Person or Persons Unknown (4 page)

We had turned down New Broad Court at its narrowest part, exactly where I had earlier spoken with Mariah. In spite of my intentions I found myself looking for her. She was nowhere to be seen.

“But what, Mr. Perkins? What was it you would say?”

“It was this, young Jeremy, if you was to come by, I could teach you a thing or two. Whether or not you continue with this notion of joining the Runners — which I do heartily advise against — it would do good for you to know how to handle yourself better. You’re sometimes called upon to go out of a night, and you ought — ”

‘^Murder! Foul murder!”’

The cry came from so close it seemed to have been shouted into our ears.

”Murder!”

Mr. Perkins and I whirled about as one, searching out the source of the alarum, but what we saw, rather, was a great swarm of people behind us pressing to get through a narrow passage. A few steps brought us to them. He led the way, throwing them right and left, pushing with his club, though not wielding it in a harmful way. While all the while he chanted: “One side, one side. I’m a constable. Make way for the law!” And for the most part, that was what they did, flattening against the rough brick of the passage, bowing to the authority of Mr. Perkins’s crested club. As we came to the end of the dark way, we found that it opened up into a small space, or perhaps an alley, where doors were visible, and stairs led up to floors above. From beneath the stairs two legs projected out of petticoats and a skirt. Could it be Mariah? No, the body was too corpulent, the skirt was of another color. A small man tugged and heaved at the ankles to pull the corpus out from the stairs while his female companion grabbed at the purse tied round the waist.

”Let go that purse,” snarled Mr. Perkins, “lest you take a clout from this club. And you” — to her partner — “drop her feet, or take one yourself. Both of you, stand over there, and don’t think to sneak away.”

They did as told, though most reluctant, as the crowd behind us murmured against them; “Vultures,” they were called, “Corpus robbers,” and so on.

“We was only thinkin’ to put a name on her,” said the woman who had been tugging at the purse. “We thought they might be a letter inside or such.”

“So you say,” said Mr. Perkins, “but we’ll let Sir John be the judge of that.”

“She could be alive,” said the man, a queer-looking rat-faced fellow. “She’s warm to the touch.”

“Then we must disturb the body thus much. Jeremy, pull her full out from the stairs.”

I leaped to the task, not in the least repelled by it so long as Constable Perkins was there watching me. I pulled hard.

“Now, which of you put out the cry of murder?” he asked.

One in the crowd, not by any means in the first rank, raised his hand. ” ‘Twas me,” he said, “I did it.”

“You come over here and stand by me.”

By then I had worked the body out from its resting place. It was true there was still warmth in her limbs, but there was death on her face. Her lips were pulled back in a grimace, and her eyes, open wide, stared up and saw nothing. Young she was and might, in a different circumstance, have been judged pretty. Her sallow cheeks were brightened with two large spots of rouge.

“What think you, Jeremy, alive or dead?”

“Dead, to all appearances, but I see no wound.”

“Marks on the throat from strangulation?”

“None.”

“Best take her wrist and feel for a heartbeat.”

That confused me quite proper. “A heartbeat in her wrist, Mr. Perkins?”

“Never mind.” He pointed his club at the ghoulish couple in a manner most threatening. “You’ll stay where you are, or suffer for it.”

He came over to the body, knelt and put down his club, then took the wrist in hand. “You see, Jeremy? Just here. Touch this spot with your thumb, and you can feel the blood flowing — //it’s flowing. It ain’t.”

Then, throwing a wary look at the two miscreants, he returned his attention to the body. He pulled down her blouse and bodice. Her breasts, freed, flopped of their own weight. Titters and giggles arose from the watching crowd. He threw a look of disgust at those straining to sec, then planted his hand over her heart. His palm came up bloody.

“There’s your wound,” he said, “a small one, just under the breastbone, up and into the heart. Not much blood. Death came just so.” He snapped his fingers.

He grabbed up his club and jumped to his feet. Then did he address the crowd: “Now, any of you thinks you may know this poor woman, you may view her face.” To me he said: “Tidy up her bubs, Jeremy. Make her decent.”

I managed that as well as I might and noticed, touching her skin, that it had grown just a bit colder.

