The Tin God

by Chris Nickson

  She stood, glaring daggers at him, fists bunched on her hips. Mary was upstairs with Ellen. At least she wouldn’t see this. But she’d probably be able to hear it through the ceiling.

  ‘The other women have accepted it. I’m just trying to keep everyone safe. And alive,’ he added pointedly.

  ‘They can take it if they want. I’m not going to. We’ve been through this once. How’s it going to look if I traipse around Sheepscar with a tame bobby at my heels? How can I look people in the eye and say I’m one of them if that’s going on? It’s bad enough with that rubbish in the paper today. I don’t expect anything better from them. But now to have you saying this …’

  ‘Look—’ he started, but she was blazing.

  ‘I know you have your job to do. But I have mine, too. I put my name on those papers to run for office. Fine, you want to keep us all safe. But how about all those women who end up beaten and raped every single day of the year? What are you going to do about them, Tom? Are you going to give them all a personal copper?’

  ‘It’s not the same,’ he told her quietly. ‘You know that full well.’

  ‘Maybe it’s not,’ she acknowledged sullenly. It was an olive branch of sorts, before things went too far. But he knew it wasn’t over yet.

  ‘I can’t have the others guarded and not you.’

  Annabelle shook her head. ‘No. I’ve told you, Tom. I’m not going to have people say I’m mollycoddled.’

  She could insist all she wanted. This time he was going to have his way.

  ‘I’d rather they said whatever they like and have you alive. I don’t give a monkey’s what people think. If they’ve got an ounce of sense, they’ll know why we’re doing it. Any order I can give that helps stop this man, I’m going to give it. Think about it, for God’s sake. He’s killed two people. He tried to snatch our daughter. You know what he’s done to some of the women.’

  ‘He won’t do that to me,’ she said.

  ‘No,’ Harper agreed, staring at her. ‘Because he won’t have the chance.’

  He’d said his piece. She’d either give in with good grace and accept it reluctantly, or this would rumble along between them for a long time.

  ‘All right,’ she said after a long while. ‘I’m not happy about it. But if the other women have said yes, then I will, too. But,’ Annabelle warned. ‘I don’t want him breathing down my neck the whole time. When I’m knocking on doors, he keeps a little distance.’

  ‘Close enough to act if there’s a problem,’ Harper told her, and she nodded.

  ‘And his protection ends at the front door of this pub. You’re here, Dan’s here, the customers.’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Then you can tell him to start tomorrow.’ Her mouth turned into a smile. ‘But you’d better have picked me a good-looking one, Tom Harper. I don’t want to be walking round with a bobby who has a face like a wet Whit Sunday.’

  ‘I’ll select him myself.’ He opened his arms and hugged her.

  ‘I know you, you’ll pick the ugliest one you can find.’ She sighed. ‘I’m not happy about it, but I know you mean well.’

  Ash raised his eyebrows when he saw Harper was already in his office.

  ‘I wasn’t sure if you’d be in today, sir.’

  ‘Why on earth not?’

  ‘Well, since you were telling Mrs Harper about her protection last night, we had a bet on whether we’d find you here or at Dr King’s mortuary. How did she take it?’

  ‘You know her. How do you imagine?’

  ‘Any broken plates or windows?’

  ‘No. We came close, though.’

  ‘Who have you put on her, sir?’

  ‘Martinson.’

  ‘The ugliest man in Millgarth?’ Ash chuckled. ‘I’m sure she’ll appreciate that.’

  Harper grinned. ‘No problems at the meetings last night?’

  ‘Not a sausage.’

  Fowler arrived, shrugging off his overcoat.

  ‘How did your lead pan out yesterday?’ Harper asked.

  ‘I’m not sure yet, sir. I was thinking about bombs and what you need to make them. Turns out it’s not much in the way of explosives to damage a hut, but you still have to buy it from somewhere.’

  Dammit, Harper thought. They should have considered that right away.

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘I’m sure you’ll be glad to hear that there aren’t too many places where you can buy explosives, sir.’

  ‘Does that mean …?’

