Come the Fear arnm-3

by Chris Nickson

  ‘Are you sure he did it, boss?’

  The Constable pushed the fringe off his forehead. ‘Yes, I am. Those eyes of his were full of fear and guilt. And there’s no other reason he’d run like that.’

  ‘What do you want me to do?’

  ‘Get the men searching. Then go and sleep. Come back early if you can.’

  ‘Yes, boss.’

  ‘Emily and her mother went to be with Lizzie. She won’t be passing this morning.’

  ‘Yes, boss.’ Rob smiled.

  As he entered the house, his father was already at work in the Mercury office, writing at his desk. He crooked a finger, motioning Rob in.

  ‘Any word on the boy?’

  Rob sat down heavily. ‘He’s still missing.’

  James Lister shook his head sadly. ‘Terrible. I don’t know what’s happening to this city.’ He paused. ‘Not seeing the Constable’s daughter this morning?’

  ‘Not today.’

  ‘Have you thought about what I said before?’

  ‘Yes.’ He was tired, he needed sleep more than this argument, but he knew his father. The man wouldn’t let it go until it was resolved. ‘I’m not marrying Emily.’

  Lister smiled. ‘Your mother and I will find you a suitable wife.’

  ‘No,’ Rob said firmly. ‘The only reason we’re not getting married is because she doesn’t want to. I’d marry her if she was willing. We’ll still be courting.’

  The older man sat back in his chair and studied his son with interest.

  ‘Why court her if the lass won’t marry you? What are you going to do?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Rob told him. ‘But I’m not going to wed anyone else.’

  ‘So you won’t do what I want?’ Lister’s voice had grown harder.

  ‘No, father,’ Rob answered wearily. ‘Not in this.’

  ‘Don’t be so bloody stupid. If I’d refused my father that way he’d have beaten me. Never mind that I was grown.’

  Rob stood up. ‘You’re not your father, though. And I’m not you. I need to sleep.’

  ‘And then he’d have disinherited me,’ Lister said to his son’s back.

  Rob kept on walking.

  The deputy stood outside his door and realized he was scared to go in. He didn’t know what to say that could comfort Lizzie or how he might sleep. Around him he could hear the sounds as people stirred and smell the cooking fires starting to blaze.

  He took a deep breath and turned the handle. Lizzie was inside, sitting on the chair, one hand gently rocking Isabell in her basket. The Constable’s wife sat on the other chair, with Emily on a stool, watching the two of them.

  Lizzie stood, questions and terror on her face. He held her close, feeling her shudder, knowing she wanted to cry but that the tears had already all flowed from her; she had nothing left. Gently he stroked her hair for a long time.

  Slowly he released her, keeping a light hold of her hand.

  ‘Mrs Nottingham,’ he said with a nod. ‘Miss Emily.’

  ‘No word?’ Mary asked.

  ‘Nothing,’ he said emptily.

  ‘You’ll find him, Mr Sedgwick,’ she told him. ‘Keep your faith in that strong.’

  ‘I will.’

  ‘We should go now you’re home. You need to eat and rest.’

  He waited until they’d gone then held Lizzie close again. Isabell slept on, peaceful and quiet.

  ‘I’m sorry, John,’ Lizzie said. ‘I should have watched him better.’

  ‘You did everything you could. Don’t blame yourself. He’d have gone whatever you did.’ He pulled an old kerchief from his pocket, wet it with his tongue, and wiped away the traces of tears on her cheeks. ‘Were they here long?’

  ‘Most of the night,’ she replied. ‘I don’t know what I’d have done without someone else here. She’s a good woman, your boss’s wife. Changed the baby, looked after things.’

  ‘I had to keep looking,’ he explained.

  ‘I know.’ She kissed him. ‘I’m scared, John.’

  ‘So am I,’ the deputy admitted. He rested his head against her. There was so much he wanted to say, but none of the words seemed to have any weight.

  ‘Can you sleep?’ she asked and he shook his head slowly. He was exhausted but knew that if he closed his eyes rest would never come. He’d simply have pictures of James running through his mind, over and over, to prey deep on him. From the girl his bullet had grazed he’d gone to this, from nightmare to nightmare.

