Blood & Sugar

by Laura Shepherd-Robinson

  ‘No, I’m not.’

  She dabbed Waterman’s forehead with her sponge.

  ‘I think you don’t like what’s been going on here in Deptford. First Waterman’s leg. Then Archer’s murder. Now two women and two Africans in London, brutally slain. Few here seem to give a damn, except I think you do. You went to Archer’s funeral. Now you tend to this boy.’

  ‘I attend to Daniel because he crewed one of my husband’s ships. His men are as family to us, sir.’

  ‘I’m glad I’m not a relative of yours. Your husband ordered this done.’

  She flushed. ‘The boy was a thief. It wasn’t John’s fault that Frank Drake went too far in the matter.’

  ‘How does your husband feel about you attending Archer’s funeral? Perhaps I’ll ask him.’

  Now she looked at me. ‘I would prefer it if you did not.’

  So Monday hadn’t known she’d gone. Good. ‘I am happy to keep it between ourselves, provided you answer my questions.’

  She frowned. ‘Blackmail is a sin, sir.’

  ‘I do what I have to do.’

  ‘As do we all.’ She smoothed a few loose strands of hair back from her face. ‘Very well, sir. Ask your questions, if you will.’

  I didn’t have long. Cinnamon was waiting for me. Yet I couldn’t let this opportunity pass me by. ‘When did your husband first learn about the insurance fraud?’

  ‘From Mr Archer, the first time he came to town.’ Her voice rose. ‘But there is no proof that it happened as Archer said it did. My husband does not believe it. He says Captain Vaughan would never have countenanced such a thing.’

  ‘What do you believe?’

  She lowered her eyes. ‘I believe as my husband does, sir.’

  ‘Do you know where Vaughan is?’

  ‘No, sir. I do not.’

  ‘There is a silver box in your husband’s study. It has compartments for three knives, but it only holds two. Do you know what happened to the third?’

  ‘It was stolen. John thinks one of the servants took it.’

  ‘When did it go missing?’

  ‘About two weeks ago.’ She stopped, and I could see she was thinking the same thing as I. ‘Everyone in Deptford has a knife. Why would the killer steal ours?’

  ‘I don’t know. But Brabazon thinks a long knife was used, and yours is missing.’

  Waterman stirred again. ‘The knife, Mama. It burns.’

  ‘Hush, Daniel.’ She tucked the blanket around him. When she next spoke, her voice was resolute: ‘If you believe that knife was used to kill Archer, then you must discount Captain Vaughan from your inquiry. My husband too.’

  ‘Why is that?’

  ‘Evan Vaughan hasn’t been to our house in several weeks. And my husband would hardly have used his own knife and not put it back.’

  ‘The knife might have been damaged or lost.’

  She held my gaze. ‘The night your friend died, my husband was at home with his family. He didn’t want Archer harmed. He ordered his officers not to touch him.’

  ‘Was that the same day the knife disappeared? The day before they found Archer dead?’

  She said nothing, but I could see the answer on her face. ‘Did anyone else other than Drake and Brabazon come to the house that day?’

  She thought for a moment. ‘Our mayor, Mr Stokes, brought Cinnamon to the house. Then she and I came down here to tend to Daniel. I believe our magistrate, Mr Child, accompanied Mr Stokes. They stayed to talk to my husband.’

  Could Stokes have taken the knife? It was hard to imagine him torturing someone to death. Then again, he didn’t strike me as the stripe of man who’d dirty his own hands. I studied Daniel Waterman. The nigger has the knife. Was it possible that Waterman knew something about the murder? Could someone have confided in him, or could he have overheard something discussed by his bedside visitors? Could Stokes have ordered one of his black servants to commit the murders?

  ‘Did Scipio accompany Stokes to your house that night?’

  She turned away slightly. ‘Who?’

  ‘His secretary, Scipio.’

  Scipio, who had been in Marylebone on the night the killer almost caught Moses Graham and I.

  Her hand fluttered to her crucifix. ‘Not his secretary, no. He was accompanied by his footmen.’

  ‘Could either of them have taken the knife?’

  ‘I don’t think so. They waited outside.’

