his mind.
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Chapter 19
Friday 31st August 1894
DAVID TOSSED HIS COPY OF The Whitby Herald down on the ground, wishing he’d never bought it in the first place after leaving the library. Reading the details of Eleanor’s murder made him shudder.
Farther down the promenade, he could hear the shrieks of children’s laughter as they watched the Punch and Judy show. Frank Hawk was in fine form as usual judging from the shrieks of laughter coming from the children.
David went into a grey, canvas-topped bathing machine for male swimmers and put on his swimming trunks, swimming cap, and goggles. It didn’t seem right to go swimming so soon after Eleanor’s murder, but in the sea, he got peace, contentment and relaxation—even his persistent headache abated.
Swimming kept him sane.
The bushy-moustached attendant in the bathing machine looked up and smiled. “You take care of yourself, and don’t upset Melvin Shank, whatever you do.”
“I’m not going to let him swim faster than me just to please him, if that’s what you mean.” David walked over to the sands and could see the familiar sight of Melvin’s distinctive black-and-white striped cap a few hundred yards away, just past the far leg of the pier. He disliked the man intensely but enjoyed the unspoken contest between himself and the gangster, particularly since it was clear David was his only serious swimming rival locally.
Melvin’s notorious criminality even surpassed Hood, but when David and Melvin were both in the sea, none of that seemed to matter. He was just a swimmer, enjoying the waves as much as anyone.
For a few minutes, when they competed and splashed through the waves together, there was a bond between them. However, as soon as the man left the sea, it was a different matter. He became a vicious criminal once again. David waved at Melvin as he strode into the sea. But, as usual, the man never acknowledged it.
David made his way to the far end of the pier. No other swimmers would go there, apart from Melvin. It was too dangerous. Last year, a massive wave tossed a swimmer’s body against one of the legs of the pier and the huge, rusted bolts attached to the pier had smashed through the man’s skull. Since then, Whitby Town Council had placed a large sign in red letters reading, DANGER AREA. KEEP AWAY.
David could still hear the laughter from the Punch and Judy show on the shore. He wiped some dirt away from his goggles, smelling the rubber, and felt the sea breeze. The sun’s rays reflected on the water, its hazy blue colour almost took his breath away. Next to him was a line of other swimmers, lying flat on their stomachs, gently paddling farther out to sea. The water was calm with hardly a ripple.
The swimmers patiently waited for a swell to appear. They didn’t have to wait long. David smiled and looked at the others, who smiled back. One young swimmer was quick to launch himself into the foaming white water whilst others drifted in the current, timing their movement more carefully.
David turned around and could just make out Melvin, still waiting, in the distance. He didn’t want to exhaust the man’s patience, so he swam swiftly in his direction. Seeing a turbulent mass of water, he dipped his head beneath a large, incoming wave. The powerful current jolted him backward, but he soon countered this by making strong sweeps of his arms.
The current suddenly became stronger as he swam to the far leg of the pier where it swirled like a whirlpool and had sucked four men to their deaths over the years. A huge wave appeared when he was a few yards away from Melvin and tumbled him about, but he quickly recovered.
The wave retreated. He looked up and couldn’t find Melvin. But, just like a cork popping up in water, so did Melvin a few seconds later. He had already set off swimming towards the shore. David followed suit, battling against the powerful currents, determined to win this race.
Within yards of the shore, David managed to catch up with Melvin and emerged out of the sea a second or two ahead of his opponent.
David stood on the sands with Melvin beside him. Melvin was a tall, muscular man in his mid-thirties, with thick brown hair, a square jaw, and a broken nose. On his right arm, just below the elbow, was the crater-like scar of an old bullet wound. His back and left arm also had several scars. Neither said a word as they recovered from their exertions.
“Shall we make it the best of three?” asked Melvin.
David nodded.
IN THE LAVATORY ADJACENT TO THE PIER, a young man leaning next to the sink glanced up. “Got any ’baccy with you, Hood?”
“You know I hate the sight of you, Harry.”
“I’m sorry to bother you. I just thought you might have ’baccy.”
“I warned you never to approach me again after letting me down last year. Do you know what this means? You are in big trouble, Harry.” Hood placed the heavy bag of contraband on the floor.
“I’m sorry, Hood.”
The sound of children’s voices outside made Hood pick up his bag and hide it on top of a water tank in one of the cubicles. A football rolled inside the entrance of the lavatory. Seconds later, two small boys rushed in to retrieve it.
Hood trapped the ball beneath his foot. He then booted it with all his strength, hitting Harry square in the face, felling him to the ground. The two boys stood watching in horror, open-mouthed and motionless. Harry slowly picked himself up, blood trickled from a cut along his cheekbone. The ball rolled back, and Hood gave it a fierce kick, once more hitting Harry, in his stomach this time, and making him fall to the ground again.
“You can go now,” said Hood. Harry picked himself up, gasping for breath and limp
ed away. Hood turned to the boys. “Any of you lads fancy being the goalkeeper next?”
They stood speechless. Hood picked up the football and handed it to one of them. The boy trembled, and the ball fell from his hands onto the floor.
Hood pulled his leg back as if to kick but stopped. He picked up the ball and handed it to the boy once more, grinning. “Give them some money for sweets, Percy.”
Percy handed a shilling to the boys. They took the money and ran.
Laughing, Hood and Percy came out of the lavatory. From his pocket, Hood pulled out a collapsible telescope and placed it against his eye. He noticed Melvin Shank walking from the sands into the sea.
Hood had proved more than useful in selling Melvin’s stolen goods. He had some contraband tobacco for him, which he would take round later. Hood wasn’t going to charge for it—he was on good terms with Melvin Shank and wanted to keep it that way.
Gordon Deakin was an entirely different matter. He’d moved to Whitby from York six years ago and was expanding his criminal empire in the area. Thus began the Shank-Deakin War. Melvin Shank had recently stabbed Gordon Deakin in the shoulder. This prompted fights in The Raffled Anchor Inn for several days running between the two men. For some time Hood had been worried that Deakin would take revenge on him, since two men that had either worked for Shank or supplied him with stolen goods had died horrible deaths under mysterious circumstances.
Hood took the telescope away from his eye and checked the messages in his pocket. He flicked through several small scraps of paper. “Billy has a shipment in for us, Percy.”
“About soddin bloody time!”
“Billy bought ten drums of tea in Holland for only sixpence a pound. What is the latest price of tea in England?”
Percy checked the papers in his pocket. “Fifteen shillings a pound. This will make us a tidy profit when we take it down The Frigate.”
“If the landlord gets greedy, we will make him see the error of his ways, but what really annoys me is the bribe we always have to pay to the Customs and Excise man.”
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