  She moved away, busily cutting bread and cheese and pouring him ale.

  ‘Eat,’ she told him. ‘You’d better sit and eat, John Sedgwick, you’ll not have had anything for hours.’

  ‘I’m not hungry.’

  ‘Don’t be daft. That isn’t going to help. You need your strength.’ She led him to the table. ‘Eat,’ she said again.

  With the first bite he realized how hungry he was. She leaned over, kissed his cheek and said, ‘I told you.’

  The Constable walked over to the Calls, his face set, feeling exhaustion in every part of his body. His clothing was dirty, hose stained with grass, mud and dust coating his boots. He knocked on Alice Wendell’s door and waited. James might be missing but he couldn’t ignore Lucy.

  She answered in a moment, her appearance neat, everything in the room scrubbed meticulously clean as usual, the acrid scent of vinegar filling the air.

  ‘Come in,’ she said. He sat at the table, and she stood, the lines deeper on her face, her expression impassive. ‘Have they found that little boy yet?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  She clicked her tongue. ‘His mam must be in hell.’

  ‘His father is, too,’ he said. ‘Have you heard anything from Peter?’

  ‘No,’ she answered shortly.

  ‘He’ll come,’ Nottingham said. ‘There won’t be many other places he can turn.’

  She grunted.

  ‘When he does I need you to tell me. I don’t have enough men to go looking for him at the moment.’

  ‘Are you sure he killed my Lucy?’

  ‘He did it.’

  ‘What if you’re wrong, Mr Nottingham?’ she asked plaintively. ‘Have you thought about that? No man goes and kills his own sister.’

  ‘Then I’ll let him go and tell everyone I was wrong.’

  ‘Aye, and the damage will have been done.’ She stared at the Constable. ‘Just give me one good reason why he’d kill her.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ he admitted. He’d tried to find one and failed. ‘The family honour? I’m sorry, I truly don’t know, mistress. But I’m certain he murdered her.’

  Alice snorted. ‘Family honour? He was born before I married his father.’

  ‘You’ll have to ask him yourself. That’s what I want to do.’

  She considered what he’d said for a long moment.

  ‘I’ll believe you,’ she said finally. ‘If I’m going to tell you the truth I’d not put it past him to do it if he was drunk and angry enough.’

  ‘Thank you.’

  Nineteen

  The Constable walked along the riverbank, watching the water for a few minutes, hearing the cries of workers loading cloth on to barges from the warehouses and the creak of carts as they squeezed past each other on the road, carters cursing, horses moving slowly.

  He made his way back up Briggate, smiling when he saw the face he’d been seeking at the entrance to a yard.

  ‘Hello, Jane.’

  ‘It can’t be good news if you’re looking for me again, Mr Nottingham,’ she said, but there was a small smile on her face. She was wearing gloves to hide her missing finger.

  ‘I’m looking for someone.’

  ‘But not me?’ she pouted mischievously.

  ‘Do you remember I asked you for the name of a pimp?’

  ‘Aye, Davis or something, wasn’t it?’

  ‘Davidson,’ he corrected her. ‘He was running the girls, said they were his sisters. One of them was called Fanny. They worked down by the brid
ge.’

  ‘Down by the Bridge? New, was she?’

  ‘Fairly new.’

  ‘They come and go so fast,’ she shrugged.

  ‘This one’s stopped, but I know she’s still around. Can you find out if anyone’s seen her and knows where she’s staying? I need to know.’

  ‘Lovestruck, are you?’ Jane grinned.

  ‘There’s money in it for you. Good money.’

  ‘Must be serious.’

  ‘It is. And I need answers soon. She wears a blue dress and she has dark hair.’

  Jane nodded. ‘I’ll ask around, Mr Nottingham.’

  ‘Bring word to the jail when you find out anything,’ he told her. ‘It’s important.’

  Down by the Bridge Con was playing his fiddle. A few stopped to listen for a moment, fewer still put a coin in the hat on the ground, too busy with their own business to pay the music much attention.

  ‘Constable,’ Con said as he heard Nottingham’s footsteps, turning his sightless eyes to the sound.

  ‘Morning, Con.’

