‘I’ll put it to you like this,’ Maguire answered after a little thought. ‘Everything you’ve heard is probably true, and I don’t doubt that’s only the half of it. People are too scared to say much. And,’ he added pointedly, ‘the police haven’t done anything to stop him.’
‘That might change.’
‘You’ll hear no argument from me if it does. Just be careful, Inspector. Not only around Charlie. Declan’s probably more dangerous than he is these days. I don’t want to see Annabelle a widow. Not when you’ve got that grand little girl.’ The cough came again, longer and harsher.
‘You should see a doctor,’ Harper told him.
‘It’s nothing,’ he said when he’d caught his breath. ‘Just a summer cold. Another few days and I’ll be fine.’
The man outside the Sword nodded: permission to pass. Harper pushed open the door and walked in. Inside, it looked much like any other public house, with a polished wooden bar and gleaming brass. The green and yellow stars and stripes of the Fenian flag took pride of place, there for all to see. Men stood around drinking, small groups playing dominoes, the quiet clack of the tiles in place of conversation. It was as hushed as a church.
The only thing to mark the place out as different was a single large, round table that dominated one side of the room. There, sitting by himself, a newspaper spread out in front of him, was Charlie Gilmore.
Other than the thatch of red curly hair and abundant whiskers that crept along his jaw, there was nothing to mark him as special. He wasn’t tall or broadly built; he looked ordinary, dressed in a suit from Barran’s when he could afford better. No outward sign of wealth.
The inspector had tried to arrest him once before and failed. The evidence and witnesses vanished. Gilmore and Archer were the mirrors of each other, both ruthless, and the pair of them wealthy on the back of other people’s pain.
‘Inspector Harper and Sergeant Ash.’ He didn’t look up. Someone would have warned him of their approach.
He could wait to be invited or he could take the initiative. Harper pulled out a chair and sat down, nodding for the sergeant to do the same.
Gilmore took his time, finishing the article before he folded the paper and set it aside.
‘What’ll you have to drink, gentlemen? It’s my shout.’
‘We’re on duty.’
‘Up to you.’ He shrugged. ‘You don’t want my hospitality. Why are you here then, Inspector?’
‘Leonard Tench. Ted Bradley.’
Gilmore’s face showed nothing. ‘Am I supposed to know who they are?’
‘You tell me.’
‘The names don’t mean a thing to me.’
‘George Archer.’
The man gave a thin smile. ‘Now that’s someone I do know.’
‘What’s going on between the two of you?’
‘I have no idea what you mean, Mr Harper.’ He raised a hand and within a few seconds a waiter brought him a glass of beer.
‘I’ve got two bodies. Someone killed them. My guess is it’s you or Archer.’
‘Then you’d better ask him.’ Gilmore gazed steadily. ‘It’s nothing to do with me.’
‘Do you know Eustace Morley?’
The man blinked, surprised by the change of subject. ‘I do. Why?’
Harper smiled. ‘I just wondered. Do you think he’s a good boxer?’
‘Very good. He might even be great one day. Have you ever seen him in the ring?’
‘Not my sport.’
‘You should. It’s real treat to watch him fight, Inspector. He has the makings of a champion.’
‘Not interested in looking after him?’ Harper asked. It was worth a shot; Morley could be the cause of it all if his future was that golden. But Gilmore simply shook his head.
‘I hadn’t even thought about it. I’m a spectator at fights, nothing more.’
‘George Archer’s talked to him once or twice.’ Harper stared at the man as he spoke. There was still no expression on Gilmore’s face. ‘And you’ve had someone going to that club where he trains.’
The man roared with laughter. ‘Is that all? Morley has a big bout with Johnny McGowan coming up. I just want to make sure he hasn’t gone soft before I put my money on him. I daresay George thinks the same.’
‘There are other ways to make sure your man wins, too.’
‘True enough,’ Gilmore acknowledged lazily. ‘But I like to see the skill in the ring. An honest bout. That’s the pleasure of it.’ He took a sip of the beer. ‘Why are you so interested in Morley, Inspector?’
