by N. M. Bell
Jake turned his gaze back to the two men. The cleaver no longer hovered over the blond head, but the butcher had his brawny arms folded across his barrel chest, the weapon still clutched in his hand.
“We go to the priest. You will marry my daughter before you set foot on the deck of ship. You verstehen?
“Herr Fleischer, you saw the letter. I have to catch the ship on the next tide. I promise on my life, I’ll be back as soon as possible.” Horst turned toward Aggie. “I do love you, Aggie. I do.”
“If that is so, then stay and marry me. Take me with you to Munchen.” Aggie stuck her chin out and glared at him.
“I can’t … if you’d just listen…”
“Get out. Get out of my shop,” Heinz roared. “Take yer ship, but never darken this doorstep again.”
“I’ll be back, Aggie. On the first ship, I promise ye.” The blond German took one last agonised look at Aggie, who refused to meet his gaze, and left the shop.
“Everything alright?” Jake stepped out of the shadows. “Sounded like a shindy goin’ on.”
Aggie spun about and hid her face.
“Nothin’ that can’t be set right.” Fleischer’s face belied his words.
“Iffen yer sure, then.” Jake hesitated. “I’ll be goin’ to finish me work, then.”
He made his way back to the dead steer and plunged his hands into the gaping slit in the belly. Methodically, and without much conscious thought, he removed the organs before carefully detaching the intestines. His mind reeled in revulsion. Aggie up the spout. Damnation! She was no longer the pure innocent virgin and worthy of the Lord, but a common doxy as sure as those dollymops on the street corners were. No, he argued against himself, the German gammoned her. Made promises he had no intention of keeping. It wasn’t her fault, no, not a’tall.
Jake finished his task while the pale winter sunlight faded outside. Rather than light the lantern to dispel the quickly gathering dark, he tidied up and snuck toward the front of the shop.
Heinz and Aggie were still downstairs though the front of the place was closed. The sharp retort of slap rang out followed by a feminine gasp of pain and surprise.
“Whore,” auld man Fleischer thundered. “Bringin’ disgrace down on me. The man hasn’t even put a ring on yer finger, ye slut.”
Jake wavered between savage glee that the woman was getting what was coming to her and a very foreign urge to protect her. He slipped back the way he came and left the premises by the back alley. Stopping at the Star seemed like a very good idea at the moment. In next to no time Jake stepped into the pub, inhaling the familiar scents of smoke, stale ale, and old urine.
Sipping an ‘arf n ‘arf he leaned on the bar. Dick must be home with the ball and chain. Lord, he couldn’t imagine being hammered for life like that. He turned the recent events over in his mind. If Jake could find the eejit before he boarded the ship, well who was to say what happened to the bloke. The only problem was, he didn’t know where the bloody hell the man had gone when he fled the shop. Jake downed the last of his ale and slapped the jar on the bar. He pushed his way through the throng and let himself out into the gloomy night. Christ, did the bleeding pea soup never lift? Think, Jake. Use the auld noggin. He admonished himself. Where would the bleeder go? Failing to come up with a better plan, Jake wended his way down Commercial Street towards the St Katharine Docks. He stopped to ask the Dock Master which ship was headed to the continent on the next tide. Thanking the man, Jake wandered off to find a vantage point to watch for the blond giant. Finding an alcove in the wall that sheltered him from the wind coming up the Thames, Jake lit a fag and settled in to wait. The Lord would guide the sinner to him if it was His will. If not, well, Jake would just have to wait until the man came back, if he ever did. He thought briefly about paying one of the skivvies who worked on the ship to make sure the man never reached Amsterdam on his way to Munich. The sea would take care of the bloke for him. Jake scanned the men scurrying to and fro loading cargo. Blast it all, not one he recognised. Another sign from the Almighty that Jake must take care of this problem himself.
A couple of long cold hours passed while Jake huddled in the shadows. The wind rose and tore at the tattered clouds overhead. A pale moon tried in vain to shed some light through the miasma of fog shrouding the docks. The thick mist swirled and voices whispered in his ear. Cocking his head to try and catch an elusive phrase, he stiffened and stood bolt upright.
