The Esther & Jack Enright Box Set

by David Field

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Read this,’ Helen instructed her as she lifted a letter from the pile in front of her at the kitchen table. ‘It came yesterday. It’s from a woman in Luton who had originally promised to recruit members in her area. She’s in the catering trade herself, so she has a lot of local contacts that would have been useful to the Alliance. You may remember her name — Mabel Barker — since she wrote in some weeks ago and cancelled her membership.’

  ‘Only vaguely,’ Esther admitted. ‘But why has she written to you again?’

  ‘Read the letter for yourself and you’ll see.’

  Esther frowned as she picked her way through the spidery handwriting and somewhat individualised spelling, but the sentiment was clear enough.

  Dear missus Tenchart,

  I’m sorri that I culdnt do what you wanted for yur union, but I were scared of a bloke what’s handwritin I knew. He wus a bad basterd tu me when he lived with me, and now Iv seen the back of him I dunt want him back in mi lif.

  ‘How could she possibly have recognised his handwriting, if it was anything like the other notes we’ve recovered?’ Esther queried.

  Helen smiled. ‘If Miss Barker wrote you another letter without signing it, couldn’t you identify it as coming from her simply by her own unique misuse of the English language?’

  ‘Yes, probably, but so what?’

  ‘According to her, she lived with the man who left her the note and could probably recognise his misspellings. Anyway, if she’s right, then there’s no need for you to go back into that dreadful Wapping area in the search for Bert Freeman. Mabel Barker can tell us his real name.’

  ‘But that won’t give us the man himself, will it?’ Esther pointed out. ‘We can go about this from two different directions. I’ll find the man and you can find out his real name, in case he gives Percy the run-around.’

  Helen thought for a brief moment, then nodded.

  ‘I’ve already written to Mabel and told her that I’ll be going up to Luton on the train on Saturday, since Mabel works through the week and is more likely to be at home then. You can go through with your plan with Jack and Percy and by the end of the day this entire horror story will be at an end.’

  ‘Let’s hope so. But even if we find Bert Freeman and get him locked up, I hope you’ll still come and live here. This place is getting creepier by the day for me, living on my own.’

  ‘This is Toby and Jim,’ Jack advised Esther as they met up by arrangement at the bus stop outside the Alliance premises. ‘Toby’s the big bloke, but Jim’s the best fighter. Uncle Percy’s already down there, disguised as a dock worker and he’ll be watching from a distance. You and I stroll around like a courting couple and Toby and Jim saunter along a few paces behind. Once you spot Freeman, let me know and I’ll give the boys the signal.’

  Esther felt confident enough until they alighted from the bus outside the entrance to St Katherine’s Dock and walked back up in the general direction of Walpole Street. As they turned their backs on the dock gates, a scruffy looking workman with a battered and weather-beaten cap pushed himself off the wall he had been lounging against and moved slowly off fifty yards behind them. The Saturday crowds were ill-clothed and surly looking, some of them dragging protesting children behind them at a pace that was too fast for their tired legs and Esther felt completely out of place as the four of them drifted past market stalls piled high with rapidly rotting fruit, stale-looking bread and basic household items such as pots and pans.

  ‘I hope we find him soon,’ she muttered to Jack. ‘I hate this place.’

  ‘Isn’t it like where you grew up?’

  Esther shook her head vigorously. ‘Nothing like it. Spitalfields was genteel, in my younger days. I know you country gentry looked down on anywhere in the East End, but believe me it was nothing like this. Just imagine trying to bring up a small child on your own in a dump like this.’

  ‘You won’t have to,’ Jack reminded her.

  ‘No, thank God. But I can imagine it and I had to visit Tilly Chalmers, remember? She thinks she’s so lucky, finding a man to protect her and we’re about to take him off the streets.’

  ‘Not before time. What does he look like, by the way, just to give me a general idea?’

  ‘He’s about your height, but with gingery sort of hair and one of those straggly beards that looks as if it can’t make its mind up whether to grow or not. Rough looking, but curiously enough addicted to snuff, which I always took to be an upper-class thing.’

  ‘Perhaps he’s really upper-class, but enjoys slumming it.’

