‘Mr Harkness. The caretaker at the church.’
The bomb. He should have remembered.
‘Are you going?’
‘Yes,’ she replied with a sad nod. ‘I have to. If it hadn’t been for my meeting …’
‘I told you. You can’t blame yourself for someone else’s madness.’
‘Is that what it is, do you think, Tom? Madness?’
‘In a way, perhaps.’
The soldier was standing outside the hall, smart in his uniform, chatting to an old man in a battered suit; the caretaker here, of course. As soon as he spotted the superintendent, the Engineer snapped to attention.
‘Evening, sir, ma’am. I’ve given it a good going over. Clean as a whistle, inside and out.’
‘Thank you.’
The man marched off as if he was on the parade ground, back still straight.
‘Ten to one he’ll start slouching as soon as he’s round the corner,’ the caretaker said with a liquid, wheezy laugh. ‘You must be Mrs Harper, luv.’
NINE
‘It was a good crowd,’ Harper said as they strolled home. There was the start of a chill in the night. The gaslights gave their small, shimmering glow in the darkness. He felt Annabelle still bubbling with excitement beside him as he tried to stay aware of the other people on the street. No one who seemed like a threat. No men of average height with greying hair.
‘Good? They were wonderful, Tom. All those questions. They were interested. Really interested.’
‘You answered them all.’
‘I might have fudged a few,’ she said with a grin, putting her arm through his. ‘I hope the other lasses are doing as well.’
Some were, some weren’t; he received the daily police reports. But it wasn’t his place to say that to her.
The pub was in sight and she was still talking nineteen to the dozen, fizzing over with enthusiasm. He was pleased for her; he knew exactly how hard she’d worked to come this far. The long discussions over whether she should put her name forward as a candidate. It hadn’t taken too much effort to obtain the backing of the Suffrage Society. After all, she’d been a speaker for them for a few years. But persuading them and the Women’s Co-op Guild to pay the election expenses was another tussle. She had to convince them she had a good chance of winning the Sheepscar ward and ending up on the Board of Poor Law Guardians.
Getting their support was only the start of the work. Sending in her nomination papers. Then she needed volunteers to help with the campaign. There was a manifesto to write, all the ideas and words that taxed her late into the night for weeks. Posters, leaflets. All that before the starting gun for the election. Now it would be non-stop until polling day in November.
‘You go up,’ he told her when they entered the pub. ‘I’ll be there in a minute.’
She gave him a curious look. But he could see that the energy was starting to leave her face. She’d be asleep as soon as her head touched the pillow.
‘Dan,’ he said quietly, ‘have we had many strangers in during the last few weeks?’
‘Always some,’ the barman said. ‘You know that. People passing through.’
‘This one would be well-dressed, in his forties, doesn’t sound like he’s from Sheepscar.’
Dan frowned. ‘Could have been one or two when I was on. I don’t really keep track. I just serve ’em and make sure they don’t cause any trouble.’
‘This one would have probably been quiet.’
He shook his head. ‘No one I can think of. Why?’
‘Doesn’t matter. Just keep your eyes open for someone like that. He might show his face.’
By the end of the week they’d found nothing. But there’d been no trouble at any of the venues, and no more of the women candidates had been threatened.
‘It looks like your policy is working, sir,’ Ash said. They’d slipped out to the café in the market for their dinner, a hurried plate of warmed-through cottage pie and a cup of tea.
‘I’m glad about that,’ Harper told him. ‘But unless we have something else to go on, we’re never going to catch this man.’ He snorted. ‘Must be the first time I’ve wanted a crime to happen.’
‘I don’t think he’s given up, if that helps.’
‘Nor do I.’ He pushed a heap of mashed potato on to his fork. ‘Did you manage to come up with anything on Terrier John and any missing money?’
‘I should be able to finish up this afternoon. But I haven’t found so much as a hint. You didn’t really think I would, did you, sir?’