The blond German materialised out of the fog, shuffling along the pier with his head down. Jake waited for the man to come alongside him. He stepped out of the alcove when Horst drew abreast of him. The young man reared back like a startled horse, blue eyes wide with shock.
“Mein Gott, Jacob! Where did you come from?” Horst scrubbed his fingers through his hair. “Are you following me? Did herself send you to find me?”
Jake hid a smile at the expression of hope that flashed across the man’s features. As if he’d do anything to bring the bleeder back into Aggie’s life. Quite the opposite in fact. He ducked his head as the smile escaped his control. “Not a’ tall, I’m afraid. Yer off ta the continent, are ye?” Jake fell into step with the man as he continued walking.
Horst nodded. “What are you doing down here?” His eyes narrowed in suspicion.
“I heare’d some of the barney what was goin’ on back at yon shop when I was leavin’. Auld man Fleischer was hard on ye, I thought. Come to ta the docks to see if ye wanted some company like before the tide turns and yer ship sails.” Jake spat on the cobbles and pulled a fag from his pocket. He lit it and offered it to Horst who refused with a shrug. “Suit yerself.” Jake took a long drag. He tagged along as they made their way past the wool warehouses on Pennington. His prayers were answered when Horst headed toward the North Quay. The dark and the mist would serve to hide what Jake had in mind. The German stopped in the lee of some cargo waiting to be loaded.
“Why can’t she trust me? I’ve told her I love her and promised on my life to return as soon as possible,” Horst lamented. He turned a tormented face toward Jake as if beseeching an answer.
“Ain’t no tellin’ wi’ women.” Jake hesitated. “It’s true, is it? The bint’s up the spout?” He struggled to hide the rage roiling in his gut at the thought. His fingers found the handle of the boning knife in his pocket.
“Tonight is the first I’ve heard of it,” Horst admitted. “When I said I must go she blurted it out. There’s no reason to doubt her….”
“Yer sayin’ it could be true, then?” Jake seethed with controlled anger. The bastard openly admitted he had forced himself on sainted Aggie. She was an angel, and angels never succumbed to the base feelings of lust. The shadows hid the violent trembling of his limbs. He took a step closer to the big man, the knife coming free of his pocket.
“Ya, it could be so,” Horst admitted miserably. “I don’t want to lea—”
Whatever it was the man was about to say was lost in the gurgle of blood and the rush of air as the razor sharp edge of the boning knife severed his throat. For a moment the blue eyes widened and stared at Jake in bewilderment from a head tipped obscenely to one side. Jake watched fascinated as the consciousness fled from the suddenly lax features, the light dying from the eyes. Wonder and envy spiralled through Jake. The miracle of witnessing the departure of life from the body filled him with an otherworldly joy and satisfaction. Thy will be done…. It was tempered with envy. Jake nursed an avid desire to know what exactly the departing soul saw during those moments of the ecstasy of transmutation. The weight of the body sagging in his grasp broke the thrall and he allowed it to slide down to the rough boards of the dock.
A quick check assured him no one was about. Jake released the knots on the canvas covering the cargo and lifted it enough to see what was underneath. Barrels and some large crates met his scrutiny. The nails on one of the crates had worked loose and Jake had little trouble prying it open. He glanced skyward sending the Good Lord his thanks. Methodically, he removed most
of the bolts of cloth from the heavy crate. It was a bit of a struggle but he managed it without taking too long. The bolts of heavy cotton he’d left on the bottom served to soak up the body’s effluence. Jake set more on top of the body, after taking anything out of the pockets that would identify the body. He wrestled the lid back on the crate and jammed the nails home with the pommel of one of his knives. The leftover bolts of cloth he tossed into the Thames. The boards of the dock under his feet soaked up the spilt blood and by morning the stain would be unrecognisable from the other discolourations and garbage. He secured the heavy canvas that shrouded the cargo so nothing would appear out of place when they came to load it.