  He shook his head. ‘Unfortunately, it’s not that hard to make your own, with a little knowledge and care. All you have to do is mix sulphur, charcoal, and saltpetre, and those are easy enough to pick up without arousing suspicion. I asked around, and it’s safe to say that our man didn’t try to buy gunpowder already mixed. So he must have made his own.’

  ‘That tells us he’s clever,’ Harper said. ‘We already knew that.’

  ‘And careful. I know, sir, we were aware of that, too. Anyway, I started wondering where you’d learn how to make gunpowder.’

  ‘Books,’ Ash said.

  ‘The library.’ Fowler nodded. ‘They were very helpful. One of the books with the information was taken out two months ago. Returned on time.’

  ‘I hope after all this you’re going to tell me who borrowed them,’ Harper said.

  ‘The librarian thinks she might know, sir. I’m going back this morning to talk to her again.’

  ‘That’s excellent work.’ A very good piece of deduction. But, Harper berated himself, if he’d had his wits about him properly, they could have done this after the first bomb. Should have done it.

  ‘No guarantees, but I’m hopeful, sir.’

  ‘If you come up with a name, I want to know immediately.’ The superintendent turned as the door opened. ‘Mr Walsh. Bearing good tidings, I hope?’

  ‘Sorry, sir. Hold-up on the tram. A cart shed its load and stopped traffic.’

  The eternal problem. Between the carts, the carriages, the cabs, the omnibuses and the trams, there were just too many vehicles in Leeds. The roads were clogged; close to the market there was barely room for anything to pass when they were parked. He’d brought it up at divisional meetings, but no one had a solution.

  ‘Any problems last night?’

  ‘A chap who thought he was being clever by heckling.’ He grinned. ‘The constable on duty and I took him outside and persuaded him of the error of his ways.’

  ‘We’ve been lucky. I thought some men might have been encouraged by that piece in the Evening Post. Be alert.’

  ‘Well?’ Harper asked as he stopped at Fowler’s desk. ‘Did you get a name?’

  ‘I did, sir.’ He should have been looking triumphant. Instead, he appeared doubtful. ‘But she’s not at all positive it’s the right man. It was two months ago and plenty of people borrow books.’

  ‘Who is he?’

  ‘His name’s Surtees. He lives on Chapeltown Road, sir.’

  ‘Let’s go and talk to him. Ash, Walsh, grab your coats.’

  SIXTEEN

  It was a respectable address, no more than a stone’s throw from the house where Harper had lodged before he was married. It was close enough to have witnessed the explosion at the church hall.

  ‘What do we know about him?’ They stood at the corner of the street, an odd grouping of men with their heads together.

  ‘No police record.’ Fowler looked at his notebook. ‘Going back in the city directory, he’s been in the house for at least five years. That’s all.’

  ‘I’ll go to the front door with Walsh. You two cover the back. The usual drill. If he’s our man, he probably won’t be expecting us to find him.’

  ‘If he puts up a fight, sir?’ Ash asked, and Harper gave him a withering look.

  ‘Let’s hope the librarian was right and we can put a stop to things now.’ He straightened his back and began to walk.

  Number eight was one of a series of three-storey villas. A cellar where the maid-of-al
l-work did her job. A pocket-handkerchief garden at the front, the small patch of grass trimmed close and square. The houses were no more than ten years old but they already had that dark Leeds patina, the drift of smoke and soot up from the factories in Sheepscar and Meanwood, with the faint tang from the gasometer scenting the air. He took hold of the polished door knocker.

  ‘Ready?’

  ‘Ready, sir,’ Walsh replied.

  The man who answered resembled the description they had. Tall enough, greying hair, in his forties, neatly dressed. But when Harper announced himself, he looked confused.

  ‘Police?’ he asked. ‘What have I done?’

  ‘Might we come in, sir?’

  ‘Yes, yes, I suppose so. The girl’s gone to the shops or I’d offer you some tea.’

  Once they were seated in the parlour, Surtees asked again: ‘What have I done, Superintendent?’

  If he was acting, he was very good. Harper felt the urgency starting to trickle away. Five minutes later he was certain that Surtees wasn’t a criminal.

  ‘I do go to the library quite regularly,’ the man admitted. ‘But I’ve never taken out a book on explosives.’ He sounded faintly amused by the idea. ‘And I’m not sure I’d know a folk song if you stood there and sang one for me.’