“The rest of you,” continued Constable Perkins to those still crowding the passage, “I advise to leave. Sir John Fielding will be here soon, and there will be many more Runners with him. They will not take kindly to gawkers. All but those who remain for purposes of identification or to give evidence, / order to disperse.”

Though they seemed reluctant, most began to turn away and start back down the passage.

“You’ve frightened them off,” said I.

“And now,” said Mr. Perkins, “I must send you away as well. Go fetch Sir John, Jeremy. Tell him what has happened, and when you return with him, bring some lanterns. We soon may not be able to see hereabouts without them.”

I set off then, pushing through the passage, chanting something about the importance of my mission, just as Mr. Perkins had but a few minutes earlier. I squirmed past the last of them and set off down Broad Court at a run. It seemed to me that at some point along the way I caught a glimpse of Mariah, but I had neither time nor desire to make certain of that. I must to Bow Street!

Leaving in haste and in some confusion, Sir John Fielding delegated Constable Baker as messenger to inform Lady Fielding that the magistrate had been called away on urgent matters of his office.

Mr. Baker, starting away, hesitated. “Shall I give out that the matter is murder?” he asked.

“No,” said his chief, “that would only upset her. Ah, but do tell her also that Jeremy is with me and will return with me. She should not, in any case, wait supper upon us.” He punctuated that with a nod, and Mr. Baker hastened toward the stairs. Then, addressing the rest of us: “Now then, let us be on our way.”

We were four in number. Besides Sir John and myself. Mr. Benjamin Bailey, captain of the Bow Street Runners, and young Constable Cowley accompanied us as we set off in the direction of Broad Court Street. Mr. Bailey took the lead, clearing a path for us through the pedestrians as we went; Mr. Cowley followed, and we. Sir John and I, went last of all.

Mr. Cowley turned and pointed ahead. “Here’s a bit of luck, sir. There’s the Raker just ahead with his wagon.” I looked ahead, and there indeed he was. The Raker, a man of ill omen and ugly countenance, was the appointed collector of the indigent dead this side the river. How the citizenry did avoid him! Nor could I blame them, for with the crudely painted skull and crossbones on his wagon which was pulled by two nags quite moribund in appearance, he must have seemed the very embodiment of the death that awaits us all. Frightening tales were told of him. Even to view him was considered by some to be bad luck of the worst sort. Which explained why our side of Bow Street was so crowded and his so empty.

”Shall I tell him to wait. Sir John?” asked Mr. Cowley. “Save him a trip, it would.”

“You may as well.”

The young constable hied off to intercept him. By the time that he rejoined us we had started down New Broad Court and were in sight of the passage where Mr. Perkins awaited us.

“The Raker said he’d come to pick up old Josh, the beggar,” said Mr. Cowley. “He keeled over dead just down from us at Russell Street.”

“The old fellow with the penny whistle?” said Sir John.

“That’s the one.”

“Well, you know,” put in Mr. Bailey, “1 can’t say as I’m surprised. He ain’t looked good these months past.”

“That does sadden me,” said Sir John. “He always had a warm greeting and made a heartfelt thank-you.” Then, with a sigh: “He died swift, and that was a blessing.”

We gave old Josh a respectful moment of silence as we moved on. It fell upon me to break it.

“That is it just ahead, Mr. Bailey,” I called out to him. “The passage there leads back to a yard.”

“Yes,” said he, “I know it well enough — and from that yard back to an alley that leads to Duke’s Court.”

That I had not known. I avoided such dark, narrow places whenever possible.

Constable Perkins’s threats to the gawking crowd had done their work. We found the passage empty, and entering the yard, we found with him but four, apart from the dead woman. He prodded two of them forward to meet Sir John. I recognized them instantly.

“Beg pardon, Sir John,” said Mr. Perkins, “but I thought you might wish to dispose of these two immediate.”

“Who are they?”

“Give him your names.”

“Bert Talley, sir.”

“Esther Jack, your Lordship. But we was just — ”

”Quietr” roared Mr. Perkins. “Lll tell Sir John what I saw. Only then may you speak.”

“Proceed, Mr. Perkins.”

