‘We’re at the Victoria, sir.’
The car was parked on Manor Street. Annabelle’s motor stood a couple of yards ahead. How long had they been here?
‘Thank you. Usual time in the morning. Goodnight.’
‘You look exhausted,’ Annabelle said.
‘I am.’ With a long sigh, he settled back in the armchair and stretched out his legs. Too many thoughts were swirling through his brain.
‘Remember, Mary and Len are picking out their ring tomorrow,’ she said quietly. ‘You’d better notice it and make a fuss.’
‘I will,’ he promised. Annabelle knew him far too well. When he had his mind on a case, he needed prompting to pay attention to the ordinary things in life.
‘I’ve been making arrangements to put up the marchers from Newcastle in town,’ she said.
‘How many are you expecting?’
‘Doesn’t look like more than a couple of dozen. The numbers will be bigger as we get closer to London. We’ll hold meetings everywhere we stop.’ Her eyes sparkled with anticipation.
‘You’re going to enjoy it.’
‘I am,’ she agreed. Her eyes twinkled. ‘We’ve needed something like this for a long time. Some spark.’
Mary came out of her bedroom, stretching her back and flexing the fingers in her right hand.
‘What spark is that, Mam?’
‘The pilgrimage. We can get people thinking about the vote again.’
‘Hasn’t Miss Davison’s death already done that?’
His daughter was right, Harper thought. It was barely three weeks since the woman had ducked on to the racecourse during the Derby to try and put the suffragette flag on the King’s horse. Instead, she’d been trampled to death. It had shocked the country. But it wouldn’t change a thing in Parliament. The government would remain hard-headed. Right now, anything else would appear as capitulation. Annabelle’s Pilgrimage wouldn’t have any immediate effect, either. But maybe it all chipped away at the iceberg, flake by flake by flake.
‘Busy week at work?’ he asked Mary.
‘Steady. At least it shows no sign of tailing off.’
‘Big day tomorrow.’
‘I know.’ She beamed. She must have come to terms with whatever was troubling her. He saw Annabelle turn away to hide her smile. ‘I’m surprised you remembered, Da.’
‘Of course I did. You may be all grown up now, but you’re still my little girl.’
‘Do you think she’ll be happy with Len?’ Annabelle asked once they were in bed.
‘Come on. You’ve seen them together. They love each other. And she has him wrapped around her finger.’
‘Yes, but …’ She sighed. ‘I don’t know. By the way, I replied to his parents. We’re going over for our tea on Sunday.’
No need for him to answer; it was already arranged and he had his instructions. Very slowly, sleep arrived.
‘Stop at Millgarth before we go to the town hall,’ Harper told the driver.
Walsh was already at his desk, looking fresh with a close shave and a clean, starched collar on his shirt.
‘What did Thorpe’s woman friend have to say?’
He grinned. ‘I think she must have had a falling out with him. Told me exactly when he was there and she’ll swear to it in court.’
‘Perfect. Does it mean he could have been on Somerset Street?’
He shook his head. ‘The timing doesn’t work, sir. But it tears his alibi down.’
Harper sighed. Damnation. ‘Have you had him back in yet?’
‘He’s been in the cells all night, sir. Mr Ash will be talking to him soon.’
‘He might not have done it himself. But let’s see if he knows who’s responsible.’
Harper glanced at his list. Maybe he’d be able to score through one of the items.
The news buoyed him all through the morning. Each time the telephone rang, he hoped it might be Ash with news that Thorpe had given in and admitted he’d been lying. But it was always someone else, mundane requests and pointless conversations.
He was about to leave for his dinner when the bell jangled again. As soon as he heard Ash’s voice, he felt his expectations rise.
‘You need to get down here, sir. As soon as possible.’
‘Why?’ he asked. ‘What’s—’
But the line was already dead.
Faster on foot. Dodging and ducking through the crowds of workers out for their dinner, squeezing between traffic on the roads. By the time he reached Millgarth he was panting and wheezing and lathered in sweat.
A line of uniformed constables formed a cordon outside the police station, keeping the curious away. They let him through and Harper stood, staring the dark, shining pool of blood on the flagstones.