  It was a foolish idea in any event. I had seen the hand of Amelia’s killer, and he was white. It was possible that Stokes had taken the knife himself, and then passed it on to some unnamed assassin, but I couldn’t see a motive – Archer’s murder had caused as many problems for the West India lobby as it had solved. The same went for Child – which took me back to Monday and his officers.

  Waterman stirred again. ‘She has the knife.’

  I leaned forward. ‘Who has the knife, Daniel?’

  His cracked lips parted. I strained to hear his whisper: ‘Brabazon.’

  ‘He must be talking about last night when Brabazon took his leg.’ Mrs Monday stroked his hand. ‘Hush, child.’

  She had a faint bruise on her cheek the same colour as her eyes, and I remembered the way she’d flinched from her husband. ‘I beg you to tell me anything that will help me in this matter, madam. If you are frightened of your husband, I can protect you.’

  Her gaze was steady, her eyes perfectly clear. ‘I am not afraid of my husband, sir. I am afraid of you.’

  *

  I looked for Cinnamon downstairs in the stable-yard. Singing from the taproom mingled with the clatter of cutlery in the dining room. One of the horses in the stables stamped and whickered.

  A hand took my arm and drew me into the shadows by the stable door. I could hardly see her face in the darkness, but I could smell her rose perfume and hear the rustle of silk each time she moved.

  ‘You were on The Dark Angel,’ I said. ‘You survived and were brought back here to Deptford.’

  ‘I saw it all,’ she said. ‘Mr Archer called it fate.’

  ‘Why do you tend to Waterman like this? After what you told me he did to those children?’

  ‘I have no choice. Some people in town don’t like that Mr Stokes keeps me the way he does, so he has me undertake good works with Mrs Monday.’ She gripped my arm, her fingers digging into my flesh. ‘I have to get away from here. Will you buy me from Mr Stokes?’

  ‘No, but I will take you to London and keep you safe. I’ll arrange for a lawyer to win your freedom.’ What consequences would follow for me and mine? I didn’t know, but they wouldn’t be good. Yet I needed to hear her story, and I wanted to help her too. ‘You can trust me, I promise. Now, will you tell me about the voyage?’

  She stepped away from me. ‘No, I’ll not make that mistake again.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ I drew her back, remembering the way she’d spoken about Tad at the dock. ‘Did Archer fail you in some fashion?’

  ‘He lied to me. Tricked me into telling him what I knew. He promised to take me to London, but he betrayed me.’

  ‘When was this?’

  ‘The last time he came to Deptford. I was to meet him by the creek, and we would ride to London together. It was hard to get away from Scipio and Mr Stokes, but I was able to eventually. I waited there all afternoon, but he never came. In the end, I went to the Strand to look for him. I found him by the boatyards. I could see from his face that he’d forgotten all about me. He was full of excuses, but I’d had my fill of his lies. He promised to take me with him when he left town, but that was too late.’

  ‘Too late for what?’

  ‘For everything. The next day they found him dead.’

  I wondered again what was so vital that Tad had changed his plans, and stayed another night in Deptford at the last minute. And why would he have abandoned Cinnamon like that, a living witness?

  ‘You can ride?’ I asked.

  ‘A little. Enough.’

  ‘I will need to h
ire another horse, but I could do that tomorrow.’

  ‘Tomorrow is no good. Mr Stokes is entertaining guests at the villa. The following day he goes to play whist in Charlton, and always stays late. Scipio has business out of town too. I could get out once the servants are asleep.’

  I arranged to meet her outside the villa at half past midnight. All being well, we would be in London before anyone realized she was gone. Cinnamon turned to go back upstairs, but again I drew her back. ‘The obeah, the dead birds. Do you know anything about it?’

  ‘Obeah is the religion of the Igbo, my mother’s tribe.’

  ‘What do the dead birds mean?’

  ‘That the duppies see those men. They don’t forget.’

  ‘What are duppies?’

  ‘Demons, bad spirits.’

  ‘Then it is a curse?’

  ‘Those men are already cursed. Each day is another step along the path of bones.’

  ‘What is the path of bones?’

  ‘Eternal torment.’

  ‘Do you know who is behind it? Is it you?’

  We had moved a little further into the light, and I could see Cinnamon’s face more clearly. Her smile was knowing. ‘I will speak when I am safe, not before.’

