by Bettie Jane
Suddenly, Julia’s elation at finding Oliver’s hiding place faded, replaced with a growing sense of dread. Now she knew for certain that Oliver was at least in proximity to the dead body. He’d definitely been in the tower, but was not there now. Her stomach churned as she thought of the gruesome possibilities.
Julia made her way to the staircase that would take her to the Upper Walkway. She needed to learn more about who was dead to see if it would give her any leads about Oliver.
5
Julia found Jacob on the Upper Walkway near the entrance to the South Tower, surrounded by other police officers.
When he saw her approaching he looked slightly surprised but not terribly shocked.
He nodded his head in greeting and she smiled.
"Inspector, it's lovely to see you."
"Miss Barlow. How can I help you today?"
"I am sorry to bother you, Inspector. I can see that you're quite busy. I wonder if I might borrow you for a moment?"
Inspector Gibbs looked at the other police, and Julia noticed an awareness in his eyes. She wanted to talk to him without anyone overhearing and he understood.
He nodded. "Yes, right this way, please."
He led her to the opposite end of the walkway, back in the direction she’d come from by the North Tower.
"I truly am sorry to bother you, Jacob," Julia said, "but it is rather quite urgent and relevant, I assure you."
"That's quite all right, Julia. What have you got for me?"
"I found a secret room in the North Tower that has a pallet of bedding. It looks as though it's been slept in recently, there are cigarette butts and whisky bottles nearby. I believe the bed is Oliver Dickens’ hiding spot. I found a book that his mother used to read to him, and it is personalized with his name on it."
"I see. Do you suppose Oliver had something to do with the murder?"
"It is a murder then?"
"It most certainly is murder. It's a man, as I mentioned, in his late forties or early fifties. He has quite a knot on his head, which could have been obtained accidentally, but the knife in his back was certainly not self-inflicted."
"The knife in his back? How high on his back?"
Jacob raised questioning eyebrows. "Why do you ask?"
"Oliver’s aunt mentioned that he was quite small for his age, and I am wondering if a twelve-year-old boy of his age was tall enough to inflict the murder wound."
"That is a great question. The knife wounds were in the top of his neck and shoulders, and the angle was from above. I suppose a smaller person could have stabbed from that angle if he had been on the stairs above the victim. However, there were multiple stab wounds, and at least to my eye, it seems they would have required a fair amount of strength. More strength than a young smallish twelve-year-old boy could muster."
Julia sighed with relief. "I'm so glad to hear it. I don't know where Oliver is yet, and I did not want to have to report back to his aunt that he is now a suspect in a murder investigation. I am concerned that if he saw something that the killer may have seen him and perhaps young Oliver is in danger?"
“Ah, I see your point.”
Do you know the identity of the victim yet?"
Jacob nodded his head. "Yes, in fact we do. I spoke with the guard on duty this morning, George is his name, and he was able to identify the victim as a pimp named John Turner. He has a reputation for running a prostitution operation. This Upper Walkway originally closed because of pickpockets and prostitutes but is still a rather popular congregation spot for less savory professions.”
Julia thought about what she knew so far about Oliver and about the murder victim. No connection as far as she could see. Perhaps it was actually a coincidence that he happened to be here the same time that a murder occurred?
"Did George tell you about Frank?"
"Not much gets past you, Julia Barlow,” Jacob said. “You also met George, I take it? He mentioned that Frank left in the middle of a shift before the body was discovered."
"Very suspicious, don't you think?" Julie asked.
"Ordinarily I would say yes, but George mentioned that Frank often leaves in the middle of a shift. It may be that his leaving early is only a coincidence."
"I don't think I believe in coincidences, Jacob, even though I just suggested it.”
"I don't know that I believe much in coincidences either."
Julia watched Jacob's expression as he processed the information about Oliver and his hiding place. "Why don't you show me this hiding place that you found?"
“On one condition,” she said.
"You want to give me conditions on how to run my own murder investigation, Miss Barlow?"
"It's only a small one. Kindly do not tell anyone else, even the bridge guards, about the secret room. I have hope that Oliver may return here, and I plan on waiting for him. If he is to return, it will certainly be after the police leave. If he sees that his things have been ransacked, it might scare him off.”
"Fine. Given that we need to be concerned about the welfare of this boy, I will go along with your plan. For now. However, you must at least show me. I need to see what's down there."
"Why certainly, Inspector," Julia said with a wide smile. "I wouldn't dream of getting in the way of a Scotland Yard investigation."
Jacob rolled his eyes, and as Julia began descending the steps of the North Tower to show him Oliver’s secret room, she squeaked when Jacob pinched her bottom.
"My goodness, that's not a very professional behavior, Inspector Gibbs.”
"You make it hard for me to think, Julia Barlow."
She led him the rest of the way to Oliver’s secret room and showed him the contents, especially the book with the inscription to Oliver from his mother.
"Did the guards tell you about this room?"
Julia shook her head. "I asked Frankie to put together a list of all of the possible places that he could think of that a runaway might go to hide. Tower Bridge and the secret room was on his list and when I saw it, I remembered your mention of a body being discovered at Tower Bridge. Given that I do not believe in coincidences, I had to have a look. I don't know if the guards even know it's here. George gave me an impromptu tour, and we walked past the entrance to this hallway and he didn't mention it. Not the hallway or the secret room."