  ‘Would you mind if Detective Constable Walsh took a look through the house, sir?’

  ‘If you think it’s necessary, feel free,’ Surtees agreed. ‘But there’s nothing remarkable to find, besides my collection of butterflies.’ He looked at Walsh beseechingly. ‘Please be careful with them; it’s a lifetime’s work.’

  When the detective constable returned with a sad shake of his head, Harper stood and made his apologies.

  ‘I quite understand, Superintendent. I hope you find him soon. I heard that bomb go off, it was terrible. From what you’ve told me, someone like that needs to be behind bars.’

  ‘It was still a good idea,’ Harper said once they were back at Millgarth. ‘You were on the right track.’

  ‘Can’t blame the librarian, either,’ Fowler agreed. ‘She did say she wasn’t certain.’

  ‘It might be worth having another word with her. You know, get in touch if something springs into her head, that sort of thing.’

  ‘I will, sir.’ He sat back and chewed his bottom lip. ‘This man we’re after, he’s a right little tin god, isn’t he? Wanting to show how powerful he is, and in everyday life he’s probably nobody at all.’

  ‘He’s going to be somebody when we find him. We’ll have him on the gallows.’ Harper gave a dark smile. ‘They can make up a song about him.’

  ‘I could cheerfully kill you,’ Annabelle said as they walked to the evening’s meeting.

  ‘This might be a good time,’ Harper answered. ‘There’s no copper behind us.’

  ‘That’s what I’m talking about. Did you have to assign that one to me?’

  ‘Amos Martinson? He’s a very good constable.’

  ‘I daresay he is. But he’s got a face to scare small children and the dourest manner I’ve ever come across.’

  ‘You wanted someone who wouldn’t be bothering you,’ he reminded her.

  ‘I know. I also asked for handsome, remember?’

  ‘He’ll do a good job and still give you elbow room. Do you think I’d stick my own wife with a waster?’

  She arched an eyebrow. ‘You’d better not, Tom Harper.’

  ‘No problems today?’

  ‘None. I went over to visit Alexandra Cain again this morning.’

  ‘We thought we had the killer earlier today.’ He felt her arm tense against his. ‘Mistaken identity.’

  Tonight it was Cross Stamford Street, in the large upstairs room of the Jewish Tailors Union building. The soldier from the Engineers was outside waiting for them.

  ‘Is there a problem?’ Harper asked.

  ‘Yes and no, sir.’ The man presented himself at attention, well over six feet tall in his cap, eyes staring straight ahead.

  ‘Stand easy. Tell me about it.’

  ‘I’ve been through the building, except for one room. All the rest of it is clear, but that’s locked.’

  ‘Doesn’t the caretaker have a key?’

  ‘He sloped off earlier, sir. They’ve sent someone for him, but he’s not back yet. It means I can’t say the place is safe, sir. If you want my advice, you won’t go in until I’ve had time to check that room.’

  Harper pulled out his pocket watch. Half an hour until the meeting was due to begin. The caretaker should return very soon. It was a chilly evening, but dry, not too bad for standing outside.

  The superintendent looked at the soldier. Harper was the one who’d wanted every place checked before a meeting. What was the point in using an expert if you didn’t heed his advice?

  ‘Very good,’ he agreed. ‘We’ll wait.’

  Five minutes became ten, and there was still no sign of the caretaker. More than twenty people had gathered on the pavement, ready for tonight. Annabelle moved among them, talking, shaking hands, keeping them at ease and apologizing for the delay.

  Finally, after a quarter of an hour, Harper turned to the soldier.

  ‘What’s your recommendation? I can’t keep them here all night.’

  The Engineer bit his lip. ‘You’ll hate me for saying it, sir, but I think you should abandon the meeting. The chances are there’s no problem at all, but you brought us in to make sure everything’s safe. As it stands, I can’t guarantee that.’

  The crowd had risen to nearly thirty, growing restless and muttering. Harper whispered in Annabelle’s ear. She shook her head.

  ‘Of course we’re not going to take a risk.’ Her voice bristled. She looked around, then up at the clouds. ‘There’s some waste ground, over where they’re starting to build that bonfire. I can use that. It doesn’t look like rain.’