‘No. But we might have forgotten something or overlooked it. Let me know and I’ll drop Billy Reed a line. Looks like Terrier John didn’t acquire his cash in Leeds.’ He paused. ‘By the way, we’re going to have a new detective constable from Monday.’
‘Dominic Walsh. I know.’ Ash gave his enigmatic smile. ‘Don’t you worry, sir, we’ll look after him.’
How the hell did word pass so quickly, Harper wondered? He’d only signed the papers that morning, after Grayson had given his approval to the transfer. But it had always been that way. The police force gossiped more than a bunch of housewives over the Monday morning wash.
He was pleased with the new addition. If Walsh lived up to his promise, he’d have the best squad in the city. No, one of the very best in the country. He’d show them down in Scotland Yard that the provinces could be their equal.
And they’d make a start by solving this case.
‘How’s Mrs Harper’s campaign coming along, sir?’
‘Exhausting,’ he replied with a sigh. ‘I’m no sooner home than we’re off out to another meeting. Tomorrow’s going to be the test. It’s the first hustings. All the candidates on stage together, answering questions. You know how those things go.’
‘Boisterous. I worked on one or two when I was in uniform.’
‘So did I,’ Harper said. He remembered them well. Loud, and often violent. At the Parliamentary elections, the candidates would turn up with their mobs and their bodyguards, and the event was guaranteed to end in a brawl. A wagonful of arrests and bruises that took weeks to fade. This would be much smaller. More genteel, he hoped. But it would probably still be ugly. ‘I’ve arranged extra men at the ones with the women.’
‘We’ll go to some of them,’ Ash said. ‘I have to say, sir, so far the meetings have been tame affairs.’
‘That’s going to change. I can feel it. Our friend is going to want to try again.’
Reed sat at the back of the magistrate’s court, watching the man standing in the dock with his arm in a grubby sling. He pleaded not guilty. Never mind that he was caught on an empty beach with a boat full of contraband.
And there was the other one, still in hospital in Scarborough. But it would be a while before his day in front of a judge; the injuries were bad.
As it was an Excise case, there was nothing for the police to do but observe. The prisoner came from Redcar, not too far up the coast, but out of his manor.
Another hearing was set for a week’s time, and the man led away to the cells. Reed made his way outside. Harry Pepper was already there, puffing on his pipe.
‘What do you think, now you’ve had a proper look at him?’
‘Like most of the criminals I’ve seen in my life,’ Reed answered with a laugh. ‘Did you catch the bigger boat?’
‘No. It managed to slip away. They must have had a sharp lookout.’
‘What did the smugglers bring ashore?’
‘Some good French brandy. They’d taken off two loads before we swooped, so it’s a decent haul. Several cases would probably have ended up in your old neck of the woods.’
‘Leeds?’ Reed asked in astonishment.
‘There, Newcastle, Sunderland. It’s a network.’
‘I never knew that.’ He lit a cigarette. ‘Did he say anything about Terrier John?’
‘From the look on his face when I asked, he’s never heard of him. And I’ve not had a sniff of him at all. Maybe he’s just innocent.’
&nbs
p; ‘No,’ the inspector said. ‘Anything but. I can feel it.’
‘Another letter for you, sir.’ Sergeant Tollman placed it on his desk. ‘Mr Reed again, by the look of it.’
Harper had been planning on writing that morning, after Ash’s search had turned up nothing. Billy probably wondered why he hadn’t received word yet.
Dear Tom,
The other night I was called out to the arrest of some smugglers not too far away. The Excise people were handling it, but they wanted the police because two men had been shot. After court today, the Excise chap told me that some of the haul of brandy would have been sent to Leeds. Sold to shops and publicans, evidently. Do you know anything about that? I’ve never heard of it.
It made me wonder if Terrier John might be involved somehow. It’s a bit of a leap in the dark, but I’ll look into it from this end. I’d be grateful if one of your men could ask a few questions, too.
Sincerely,
Billy
Smuggling? He’d never come across anything like that. And publicans? He’d have to ask Annabelle; she might know something. In the meantime, they could do a little digging.
