‘Die?’ The word seemed to halt him. ‘But—’
‘At the very least he might never work again.’
‘Jesus.’ Rob hissed the word.
‘For right now you’re my deputy. Put your best man in charge of the nights.’ The Constable could feel his heart beating fast, his palms were slick and damp.
‘Yes, boss.’
‘Who had John seen lately, who had he talked to?’
‘I know he went to see Leviticus Holt yesterday.’
‘I’ll talk to him. Get every name you can, go and see them. Do whatever you have to do. I want answers on this.’
‘Yes.’
‘Lucy’s gone to help Lizzie. I don’t want Emily staying in the house on her own.’
Rob thought for a moment. ‘What about the Williamsons?’
The Constable nodded. ‘Good idea. I’ll send Tom Williamson a note. I still want you escorting her to and from the school, and I want to keep someone on Call Brows at night. The women have their men out on the Calls.’
‘Yes, boss.’
Nottingham pushed his way into the tumbling old house and down the stairs. Before he entered the room he pulled out the cudgel, then he stormed in and dragged Holt out of his bed on to the floor.
The man tried to rise but the Constable held him down, pressing a boot on his chest.
‘Someone attacked Mr Sedgwick this morning,’ he said.
‘So?’
‘He was talking to you yesterday.’
‘Aye, the bastard.’
Nottingham put more weight behind his boot. ‘Maybe you wanted some revenge.’
‘Nay, not me.’
‘Tell me why I should believe you, Leviticus?’
‘I were here, sleeping, same as I were when you came.’
The man’s eyes told the truth. Holt could be violent but he’d never been able to lie well.
Nottingham moved back. ‘You hear anything about what happened, anything at all, you come and tell me.’
Back at the jail he read Williamson’s reply to his note. The merchant and his wife would be pleased to have Emily to stay. Underneath, the man pledged his help to catch Sedgwick’s attacker, anything he could do.
He strode out for home, hoping his daughter would agree to the idea readily. He didn’t have the time to argue with her. Every minute mattered. When he unlocked the door he found her reading, a pile of books beside her chair. As soon as she saw him she stood, her face heavy with worry.
‘Papa, how’s Mr Sedgwick?’
‘He’s been badly hurt. We don’t really know more than that yet. Lucy’s gone to help Lizzie.’ She nodded her understanding. ‘I’ve asked Tom Williamson if you can stay there until this is all over.’
‘Papa—’ she began, but he cut her off.
‘I don’t want you staying here on your own,’ he insisted. ‘Not when someone’s been damaging the school.’ He could hear how anxious he sounded, the desperation in his tone. ‘Please.’
‘Yes, Papa.’
Five minutes later she was ready, everything she needed in a small bag. He hurried her along the way, grateful for one weight off his mind but needing to return to work, to catch whoever had done this.
The house had belonged to the merchant’s father, and his grandfather before that; it wasn’t so grand on the outside, but Hannah Williamson had spent good money on decorations, the thick Turkey carpet spread across the parlour, the delicate wooden chairs and the portraits on the walls. It was only moments before Williamson came through, his wife behind him, ready to take Emily off to her room.
‘Nothing yet, Richard?’ Williamson asked once they were alone.
‘No. We’ll find him.’ His voice sounded dead.
‘I talked to some of the aldermen at church. If there’s anything you need, more men, more money, you only have to ask. The city won’t tolerate this.’
‘Thank you.’
‘And we’ll look after Emily for you, don’t worry.’
The Constable walked the length of Currie Entry from Briggate to Call Lane. The sun had dried the blood into a dark patch, almost black against the flagstones. A heavy branch lay on the ground by the end of the street. He picked it up and examined it, looking around to see if it had come from one of the trees beyond the wall in Alderman Atkinson’s garden. He saw the colour at one end and sniffed it.
It was easy to imagine someone using the wood hard on John’s head, then beating him to oblivion. But the knowledge didn’t help at all. He stood, trying to picture it in his head. Who? Who?
‘Boss.’ The word dragged him back into the warm sun. Rob stood in front of him.