‘Let’s just say I don’t want anything to happen to him.’
‘Might it?’ He frowned.
‘I hope not. After all, you’ll be putting good money on him.’ He stood. ‘I’m sure we’ll be talking again.’
‘Look after yourself, Inspector.’
That was the second time he’d been told that today, Harper thought. Were people sending him a message?
‘Are we going to see Archer now, sir?’ Ash asked.
‘Not just yet,’ he replied. He wanted to digest everything Gilmore had told him first. Not so much the words themselves as the meaning behind them. ‘What did you make of him? Do you think he was telling the truth?’
The sergeant smiled under his moustache. ‘I doubt Charlie Gilmore’s come within shouting distance of the truth since he learned how to talk. But there might have been a few places where he wasn’t lying too much.’
‘Where?’
‘When he was talking about boxing.’
‘Yes.’ He nodded. There’d been passion and belief in his words then.
‘I still wouldn’t trust him as far as I could throw him, mind, sir.’
Harper grinned. ‘That makes two of us.’ He pulled the watch from his pocket. ‘Come on, I’ll buy you something to eat. After that we can go out and brace Archer.’
‘You know me, sir. Never turn down a meal.’
‘Just as well, I don’t offer too often.’
‘I always worry about the reason for it, though.’ Ash raised his eyebrows and started to walk alongside the inspector.
At least on the open top of the tram a breeze blew to cut the heat of the day. Not a cloud in the sky, the sun bright; the full, brilliant summer of July.
They alighted at the terminus by the entrance to Roundhay Park, and walked through the arch and on to the fields. If the weather held, the place would be packed on Sunday, young couples doing their courting, families queueing to spend tuppence for a trip around Waterloo Lake on the Maid of Athens.
‘That must be Archer’s house over there.’ He pointed to a pair of stone pillars in the distance. ‘Hidden down the drive.’
‘And they say crime doesn’t pay.’ Ash coughed. ‘I know it sounds strange, sir, but before we go there would you mind showing me where they found Len’s body?’
Interest? Harper wondered. Or did he want to pay his last respects to an old friend?
‘Of course.’ He changed direction, leading the way down Park Avenue, then along the dusty path by Waterloo Lake. It was impossible to judge the exact spot; the best he could do was guess from the position of the small copse on the hill. ‘Close to here,’ the inspector said finally. ‘He was about halfway out. Probably twenty yards.’ He pointed. A few stray pieces of floating debris from the sunken boat still bobbed around on the water.
‘I see, sir.’ Ash gazed over the water as if he might see below the surface. ‘That rope around his waist …’
‘It must have been attached to something heavy to keep the body down.’
‘Yes,’ the sergeant agreed slowly. ‘What kind of knot was it, do you know, sir?’
One of the men who brought the body ashore had told him; he just needed to recall the name.
‘A bowline,’ he answered after a few moments.
‘Thank you, sir. That’s how a waterman would tie something, isn’t it?’
‘Yes.’ He remembered what he’d been told: a sailor’s knot.
‘That’s a thought,’ Harper said as they walked away. He glanced up at the houses dotting the top of the far hill. One of those belonged to Archer. Crime definitely paid.
The drive curved neatly in front of the house. The building was new and designed to impress, three storeys of heavy stone blocks and tall windows. The broad wooden door was studded with iron nails, hoping to appear ancient and solid.
But the man who answered the knock didn’t look like a servant. A luxuriant waxed moustache, bushy whiskers that extended along his jawline, pomaded hair, and an expensive suit. A broad body and cold eyes. One of Archer’s bodyguards.
‘Hello, Roger,’ Harper said. He’d arrested Roger Harrison twice over the years, once for grievous bodily harm, once for murder. In both cases the witnesses had changed their testimony and he’d walked free. ‘I want to see George.’
The man didn’t move.
‘Mr Archer doesn’t see callers.’ He had a rough Leeds accent, the bark of his words at odds with his sleek appearance.