  ‘I doubt that. Just along here we should reach the bottom end of Walpole Street, then we can walk up one side of it, then down the next.’

  ‘We’ll be more obvious once we get out of this crowded thoroughfare,’ Jack observed, ‘so let’s hope he doesn’t get suspicious if we do find him.’

  ‘I sincerely hope we do,’ Esher replied with a slight shudder, ‘because I’d hate to have to do all this again next Saturday.’

  Ten minutes later they were on their way back down Walpole Street when Esther stiffened as she saw a familiar figure amble into the street from the bottom end, towards which they were heading.

  ‘That’s him!’ she whispered hoarsely to Jack. ‘The one in the brown suit with the grey cap.’

  Jack turned briefly to the two Yard men a few feet behind them.

  ‘Up ahead, grey cap and brown suit, walking towards us. Sergeant Enright seems to be just ahead of him on the other side of the street.’

  Their companions nodded in acknowledgement and they all kept on walking. Bert Freeman was just about to enter an alleyway a few yards away on their left when he looked up, spotted Esther and stopped dead in his tracks.

  He shot into the alleyway towards which he’d been heading with all four members of Scotland Yard in hot pursuit. Up three flights of stairs at full speed, taking the steps two at a time. Jack was the quickest and kept up with Freeman’s furious dash up the stairs, finally bringing him down in a crash tackle on the top landing, as he was about to unlock the door to number twelve. He lashed out with both arms and Jack went crashing against the wall just as Toby and Jim dived on top of Freeman and rolled him over, while a panting Percy Enright pulled a set of wrist restraints from his jacket and snapped them on once Toby had Freeman’s arms behind his back.

  ‘Right, Mr Freeman,’ Percy announced with what little breath he had left. ‘My young colleague here is going to collect a police wagon, then while the other two conduct a thorough search of this room that you conveniently identified for us, you and I are going on a little trip up to Leman Street, where I’ve organised another room for you. One with bars and limited cooking facilities.’

  Chapter Twenty-one

  ‘Well now, isn’t this awfully cosy?’ Percy gloated through the bars of the cage that kept his prisoner from carrying out the murderous attack that his eyes threatened. ‘We have you booked in as “Bert Freeman”, but no doubt we’ll get your real name out of you in due course. Or you can save us the trouble and we could adjourn for dinner. Or at least, I could — you’ll have to take yours in your room.’

  ‘I’ll kill that bitch what peached on me!’ the man spat back at him.

  Percy’s face hardened.

  ‘The bitch to whom I believe you’re referring will be marrying my nephew in June, with me as the best man, so that was hardly a good start to our relationship, was it, Mr —?’

  The man spat in Percy’s direction again.

  Percy sighed. ‘Very well, see you in a week or two.’

  Percy rose from the chair he’d drawn up in the corridor outside the open cell with bars from floor to ceiling and was five paces towards the corridor door when he was interrupted by the aggrieved voice of his prisoner.

  ‘Yer can’t hold me fer that long!’

  ‘Can I not? Oh yes, how forgetful of me. You’re quite right of course. Once we charge you with God knows how many offences of burglary an
d threats to harm innocent women, we’ll be obliged by law either to release you pending trial, or hold you in custody to await that happy day. Which of those options are preferred by the magistrate will depend to a large extent on the report we give to him regarding your level of co-operation.’

  ‘Then go ahead an’ charge me!’

  ‘I’d like nothing better, believe me, but you see there’s a difficulty with that. I can’t charge you until I know your real name.’

  ‘So?’

  ‘So you’ll sit there with the smell of that pail in the corner until you tell me it. If you give us no trouble, we might even change the pail from time to time.’

  ‘’Owdyer know that Bert Freeman ain’t me real name?’

  ‘Because you’re a criminal and I never knew one yet who was obliging enough to give his real name the first time around. Mind you, this might help.’

  While he’d been making this last observation, the door from the corridor had opened and a uniformed turnkey had walked into the cell area carrying a large Metropolitan Police canvas holdall. He placed it on the dusty concrete floor.