“As to what I saw, that’s quickly said. When Jeremy and I pushed our way through the passage, there was then a great bunch of gapers since sent off and I found these two. He was hauling the victim out from under stairs just above where she now lies. And she — she was tugging away at the purse which is tied about the victim’s waist. Now, it was my opinion, and it is my opinion still, that they were caught in the act of theft; that they meant to take that purse and do a scamper down the alley. Therefore I detained them to await your judgment in the matter.”

“Well presented, Mr. Perkins,” said Sir John. “Now, madam, you may have your say.”

“We was thinkin’ only to help identify her by lookin’ in her purse — a letter or somethin’.”

“Was it necessary to move the corpus to do so?”

“It was, m’Lord,” said the rat-faced Bert Talley. “Only her feet was sticking out from under the stairs. We heard the cry of murder, and we come running. That’s how we found her. So I pulled, and by God, she was warm to the touch.”

“Is that so, Mr. Perkins?”

“It is. Sir John, and so he did inform us. It was then necessary to disturb the body further to be certain the victim was not still alive.”

“So they did endeavor to give some help to you in the matter?”

“In a manner of speaking, yes, sir.”

“And the woman had not opened the purse?”

“No, sir, she had not, just trying to pull it free.”

“Then I fear that since it is a question of intention, and that alone, we must accept their word in this. Mr. Talley and Madam Jack, you may go, but I must tell you that if either of you appear before me in the Bow Street Court, I shall remember this incident and hold it against you. Consider this fair warning.”

With much nodding and hand-wringing, the two gave copious thanks and took their leave down the passage.

A conversation followed between Sir John and Constable Perkins, wherein the description of the scene, the condition of the body, and the nature of the victim’s wound were discussed. Mr. Perkins gave it as his guess that the womem had not been long dead, perhaps only minutes when he and I came upon the scene of the crime.

“Is there any way to ascertain whereabouts in this yard the wound was inflicted?” asked Sir John. “She could not, I assume, have been stabbed where she was found.”

“Not likely, sir. Is it important?”

“It may be. Indeed it may. Mr. Bailey? Mr. Cowley?”

The two came quickly to his side. Mr. Bailey asked Sir John’s pleasure.

“Would you two examine the ground hereabouts and look for signs of a struggle? We are assuming the woman — the victim, if you will — was stabbed elsewhere. Mr. Perkins informs me she is quite corpulent, near twelve stone, so she must have been dragged to that place beneath the stairs. The yard has been tracked up a bit, I fear, but the marks of dragging a body of that size should stand out.”

Mr. Cowley seemed troubled by Sir John’s request. “But, sir,” said he, “it’s gone mighty dark. The moon’s past the point where it’s much help.”

“Then I would advise you to use that lantern I instructed you to bring with you. I trust you did bring it along.”

“Uh, yes. Sir John.”

“Then light it up and get on with it. Mr. Perkins? I should like to speak with him who gave the alarum. Bring the fellow to me, would you?”

As Constable Perkins went to fetch him. Sir John leaned close to me and spoke in a low tone: “Jeremy, describe him to me, would you?”

“Certainly,” said I. “He is a small man, a bit over five feet tall, though not much — less than ten stone, nearer nine — and reasonably well-dressed.”

“Mmm,” he grunted. “That will do. Thank you.”

A moment later the man was before us. I marveled that one of his diminutive proportions could have set up such a roar.

“Tell the magistrate your name,” said Mr. Perkins.

“Sebastian Tillbury, sir.” He spoke up loud and clear.

“And what is your trade, Mr. Tillbury?”

“I’m an ostler, sir. I’ve a way with horses, if I do say so myself. And if you wish to know my place of employment, it is the Elephant and Castle on the Strand.”

“Ah,” said Sir John, “a very respectable inn it is indeed.”

“No better address for travelers in Westminster.”

“That’s as may be, but tell me, Mr. Tillbury, how did you come to find the corpus of this unfortunate woman? Had you made passage through the alley from Duke’s Court?”

“No, sir, that way is right dangerous near dark. I came upon her quite natural, going home, I was. I live in a room off the yard. It ain’t much, but it does me. I came down the passage from Broad Court and near stumbled over her. Just her feet was sticking out from under the stairs.”

“You immediately assumed murder and raised the cry. Why was that? I understand that the body was still warm.”