‘He sees the police,’ the inspector told him. It wasn’t a request.
‘Wait.’ The door closed again, leaving them standing. A few seconds became one minute, then two.
Finally he’d had enough. He twisted the knob and stepped into the hall.
Large black and white tiles covered the floor. The wainscoting was polished dark wood, as high as a man’s chest. Paintings lined the walls, hunting scenes, portraits, still lifes, a mish-mash that seemed as if they’d come in a job lot from the auctioneer.
He heard a ring of footsteps then Archer appeared, Harrison by his side.
‘Roger didn’t say he’d invited you in.’
‘I took advantage of your hospitality,’ Harper replied with a smile. ‘After all, we know each other, don’t we, George?’
He used the Christian name deliberately. Archer’s face darkened for a moment, then he covered it with a smile.
‘Of course. Welcome, Inspector. What can I do for you?’
Archer was dressed in the new style, a lounge suit, beautifully cut, with a fold-over collar on his shirt and his tie in a small knot. His hair was cut short and he was clean-shaven. A thoroughly modern man. He wasn’t physically imposing – Harrison made him seem small – but he had presence; eyes were irresistibly drawn to him. And always there was a sense that just below the skin lay a deep current of violence.
He was violent, a criminal. A killer. That was how he’d come up, that was his reputation, and all of it was justified. These days, though, he was reinventing himself as a businessman. He invested in property, in factories and ideas now. He attended the right charity balls. He still had a few of his dirty enterprises but he was turning respectable. Maybe that was how it worked, Harper thought: acquire enough wealth, keep it, and people stopped asking where it had come from. Another generation and no one would even remember.
Unless Archer went down for murder, of course.
‘I’m sure you heard about the incident on the lake.’
‘The torpedoes? I watched it from the window.’ He pulled out a packet of Army Club cigarettes and lit one. ‘Before you ask, I heard about the body, too.’
‘The dead man was called Leonard Tench,’ the inspector told him.
‘So someone said.’ It was a casual remark, but very telling. That information hadn’t been made public.
‘He was a friend of yours, wasn’t he, George? That’s what I’ve been told.’
Archer smiled and shook his head. ‘You need better informants, then. The name doesn’t mean a thing to me.’
‘What about Ted Bradley?’
‘No. Should I know who he is, Inspector?’
‘Bradley’s dead, too. The same way, an iron bar to the head. Someone tried to get rid of that corpse, too.’
‘Nothing to do with me.’
‘Eustace Morley. Do you know him?’
‘The boxer? Of course I do.’ He answered without even thinking. ‘I’ve seen every one of his fights.’
‘He was a friend of Tench and Bradley.’
‘So?’ He shrugged. ‘If you’re trying to say something, spit it out.’
‘He’s got a big fight coming up, hasn’t he?’
Archer nodded. ‘Johnny McGowan. It’ll be a good match. I’ve already put ten pounds on him to win.’
‘Then you’d better hope he doesn’t end up like his friends, George.’
The man laughed. At his side Harrison remained still, glaring at the policemen.
‘Is that the best you can do, Inspector? I’ve had worse threats from a six-year-old.’
‘I’m just putting you on notice. The same way I did with Charlie Gilmore. He has a man watching Morley.’ Harper gave a thin smile. ‘I’ll bid you good day.’
They’d reached the door when Archer called out, ‘I’ll have my carriage take you back to town if you like. Save your shoe leather. I know you coppers don’t make much.’
The Inspector turned and saw the man’s mocking look. ‘The tram will be fine. Thank you, anyway.’
‘Trying to put the cat among the pigeons, sir?’
Harper shrugged. ‘They can all watch each other now. Archer will put his own man on the boxer. Between them, maybe they can keep him alive.’ If the man wouldn’t take police protection maybe someone else could do the job more effectively.
‘There’s only one problem that I see.’ Ash pursed his mouth. ‘If something happens to Morley, then there’s bound to be a war of some kind.’