‘Barney Thorpe, sir. He was stabbed. It happened when he came out with his lawyer, sir.’ He heard Galt’s voice and turned his head to hear him more clearly. The sergeant’s face was charged with anger. ‘He was sticking with his alibi, kept insisting the woman was lying. He had witnesses to back him up and we couldn’t break it. We had to let him go.’
‘How did it happen? Who did it?’ The day was warm, but he felt a chill ripple through his body.
‘Don’t know, sir. Whoever it was must have been waiting. He ran up to Thorpe, knifed him and took off that way.’ He pointed to the open market on the far side of George Street. ‘It was all over before anyone knew what had happened.’
Right outside the police station. Christ. Davey Mullen. He’d already threatened to kill Thorpe. But that was impossible; he had someone shadowing him.
‘How bad is it?’
‘Couldn’t tell, sir. But it doesn’t look good. There was plenty of blood. The wound’s in his stomach. The ambulance took him just before you arrived.’
‘Witnesses?’ Harper asked urgently. ‘There have to be some. We’re right outside a police station, for God’s sake. Someone must have seen something. Who’s interviewing them?’
‘There was only Thorpe and his lawyer, sir.’
‘Then he must have seen it all.’
‘We’re asking questions, sir,’ Galt told him quietly. ‘Everyone else is hunting the man who stabbed Thorpe.’
Harper sighed and nodded. He should have known. They were capable.
‘Where’s Superintendent Ash?’
‘In his office, sir. He’s coordinating everything.’
Constables were bustling around, coming and going, every one of them wearing a stern, determined look. Harper understood why. It had happened here. Someone had made them look like fools. No copper was going to forgive that. They’d keep hunting until they found the man responsible.
‘It’s a mess,’ Harper said. ‘A complete bloody mess. Right on our own doorstep.’
‘I know, sir, believe me. But I’m afraid I’ve got something that’s going to make it worse.’
‘What?’ What the hell could be worse than this?
‘Davey Mullen slipped away from the man following him this morning.’
‘For Christ’s sake …’ He clenched his fists and paced around the room. ‘How?’
‘I don’t know yet. I only found out just before Thorpe … we’re searching for him.’
‘Mullen vanishes and Thorpe is knifed.’ Harper spoke slowly and clearly. ‘That’s hardly a coincidence. Pretty damning, isn’t it? And no positive identification of the man who did the stabbing.’
‘We’ll know once we find him, sir.’
‘Let’s make it quick for once,’ he snapped. ‘Keep a watch on the railway stations. I don’t want him trying to get out of Leeds. We need to find Mullen. Meanwhile, gather every scrap of evidence you can.’
‘Yes, sir. The chief constable has already rung.’
‘I’m sure he has. Use every single man. Pull them off the beats if you have to. I’ll be back at five. I want to see a bulging file by then. I’d like Mullen in the interview room, too.’
‘We’ll do our best.’
‘It happened right
outside one of our own police stations, Tom,’ Chief Constable Parker said. ‘Right in the middle of the day. And the man who did it was able to run off and disappear.’
‘Yes, sir.’ He’d given Ash a scorching. Now it was his turn to be flayed. ‘They’re on top of things.’
‘They weren’t when it happened, dammit.’
‘No, sir.’
‘Do we at least have a suspect?’
‘Yes, sir.’ Time to brace himself. ‘Davey Mullen. He got away from the man who was following him.’
The explosion he expected didn’t happen.
‘Find him.’ Parker’s voice was cold. ‘But keep searching in case someone else is responsible. Don’t go putting all your eggs in a single basket. We’ve been made to look like blithering idiots once today. Let’s try to make sure it doesn’t happen again.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘I want you based down at Millgarth until we find some answers. It’ll be easier than shuttling back and forth all the time.’
That made sense. Being there wouldn’t feel like a hardship or exile. More like a homecoming. Ash might resent it for a little while, but he’d see it was necessary. They desperately needed to clear these cases.
And every one of them revolved around Davey Mullen.