‘What have you found?’
‘Someone spotted a man running up Call Lane towards Kirkgate.’
‘Any description?’
‘Nothing useful. Big, dark hair, dark coat. They weren’t really paying attention.’
‘Have the men work along Kirkgate and Vicar Lane. See if anyone else noticed him.’
‘Yes, boss.’
‘When you’ve done that, meet me at the jail.’
By the time Lister arrived, Nottingham had the swords out, one lying on the desk, the other buckled around his waist.
‘Where are we going?’ Rob asked.
‘To see King Davy. That description, it could be him,’ the Constable replied. ‘He’s worth a visit, anyway. We had him in last week and he was insulting Lizzie.’ He indicated the weapon. ‘If he gives any problems don’t be afraid to use that.’
King lodged in Mrs Crowther’s house in Queen Charlotte’s Court, as slovenly a place as the Constable had ever been in, dirt in the corners, the sheet on the bed rarely changed from one year to the next. They marched there side by side, neither of them speaking. As they passed the workhouse Nottingham noticed the piles of rubbish outside the building, as if men had already begun work there. It was something for another day; he had more urgent matters to deal with now.
Mrs Crowther was just as he remembered her. Heavier, perhaps, although it was hard to tell; she’d always been a big woman. As she spoke she rubbed the bruise on her cheek.
‘He done this to me. Rushed in this morning, put what he had in a bag and hit me when I told him I wanted what he owed me.’
‘Which room?’ Nottingham asked, glancing quickly at Rob.
‘Top of the stairs on the left. When you find him, I want that money,’ she shouted at his back. ‘It were three shilling and threepence.’
He kicked open the door. The room was empty, the shutters wide, letting in the sun. It stank of sweat and piss; the chamber pot in the corner was close to overflowing. A rat scuttled across the floor and disappeared into the wainscoting. King had gone.
‘How long ago was he here?’
The woman shrugged, the flesh on her arms wobbling. ‘Two hour. Three. I don’t know.’
‘How did he seem when he was here? Was there blood on him?’
‘There was summat on his boots,’ she answered after a moment. ‘I don’t know what it were.’
‘Sounds like it’s him, boss,’ Rob said when they were back outside.
‘It does,’ Nottingham replied grimly.
‘He could have run off by now.’
‘Not Davy,’ the Constable said with a certainty that surprised him. ‘He wouldn’t have a clue where to go. I doubt he’s ever been outside Leeds in his whole life. Have the men talk to his drinking friends. And make sure they go in pairs. Davy’s not going to come easily.’
He heard the lad run off and stood, thinking. King Davy. A beating was his way. But where would he hide? Where would he feel safe? Where would he run?
TWENTY
By evening they’d visited everyone who knew King. None of them had seen him since the night before. He’d been out until late, drinking in the dram shops, spending his pay like he had a pocket full of money. After that he’d gone off by himself. The Constable would have the night men question the whores later; maybe he’d been with one of them.
Notti
ngham sat in the jail, sharing a jug and bread with Rob. Any minute he expected the deputy to walk in grinning, with his hunger and his thirst and his easy laugh. But that wouldn’t happen. It might never happen again.
He couldn’t stand to lose someone else. He relied on John; these last months, when his mind was so often fogged and distracted, he’d needed him more than ever. He wasn’t just a deputy, he was a friend, someone he’d trusted with his life.
‘I’ll go over and see him in a minute,’ the Constable said. He ran his hands down his cheeks, trying to rub away the exhaustion.
‘I’ll come with you.’
‘Stay here. Someone has to look after things. You can go later. I daresay they won’t be getting any sleep there, either.’ He stood, feeling his bones ache. ‘Keep the men out all the time. Any sign of Davy, I want them shouting. And I want to know.’
‘Yes, boss.’
Dusk was close, darkness just beginning to hem in on the horizon, but the air felt thick and warm as he walked up Lands Lane to knock on the door. For the briefest moment he was surprised to be facing Lucy, then he remembered.