  A shadow fell across us. I turned and saw Scipio standing there. ‘What are you doing out here, girl? Where is Mrs Monday?’

  ‘I dropped some water.’ She spoke breathlessly, lifting her bowl to show him.

  He examined our faces, evidently suspicious. How much of our conversation had he heard? I wasn’t sure.

  The door to the stable-loft opened, throwing light into the yard. Mrs Monday came to the top of the stairs and stared down at us. ‘What is keeping you, child? Where is that water?’

  Cinnamon hurried up the stairs, and Mrs Monday gave me a nod. ‘Goodnight, Captain Corsham.’ She didn’t acknowledge Scipio at all.

  I waited until the door had closed. ‘Were you looking for me? I am sorry I left you so abruptly in the Yorkshire Stingo.’

  Scipio didn’t answer at first. He was still gazing after the women. I repeated my apology, and he turned. ‘Mr Child told Mr Stokes that there have been more murders. Two Africans slain in London. Is this true?’

  ‘Yes, it is.’ I summarized the mutilations, while he closed his eyes and breathed deeply. I could see the news had a profound effect on him.

  ‘Captain Corsham, I ask that you come with me.’

  I studied him sceptically, mindful of danger. ‘It is late to be going anywhere tonight.’

  ‘Don’t you understand?’ His face contorted with frustration. ‘I’m trying to help you. Now let us go.’

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  Scipio and I walked swiftly through the darkened streets of Deptford.

  ‘Aren’t you worried about people seeing us together?’ I asked.

  ‘If they do, and Mr Stokes gets to hear of it, I’ll say I pretended to befriend you in order to learn more about your inquiry.’

  It had crossed my mind that this was precisely what he was doing. He seemed to read my thoughts. ‘I want to help you catch this animal,’ he said. ‘Brabazon came to see my master earlier. He told him about your visit. You are right about the insurance fraud. The officers of the ship have always denied it, but Stokes and the West India lobby know they are lying. Monday too, I think.’

  We had reached the fringes of the alleys that led down to the dock. I held back. ‘Where are you taking me?’

  ‘Frank Drake is your principal suspect, but in Jamaica Mary he has an alibi. You need to speak to her again.’

  ‘I had some trouble the last time I was at the bathhouse. I’m not sure they’ll let me in.’

  ‘They will if you’re with me. Stokes owns the place, though it is not the stripe of business with which he likes to associate publicly. Everything goes through me. They do what I tell them.’

  It seemed Scipio had influence in Deptford. He’d built a life for himself here, but where did his loyalties really lie? Could I trust him? He had lied to me once before, about Cinnamon.

  ‘I have one stipulation,’ Scipio said. ‘I ask again that you leave Miss Cinnamon alone. She had dealings with Mr Archer, as I’m sure you’re aware by now. When Stokes found out, he punished her severely. I tell you this not just for the girl’s sake, but also for my own. I am Mr Stokes’s steward, as well as his secretary, and his property is entrusted to my care. That includes his slaves. He threatened me with dismissal last time for not keeping a better eye on her. If I am to help you, then you must promise to stay away from her.’

  I hesitated, knowing it was a promise I would not keep. ‘You have my word.’

  *

  For a woman who earned her living pleasing men, Jamaica Mary needed to work on her welcome. She scowled at Scipio and I, as the proprietor of the bathhouse showed us into his anteroom. The room had been cleared of customers, and we sat at one of the tables, a single candle flickering between us.

  ‘Now, Mary,’ Scipio said. ‘Tell Captain Corsham what you told me.’

  She was wearing a grubby shift and stays, much stained by the seed of her customers. Her yellow cat-like eyes flicked from Scipio to me, and her scowl deepened. It was plain whom she held responsible for her predicament.

  ‘Mary lied to you before,’ she said. ‘Frank Drake was with her until ten. Then he left.’

  I smiled. ‘Why did you lie?’

  ‘Drake paid Mary ten shillings. She was nervous about taking it, what with the murder and all. But Drake told her she wouldn’t get in no trouble with Perry Child.’

  ‘Did he say why not?’

  She shrugged. ‘They family.’

  ‘I believe Child’s late wife was Mr Drake’s sister,’ Scipio said.

  So Child and Drake were related by marriage. That explained a lot.