‘I spoke to the infirmary,’ Parker said. ‘Thorpe’s in surgery. The knife did a lot of damage. There’s internal bleeding.’
‘What odds do they give him?’
‘Fifty-fifty. That’s what the doctor told me. Until we get some good news, we’re going to treat it like murder.’
‘Very good, sir. What about all my work here?’
‘Is there likely to be anything that can’t wait?’
Harper considered the pile on his desk. ‘Honestly, no, sir. And Miss Sharp can handle most of it.’
‘There you are. Settled. Let’s wrap this up quickly.’
‘I’m here until we make some arrests,’ he told Ash. ‘Chief’s orders.’
‘I’m glad to have you, sir.’ He sounded sincere. All around Millgarth there was a sense of urgency, of things buzzing. ‘Do you want your old desk back?’
Harper shook his head. ‘All yours. I intend to be outside a lot.’
‘Very good, sir.’
‘Have we found Mullen yet?’
‘No, sir. We’re combing every inch of Leeds for him.’ It sounded desperate, he thought, and Ash knew it.
Out there, free as a bloody bird. Mullen had done it. He knew it the same way he knew the sun would rise again tomorrow. He’d stabbed Barney Thorpe.
‘How in God’s name could he get away from our constable again? I thought you’d assigned good men to him to stop something like this.’
‘I did, sir. It was Constable Howard. He’s as reliable as they come. He went over on his ankle and turned it.’
‘Is that true or is he just making an excuse?’
‘True, sir. I’ve seen it; his ankle’s swollen. The best he could do was hobble. Child’s play for Mullen to get away from him.’
Sheer bloody misfortune.
‘Do we at least have a description yet of the man who ran off after the stabbing?’
‘Nothing that’s worth much, sir. Cap, dark hair, suit. About the same height and colouring as Mullen.’
Damn it. They needed something more. ‘What was Mullen wearing when he slipped away from our man?’
‘I’ll find out, sir.’
‘Thorpe’s lawyer was standing right next to him when it happened. He must have seen something.’
‘He claims he was writing in his notebook when the man ran up, and then it was over so fast he didn’t take much in,’ Ash replied. ‘I believe him. I think he was in shock.’
‘Question him again. He might have remembered something in the meantime. Is anyone at the Queens Hotel in case Mullen goes back there?’
‘Yes, sir.’
Harper thought for a moment. His pulse was beating a furious tattoo in his neck. Thoughts raced through his mind. ‘Mullen was going around with a few people when he first arrived here.’
‘Dick Harrison, Bob Turnbull, and Liam Byrne.’
‘Let’s have them all down here.’
Before Ash could speak, the telephone rang. Frowning, he listened to the voice on the other end, then said: ‘Thank you.’
He turned to Harper. ‘Thorpe’s out of surgery, but it doesn’t look good. The surgeon says he probably won’t last the night.’
‘The chief wants us to regard this as murder. Sounds like he’s going to be right.’
He talked to the men on the Metropole investigation. But even as he was speaking to them, Harper watched the procession of people coming and going from the detectives’ room. Millgarth had an urgency he hadn’t seen in years. But no one had ever been knifed right here before.
‘I’ll be late,’ he said when Annabelle answered the telephone at the Victoria.
‘Poor man,’ she said when he explained. ‘Do you think Mullen did it?’
‘I’m sure he did.’ Not a moment’s hesitation in his answer.
‘There’s something wrong with him,’ she told him. ‘I thought so when he came here.’
‘We’ll find him. Is Mary happy with her ring?’
‘You’d think no one had ever been engaged before. Making sure everyone saw it. We had to go to the grocer up Roundhay Road so she could flaunt it.’
He laughed. With Mary, that was easy to believe. ‘Tell her I’m sorry I’m not there to see.’
‘You’ll have plenty of chance, don’t worry. They’ve gone to Len’s to show it to his parents.’
He stood for a moment after he replaced the receiver. He remembered the little girl who was always studying, who wanted everything she did to be perfect. How had she grown up so quickly? Twenty-one? That wasn’t possible. He sighed. Then someone jostled him as they passed and he was back in the here and now, surrounded by chatter and people.