"So do you plan on squatting here for the rest of the day and into the evening?"
"Yes, I believe I will. First, I'm going to see if George will let me use his telephone so that I can tell Frankie where I am. He's interviewing a few of Oliver's friends to see if he can turn up any additional information that might be helpful. Do you have any obvious suspects yet? For the murder, I mean?"
"Not specifically. Someone who had the strength to stab him from a downward thrust into his neck and shoulder multiple times. Though anger could have added to the strength, too."
"I suppose a pimp would probably have several enemies. Are there prostitutes that he employs that might be able to give any information?"
“The prostitutes are certainly not going to identify themselves. Neither will their clients. I'd like to get a hold of Frank, our missing guard, to see if perhaps he has any insight. It's possible that this murder victim, John Turner, was bribing Frank to look the other way so that he could conduct his illegal business here under cover of darkness. Hopefully, Frank will give us our next lead."
6
Julia used the telephone at the guard station to call Frankie. Unfortunately, he didn't answer which meant he must still be out interviewing Oliver’s friends and family.
Once she was seated comfortably in Oliver's secret room, the police, under Jacob’s direction, had cleared out as quickly as possible. Jacob assured her that his uncle, the coroner, would examine the body to see what additional information could be discovered about a potential murderer. Jacob said that he would stop by later very discreetly to check on her. He didn't like the idea of her sitting in the bowels of the North Tower with a murderer on the loose
.
She reassured him that she wasn't waiting for a murderer, she was waiting for a missing child and to not worry about her. Secretly though, she was happy to know that he would be stopping by to check on her. It did feel a little unsettling to be there by herself.
Julia sat on the pallet of blankets even though they looked quite dirty because the only other option was to sit on the floor, which was much dirtier than the blankets. There was a small fireplace tucked away in the corner that she hadn't noticed before. There were still ashes in it as though it had been used recently.
She didn't have anything to burn to keep her warm, but she wasn't terribly cold at the moment, even though it was dank and dark inside the room. Perhaps Oliver had gone to collect more firewood. She knew it was wishful thinking and rolled her eyes at her attempt at deluding herself.
She drifted off to sleep while reading Oliver’s book, but woke to the sound of light footsteps approaching the room. She’d left the door slightly ajar as she had found it earlier.
She tucked the book quickly back under the pillow and stood up, smoothing her pants with her hands and trying to pretend she wasn't nervous. She hoped she would be able to earn his trust right away and not scare him off. The door opened and Julia was taken aback by what she saw.
"Hello," Julia said quietly to the red-headed woman who stood in front of her holding a small lantern.
The woman froze, clearly not expecting to see someone in the room. She looked to be in her late twenties. Her clothing was clean but worn, and her eyes held the story of a difficult life. Julia held out her hand and introduced herself.
"You don't need to be afraid," Julie said. "My name is Julia, and I am searching for a missing boy. He's not in trouble, but I worry that he might be in danger. I won't tell anyone that you're here. Do you have any information? Have you seen a young boy around the tower in the last couple of days?"
She was talking too fast and not giving the woman a chance to answer, but she couldn’t seem to stop speaking.
"No," the woman said tentatively. "Why’re you looking for the boy?"
Julia thought it interesting that this woman didn't question the existence of the boy, but rather wanted to know why Julia was looking for him. It led her to think that this woman knew something.
"Excuse me for asking this," Julia said, "but I wonder if you work around here?"
The woman's posture stiffened, and Julia suspected that her guess was right on the nose. This woman was likely a prostitute who worked for the pimp killed in the South Tower last night.
"You'll get no judgment from me,” Julia said, continuing on with her assumptions about this girl and her profession. "Do you know about the murder?"
"I heard the girls talking. He really dead?” Her voice held a hopeful note.
Julia nodded. "Was he quite awful then?"
"He was mean to us and he took most of our earnings, but I don't know what we’ll do with him gone."
“Did he have many enemies?"
"Nearly all us girls what worked for him hate him, and some of the men had a beef with him too. I don't know that there's anyone who knew him that liked him. He had it coming for sure, and no one will miss him much."
Julia considered her words. A pimp everyone despised. Not too surprising.
"What's your name?" Julia said.
“He called me Scarlet. Said the men would like that name, that it made me sound exotic, he did. But the girls, my friends, they call me Red.”
“Did you hear anything out of the ordinary last night?"
"Oh no." Red shook her head.
Julia didn't believe her though. She couldn't blame her for lying. She couldn't imagine being so destitute that she had to work for a pimp. She let the lie pass.
"And what about the boy? Have you seen him?"
Julia watched Red’s gaze dart towards the pillow and then back towards Julia’s eyes again. It was a quick movement, and if Julia hadn't been watching closely for her reaction, she likely wouldn't have noticed Red looking for the book.
She knew the book was there and she looked at its hidden location at the mention of the boy. This woman knew about Oliver.
