The Fabric of Murder (Mysteries of Georgian Norfolk Book 2)

by William Savage

  ‘But if I deny everything, and he does too, they’ll be no case.’

  ‘D’you think they’d go to court with nothing better than a snivelling forger and a fake gentleman? They’ll have plenty of other evidence, believe me. Besides, suppose ‘e did act like that and you was let off. D’you know what would happen then?’

  Underhill stayed silent, his eyes staring into Brock’s face, now no more than an inch or two from his own.

  ‘You says you’re a scrivener. Right?’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘A man what makes his bread by writing things. Now, suppose such a one was to meet with a nasty accident. Say ‘e happened to break both his hands, so that ‘e couldn’t hold a pen, let alone write. What use is a forger who can’t forge? Tell me that, cully!’

  ‘I’ll do it! I swear! Just leave me alone!’

  ‘Now ‘e’s seeing sense,’ Brock said to Foxe.

  ‘I knew he would,’ Foxe replied. ‘Brock, give me the pen and paper and we’ll take his deposition right away, then he can swear to it before Alderman Halloran, who should be waiting somewhere near.’

  It took little enough time after that. Underhill stated that Hinman had approached him and asked him to write out a bill of sale for Bonneviot’s stock of cloth. Simply that. Only when it was done did he demand that it be dated exactly three weeks earlier. Then he produced a paper bearing a man’s signature and told Underhill to add the signature to the document. That final demand he accompanied with both threats and a suitable reward, with the promise of more to come.

  Foxe wrote it all down, omitting Underhill’s constant attempts to excuse his own conduct, read it back to him and told the man to sign it. This he did, conscious of the sound of Brock cracking his knuckles just behind him. When that was done, Foxe called the alderman and they added their own, genuine signatures. Now, if the man tried to go back on his words, he would face a charge of perjury to go along with the rest.

  That was Underhill settled. Now they must move to the others. The alderman left at once to proceed to Mr. Septimus Frewin’s place of business, where Hinman was due at noon. When he arrived, the executors would ask to inspect his bill of sale. Once that was in their hands, the signal would be given and James Hinman arrested for forgery and murder.

  Brock left to deal with McSwiggan. There seemed little danger that he would fail to name Hinman as the one who had hired him to commit murder. If he remained silent, he would hang. If he spoke out, he would at least save his life and be transported to the American colonies. Most likely he would die there of drink or disease. He would not be mourned.

  As for Foxe, once again he must go home and wait for news. He had done too much of that recently. It was making him bad-tempered. As he left, he told himself that interviewing Hinman would at last allow him to work off some of those choleric feelings. The man had caused him a great deal of trouble. Now it was his turn.

  17

  The Quarry is Lost

  Brock came within the hour. As he predicted, McSwiggan had given in quickly. Was it the hope of evading the noose or the sight of a flask of gin in Brock’s hand which most affected his decision? It scarcely mattered. He had said clearly that it was Hinman who paid him to murder Bonneviot. Even told him exactly when and where he might find him in the ideal spot. Brock had written it all down as his statement, persuaded the man to add a shaky cross at the bottom and called the gaoler to add his witness to Brock’s own.

  Now both men waited. Noon came and passed. One o’clock came and passed also without word from the alderman. It was past half-past one when they heard a great banging on the door of the bookshop and Alfred hastened to answer it.

  A moment or so later, Alderman Halloran himself burst into the room. His wig was askew on his head, his hat still in his hand and even the buttons on his coat done up askew. Yet what was worst of all, his face was so red and his breathing so rapid and laboured that he must have done the unthinkable for such a dignified man – hastened to Foxe’s house on foot!

  He wasted no time on any greeting or preamble. The moment he was capable of speech, he cried out, ‘He did not come! Hinman did not come! We waited an hour past the appointed time without result. He sent no message either. He has flown, damn it! We’ve lost him!’

  ‘Sit and calm yourself, sir,’ Foxe said. He turned to speak to Brock but saw he was already making his way to the door. ‘Tell me what took place.’

  ‘Nothing took place! The man never put in an appearance!’

  ‘No message either?’