  ‘Have you found Mr Sedgwick’s lad yet?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘He was by here, you know.’

  ‘Who?’ The Constable was suddenly alert, feeling the blood pumping. ‘James?’

  ‘Aye, yesterday, about the middle of the morning.’

  ‘Was he by himself?’

  ‘He was, and he had me play a jig for him the way he always does. He dances a bit and it brings in a few coins. We both like it.’ The man smiled.

  ‘Where did he go after that?’

  Con inclined his head. ‘Down the steps to the river there. He was angry when he arrived, but he was feeling better when he left me, Mr Nottingham.’

  ‘Thank you, Con.’ He drew out three coins from the pocket of his breeches and tossed them into the old hat, smiling broadly. ‘That’s the best news I’ve heard today.’

  The fiddler raised his bow and began to play, a quick reel that sounded out across the water. The Constable walked back to the jail with a sense of relief. If James had been seen down by the river it looked as if the child snatcher hadn’t taken him. They still needed to find him alive, but it removed the threat they’d all been dreading. He walked over to the house on Lands Lane and knocked quietly. Within a moment Lizzie was there, her hair unkempt, Isabell on her shoulder crying softly.

  ‘Have you found him?’ she asked urgently, the panic bright in her eyes.

  ‘Not yet,’ he said. ‘Is John awake?’

  ‘He’s sleeping a little. What is it?’

  ‘I’ve some good news. Con the fiddler saw James. They talked and your boy went to play by the river. So it seems as if he’s just taken himself off. We’ll find him.’

  Lizzie closed her eyes and breathed deeply.

  ‘I’ll thank God for that, Mr Nottingham. I’ll wake John and tell him.’

  The Constable made his way back to the jail and sent one of the men to find the others and keep them searching along the riverbank. Further this time, though, beyond Dyers’ Garth, out into the countryside beyond Leeds. If James wanted to hide, there were plenty of places out there.

  He poured a mug of ale and drank it slowly. Now he knew that the boy hadn’t been taken he felt calmer. They’d find him soon, he felt sure; a little lad might spend one night out in the open, but hunger and the cold would start to weigh upon him soon enough.

  Nottingham removed his stock and opened the collar of his shirt. The surge of energy he’d felt when talking to Con was fading and the exhaustion was gradually creeping through his body.

  There’d be time for sleep tonight, when he could crawl gratefully into his own bed, close his eyes and rest. With every year that passed he felt the long hours of the job more and more. He’d long since left his youth behind, and these days his body ached when he rose and his hair was almost as much grey as fair.

  He could plot the time, count out all the weeks on his fingers, that had brought him here. None of it grew any easier with age, he knew that much. The city had changed around him, growing, booming, the wealth of the merchants becoming greater, their mansion houses like castles built on commerce, while the poor had no choice but to take what they could find.

  He must have dozed; the sound of the door creaking open started him and he blinked his eyes.

  ‘You were sleeping,’ Jane said with a smile.

  ‘Too many long days and nights,’ he explained, stretching in his chair. ‘Do you have anything for me?’

  She frowned. ‘That lass you’re after, she’s still in Leeds, right enough. Some of the girls have seen her and talked to her.’

  ‘Whereabouts?’

  She shook her head. ‘T’other side of the river, that’s all anyone seems to know.’

  ‘What about her sister and the pimp?’ Nottingham asked.

  ‘No one said anything about them.’

  He took out money, not even looking at its value, and put it on the desk. As ever, her hand moved quickly, hiding the missing finger, as she slipped it away.

  ‘Thank you,’ he told her. ‘And if you find out anything more. .’

  ‘This is about the boys, isn’t it?’

  He raised his eyebrows. ‘Why would you think that?’

  Jane chuckled. ‘I wasn’t born yesterday, you know. You’re looking for this Fanny and you want her now. The only reason I can see for that is the deputy’s lad.’ The Constable smiled but said nothing.

  ‘I’ll keep my ears open,’ she promised. ‘And I’ll say nowt about this.’

  ‘It’s for the best.’

  ‘You ought to go home and rest,’ she advised as she stood in the doorway. ‘You look like death, Mr Nottingham.’

