Read Kill-Devil and Water Online
Authors: Andrew Pepper
Tags: #Jamaica, #Murder, #England, #Sugar Plantations, #London (England), #Mystery & Detective, #Prostitutes, #Crimes Against, #Fiction, #General, #Investigation, #Historical, #London, #Crime
Kill-Devil and Water (54 page)
‘If Morel-Roux did kill Bedford and Mary Edgar, I’ll force a confession out of him. If he didn’t, an innocent man is going to die unless we do something. I can’t sit around and wait for it to happen.’
For his part, Pyke had gone over and over the evidence in his head and he couldn’t see any reason why Morel-Roux would have murdered both Lord Bedford
and
Mary Edgar. And why would he have killed her in such a grotesque fashion?
and
Mary Edgar. And why would he have killed her in such a grotesque fashion?
‘It just isn’t possible to break into the prison and help a man to escape. Anyway, he’ll be under constant supervision.’
‘There
is
a way. There’s always a way.’
is
a way. There’s always a way.’
‘You’ve actually given this matter some thought, haven’t you?’ Tilling stared at him, incredulous.
‘I won’t deny it’s risky. And you’ll do well to come out of it with your position in the New Police still intact.’
‘What about the risk you’re running? You have a young lad who depends on you. I just have a couple of cats,’ Tilling said, stroking the ginger one’s ears. Pyke could hear it purring from across the room.
He walked over to the window and stared out towards the heath. He’d always liked the view from Tilling’s front room. ‘What if I could offer you something by way of recompense - something that would make you look good in the eyes of your peers?’ He turned around to face Tilling.
‘Such as?’
‘Jemmy Crane wrapped up in a nice little box with a ribbon tied around it.’
‘You’ll have to be more specific.’
‘All right.’ Pyke took a deep breath. ‘What if I told you that Crane had managed to find a way into the Bank of England’s bullion vault via an old sewer tunnel that runs directly beneath it?’
That made Tilling sit up and take notice. ‘That’s why you asked me about the Bank of England yesterday?’
‘It will happen some time tomorrow night, I’d guess, as people gather for the hanging. Certainly before the bank opens for business on Monday morning.’
‘Jesus,’ Tilling muttered. He stood up abruptly, spilling both of the cats and his empty glass of gin on to the floor. ‘Jesus,’ he said again, shaking his head. ‘You’d better sit down and tell me what you’ve found out.’
‘So you’re interested?’
Tilling took out a handkerchief and wiped his forehead. ‘Of course I’m interested. The question is what do we do about it.’
Pyke waited for a moment. ‘You need to call a meeting of all of the guards in the governor’s office first thing tomorrow morning.’
‘Then what?’ Tilling still seemed shocked by Pyke’s revelation.
‘Then you work out how you’re going to set a trap for Crane and his men.’
Later that night, after he had arrived home, Pyke looked in on Felix and watched him sleep, an ache building in his gut. The idea of not being part of his life, of not seeing him grow up to be a man, made Pyke feel so ill at ease that he came within a whisker of calling off his plans.
What did he really care about the Swiss valet anyway?
As he passed in and out of sleep, his dreams took him back to Jamaica and, later, while it was still dark outside, he lay in his bed, listening to himself breathe. Images drifted through his mind like fast-moving clouds. He’d seen something in his dream; something significant. Drawing air into his lungs, he tried to relax, tried to remember what it was, but it wouldn’t come to him. Lying still, he closed his eyes and let his mind go blank. Later, just as he was drifting back to sleep, he heard a voice call out to him.
Whatever happens, don’t think badly of me. I don’t think I could bear it if you thought badly of me.
Whatever happens, don’t think badly of me. I don’t think I could bear it if you thought badly of me.
But there was another voice, too, and almost at once he realised it belonged to Harriet Alefounder.
I was a long way away and my eyesight isn’t what it used to be but I swear there was a little of her, of the Malvern woman, in this mulatto girl.