‘Let’s cross that bridge if we reach it. Right now George Archer’s going to be wondering why his police contact didn’t warn him we were coming. Someone’s going to have hell to pay for that,’ he said with dark satisfaction.
‘Do you have a plan, sir?’
‘No,’ he admitted. ‘About all we can do for now is stir things up and be ready when something happens.’
The electric tram ran to the Sheepscar terminus, just outside the Victoria, then they took another to Vicar Lane. Harper checked his pocket watch. Four o’clock. Still plenty of time to for the sergeant to make more enquiries.
‘You said something about asking around on the wharves,’ he reminded Ash.
‘That’s right, sir. I think it’s worth a try.’
‘So do I. You might as well go home to your Nancy afterwards unless you turn up anything worthwhile.’
The doors at Park Row Fire Station were open, letting in the afternoon sun. The brass of the engine gleamed, polished within an inch of its life. The hoses lay neatly coiled, everything laid out with precision.
Harper tapped on a door and heard a grunt from inside.
‘Hello, Billy.’
‘Tom.’
‘I was wondering if you’d managed to discover who owns that warehouse where you found the body.’
‘I thought I’d already sent you the information.’ He opened a drawer, pulled out a file and riffled through the papers. ‘Here. Someone called Worthington. It doesn’t mean anything to me.’ He passed the sheet across the desk. ‘I’m sorry. They’ve come out with all this new paperwork. I’ve been up to my ears in that.’
‘It doesn’t matter.’ He folded the information. ‘Still enjoying the job?’
‘When I have the chance to do it.’ Reed shook his head. ‘I seem to spend most of my time sitting here.’
Harper chuckled. ‘Wait until you make superintendent. You’ll never see the light of day again.’ He rose to leave.
‘Do you have a minute to spare, Tom?’
‘Of course.’ The inspector sat down again. Billy’s voice had been serious, concerned.
‘It’s about these shops.’
‘You know that’s Annabelle’s business—’
‘I realize that, but …’ Reed groped for the words. ‘I want to be sure there isn’t a problem with them, that’s all.’
Harper shook his head. ‘Everything’s fine, as far as I kno
w. She’s never said anything to me. Honestly, Billy, I’d tell you if it wasn’t. The Suffrage Society has asked her to be secretary and she doesn’t have time to do it all. That’s the whole reason.’
Reed sighed. ‘It’s a big decision for us. A risk. I’m sure you understand that.’
‘Of course.’
‘I don’t want Elizabeth to lose everything.’
‘We don’t either, believe me. It’s a good, going concern. That’s all I can tell you.’
‘Yes,’ he agreed. But his voice had more resignation than pleasure.
‘Nothing wrong, is there?’
‘No,’ Reed replied. ‘Plenty of sleepless nights and sitting at the table doing sums, that’s all. Whatever she wants, I’ll back her, she knows that.’ He lit a cigarette. ‘Anyway, how’s your case moving along?’
Harper snorted. ‘Going nowhere fast. So far it looks like it might involve George Archer and Charlie Gilmore. Does that tell you anything?’
Reed shook his head. ‘It says I made the right choice moving to the fire brigade.’
Harper stood again and extended his hand. Reed shook it. ‘You’re doing a good job here, Billy.’
‘I’m trying. Good luck with the case.’
‘To you and Elizabeth as well. Whatever she decides.’
NINE
‘You shouldn’t have asked him, Billy.’
Elizabeth was curled up against his shoulder, one warm arm stretched across his chest. The bed was comfortable; he’d been on the verge of sleep when she spoke.
‘Why not? He was there, it was a fair question.’
‘It’s just not right, that’s all.’
‘I needed to find out.’
‘I’d already told you.’ She shifted position, raising herself on one elbow to look at him. ‘I see the books. I’m in all the shops every day. They’re good earners. I’d know if there was a problem.’
‘I wanted to be certain. Maybe there’s something they haven’t said.’
‘Even if there was, do you think he’d tell you?’
‘Yes.’ They might not be as close these days, but he knew Harper would give him the truth.
The Iron Water Page 9