‘Sergeant Fowler,’ he called, ‘I have a little job for you. It’ll keep you out of mischief.’
The hall was already half-full by the time they arrived, people milling around. Chairs and a lectern had been set up on the stage, along with a desk for the chairman. Harper could sense an edge to the mood, one that could quickly turn sour. Not violent, he judged, but angry.
Two of the candidates were standing and talking with their supporters: Mr Moody, a portly older man, the Liberal who’d served on the Poor Law board for years, running on his experience in the job, and Mr Oldroyd, the young fellow put forward by the Labour Party. He worked with the unions, earnest, still fresh-faced, and looking nervous.
‘I feel like Daniel walking into the lion’s den,’ Annabelle whispered.
‘You’ll be fine. There are some of your people over in the corner. More of them will show up closer to the time.’
Harper circulated, listening, smiling. He knew one or two of the faces, men he’d arrested for this and that over the years. A few more made him for a copper and turned away. Everyone was in their best clothes, as if this was an occasion or a party. Uncomfortable high collars and ties, good wool suits carefully brushed and sponged down, a high shine on the black boots. Sunday frocks on the women. He wondered what they’d all look like by the end of the meeting.
Finally, the chairman banged his gavel for order. The candidates were ready: Moody, Oldroyd, Wilkinson, the Conservative with the long aristocratic nose and condescending manner who didn’t have a chance here, and Annabelle.
About two hundred people were jammed into the room, with the close, animal smell of bodies pushed together. Her crowd had arrived just a few minutes before, a mix of women and men, all of them ready to shout for her. A uniformed bobby stood against the back wall, eyes searching the crowd.
‘First of all we’re going to give each candidate five minutes to speak,’ the chairman bellowed. ‘I know you’ll give them a fair listen.’ He smirked, voice riding over the jibes from the audience. ‘Since we’re chivalrous here, we’ll give the opening turn to the lady. Mrs Annabelle Harper.’
The order didn’t matter; whenever she spoke, it was going to be a difficult ride. As she stepped up to the lectern, hat sitting jauntily on her head, hands unfolding a few pages of notes, the catcalls began. She stood, gazing down at the men who were shouting, not saying a word until there was a space in the noise.
‘Is that how your mothers brought you up?’ Her voice carried easily, trained by four years of public speaking for the Suffragists. ‘You.’ She singled out a man with a stare, ‘Robert Mayhew. Did you used to do that at home when you were a lad? I bet you didn’t. I know your mam. If you tried, she’d have given you a clout you’d have felt for a week. My little girl’s five and she has better manners than that. Maybe your mothers should all see you now.’ It was enough to shame them for a while. Time to start on her ideas.
Her plans were ambitious. Fewer people in the workhouse. More relief at home, especially for the old. Proper training for those children who were in the Guardians’ care, seeing that they learned their letters and their numbers and a trade, so they might make something of themselves.
‘Aye, but how much is it going to cost us, missus?’ someone shouted.
‘Not a penny more than you’re paying now,’ she answered triumphantly. ‘And in a few years, it could even be less. More than that, it treats folk like people. How many of you have known someone on relief? Go on, how many?’ A few hands went up at first, then Harper saw more and more, until most of the crowd had their arms raised. ‘You’ve heard all the stories, then. You’ve seen the way it makes them less than human. All that talk we hear about the deserving poor? Every one of them is deserving. The system we have now makes them crawl in order to get a little help. What I’m proposing lets them keep their dignity.’ She folded the papers and stood defiantly.
Harper wasn’t sure what to expect. An outburst of barracking? The quiet grew like a bubble over the space of a heartbeat, then came the burst of applause. He felt the relief and pride welling up inside and glanced at Annabelle’s face. Surprise and gratitude. She’d given the others a hard act to follow.
She’d almost reached her seat when something arced out of the crowd. A cabbage. It missed her, landing against the back wall. By then Harper was pushing through the crowd, eyes on the man who’d thrown it. He was determined to nip any trouble in the bud. But the bobby was there before him, grinning and giving a small salute as he led the culprit away by the arm.