Stowing the knives away, Jake peered around the stacked bales. Nothing moved but the swirling mist. He stepped out of the shadows and strode off down the quay as if he was on an errand of great importance. As he came back up onto Pennington Street Jake deliberately shuffled through a puddle that had gathered in the gutter. The smell of the raw sewage stung his nose, but he persisted until all traces of blood, or anything to link him with the concealed body, was obliterated. He continued walking until he came to Tower Bridge. Ducking down the escarpment he threw the contents of Horst’s pockets into the water surging upstream on the tidal bore. Wherever they ended up in the hands of a mudlark it would be far away from St Katharine Docks. The paper money and coin he slipped into his pocket. Whistling a happy tune, Jake emerged from the gloom under the bridge and made his way up to the road again. A good night’s work, so it was. The bleeder wouldn’t be putting his paws on any woman ever again, let alone sainted Aggie. She’d wait in vain for the son of a bitch to come back to her.
He walked back the way he came and smiled at the sight of the cargo with its hidden treasure being loaded onto an ocean going freighter. A high pitched giggle bubbled up his throat at the thought of someone prying the lid off that particular crate expecting to find bolts of cloth. A right bit of jolly, so it was. The hike back to Miller’s Court seemed to take no time at all and the Almighty rewarded his labours with a deep, dreamless sleep.
* * *
Aggie was quieter than usual when Jake was at the shop. The woman kept her head down and barely spoke to him at all. She refused to look at her father and stayed as far away from him as possible in the crowded confines behind the counter. Jake grinned when he heard her telling Annie Campbell she hadn’t heard from Horst and wondered if he’d left already. He longed to tell her the man had indeed left and there was no hope of his return.
Engrossed in draining the blood from the latest steer into pails for Aggie to use in making blood pudding, Jake failed to hear the footsteps until the man spoke.
“Mister Fleischer said I should speak with you on the chance you might know something that would help. I’m Detective Keegan, by the way.” The young detective stood in the doorway as if unwilling to come any nearer.
“What’s it ye want to know? Help wi’ what?” Jake straightened from his work.
“It’s about the young German lad what used to work here.” The man’s gaze flicked down at the blood stains on Jake’s apron and then away. His Adam’s apple bulged as he swallowed audibly.
“Ain’t seen the bloke since he left ‘ere after having a barney wi’ the auld man.” Jake turned back to the job at hand and hefted the overflowing bucket over to the doorway where the Peeler hovered. “Heard the cove was headed for the continent, so he was.”
“Looks like he never made the ship. Some of his things was fished out of the Thames and led us here,” Keegan informed him.
“Don’t know why ye’re talking at me. Ain’t seen ‘im since he left here.” Jake fixed the detective with a stare.
“You said there was a disagreement the night the young man left here?” the detective persisted.
“Ye’d do better asking the auld man or the daughter of the house, was them was arguing wi’ him, not me.” Jake leaned down and slit the steer’s belly open, his back to the inner doorway.
“Did you not hear what it was they was arguing over?” The detective scribbled something in his notebook, the lead scritching on the paper in the stillness of the room.
Jake turned back to face the man and cocked one eyebrow. “It was kinda personal like, ye understand? I thought I hear’d sommat about the girl being … ye know….”
“You’re saying they rowed over the German being overly familiar with the girl?” A calculating look came into the detective’s face.
“Wasn’t really listening like, none of my beeswax, ye know. But, aye, that’s what it sounded like.” Jake made a great show imparting the information very reluctantly. “Ye won’t mention I telt ye, will ye? I needs me job, so I does.”
“Ummm, yes. You’ve been very helpful … what did you say your name was?”
“Ye didn’t ask, sor. Me name is Jake Winncott.” He bobbed his head in a properly subservient manner.
“Yes, well, Jake. Have no worries about it. I’ll just be going to ask Mister Fleischer a few more questions and see if he can convince the daughter to come down and speak with me,” Detective Keegan assured him.
“Don’t be too hard on the girl, iffen ye can help it. The auld man’s hard on ‘er, so he is,” Jake startled himself by speaking up in Aggie’s defence. If the father was implicated, so be it, but he had no wish for Aggie to be involved with the police investigation.
“I’ll do my best,” the detective answered.