He took down the list again and added two more words. Barney Thorpe.
FOURTEEN
‘Sir?’ The night sergeant’s voice shook him from his thoughts. ‘There’s a young lady on the telephone. Says she’s your daughter and that it’s important.’
Panic caught him. Mullen was out there. Had he come looking for her again? Harper grabbed the receiver.
‘What is it? Are you all right?’ He was holding on to the edge of the desk, clutching at it as if it could keep him still.
‘It’s not me, Da. It’s me mam.’ She sounded stunned. ‘I got home from Len’s and she …’
He waited, throat dry, trying to fight down the panic. ‘What?’
‘She was … it was like she didn’t know who she was or who I was. She came out of it soon after, but I don’t know how long she’d been that way before I came. Then she was like nothing had happened, just laughing it off.’ She was silent. ‘It scared me, Da.’
‘What’s she doing now?’
‘Lying down. I think she’s asleep.’
‘I’ll be there in a few minutes,’ he told her. How? He didn’t understand. He’d only spoken to her a few hours ago. She was fine then.
‘Get me a car,’ he ordered, then turned to Ash. ‘I need to go. It’s an emergency.’ The apology lay under his words. He knew he should be here, but he needed to be with his wife.
‘Anything I can do, sir?’ Ash’s eyes clouded with concern.
‘No. I don’t know. Ring me later, or if anything happens.’
Come on, he thought as the car sped along North Street. Wave after wave crashed over him. Annabelle … suddenly Barney Thorpe and Davey Mullen hardly mattered at all.
Harper sprinted through the pub and up the stairs. A cold horror spread through his chest. Mary was pacing up and down the living room. He held her close, letting all the fright and the worry flow out with her tears. Finally, he let go and pushed open the bedroom door. Annabelle was curled up under the sheet. Eyes closed, fast asleep. She was still dressed, her hair spread across the pillow. He stood for
a long time, watching, as if her resting face could tell him what was wrong.
Harper sat with Mary in the living room. They didn’t speak – what was there to say? The windows were open wide, but down in Sheepscar the breeze was little more than a faint whisper, a lick and a promise, hardly strong enough to notice. He had the Evening Post open on his lap. It was a grotesque parody of an ordinary evening. He was reading the stories but not registering a single word.
He stood and glanced in at Annabelle again. Still sleeping, peaceful. Wake up, he thought. Please. Tell me. Tell me.
Mary stared down at the rug, biting her lip. When she looked up again, he could see the fear in her eyes. Then he noticed her ring winking in the light.
‘You bought it.’
Mary brought him back to the present. She held up her hand so he could see it properly. Even this couldn’t dim all the joy.
‘Len let me choose it. I didn’t want to go for anything big. I know he doesn’t have the money.’
‘I reckon that one is perfect.’ He kissed the top of her head.
‘She’ll want something to eat when she wakes up. Some supper.’
‘Yes. That’s a good idea,’ he told her with a smile. ‘We could probably all do with something.’
She strode into the kitchen. Doing something. That was her way of dealing with things. Better than brooding. Exactly the same as her mother.
He pushed open the bedroom door again. Annabelle was lying on her back, eyes open. She managed a weak smile. ‘I hope I didn’t scare you.’
‘You did,’ he told her gently. ‘Of course you did. What happened?’
‘Make us a cup of tea first, will you?’
By the time he returned, she was sitting up. Mary trailed behind him, standing in the doorway as he sat on the bed and took his wife’s hand. The only thing different about her was the sorrow in her face as he looked at them.
‘I know what you’re going to ask, and the answer is I don’t know how long I was like that.’ Her voice sounded fragile, wounded. ‘I knew where I was, where everything should be. But I didn’t know who I was or what I was doing here.’ She tried to blink away the tears. ‘I could move. I could walk. Mary sat me down and started talking to me. I didn’t know who she was at first, then it all began to come back.’ She took a drink and stared down at the mug. ‘It shook me, Tom. It really did. It terrified me. It was as if there was this huge blank area, like a fog, and I couldn’t see a thing.’
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