  ‘Sergeant Bradley on the front desk said ter bring this down ter yer as soon as the other bobbies brought it in, like yer asked ’im.’

  ‘Yes, thank you,’ Percy replied with a smile and the turnkey closed the door as he walked back out into the corridor. Percy untied the top of the canvas holdall and grinned.

  ‘We brought you a change of clothing,’ he advised the man behind the bars as he tipped the holdall upside down. A large collection of ladies’ underwear dropped to the floor, all shapes, sizes and colours, along with several pieces of paper. Percy looked briefly at each piece, then glared up at Freeman.

  ‘You obviously had a few messages yet to deliver. All the same, and all of them warning the intended recipient against joining a union. One has to wonder at your enthusiasm to deliver them — unless you were paid to do so, of course.’

  ‘Yer’ll get nothin’ outta me!’ the prisoner insisted.

  Percy smiled one of his unpleasant smiles.

  ‘That’s where you’re wrong, on a variety of counts. For one thing, we’ll get a cheap laugh out of you when I send some of my men in here to strip all your clothes off and dress you in one of these pairs of knickers. This long-legged pink pair with the black lacework look as if they’ll fit you — although I’m sure you’ve tried them on for size already. Then we take you back upstairs and throw you into what we call the “fish tank”. That’s the big holding area you were kept in when you first arrived. As you may recall, it’s full of riff-raff we’ve pulled off the street in the past few hours. Some of them may by now be sober, but only a representative sample. Unfortunately — for you — they’re a tough lot and when we throw you in there dressed in only a pair of ladies’ undergarments, the reaction should be well worth watching.’

  ‘Yer can’t.’

  ‘I can.’

  ‘Yer wouldn’t.’

  ‘I would.’

  ‘Whaddyer want?’

  ‘Didn’t we already discuss that? Your real name.’

  ‘Walter Mathewson.’

  ‘Now then, that wasn’t so hard, was it?’

  ‘An’ yer won’t do what yer threatened?’

  ‘Not yet, since you’ve been so obliging. Now I really must be taking my leave. The pie shop across the road has my order for devilled kidney and potato — so much more filling than chicken, don’t you think? I’ll be back tomorrow to discuss the terms for not dressing you in those Mary-Anne knickers and throwing you to a shower of drunks, one of whom is bound to be a Nancy-boy.’

  ‘What is it yer’ll be wantin’ ter know?’

  ‘Can’t you guess?’

  ‘If I could guess, I’d be tellin’ yer!’

  ‘It’s actually very simple. Who paid you to deliver all those warning notes?’

  ‘Yer kiddin’, right? Think I want ter end up face down in Katherine Dock wi’ me arms an’ legs tied tergevver, an’ a brick in me trousers?’

  ‘I certainly wouldn’t welcome that personally, so I see your point. But you added your own personal blessing to some of them, didn’t you? Why was that, exactly?’

  ‘Them was the ones they wanted really scared shitless.’

  ‘But the sexual flavour of those pencilled additions was just your idea of fun, was it? That wasn’t suggested to you by whoever was paying you?’

  ‘No, they was my idea. Give me quite a stiffy, doin’ that.’

  ‘I’ll leave you for the day, Mr Mathewson, partly because it’s my dinner time and partly because the urge to take my billy club and batter your privates flat is becoming almost irresistible. Sleep tight and I hope the bugs bite.’

  Back upstairs, he gave instructions that Mathewson was to be held in custody until further notice, then wandered out into the still busy street and lit his pipe. As he looked up, he found himself staring at a couple sitting at a table on the pavement outside the chop house that he had favoured when attached to Leman Street Police Station during the Ripper investigations coming up for two years ago. His brain was so preoccupied with working out the best strategy for getting Mathewson to divulge the identity of his paymasters that it took him a second or two to recognise Jack and Esther. He walked over to their table.

  ‘Let me buy you one of your favourite chicken pies and a mug of tea,’ Jack offered as he rose from his seat.

  Percy nodded as he looked down at Esther.

  ‘Thank you so much for your assistance today. You must be very relieved that it’s all over.’

  ‘But it’s not really, is it?’ Esther replied with a penetrating stare into his eyes. ‘We’ve got the monkey, but not the organ grinder. Did Freeman tell you anything valuable?’