  ‘None. He has escaped us, Foxe, God’s curse upon him for the worst of villains! The mayor and I had set our hearts on having him in the dock at the next assizes. Now he is gone.’

  ‘Well, we will know soon enough,’ Foxe said. ‘I had set a watch upon him. If he left the inn where he was staying, they had orders to follow close behind. If he tried to leave the city, they were to stop him. Brock has gone already to find out what they can tell us. Hinman will not get far. I am sure of that. What puzzles me is how he got wind of our having found him out.’

  ‘It was that fool lawyer, if you ask me, questioning him about inventories and the like. The man must have realised his forgery would not be accepted and run right away.’

  ‘You may be right, Alderman. Yet he had come so far and was so close to attaining his goal … Would he give up without at least one further effort? He had almost a day to dream up some plausible excuse for the lack of the extra document. I had not placed him as a man lacking daring or resolution.’

  ‘Let us hope your man Brock can find him again. It would stick in my gullet to have him escape us, after all the trouble he has caused.’

  ‘And mine also. Now, sir, take your ease for a moment and regain your composure. Brock will not return for a good while, I expect. In the meantime, when you are ready you may go back to your house and become – at least indirectly – the bearer of good news instead of bad. There is no need for further delay in settling Bonneviot’s affairs. Let word be sent to Master Burford to pay all the outstanding debts and wages, as soon as he has sufficient funds in his hands. Concealment of what you have arranged will bring no more benefit. We may allow the world to see that the powerful men of this city are awake and alive to deal with any threats to its prosperity.’

  As Foxe suspected, such stirring words put some vigour back into the alderman. He and the mayor liked nothing so much as the opportunity to win the approval of the citizens of Norwich for some heroic action. Elections were not far off. To be able to claim they had saved the city from ruin would give them the topic for many a rousing speech on the hustings. Of course, all knew the number of votes received came directly from the size of the bribes paid to the voters. Still, it was good to have some means of concealing that fact behind a screen of grandiose oratory.

  ‘You’re right, Foxe. No need for poor men to remain in want without reason. I suppose I must also report to the mayor, though I take little pleasure in the prospect. He will be much vexed, I dare say.’

  ‘I am sure you will be able to calm him, Alderman. Let him reflect more on the fact that you have saved the major manufacture of this city from great harm. Even if Hinman escapes, that fact is sure. We also have Bonneviot’s murderer under arrest, together with a notorious forger, who might yet have caused loss to many a merchant and business owner.’

  ‘True, true enough, Foxe. The mayor is a vain man …’ Just as you are, Foxe thought to himself. ‘… and loves nothing better than to be able to claim he has done some mighty deed. Send word to me of what Brock has discovered, won’t you?’

  #

  Brock returned more quickly than Foxe had predicted, but his grim expression proved he did not bring good news. ‘Our bird has flown,’ he said. ‘Last night. Two men came to the inn and went up to his room. A little later, ‘e came down with them and left by the rear door.’

  ‘How did your watcher there miss him?’ Foxe did not insult Brock’s intelligence by asking if he had taken such an elementary
precaution.

  Brock let out a sharp, mirthless laugh. ‘By one of the oldest tricks in the book. The man was growing bored after so many days seeing nothing. When a pair o’ young whores came up and started to ply him with sweet words, kisses and caresses, ‘e let them draw him into the shadows. He swears it was only for a moment, but I dare say it took him longer than that to ‘ave ‘is pleasure of one or both o’ them. ‘E’ll not work for me again.’

  ‘Do not be too hard on him, Brock. Indeed, the fault is mine almost as much as his. I was sure Hinman was working on his own in this affair. This is the first time we have come across anyone aiding him. I had never considered such a possibility, fool that I am.’

  ‘Will you come to the inn with me? You may be able to get more from the innkeeper than I have. Something – or someone – has ‘im frightened.’

  They left at once and headed first along Pottergate, then turned left and went a little way up the road that led towards Cromer. At The Royal George Inn, a well-kept and substantial building set back a little from the road, Brock led the way inside. Foxe had decided to stay in his gentleman’s clothing. The politeness and helpfulness of innkeepers, in his experience, rose or fell according to their hopes of future profit.