TWENTY-SEVEN
As he was crossing the street, a carriage came to a halt in front of him, almost blocking his path. The door swung open and Pyke found Harold Field pointing a pistol at his chest. Matthew Paxton, Field’s second-in-command, held a brass-cannoned blunderbuss in both hands and grinned.
Pyke had just returned from the tunnel that ran under the bullion vault at the Bank of England and his trousers and boots smelled of decomposing flesh and faeces.
‘Get in, Pyke.’ Putting a cigar to his lips, Field inhaled, opened his mouth slightly and let the smoke drift out through the open glass. ‘Save my friend here the ignominy of having to kill you in broad daylight.’
Pyke did as he was told and sat down next to Paxton. The carriage moved forward and Field pulled up the glass.
‘I was under the impression I’d paid off my debt,’ Pyke said, trying to keep his tone measured.
‘After your wilful destruction of Crane’s shop - which on a personal level I applaud, by the way - I couldn’t run the risk of you disrupting the man’s plans any further.’
‘Why? Are the two of you partners now?’
‘Reluctant ones, perhaps. Let’s just say we’ve arrived at a necessary agreement.’ Field sniffed the air in the carriage. ‘Is that you, bringing your stink into my domain?’
Pyke ignored the question. ‘Necessary for whom?’
‘For Crane, of course. When he discovered I had his mistress in my possession, let’s just say he was persuaded to accept my terms.’
Pyke felt his stomach jolt. ‘You’ve got Elizabeth Malvern?’ It explained why he’d found her front door unhinged and her house ransacked.
‘I believe I might have you to thank for that,’ Field said nonchalantly, inspecting the end of his cigar.
‘You had someone follow me.’
‘And you
didn’t
let me down. I’m told you spent a fair amount of time in her company.’ Field blew smoke into Pyke’s face and smiled. ‘I hear she has a rather ... unusual sexual appetite - that she likes it hard and violent. I’m very much looking forward to satisfying her wishes.’
didn’t
let me down. I’m told you spent a fair amount of time in her company.’ Field blew smoke into Pyke’s face and smiled. ‘I hear she has a rather ... unusual sexual appetite - that she likes it hard and violent. I’m very much looking forward to satisfying her wishes.’
Pyke lunged at Field but, before he was out of his seat, Paxton had brought the end of the blunderbuss up to his throat.
‘If you move again, my young friend here will pull the trigger.’ Field took the cigar and rammed the burning ash down on to Pyke’s knuckles.
Pyke grunted rather than screamed, even though the pain was excruciating.
Field was just a few feet from his face, his oiled whiskers shining in the half-light of the carriage. ‘I have to say, I’m a little disappointed in you, Pyke. I thought we understood each other perfectly.’
Pyke tried not to let the pain, and a sense of panic, affect his thinking. ‘Bessie Daniels is dead. I think Crane killed her and tossed her away like a piece of rubbish.’
Field’s stare was cold and lifeless. ‘I’m sorry to hear that. I really am. She was a good girl. I’ll make sure her family are taken care of.’
In spite of his predicament, Pyke couldn’t help himself. ‘That’s it? Once she’d been sold to Crane, you used her, put her in even more danger than she was already in and then you sat back and let her be sacrificed?’
‘She knew the risks she was taking,’ Field said, smoothing his hair with the palms of his hands. ‘Anyway, your misplaced sense of ethics is beginning to bore me.’
‘Her blood is on your hands.’ Pyke waited for a moment, contemplating the wisdom of what he was about to say. ‘Your mother would be turning in her grave if she could see you now.’
Field’s gaze turned to wax and, for a moment, no one in the carriage spoke. ‘I did intend to allow you to live, Pyke. I really did.’ He shook his head.
Leaning forward, Field tapped on the roof of the carriage and waited for the horses to come to a complete stop. He opened the door, climbed down on to the pavement, pulled down the glass and peered back into the carriage. His sense of disappointment was palpable. ‘I don’t care what you do,’ he said to Paxton. ‘I don’t ever want to see or hear or read about him again. Just make him go away.’