  Rob was the first to come back, just four hours after he’d left. He’d washed and brushed the worst of the dirt off his coat and breeches to smarten himself up, but his drawn face and the dark patches under his eyes told the truth.

  ‘Can’t sleep?’ the Constable asked.

  ‘I’ve just been turning over and over.’ He drank deep from a mug of ale. ‘Any news?’

  ‘Con the fiddler saw James yesterday morning on the bridge. Said he went down by the river.’

  ‘So he wasn’t taken?’ Rob brightened.

  ‘It looks that way,’ Nottingham said with a smile. ‘But we still have to find him.’ He paused and cocked his head. ‘That’s not what’s been keeping you awake, is it?’

  ‘My father’s still talking about arranging a marriage for me.’

  ‘You told him no again?’ the Constable asked.

  ‘More than once,’ Rob said glumly, ‘and he’s not happy with me.’

  ‘And what about Emily?’

  ‘She says she doesn’t want to marry anyone,’ he replied.

  Nottingham shook his head. ‘That sounds like her, right enough. She has her own ideas about things, does that girl. I can’t understand half of them.’ He gazed at the lad. ‘So what are you going to do?’

  ‘I’m going to keep courting her,’ Lister said with certainty.

  Nottingham pursed his lips, then said, ‘Since you’re here, let’s get some work from you. That girl, Fanny, definitely lives on the other side of the river. She’s most likely with another lass and a man with a limp. Take a couple of the men and ask around.’

  ‘We’ve tried that,’ Rob objected. ‘I could help look for James.’

  The Constable shook his head. ‘I need someone on this. Try again. Someone over there has to know her.’

  ‘What about Wendell?’

  ‘We’ll have him sooner or later. The word’s out that he killed his sister. No one’s going to come to his aid.’

  ‘We should be the ones looking for him.’

  ‘Aye, you’re probably right,’ the Constable said wearily. ‘But we have a child to find, and the child snatcher, as well as Wendell. I don’t have enough men for all that.’

  Sedgwick opened the door and walked in, his hair wild, looking as though he hadn’t rested long.

&nbs
p; ‘Lizzie told me. I wanted to go straight out, but she made me rest a little more.’

  ‘You know she was doing the right thing,’ Nottingham told him. ‘She’s got a good head on her shoulders, that lass.’

  ‘Mebbe. I just felt I should be there, I should be the one to find him.’

  ‘I’ve had the men searching.’

  ‘Thank you, boss.’

  ‘Go and look for him, John. At least we know now that he wasn’t taken.’

  ‘That’s one weight lifted.’ He looked up, eyes red from tiredness and pain. ‘But it still doesn’t bring him home though, does it?’

  ‘He’s out there and we’ll find him,’ the Constable assured him. ‘Go on, get looking. And Rob, take Holden and one of the others and start asking more questions.’

  A little more time, he thought. That was all it would take. Someone was bound to know Fanny, especially if she was with the others. James would turn up when his belly was empty or fear overcame him. And Wendell would find soon enough that he had nowhere to go.

  Patience, he told himself. He just needed to let things run their course. Another day, two at most, and all this would be over. He poured more ale, draining the jug. In a few minutes he’d go next door to the White Swan and have them refill it.

  As he sat back to drink one of the clerks from the Moot Hall ducked into the jail. ‘The mayor wants you,’ he said, then left again.

  Nottingham sighed, finished the mug and stood. He retied his stock, half-heartedly brushing at the dirt on his coat and his hose. He knew he looked a tatterdemalion, unkempt as any scare-the-crow in the fields, but he was past caring. He’d been working for more hours than he cared to count, with who knew how many more to come. People would have to take him as he was.

  At the Moot Hall he knocked on the dark, heavy door and entered. John Douglas was at his desk, his face bleak and unshaven, looking up as the Constable entered.

  ‘Do you have anything good to tell me?’ he asked.

  ‘We know my deputy’s son wasn’t snatched,’ Nottingham answered as he sat.

  The mayor nodded his approval. ‘That’s something. Any word on him?’

  ‘We’re still looking.’

  ‘People are talking, Richard. Two lads gone in just a few days.’