  She’d do it, he knew that. Harper was torn between going with them and standing guard or staying with the soldier.

  ‘You go on, sir,’ the Engineer told him. ‘I’ll give this caretaker a few minutes more. If he doesn’t show his face, with your permission I’ll go on back to the barracks.’

  ‘Yes, that’s fine.’

  ‘If your wife keeps them that far away, they should be safe if this does go up.’ He slapped a hand against the brickwork of the building. ‘Not that I expect it.’

  ‘Let me know what happens.’

  She’d been talking for ten minutes, standing on an old fruit box she’d found, when Harper heard the sound of footsteps. He turned, body tense, but it was only the soldier. He was wiping sweat from his face with a handkerchief, looking worried.

  ‘I think you’d better come and take a look at this, sir.’

  ‘Why? What is it?’

  ‘Nothing to worry about.’ He grinned, suddenly looking more like a boy than a man. ‘Not now, anyway. But it’s just as well you didn’t go ahead with the meeting, after all.’

  ‘Where’s the caretaker?’

  ‘Ran off as soon as I spotted the bomb. It’s small, not a lot of charge, it wouldn’t have done much damage.’

  It looked exactly like the one they’d found in Meanwood, a package.

  ‘Safe now?’ he asked warily.

  ‘Completely.’

  ‘That’s very good work. Thank you.’

  ‘Part of the job, sir. It’s crudely made, but effective enough. Or it was. Simple to defuse.’

  ‘Was it hidden behind anything?’

  ‘Out in the open, once we had the door unlocked. By my reckoning, it was set to go off somewhere around now. Nothing like working against the clock to keep you alert.’

  ‘I’m very grateful. My wife is, too, I’m sure of that.’

  ‘All part of the service, sir.’

  ‘Was there a piece of paper there with some writing on it?’

  ‘I’ve no idea. I was only looking for a bomb. Why, sir?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. I can check.’

  ‘It’s all locked up a
gain now.’

  Never mind; it could wait for the morning. It wasn’t as if he had any doubt who was responsible. Harper brought out a shilling and handed it to the soldier.

  ‘Buy yourself a drink on the way back to the barracks. If your sergeant asks, say it was an order from me.’

  ‘Don’t mind if I do, sir. Thank you.’ He paused. ‘Would you have any objection if I took the bomb? Only I’d like to show the boys.’

  He laughed. ‘Be my guest.’

  By the time he returned the crowd had thinned a little, a few discouraged by the thin wind that cut along Roseville Road. Annabelle was still talking, but from the tone of her voice she was close to the end.

  He hung back, leaning against a street lamp, waiting until she was done and the audience dispersed.

  ‘I saw you go over to the building.’

  ‘There was a bomb. It’s defused. Gone now.’

  She took a slow breath and closed her eyes for a moment. ‘Nobody hurt?’

  ‘Everything safe.’ His voice was grim. ‘We were lucky.’

  ‘Harry Cain wasn’t lucky, Tom. Mr Harkness at St Clement’s wasn’t lucky. Mrs Pease wasn’t lucky when she was attacked.’ She let out a long, frustrated sigh. ‘It’s like he’s at war with women.’

  ‘I think you’ve about summed it up.’

  They cut through the back streets, beyond the dark, open space of the rhubarb fields where the man had escaped after trying to snatch Mary, and past rows of back-to-back houses. They’d just reached Roundhay Road when he saw the constable waiting outside the Victoria.

  ‘It’s not good news.’ Harper looked at Annabelle.

  ‘You’re needed at Millgarth, sir,’ the bobby said. ‘Soon as possible.’

  SEVENTEEN

  The message had come during the afternoon. Reed was walking home, head down against the wind, holding on to his hat, when someone bumped against him. As he looked up to apologize, a voice said, ‘Eight tonight, same place,’ before moving on.

  Now he was sitting in the Scoresby Arms, a glass of bitter in front of him and a domino tile in his hand, ready to play.

  ‘Be plenty of people thankful round here tonight,’ the man across from him said.

  ‘Why’s that?’ Reed asked.

  ‘You haven’t heard? Them boats as didn’t make it back all found safe harbour. Telegram arrived this afternoon.’