The chairman was banging on his gavel. A man appeared on stage and whispered in his ear.
‘If there’s a Superintendent Harper here—’ He stole a questioning glance at Annabelle. ‘—There’s someone outside who needs to speak to him urgently. And now we’re going to hear from Mr Oldroyd.’
He caught his breath in the open air and looked around. A young constable, red-faced from running.
‘What is it?’
‘A message from Meanwood, sir. The soldier from the Engineers found a bomb and defused it. Nothing else that he could see. Inspector Ash is on his way there. He said we should tell you.’
‘Very good. Who did the soldier inform?’
‘Just us, sir. The hustings are going ahead as planned.’
Let’s pray the Engineer hadn’t missed anything, Harper thought as he sat in the back of the hackney heading to Meanwood. The hall was the spit and image of the one he’d just left, packed inside, the crowd loud and boisterous.
Around the corner of the building he spotted Ash. The soldier stood next to him, his uniform grubby, cradling a package in both hands.
‘This is Private White, sir. He found the bomb hidden in a room behind the stage.’
‘Call me Chalky if you like, sir,’ the soldier said with a wide grin. ‘Everyone does.’ He held out the parcel. ‘This was tucked away at the back of a cupboard. Could have done some real damage if it had gone off.’
‘Are you certain it’s safe now?’ Harper eyed it warily.
‘Safe as my Granny’s house on a Sunday night, sir.’
‘How much harm could it have done? Deaths?’
White thought for a few seconds. ‘If someone was standing close enough, yes. Most likely it would have brought down part of the building.’ His eyes flickered over to the window. ‘If this lot had been in there …’
‘How expertly is it put together?’
‘Nothing special, sir. It’s much like the anarchists used to make a few years ago. I trained on those things down in London. Doesn’t take a whole lot of brains. Clockwork fuse. It was timed to go off about half an hour before the hustings. I didn’t tell the candidates. Once I’d disarmed it, they weren’t in any danger.’
‘You’re sure it won’t go off now?’
The soldier grinned again. ‘Positive. I’ve made it harmless
.’ He tossed it up in the air and caught it with one hand. ‘God’s honest truth.’
‘Right.’ Harper took hold of it, surprised by the weight. He pulled sixpence from his pocket. ‘Have yourself a drink, Chalky. You’ve earned it.’
‘Never say no to a drink, sir, you learn that in the army. Thank you.’ He saluted and walked away.
‘We were lucky,’ the superintendent said quietly as he stared at the bomb.
‘Not quite, sir,’ Ash said. ‘We were prepared. Chummy’s probably wondering why he never heard an explosion.’
‘True.’ Could he still be lurking in the neighbourhood? For a moment he wondered if it was worth searching. Then he thought of the miles of streets and ginnels all around, the yards and privies. Too many places to hide. ‘We need to see if he left us another clue.’
‘I’ll search back there, sir.’
‘Be glad the soldier didn’t sound the alarm. Can you imagine what it would be like if word got out that we’d found another bomb? We were lucky enough not to see panic after that first one. This would put an end to all the political meetings in this city.’
‘Maybe that’s what he wants. But it’s a nasty way to achieve it.’
A wave of shouting came from inside the hall, two groups of voices in a confusion of sound.
‘See what you can find.’ He passed over the bomb. ‘Leave that at the station when you’re done.’
Ash raised an eyebrow. ‘Thank you, sir.’
Annabelle was pacing around the parlour, still in the dress she’d worn for the hustings, her hat on the hook behind the door.
‘How—’ he began, but she cut him off.
‘What was it? Why did they need you?’
All the way home he’d been wondering what to tell her. That it was a false alarm? A disturbance that was quelled before he arrived? She’d look into his face and see the lie. It had to be truth. But he’d need to trust her to keep it to herself.
‘There was a bomb at the Meanwood hustings.’
‘My God.’ She covered her mouth with a hand.
‘The soldier found it and disarmed it. No harm done. Everything went ahead.’
The Tin God Page 7