The deputy lay on a bed of straw that had been hastily pushed together, an old sheet thrown over the top. Lizzie sat on a stool by his side, clutching his left hand, the undamaged one. Nottingham put a hand lightly on her shoulder and she looked up at him.
‘Any change?’ he asked and she shook her head. He saw the dried tracks of tears down her cheeks and knew she’d cried herself out. ‘Has the apothecary been back?’
‘A few minutes ago.’ Lizzie’s voice was dry and hoarse. He took a mug of ale from the table and handed it to her. ‘He doesn’t know when John will wake up,’ she said emptily. ‘Have you found who did it yet?’
‘Everyone’s out looking. It looks like it was King Davy,’ he told her, wondering if she knew the name.
‘Aye, John’s talked about him before.’
There was nothing more he could do. He felt like an intruder, prowling on the edges of private grief.
‘I’ll come back in the morning,’ he said into the silence. ‘Rob will be by later.’
The Constable went up and down Briggate. It was Sunday evening, the inns all closed for the Sabbath, but he banged on the doors until the landlords answered. He passed the word: if King Davy came in the next day, he wanted to know immediately. At the Talbot Landlord Bell had seemed reluctant at first.
‘I’ll put it to you this way,’ Nottingham hissed sharply. ‘If I find out he’s been here and you haven’t let me know straight away, this place won’t exist the next day. You understand that?’ He waited, staring hard at the man until he finally nodded agreement.
On his way he spotted Tom Finer strolling up Briggate. The old man waved and came over to him.
‘What is it, Mr Finer?’ He didn’t try to hide his irritation. ‘I don’t have time tonight.’
‘I’m sorry about your deputy. I hear it’s bad.’
‘Bad enough. What is it you need?’
‘It wouldn’t have happened in the old days. I wouldn’t have let someone like David King run wild. Neither would Amos.’
The Constable let out a long breath. The old days had gone. ‘We’ll have him soon.’
‘Your men are all over the place, laddie.’
‘Do you know where he is, Mr Finer?’ That was the only thing that mattered now.
‘A few minutes ago someone was telling me about a man they’d seen around the tannery.’
‘Then why didn’t you say so right away?’ Nottingham yelled.
The man looked him in the eye. ‘Because a moment or two isn’t going to make any difference. Use your common sense, laddie. He’ll be looking for somewhere to pass the night unseen.’
The Constable stormed away, back to the jail, anger roaring inside him.
‘Gather up as many men as you can in the next quarter hour,’ he ordered Rob.
‘Do you know where he is?’
‘Pray God I do.’
While Lister was gone he removed a pair of pistols from the drawer, loaded and primed them. He pulled the sword from its scabbard and left it fall back in softly. With luck they could take King Davy alive. If not … he wouldn’t shed tears over the loss.
Rob managed to collect eight of the men. Enough, he thought.
‘I’ve heard that Davy’s down in the tannery,’ he told them quickly. ‘There are two doors. I want four of you round each one. Mr Lister and I will go in. If Davy makes it out, take him.’ He paused. ‘I don’t care how you do it. Remember what he did to Mr Sedgwick.’
He sent them on their way and handed Rob the pistol.
‘Use it if you need to.’
But before they could leave, the door opened and a man edged in, eyeing them with curiosity.
‘I were supposed to meet that deputy of yours this morning. He here?’
‘You can’t have heard, Mr …?’ the Constable asked, glancing at Rob.
‘It’s Mr Granger, boss,’ Lister told him. ‘He’s the night watch down the water engine. We used to talk sometimes when I saw him.’
‘Aye. I’m just on me way there now. He’d said he’d meet me.’
‘I’m sorry,’ Nottingham told him. ‘He’s been badly hurt.’
‘You’re the man with some information about a murder,’ Lister interjected.
‘Ee, I don’t know about that, lad.’ Granger removed his hat and scratched at a thinning scalp. ‘I just saw summat, that’s all. A big lad, looked like he’d had a skinful, being dragged along by another man. The neet that murder happened.’
‘Mr Granger,’ Rob said, ‘we’re on our way to arrest the man who attacked Mr Sedgwick.’