  ‘Only his real name, or at least what he claims is his real name. Walter Mathewson, according to him. You got the Wally right, anyway.’

  ‘How long will he go away for?’

  ‘Assuming he’s found guilty, I’ll be pushing for ten years minimum.’

  ‘Do you get a say in it?’

  ‘No, of course not, but I can lean on the prosecuting counsel to argue long and hard with the judge.’

  ‘Here you go, Uncle,’ Jack enthused as he returned, carefully carrying a chicken pie in a paper bag and a large mug stained slightly on the outside with the tea of ages past. ‘I take it that Esther and Helen will now be no longer at risk?’

  ‘Not from Mathewson, anyway. But now we have to find the person who employed him. Your first job tomorrow, Jack, is to get back into records and see if Mathewson has any known associates.’

  ‘At least we won’t have to go to Barking, even though it’s Sunday tomorrow,’ Esther added. ‘Your “seven on, two off” shifts are very convenient from that point of view and I can spend tomorrow clearing my room ahead of Helen moving in. She’s gone up to Luton today, to speak to a woman who claims she knows the man you’ve identified as Mathewson. She doesn’t know yet that you’ve caught him, obviously, but I kept my part of the deal with her.’

  ‘What deal was that, exactly?’ Percy enquired.

  ‘I was to help you catch Mathewson — or “Freeman” as we knew him then — and she was to get evidence that he was the man responsible for all the break-ins. I can’t wait for her come back on Monday and give me all her news. Will you two want to come over to talk to her?’

  ‘I’ll be over, certainly,’ Jack said. ‘This latest enquiry has given me perfect excuses for being with you during the working day.’

  ‘Don’t forget to pull Mathewson’s record before you do that,’ Percy reminded him. ‘I’ll probably be at the Yard all day, following up any criminal connections between our man and those likely to have been employing him. Like you, I have an excuse for not being in Barking, although that does mean my continued exposure to yet another of your aunt’s culinary failures. She’s the only woman I know who can burn gravy.’

  Esther giggled.

  ‘I’m sure it’s not that bad and I for one welc
ome any freedom from constant enquiries regarding the wedding preparations and persistent reminders regarding my residential obligation.’

  ‘At the risk of sounding like my sister-in-law, how exactly are preparations going?’ Percy enquired as he took the last mouthful of chicken pie.

  ‘Pretty well, on the whole,’ Jack replied, but Esther wasn’t letting him off so easily.

  ‘What Jack means is that my wedding dress is almost complete, which is of course the only part of the “preparations” that I have control over. As for the decoration of our new residence, Jack has continued to demonstrate the wisdom of his choice of career in the police force, rather than any ambition he might have entertained to be a decorator.’

  ‘It wasn’t my fault if the wallpaper didn’t want to stay on the wall,’ Jack protested.

  ‘It’s all a matter of the consistency of the paste you apply,’ Percy advised him. ‘I’ve done enough wallpapering over the years to know that you have to apply the paste thickly, then let it sort of congeal for a minute or two before applying it to the wall.’

  ‘But it smells so disgusting while it’s sitting there,’ Esther complained, ‘so it might be my fault for insisting that Jack put the paper on the wall too early. What’s in that awful paste, anyway?’

  ‘Arsenic, for one thing,’ Percy explained. ‘Most manufacturers include it as a deterrent to bugs. But it’s also in a lot of wallpapers, from which it’s released into the room when it gets moist on the underside. Have you by any chance chosen a paper that’s heavily green in colour?’

  Esther and Jack exchanged guilty glances and Esther nodded.

  ‘Yes. I really liked the one that had trees and lawns, with deer roaming around and squirrels bounding through the grass.’

  ‘It’s also a real bugger to match the pattern up at the seams,’ Jack complained.

  ‘Take my advice,’ Percy warned them, ‘and leave doors and windows open while you’re putting the paper up. Use as little paste as you can get away with — but more than you’re using at present, by the sound of things — and whack it on the wall without waiting too long. And watch out for the symptoms of arsenic poisoning.’