"I assure you that I am not here to harm the boy. His family is looking for him, and they're very concerned for his welfare. I'm concerned that he may have witnessed the murder and could be in danger. If you know anything, please tell me.”
“If there’s a boy, and I'm not saying it’s so, he must have run from his family for a reason.”
“The boy’s aunt hired me to locate him and return him safely. I'm a private investigator. I assure you, he's deeply missed.”
Red’s face turned nearly as scarlet as her hair, and her eyes glinted in anger. She opened her mouth to speak then closed it.
Julia said nothing, waiting to see if Red would say anything. After a few moments passed, Red visibly calmed, and her face returned to its normal shade of pale.
“If there’s a boy, he'd be safe here. Whoever killed John Turner wouldn't be interested in hurting a kid.”
“Do you know where he is?”
Red shook her head, but once again Julia wasn't convinced. She thought she'd take another approach. “Do you know who killed John Turner?”
Red shook her head again, with a bit less fervor than last time.
So she knew. Maybe it was even her? Maybe she'd killed him and Oliver?
Don't think the worst, Julia chided herself.
“So you feel confident that if there is a boy, he is indeed safe?" Julia would play along for a minute.
Red nodded her head. "Yes, miss. You don't need to worry none."
"You understand, don't you, that simply won't be enough information to appease the family searching for him?"
Julia studied the woman. She didn't seem capable of stabbing the murder victim again and again. She was nowhere near the height that Jacob had surmised the killer would be. But this woman, pimp-murderer or no, was definitely hiding something to do with Oliver. Whether she was trying to protect him or she was a danger to him, Julia couldn't be sure, but she was definitely going to find out.
7
Red stood near the door, rocking back and forth on her heels. She looked ready to bolt any second and Julia couldn’t just let her go. She was so close to finding Oliver that she could feel it, but first she needed to convince her to open up.
“Are you trying to keep the boy safe?”
The woman shrugged and eyed the open doorway.
So this was how she was going to play it.
“Red, please, I need to find him. Get him off the streets. Do you know what happens to little boys on the streets of London?” Julia meant to go on, but Red snapped at her.
“I know it better than you.”
Julia shifted, feeling foolish. She changed tactics. “You seem like a protector, Red. Like you’d do anything to help someone in trouble, is that right?”
Red nodded, if only slightly.
“Help me get this boy off the streets.”
“Oliver needs me. He needs us. I won’t give him up. He’s got bruises all over his body from that so-called loving family. Why should I send him back there?”
“I never mentioned that his name was Oliver.”
Julia stared at Red, glad she’d made the decision to hold back his name.
Red surprised her then. Her blue eyes filled with pools of tears and began to run down her cheeks.
“I—I saw the book. His name is in it. That’s what I came for. To get the book for him. I’m not saying there is a boy. Just that if there was, this book would mean a lot to him and he’d want it. So I thought I’d get it and keep him safe. I have to keep him safe. I mean, I would want to keep him safe, if there was a boy.”
Her facade completely fell apart. She broke down, sobbing into her hands.
“Red, how long have you been out here working for John Turner?”
Red sniffled and looked up, her cheeks wet with her tears.
“Too long,” she whisper
ed, her voice haunted.
Julia’s thoughts raced. She knew she was close to finding Oliver. This woman knew what happened last night and she knew where Oliver was. She seemed intent on Oliver’s safety, and Julia was both moved by her dedication and also annoyed that she was making it so difficult. Getting Oliver back to his aunt was priority number one.
“Listen to me, Red. I have no interest in turning you or any of your friends over to the police. You don’t need to be concerned about that. However, this boy’s safety is my concern, and I can’t let you leave here without telling me where he is.”
“You can’t stop me.” Red’s voice was strong and defiant. There was a hint of fear in her expression, but her eyes blazed with a protective fury that a mother would have for her child.
Julia’s blood went cold at that thought.
“How long have you been working for John Turner, Winnifred?”
“About a year,” she said, then gasped as she realized what she’d confessed.
“You’re Oliver’s mother!” Julia cried out. “What happened to you? They said you left a note claiming you were running off with another man and that Oliver belonged with his father.”
“I knew my husband would hunt me down if I left with Oliver. I knew he didn’t care about me and that if I could convince him that I was gone for good, he’d forget about me. I left to make money so that I could save up for Ollie and me to start a new life somewhere. But John didn’t pay me like he said and it was taking so long to save enough. I finally have enough. Or I did. John Turner stole it all from me last night.”
“Did Oliver know you were here?”
She nodded her head. “He knew that he could come here if he needed to escape his father and that I’d look for him in this secret room.”
“His aunt said that you left Oliver. You’re saying he knew all this time that you were still here?”
“Yes. He knew what I was doing. He knew that his father was violent and that we weren’t safe. I promised him that I’d come back for him as soon as I could, but then…everything took so much longer than I thought it would.” She wiped her eyes. “Ollie came to see me every week. On Sundays he’d sneak up here and I’d meet him in this room. We’d sit in front of the fire and he’d tell me all about his classes and his friends at school. It was hard on him to keep the secret, but he understood better than anyone how violent his father was and that we had to find a way to escape for good.”