  Joseph Eason, the innkeeper, proved to be typical of the breed: brawny from handling barrels and red-faced from checking the quality of their contents. Spotting Foxe, he was at once full of oily subservience.

  ‘Mr. Hinman, sir? A friend of yours, was ‘e?’

  ‘No,’ Foxe replied shortly. ‘Say more a man who was due to come to me this morning to settle a large debt.’

  As he hoped, this loosened the innkeeper’s tongue. He need not defend anyone who had done harm to such a fine gentlemen as now stood before him.

  ‘I knew ‘e was not to be trusted, sir. That’s why I made ‘im pay each week in advance.’

  As you do all your guests, I warrant, Foxe thought, for you are as greedy a bastard as I have seen in many a year.

  ‘Odd ‘e was too,’ the innkeeper said

  ‘How was he odd?’

  ‘He’d go out after ‘e’d breakfasted, looking smart, and return only in time for dinner. Then ‘e stayed in his room. Took all ‘is meals there too. Never ‘ad any visitors till last night.’

  ‘He remained alone?’

  ‘Yes. Regular hermit. Didn’t bother the girls who took up ‘is food neither. Not that one or two would have minded. He was a youngish man, that Mr. Hinman, and not bad looking. I don’t keep a disorderly house, you understand …’ But I wager you take a large cut of what your girls earn by their unofficial whoring, Foxe thought. ‘… but, well, some of those who lodges ‘ere are far from home and lonely. If a girl wishes to comfort ‘em for a while …’ As you have instructed her doubtless. ‘… I am not one to interfere.’

  ‘No whores, then.’

  ‘Oh no, sir. Nor boys either. Once or twice none of our waitresses was free to take up Mr. Hinman’s meal. Then I ‘ad to send a kitchen lad instead.’ More comforters, I dare say, Foxe said inside his head. If you can’t make money by prostituting your female servants, you try with a pretty kitchen boy. What a miserable wretch you are, man!

  ‘No one at all.’

  ‘Not until the two men what came last night and asked which room Mr. Hinman was staying in. I ‘ad no reason not to tell them now, did I sir? No reason at all. Though I was surprised that such a man as Mr. Hinman should know two of Jack Beeston’s men.’

  Foxe felt Brock’s sharp intake of breath as much as heard it. He must know the name.

  ‘How long were they upstairs? Did you notice?’ I’ll bet you did, Foxe thought. You sensed trouble.

  ‘Perhaps ten minutes? No more.’

  ‘And the three left together? Did they seem on good terms?’

  ‘Well, that was odd …’ The innkeeper caught himself in time. ‘Yes indeed, sir. Mr. Hinman walked with them as calm as you like.’

  ‘He was not being forced in any way.’

  ‘Certainly not! If I had thought that …’ You would have looked the other way, Foxe supplied.

  ‘Well, it seems I have missed him. He may have left a note for me though. Will you show me the room he lodged in? No need to trouble yourself to come up. Just tell us which it was.’

  The innkeeper would, though it took the persuasive power of half a guinea to keep him safely below.

  The room looked as if Hinman had stepped out for a moment and would soon return. Two excellent suits of clothes hung in a cupboard. One good pair of shoes were beneath them. Two good shirts and two pairs of well-made breeches. Two pairs of silk stockings. It seemed Hinman had two of everything. He was probably wearing the other pair of good shoes when he left.

  But what else had he been wearing? As they looked around, they found his other clothes – and there were few enough – were of far poorer quality. A stained and dirty night-shirt lay on the bed. A clothes-box contained a single pair of cheap woollen stockings. A shirt was found that had been patched and turned more than once. A pair of much-used linen breeches and a single handkerchief of threadbare calico. On a small cupboard by the bed was a fine wig on a stand and a box of wig-powder, about half used. No hat or overcoat. No money, though that did not signify much. If Hinman had been absent all night, and in doubtful company, it would not have taken the noble innkeeper long to play the part of opportunist thief.

  They took a few more moments for Brock to feel under the bed and check for any obvious hiding places. Then they concluded there was nothing more to be learned either in the room itself or in the inn.