“I thought just so because nobody would lie in such a place l^jr a rest, no matter how drunk or tired. There is rats and all manner of vermin down under there.”

“I see. Did you see or hear anyone else when you came upon her?”

“No, sir, I did not.”

Then a call came from Mr. Bailey. He and Mr. Cowley had advanced in their investigation toward the perilous alley.

“What is it, Mr. Bailey?”

“We’ve something for you, Sir John.”

“Good. Take me to them, Jeremy. And you, Mr. Till-bury, please wait a bit. We’ll be through with you, directly.”

At Mr. Bailey’s direction we circled wide to reach them. The lantern was held high to show the way.

“What is it then, Mr. Bailey?”

“Just this. Sir John, there was no signs of dragging, and as you said, it was well trod up to those stairs where the body was found, but Constable Cowley did note that one set of footprints in the dirt was deeper than the rest.”

“As would be if a man were carrying a heavy load.”

“Just so. Sir John. So we tracked them back through the dirt to this spot here, which is where the alley begins and the cobblestones start. There’s no following them beyond.”

“I understand, but do carry on through the alley and look for any signs along the way — drops of blood, buttons, anything of the sort that might fix the exact scene of the murder.”

“That we will, sir.”

Together we returned. Sir John and I, to Mr. Tillbury. On our way, he did make this observation: “It sometimes happens, Jeremy, particularly in matters of arson and murder, that he who reports the crime has himself committed it. He wishes attention called to it, and believes he may push suspicion from himself by caUing the alarum. I had considered this possibility with Mr. Tillbury, but I can no longer. It might just be possible for a ten-stone man to drag a twelve-stone woman, but it would be highly unlikely that so small a man could carry one such. I believe we may safely allow the osder to go about his business.”

He did, however, have a few last questions to offer.

“Sir,” said he, touching the black silk band covering his eyes, “as you see, I have lost my power of sight. You say you have a room here. I take it that your door opens onto the yard? You have a window?”

“Yes, sir, just as you say, sir.”

“How many neighbors have you?”

“Here in the yard?”

“Just so.”

Mr. Tillbury thought a moment. “Well, sir, let me consider. There is the old woman lives next me. She is near blind herself, howsomever, so near-sighted is she. Then up above is a sturdy fellow named Jaggers who works as a porter at the post-coach house. I seldom sees him, though.”

“Oh, why is that?”

“He works noon to midnight.”

“And would consequently have been at his place of employment at the time the woman was murdered.”

“I suppose he would. And then also up above, is old Joshua, the beggar — him who plays pennywhistle all round Co vent Garden.”

A pause then. Sir John’s expression did not alter. “I regret to tell you, Mr. Tillbury, word has come to me that Joshua died today on the street. A seizure of some sort, it was.”

A longer pause. “Sad I am to hear that. Him and me shared many a bottle and told many a story. But his age caught him up, I reckon. There was times of late when he could scarce struggle up the stairs.” He sighed. “Perhaps it’s for the best.”

“Perhaps. In any case, you may go with my thanks. I would ask only that you take my young assistant here and present him to your near neighbor, the old woman, so that he might ask her a few questions. Even if she could not see, she may have heard something of importance.”

“Most happy to oblige, sir.”

Sir John turned to me and nodded. Then, as I started off with Tillbury, I heard the magistrate call out, “Mr. Perkins, I believe you have one more witness for me.”

I should have liked to hear him question that witness, for I was always quite fascinated to listen in those situations, but I liked even better that I should be entrusted to do such work myself. It had never fallen to me thus before. I only hoped that I might extract from her some worthwhile titbit of information.

Tillbury led me to her door and knocked upon it.

“Some relation keeps her so, or has provided for her,” said he in a low tone. “A lad from a lawyer’s office comes by each month with some shillings for her — enough to pay the rent and keep her alive.”

A voice came from behind the door: “Who is there?” The tone was querulous, a bit suspicious.

” ‘Tis Tillbury, your neighbor, Mrs. Crewton.”

Something was grunted. A bolt was thrown back, and then the latch popped, and the door swung open. She stood, gaunt and wrinkled, dressed in a tattered frock once quite fashionable. Though I had no true idea of her age, had Tillbury told me she was a hundred, I should have accepted it.