Dread Murder (11 page)

Authors: Gwendoline Butler

BOOK: Dread Murder

12.08Mb size Format: txt, pdf, ePub

âNot so clever,' he thought. âI can untie that.' He looked into Spike's face and wanted to say: âUntie â then I tie you up again â and your slave master will never know you have been free. You can escape!'

Then he thought: âBut this is your only home and shelter. Here you have a bed and food, even if not much. If you leave here where will you go? Only to the streets â and I know what that is like!'

So he handed over the food from Miss Fairface's tray, half to Spike and half to the dog, then left.

âI'll be back!' he said aloud. âLet me put my thinking cap on.'

He looked up at the other window. The room with the cupboard â what could be in it?

While he was talking to Spike, the Major was talking to Sergeant Denny: âI want you to go to Tosser, ask him to come and meet us at the Theatre yard.'

Tosser, the mortuary man â yes, Denny saw the point of that.

âThen go to the coffin makers in Bell Yard and get two baby's coffins.'

Chapter Seven

âTwo coffins?' Denny queried, although he had done what was required and had hefted the two tiny boxes over from Bell Yard. God knows they were light enough, and would not be that much heavier when filled. âTwo coffins, and here they are.'

Bones of a baby and a dead dog.

The Major read Denny's face. âThe dog deserves a decent burial too.'

âI had to pay him.'

âYou'll get your money.' The Major had the money ready in his pocket, ready to hand over as soon as he saw the two small caskets.

And there they were on the grass before him. The old horse came over to see what they were.

âHe takes his money seriously, does Bell Yard Billy.' The Sergeant and Billy met occasionally over a drink in the Duchess of Hanover's Arms, but they were not friends.

âHe does â in fact it's said he lets his coffins out to rent. A rented coffin. After the service and before the
burial, the body is tipped out and covered in earth and you take the coffin back, for further use.'

âHe won't be doing that again,' said Denny with some satisfaction. âHe has a broken nose and a black eye. Seems one parent recognised a coffin he'd bought and paid for being used again â¦more than once. So he went in, gave Billy a black eye, and got his money back.'

The grey had finished investigating the two coffins, then turned away.

âSmall enough?' asked Denny.

âEven smaller would have done.'

âYes.' Denny felt the pinch of pity himself. Strange really, he and the Major had buried bodies enough after a battle and felt nothing. Perhaps you needed the fighting to harden you.

Nor did he look forward to the job to be done. He had buried many bodies, but never dug one up before. He took the lid off one coffin to take out a small hand shovel and a pair of gloves; from both a faintly unpleasant smell floated.

The Major looked at them.

âI got them from Tosser â¦he said I'd find them useful. Uses them himself on occasion, when the need arises.'

âIt will very soon,' said Mearns.

Under Mearns' direction, Denny began to clear the earth away. Soon he stopped digging and turned towards the Major. âI've got there.' He put on the heavy gloves, and with their help eased the dog's body onto the shovel. Then with some help from the Major he moved the dog into the coffin. Mearns put back the lid. Some
jobs were better closed up quickly. Then slowly, and gently, Denny got the earth off the baby's mortifying body, and got the shovel underneath. The child had been there longer than the dog so the flesh had gone and all that was left was bones. The skull seemed to be grinning at them.

Denny handled the bones very carefully into the coffin in case the skeleton came apart. This done, he gave the Major a nod.

âWe'll shoulder the coffins down to the mortuary,' said Mearns.

âDoes Tosser know they are coming?'

Mearns did not answer. Tosser didn't know they were coming, but he would soon find out.

From where he had been working, Charlie came up to them with a trolley belonging backstage. He had guessed it might be needed. He pushed the trolley while the two men walked behind. No one said much. Tosser was not welcoming. Never a very jolly chap, as Charlie had noticed, but what could you expect living and working where he did. But he was especially dour today. Charlie, the observer, rather enjoyed the spectacle. âYou never know,' he found himself thinking, âwhen a character like Tosser might come in handy.' But there was something about Tosser's face that suggested satisfaction.

Tosser saw Charlie looking. âTake your eyes off me, young man.'

Charlie did not answer. Then Tosser saw what it was Charlie had on the trolley. He glared at Mearns. âNo room,' said Tosser. âFull up.'

âNot if I say so.'

The Sergeant moved to stand next to the Major. âCome on now, Tosser. Just for the odd night or two; we won't leave them here for long.'

âThere are times when I hate you two,' said Tosser with feeling.

âWe don't always love you, Tosser.'

Tosser was studying the coffins. âNot very big, are they? So what's in the boxes? Babies? Dwarfs?'

âNo reason for you to know.'

âAre you going to bury them?'

âIt's usual with coffins,' said the Major evasively.

âWhere?' demanded Tosser, who detected the evasion.

âHere, please, Tosser,' said the Major, as if he had just thought of it. âMay move them later. Let's call it just storing them for the time being.'

âIt's work for me,' said Tosser.

Charlie realised then that there was a cost to being dead. âDoesn't cost much though,' he thought as he watched the coins being handed over.

Outside, Tosser had a tiny graveyard. It was overhung with drooping trees, beneath which was a bench. Charlie could tell that it was all much, much older than Tosser.

âWhat an interesting place,' Charlie thought. In his mind's eye he could see a dark figure sitting on the bench, perhaps dying there. Being found dead. He thought about it for a while, storing it in his memory as something to hold on to. Confidence bounded inside him; whoever was found dead in such a place, it would not be him.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a large rat strolling across the grass. He was unmoved; he knew about rats, having lived and worked with them in London. This one, though, was a particularly big and bold animal.

âIf I'd had a dog with me, I bet we would have found the rest of Traddles' body,' he thought.