A short time later raised voices came through from the shop front. Jake cocked his head the better to listen, but couldn’t detect a feminine voice taking part in the exchange. He was about to turn back to the job at hand when the creaking of the stairs overhead distracted him. Unable to help himself, Jake gave in to his curiosity and crept toward the front of the shop. Heinz stood at the butcher block, the cleaver flashing as he chopped trotters off the hog Jake dispatched earlier that day. The young detective stood very close to Aggie who was crying softly. Their voices were too low for him to make out what they were saying. He gritted his teeth and smothered a low growl when the man placed a gentle hand on Aggie’s shoulder. An injudicious move knocked something from a shelf. Auld man Fleischer brought his head up and glared when he caught sight of Jake.
“Wha’ d’ye want, man?” he snarled the words. “I ain’t payin’ ye to lollygag about spying on what’s none of yer business.”
Jake touched his forehead with his fingers and dipped his head. “Was jus’ comin’ to ask if ye’d be wantin’ another carcass when I’m done wi’ the one on the floor there.”
“Good enough fer the day, I be thinkin’” Heinz responded. “Once ye’ve hung the sides and brung the organ meat an’ the blood pails up here I’ve no need of ye the rest o’ the day.”
The slaughter man nodded and pulled back into the shadows. His gaze lingered on the detective and Aggie still engaged in conversation at the shop front. A frown creased his brow and a small niggling worry wore at him. Why was the woman taking so long to tell the cove what he needed to know? His gut curled when Aggie glanced up at the detective from under her lashes and smiled. No, his mind screamed. No. Carrying the spawn of one man she was already setting out to ensnare another.
“Women are all the same, Jacob. Have I not told you so? Spawn of Satan they be. Never let them toy with your mind, boy,” Father’s voice echoed in his head. “Whores, the lot of them.”
Turning on his heel Jake fled back to the dead steer. Before he bent over the carcass he scrubbed his fingers hard through his hair nails digging into the scalp as if he could rip Father’s words from his memory. Aggie, Aggie, are ye really no better than the rest? An unbearable sorrow gathered in a hard lump in his chest. He thumped his fist on the centre of the breastbone to try and drive it out.
Chapter Eleven
A light drizzle wet the cobbles which shone dimly in the flickering light of the street lamps. Jake pulled his hat lower over his face and wiped the moisture gathered on his moustache. Curiosity and restlessness drove his steps. What was
Aggie up to this night? He’d heard a whispered conversation between her and Sal, giggling they were, about some man and plans for the evening. The German was dead, did she think so lightly of the man she was already walking out with another? And who the bloody blazes was it? Jake knew everyone who had custom with the shop, and where else would the woman meet anyone? Racking his brains till his head hurt, Jake was still at sea trying to figure out who the man might be. He ached to confess to Aggie how he had protected her, first from Amy, and more recently, from her intended. Surely, she would see the reason behind his actions was only to protect her and to purify the soul of the miscreant. The bastard child the Amy wench had carried would also be released from the sin of its conception, yes, he had done them both a good turn and a good night’s work it was too.
Turning a corner into a shadowed alley he quickened his steps. If he hurried the shop would still be open. He’d had no work the last few days and the need to see Aggie ate at him, giving him no rest. Another quick turn brought him out into the narrow street near the butcher’s where the lights were still on. A smile titled the corners of his mouth as Jake stepped out on the cobbles and made his way toward the welcoming patch of yellow lamp light. Mist swirled along the cobbles between the leaning buildings. A police officer approached on the far side of the street, coming into view as he neared the shop. Jake stepped back into the shadow of an alcove in the nearest building and waited. No sense in tempting fate, the knife had work to do before Jake could let it end.
The tall figure slowed as it reached the shop and then turned and entered the door. Jake started from his hiding place, there must be some trouble. Why else would the Peelers be at the door? He stopped and faded back into the shadows when the door opened again and Aggie stepped into the pool of light that spilled from the entrance. She tilted her lovely face up to the man and smiled before she turned and closed and locked the door. In stunned disbelief Jake watched the woman tuck her hand into the crook of the detective’s arm and stroll off with him into the mist. It was the bloody detective who came nosing around after Amy disappeared, and then Horst. Bloody hell, what in the name of God was the stupid woman thinking?