  #

  Once they were outside, Foxe asked Brock about Jack Beeston. The name had meant something to him, though Foxe could not recall hearing of the man before.

  ‘I dare say you wouldn’t have,’ Brock said. ‘You don’t move in ‘is circles.’

  ‘What circles?’

  ‘Pimps, standover men, bawds, pickpockets, petty thieves, beggars. All the worst scum o’ this fair city.’

  ‘No, I do not, I’m glad to say. Now, back to Jack Beeston.’

  ‘He’s a man of the worst sort. Owns a string of filthy whorehouses, as well as grog-shops and gambling dens. Makes the small shopkeepers pay him, unless they want ‘is men to ruin their goods and wreck their premises. Thieves sell ‘im what they’ve stolen and gets ready cash, though ‘e gives them as little as ‘e can.’

  ‘Why not go elsewhere?’

  ‘Do that and his ruffians will break your legs! He’s also a moneylender. Charges huge amounts of interest. Extorts payment by threats and beatings.’

  ‘He sounds delightful. So that was where Hinman got the money he needed.’

  ‘Surely not! I doubt an outsider would even know ‘e existed, especially if ‘e was a person of the middling sort.’

  ‘No, Brock. He’s our man, I’m sure of it. Hinman needed a good amount of money and quickly. He couldn’t go to the regular bankers. He was supposed to be a person of some prosperity. A successful businessman from Halifax. He had to find someone who would lend in secret and ask few questions.’

  ‘Jack Beeston would do that, but you’d be in a tight spot if you couldn’t pay when the time came.’

  ‘As Hinman was shortly to be. He should have been pleading with us to lock him up before his moneylender friend could come and find him.’

  ‘Yes, I suppose that makes sense. Beeston discovered, or sensed, Hinman might not be able to pay what ‘e owed and got to ‘im before we could.’

  ‘I imagine Beeston was either watching Hinman, as we were, or discovered he had been to the forger and was up to something shady. Would Hinman even have let Beeston in on the plot, do you think?’

  ‘Not if he had any sense! Beeston would agree, right enough. Then ‘e’d want a good share of the proceeds and would extort more from Hinman afterwards in return for keeping ‘is mouth shut.’

  ‘Might Underhill, the forger, have been known to Beeston?’

  ‘Of course! Probably on his payro
ll. That explains Beeston’s suspicions now. So long as ‘e thought Hinman ‘ad a chance of succeeding, ‘e’d stay silent. Then, afterwards, ‘e’d turn up and demand payment for keeping mum, as I said. But once Underhill was taken …’

  ‘Beeston would have guessed the authorities had caught on to the plot.’

  ‘He would indeed!’

  ‘So, we know who has Hinman and why.’

  ‘And what his chances are!’

  ‘Quite so, but what else did our visit to Hinman’s room tell us?’

  ‘That ‘e was not what ‘e said ‘e was. Sure, ‘e had enough good clothes to wear out to impress people, but not so long ago ‘e’d been in a much less wealthy state.’

  ‘Exactly. Now, I have already asked the mayor to find out all he can about Hinman’s past dealings in Halifax. My guess is that we will find he was a poor clerk in some master-weaver’s employ. Or he had once held a higher position, but was dismissed for theft or embezzlement. He knew enough about the cloth trade to sound good and fool Bonneviot, but he was clearly not what he claimed to be.’

  ‘What do we do now, Foxe?’

  ‘We go home and get some rest. I am tired out by all today’s surprises, as you must be. No, don’t argue. Go home and rest. Tomorrow we will have much to do. We are not beaten yet, Brock. You must find out all you can about where Beeston might have taken Hinman and what he is doing with him. I will report to the alderman and tell him what further action I propose.’

  ‘Which is?’

  ‘I have no idea yet! Hopefully, rest, food and a quiet evening will bring me inspiration. If not …’

  ‘You’ll spend the rest of the day with one of the Catt sisters.’

  ‘What an excellent idea, Brock. Why didn’t I think of it? I believe it’s Kitty’s turn …’

  ‘They’ll ruin your health! Even one would try the stamina of any man, as I hear. But both on ’em …’

  ‘Go home, Brock! Now, I say! Go home!’

  18