A few modest coins were pressed into his hand with the polite request that he take back the trolley.

Charlie nodded. Miss Fairface would not notice if it was there or not, but the stage manager would.

As Charlie walked towards the Theatre he saw Mindy on the path in front. She was too far ahead for him to catch up, which he would have done if he could have managed it, as he was one of her admirers. He thought she liked him too. She disappeared into the side stage door of the Theatre. He wondered whom she was going to meet. He liked a mystery â even a little one.

The Major and Sergeant Denny returned to the Castle. âI like that boy,' said Denny.

Mearns was not listening. âWe are the only law keepers in this town,' he declared.

âThere is the Unit,' said Denny. âAnd in the Castle there are the Officers of the Guardâ'

The Major interrupted him. âWe report directly to London.'

This was true and Denny was usually the person who carried the reports to London. But he often wondered if it got far past the polite young man in St James's who
took the message in. The days of William Pitt were over.

The Major continued: âThe death of the woman in the Theatre last night may not make a report to London necessary, but I want to find out exactly how and why she died.'

âWell, she was strangled,' said Denny. âWe know that.'

âBut why in the Theatre?'

âIt may not have been â¦ Perhaps she was dragged there, when already dead?'

âAnd no one noticed? And why drag her there anyway?' said an exasperated Mearns. He shook his head. âNo marks of dragging on her clothes or body.'

âShe could have been carried there in a sack or such like,' said Denny, who liked to cling to a point.

âWhy?
Why
? For what reason?' said the Major, no less determined â and, he thought, more reasonably. âNo, she walked there and was killed there.'

There was a moment's silence. âSo do I take a report on this to London?' Denny wanted to know.

âNo, no. Not yet. There is more to be discovered yet.'

âThere certainly is,' said Denny. âThere was more to Traddles than a head, legs and a dead dog!'

âAnd more to be found,' went on Mearns grimly, unconsciously echoing Denny. âWhere is the trunk? The other limbs? Where are they?'

And, âWhere is truth,' he heard himself say aloud.

Denny heard him, but felt he would rather not have done.

âLet's go down to the Golden Crown, get the landlord
to give us some of his best and eat some of that ham he keeps on the side. Good stuff.'

âYes, I'm hungry too.' Hunger and misery felt like the same ache.

Mindy was more down to earth than the Major and Sergeant Denny in her opinion of what was going on at present in Windsor. She was also, in some ways, more observant and understanding of the behaviour of people.

âI notice what's really there, and I'm not sure if the Major always does. Nor Denny. Especially Denny, bless him.'

Women always liked Denny. True, they did not trust him. The sharper of them (amongst which she counted herself) instinctively understood that, trustworthy as they knew him to be as an assistant to Major Mearns, he was less so in his dealings with
them
. He had always treated Mindy with friendly correctness, but she was protected by her position at court and by Major Mearns.

What she had noticed was the eyes of the young actress who had found the strangled body of Dol Worboys. Henrietta Temple was her name â her acting name. The Major had told Mindy that she was really called Hetty Maggins, one of six daughters of a theatrical family. âGenerations of them,' he had said, âprobably one of them cavorting on the stage when Shakespeare was working.'

Hetty â off stage she used that name â was a good actress. She could control her face, and her hands, and she had done so when she came running in, calling out
what she had found. But she could not control her eyes and feet. All the time she was telling her tale, she kept looking at her feet, in their pretty slippers; they were never still.

Mindy was one of a crowd hurrying towards the Theatre, but she took no notice of them, not aware that she was observed herself. She was a well-known figure in Windsor, respected and even feared due to her position in the society of the Castle. She had helped as a dresser with Princess Caroline till her death in childbirth, and now she was head of the Castle wardrobe, in charge of the dressers and the sewing maids. More than one hopeful had offered marriage, but Mindy valued her independence with the prospect of a pension and Royal cottage in the Park when she chose to retire. Her experience of marriages was that they were hard work and brought little joy.

She knew the Major liked her, as she liked him, but it needed thinking about.

She hesitated a moment as she came close to the Theatre. Hetty might be angry. She might be angry and frightened after what she had seen. Would that make her dangerous? Mindy shook her head. No, surely not.

Jack, the stage manager, came out carrying a piece of scenery.

âIs Hetty about? Miss Temple?'

Jack gave her a smile. âShe's in the wardrobe room, sorting out her costume for tomorrow.'

âA good part, is it?' asked Mindy, answering his grin.

âOphelia, Miss. Miss Temple's best so far.'

She couldn't help asking: âWhat about Miss Fairface? Is she in
Hamlet
? Who does she play?'

âQueen Gertrude.' He gave another smile.

âThat's a good part â perhaps the best for a woman in the play.' But for the older woman, of course; yes, she understood the smile.

Inside the wardrobe room, Henrietta was studying herself in the looking glass. She spun around when the door opened, a smile on her face. âThere you are.'

âHetty, can I speak to you?'

The smile faded. âOh, it's you.'

Hetty eyed Mindy; she knew Mindy, knew her position in the Castle. âYes, but not here.' She looked down at what she was wearing. âAnd I must get out of this.'

Charlie, having grabbed a trolley full of clothes with a pile of boots on top on his way in to the Theatre, pushed through the door. He smiled up at both women.

âBusy,' he said cheerfully. âPlenty to do.'

âLeave the clothes and go.'

âBoots too?' His smile was angelic.

âOf course the bloody boots too.'

Mindy said hastily, âI'll wait outside. But I do want to talk to you.'

Charlie followed her. âShe tells lies, you know.'

Mindy thought so too, but why did Charlie think it? âHow do you know?'

âI can tell by her face.' He smiled at Mindy. âI tell lies myself when I have to,' he said casually. âI know the look.'