  I recalled that Mary had also been evasive on the topic of Captain Vaughan. ‘Did you ever hear of any trouble between Evan Vaughan and the dead man, Archer?’

  ‘Mary told you, she heard nothing. You want to know who killed him, you talk to that Scottish sawbones.’

  ‘Brabazon?’

  She nodded. ‘Mary saw them arguing down Greenwich way.’

  Nathaniel had said he’d seen Tad heading in that direction. ‘When was this?’

  ‘The day before they found him at the dock.’

  ‘Where in Greenwich did you see them?’

  ‘A tavern, the Artichoke. Mary was upstairs, taking leave of a customer, when she saw them coming out of one of the private rooms.’

  ‘Did you hear what they were saying?’

  ‘No, but they weren’t friends.’

  I recalled that Mary hadn’t seemed to like Brabazon very much. It was possible she’d manufactured the incident. On the other hand, Brabazon had told me he’d been in Greenwich that day, attending a lecture at the Naval Hospital.

  I wanted to ask her about the obeah, but not with Scipio sitting there. There was little chance she would admit to it if she thought the mayor might hear of it.

  Scipio regarded her sternly. ‘You won’t tell Drake that we were here, now will you, Mary? I’d take that sorely, and you like working here. The same goes for Mr Child.’

  ‘Yes, sir. Mary’s a good girl.’

  ‘See that you are.’ He passed her a coin. ‘We’re done here.’

  Her shadow slid up the wall as she rose. At the door, she hissed: ‘Master’s nigger.’

  Scipio’s face remained impassive, though I knew he must have heard.

  ‘I’d like to talk to another of the whores,’ I said. ‘A girl named Alice.’

  Scipio called the proprietor back, and conveyed this request. The man gave me a dirty look, plainly annoyed by my presence here, but he didn’t argue.

  The girl he brought in to us a few minutes later wore a threadbare green dress over her skinny frame. She had greasy yellow hair, and looked about seventeen years old. ‘I’m not doing it with no Negro,’ she said, when she saw Scipio.

  ‘We onl
y want to talk to you,’ I said.

  ‘Tell them whatever they want to know, Alice.’ The proprietor withdrew.

  She rolled her eyes. ‘Well?’

  ‘A few weeks ago you had an altercation with a customer named Evan Vaughan.’

  ‘An altercation? That fuckster tried to kill me.’

  ‘Why did he do that?’

  She shook her head. ‘It’s daft.’

  ‘I’d still like to hear it.’

  She huffed. ‘I wouldn’t tell him I forgave him, that’s why.’

  ‘Forgave him for what?’

  ‘He got rough with me a different time, about two years ago. Knocked out three of my teeth. I never did find out why. Sometimes they take something you said the wrong way. Or they imagine a look you gave them. I knew a girl who was beaten half to death for smiling. Customer thought she was laughing at him.’

  ‘Vaughan wanted your forgiveness for assaulting you two years ago? Why now?’

  ‘How should I know? He got down on his knees as if he was praying. Kept talking about penance and asking my forgiveness.’ She tapped her skull. ‘Belongs in bloody Bedlam, if you ask me.’

  ‘And when you refused he tried to strangle you?’

  ‘Wrapped his hands so tight around my neck, I saw the stars. He kept demanding I forgive him, but I wouldn’t. I couldn’t scream, but I managed to knock over a jug of water. Mister Fred came to see what the racket was about, and pulled him off me.’ She touched her neck. ‘He would have killed me, I’m sure of it. He kept saying I was a bloody hells-bitch in league with the black demon.’

  ‘Why didn’t you do what he wanted? When you realized he meant to kill you?’

  Her eyes narrowed. ‘They get to fuck me. They get to beat me. They get to call me names. They don’t get to make me tell them I don’t mind.’

  I gave Alice sixpence, and Scipio and I walked out of the bathhouse together. His skin shone in the light of the burning torches, a dark bronze glow. He gave me an odd look. ‘The black demon?’

  ‘Archer liked to wear black. He went to visit Vaughan at his rooms at around the same time he attacked Alice.’ I told him about the book I’d found there. ‘Vaughan was already in a precarious state of mind. Brabazon attests that he was smoking a lot of opium. I think Archer confronted him about the dead slaves, and it precipitated a personal crisis.’