With that, Field slammed the door and set off along the pavement, not once bothering to turn around, almost as though, in his own mind, Pyke had already ceased to exist.
As they moved off, Pyke glanced out of the window and concluded they were heading down St John’s Street in the direction of Smithfield and perhaps Field’s slaughterhouse.
‘I’d say this is the end of the road for you,’ Paxton said, as if this idea somehow pleased him. He wasn’t much older than a boy but his hand wasn’t trembling and his gaze remained calm, composed even. His index finger was curled around the trigger in preparation for firing. Pyke thought of the way he’d looked at the coins on the card table after Field had murdered his whist partner.
‘Have you ever seen a bar of gold?’ Pyke waited. ‘Have you ever picked one up, felt how heavy it is?’
Paxton regarded him lazily.
‘If you like, I can show you one. I might even let you keep it.’ He watched Paxton’s face to see his reaction. ‘A bar of gold is worth about eight hundred pounds. A good receiver might give you five hundred.’ He paused. ‘How much did you earn last year?’ Paxton didn’t answer immediately, so he went on, ‘I thought so. Nothing like that figure, was it?’
Paxton licked his lips. ‘I ain’t complaining.’
Pyke met his gaze and waited. ‘You’re not afraid of him, are you?’
‘Everyone’s afraid of Harold Field. Even you. I saw it in your eyes after he burned you with his cigar.’
‘I’m scared of the Harold Field I once knew, before you were even born. But now he’s getting older and perhaps a little careless. You’ve seen it but you haven’t said anything to him. You’ve just been watching, waiting, biding your time.’
‘Is that so?’ Paxton kept the blunderbuss pointed at Pyke’s chest but his face had already betrayed his interest.
‘And part of you, a little part at the back of your head, has been wondering what would happen if Field wasn’t around. Who would take over?’
‘You’d never get close enough to do it. He’d see you coming.’
‘But he wouldn’t suspect you, would he?’
Paxton shook his head and tightened his grip around the handle of the blunderbuss. ‘That’s as far as this conversation goes. I pull the trigger, you’re a dead man.’
‘But you’re not going to because you’re thinking about that gold bar.’ Pyke looked into his face. ‘How about I make it two gold bars? If you were careful, you could clear a thousand.’
For a while neither of them spoke. Through the smeared glass, Pyke could see that they were nearing Smithfield. Paxton wiped his forehead with the sleeve of his coat and finally put down the blunderbuss.
‘We’ll make a policeman of you yet,’ Fitzroy Tilling said, when he saw Pyke in the blue, swallow-tailed frock-coat and matching trousers. The brass buttons had been done up to the top and Pyke was carrying, rather than wearing, the tall stovepipe hat. He had hidden a knife, a jemmy, a cudgel, a length of chain and a padlock inside the hat and had wrapped as much rope as he could get away with around his chest and waist, before putting on the coat, which was a few sizes too large for him.
Tilling took a swig of gin straight from the bottle, wiped his mouth on his sleeve and passed it to Pyke.
‘A turnkey smells that on your breath, he’ll be suspicious right away.’
‘You’re right.’ He put the bottle down and went to stroke the old ginger cat. ‘You’ll be all right without me, won’t you, Tom?’ The cat lifted its head slightly and purred but didn’t move from the chair.
Pyke pulled out his watch and checked the time. ‘We should get going. The service will be finished by now and they’ll be taking him back to his cell.’
Morel-Roux would have been led in chains to the ‘condemned’ pew and forced to beg for God’s forgiveness in front of other prisoners and dignitaries invited by the governor. Pyke could only begin to imagine the depths of the man’s despair. He would perhaps be thinking of the moment on the gallows when the plank would be kicked away, wondering whether he’d feel pain, life and death colliding in the blink of an eye, and also perhaps whether the hangman would have to pull down on his legs to finish the job.
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