‘Aye, well.’ The night watchman didn’t seem satisfied.
‘I’ll come down to the water engine in the morning and talk to you.’
‘That’s what he said, too.’
Rob smiled patiently. ‘Mr Sedgwick would have come if he could. But one of us will be there in the morning, I promise you.’
‘Alreet,’ the man agreed reluctantly.
They waited until he’d gone.
‘What do you think, boss?’
‘I don’t think he even took in what’s happened to John,’ the Constable said. ‘Still, he might know something useful. But the morning’s a long way off yet. We’ve plenty to do first.’
The men were assembled by the doors to the tannery. Nottingham spread them out, covered by the darkness, then set off around the building with its choking stink from the piss and shit they used to tan the hides. One of the windows had been forced and he eased himself inside, Rob close behind.
Normally he’d be quiet, try and take his man by surprise. Not this time, though. He wanted King to know he was being hunted. He wanted him full of fear and panic, bolting out where the men could grab him.
‘Mr King,’ the Constable shouted, hearing the boom of his voice as it echoed around the stone. ‘I know you’re here. I know you attacked Mr Sedgwick.’ He paused, listening for any noise and hearing a faint scrape. He motioned Rob around towards the sound. ‘I’ll give you one minute.’ He stepped forward three paces, his tread heavy and loud.
There was the sound of dashing feet in the distance, then the swift creak of a door and fresh air against his face. Then Nottingham heard a scream. He started to run, blundering his way out into the yard, moonlight showing the silhouettes of men. Someone was on the ground.
‘Is it him?’ he asked.
‘It’s Will Daley,’ he heard a man answer. ‘Davy knifed him.’
‘Then get after him,’ Nottingham yelled. ‘He’s not gone far. Find him.’
He put his hand against Daley’s neck. Nothing. He turned to see Rob standing on the other side of the body.
‘It’s Will. You’d better get Mr Brogden down here,’ the Constable said quietly. ‘And the stretcher.’
‘King?’
He nodded towards the trees in the distance. ‘He’s over there somewhere. The others are after him.’
‘I sent the day men home for some rest,’ Rob said. ‘They’ll be back at six.’
The Constable nodded. Daley’s body lay in the cold cell, ready for his widow to claim it in the morning. As they’d waited for Brogden the coroner to come and officially pronounce the man dead, Nottingham had gone over everything again and again in his mind. Had he done right to flush King from the building? Yes, he had. King worked at the tannery, he knew every corner, each place to hide. The only way to catch him was outside.
He’d heard the men searching the wood at the top of the hill. But it was so dark there that Davy could have hidden six feet away and they’d never have seen him. When it was light they’d start looking once more.
He pushed the fringe off his forehead and sipped a little more of the drink. They’d said little since returning; conversation seemed pointless. Another man was dead and they still didn’t have Davy. And all the responsibility lay with him. He’d been in charge, he’d made the decisions. More guilt to add to the weight on his shoulders. Off in the distance the church bell rang six. Rob stood and opened the shutters, letting in the clear early daylight.
‘I’ll do the rounds, then take Emily to school,’ he said.
‘Take the pistol. If you run into King Davy you’re going to need it. Then go and see Granger at eight.’
‘Yes, boss.’
Alone, Nottingham returned to the cold cell and looked down at the body. Another good man gone, he thought, and prayed that the deputy would recover.
‘How’s Mr Sedgwick?’ Emily asked.
‘The same,’ Rob answered sadly. ‘I went last night.’
‘Is there anything I can do to help?’
He shook his head. All they could do was wait and pray.
‘What about the man who did it?’
‘We haven’t caught him yet.’ He didn’t want to say more. After the day and the night he needed talk that was light and amusing, anything to push the pictures of hurt and death out of his head. ‘What’s it like at the Williamsons’?’
‘It’s very grand,’ she replied, but there was no awe or jealousy in her voice. ‘Everything’s so …’ She searched for the word. ‘Rich. The girls are lovely, though. So smart.’
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