The Blighted Cliffs (13 page)

I
was sorry I could not stay for a sermon, for this brand of religion
obviously had much to offer a man like me, but the night was drawing
on and the cemetery was not where I hoped to spend it. Having
obtained more precise directions -'five houses along, the sign is
unmistakable' - I gave my thanks and left him fiddling with Caleb
Drake's lamp.

I
found the street and the house easily enough, though my mind was more
than half distracted with the encounter I'd just had, and
anticipation of the encounter I was about to enjoy. 'Home of the Lady
Magdalene', read the sign over the door, though the building itself
was prim enough. I mounted the steps, and was further confused to see
a line from the Psalms inscribed on the lintel: 'Wash me throughly
from mine iniquity, and cleanse me from my sin; for I acknowledge my
faults, and my sin is ever before me.'

With
my sins very much before me, I lifted the heavy knocker and let it
drop against the door. The sound echoed around the deserted street,
but to no effect. I tried again, though my desire was seeping away
rapidly on that cold doorstep.

A
small hatch in the door shot open with a bang, and a square of yellow
light shone onto my chest. I stooped to look in, and saw a solitary
eye gazing sternly upon me.

'We
are closed.' It was a woman's voice, but hardly the inviting tones I
had expected. 'You may come tomorrow.'

'But--'

'No,
sir, we are very strict. We take no custom after four o'clock.'

'But
madam--'

'Miss!'

'Miss,
I only seek a few words with Isobel.'

'Isobel
is abed. As all good Christians should be at this hour.' The hatch
snapped shut, the eye vanished.

I
surrendered to my fate and returned to the inn, wondering all the way
whether I was losing my senses, or whether Dover really was the most
impossible town in England. Unsurprisingly, I found no answers.

6

MY
THIRD MORNING IN DOVER BEGAN IN EXACTLY THE MANNER OF the first two,
with a pounding and bad news. The pounding was again the boy on my
door, the bad news the men awaiting me in the courtyard: Sir Lawrence
Cunningham the magistrate and the mountainous Constable Stubb, both
charmingly matched in long black cloaks and wide-brimmed hats, like
something out of a puritan tailor's shop window. Their breath steamed
in the blue half-light.

'Mr
Jerrold.' Cunningham's voice did nothing to warm the morning air. 'My
apologies for disturbing you so early.'

'Not
at all, Sir Lawrence. It preserves the rest of my day for matters of
importance.'

Cunningham's
eyes narrowed. 'You may not enjoy the liberty. Some new facts have
reached me which cast you in a most in auspicious light.' My bravado
vanished at the menace in his words.

'I
wonder, where were you last night?'

'You
know full well,' I answered. 'At the castle with you.'

'You
left early with Crawley. Where did you go afterwards?'

Was
he trying to indict me for being turned away from a brothel?

I
thought back. 'To a tavern. Then to a church, and then to bed.'

'And
Crawle
y
was with you?'

'Captain
Crawley and I parted outside the castle gate.' So far I was on strong
ground, but there was a lazy edge to his questions that worried me.

'What
was the name of the tavern, Lieutenant?'

'The
Crown
and Anchor
,'
I said truthfully.

A
knowing look flashed between Cunningham and Stubb.

'What
took you there?'

'I
wanted a drink. Why else?'

'Had
you been there before?'

I
was about to answer in the affirmative, but something in his manner
checked me. He'd been rattling off his questions fairly sharply, but
with this last one he had seemed to tense, like a trapper watching a
fox as it poised its foot over the jaws. Stubb was leaning forward
too, as if waiting for my next words to condemn me. It would be
madness to lie, for doubtless they could produce witnesses; indeed,
from the trend of their questions, they probably already had them.
Catching me in deceit would only seal my guilt in Cunningham's mind.
But I could not escape the conviction that he wanted me to admit my
presence in the
Crown
and Anchor
the night before the death, and if that had brought him calling at
this hour then he must assign it a great significance. And though I
could not imagine what that might be, it could only be to one
purpose. 'No.'

My
heart thumped faster, for now I had strayed from the bounds of fact,
and was vulnerable. But I doubted that the truth would have served me
any better. What did Cunningham know?

The
triumph on Cunningham's face told me he was not deceived.

'You
had never been to the
Crown
and Anchor
before?' he repeated.

'No.'

'So
how, Lieutenant, do you explain a witness who saw you there the night
before the corpse was discovered on the beach?'

'I
do not know that I have to explain it. What does it matter?'

'It
matters because I demand to know.' My obstinacy was evidently
beginning to irritate him, for his thin voice was rising yet higher.

'Is
the refreshment so much better elsewhere?' I remained flippant. 'I
have a mind to try the Dolphin tonight. Would that be a more
appropriate choice?'

'Can
you deny that you were at the
Crown
and Anchor
three nights ago?' Now his face was hot with anger, and the words
screeched forth like the call of some carrion bird.

'I
have denied it, twice. And will continue to do so until you accept
it. Your witness is probably mistaken. He must have seen me in
another tavern.'

'That
I very much doubt,' Cunningham sneered. 'He is the
Crown
and Anchor's
landlord.'

'The...
then he is mistaken.' I was tripping on my words now, for Sir
Lawrence clearly knew my lie. But I'd long ago learned that flat
rejection, if maintained long enough, can stall the most damning
evidence simply by wearing down a man's patience.

And
Stubb was not the most patient of men. 'Keep on denyin' it, Mr
Jerrold,' he growled. 'We knows you was in there, and we knows who
else was there. And we knowed you'd go back, too: the killer always
returns to the scenes of 'is crime.'

That
article of faith seemed so common that I suspected the killer would
be the last man back on the scene. But there was much to puzzle me in
Stubb's words, and I had little time to consider them.

'So
am I now supposed to have committed a crime at the tavern as well?'
That seemed to be his meaning. Perhaps he and Cunningham were bent on
tarring me with every crime in the parish, until one or another
stuck. 'Or do you propose that I thumped the man over the head while
he waited for his drink, then dragged him unseen through Dover onto
the beach?'

'So
you did see 'im there!' Triumph shone in Stubb's face.

'Who?'

'You
knows who. You just said: you saw 'im there waiting for 'is drink.'
His square chin dropped in a grotesque leer. 'We knowed you'd give it
up with time.'

'Forgive
me, Constable, for being a little slow.' There was not a straight
thought in my head at that moment. 'You are telling me that the body
I discovered on the beach had been seen in the
Crown
and Anchor
the night before?' I paused. 'With me?'

'Got
the shillin' 'eads up,' he agreed.

'Was
I seen talking with him?' Surely I could not have been so unlucky as
to have been drinking in the same room as that wretched corpse.

'No,'
allowed Stubb.

That
was something, at least. My confidence began to swell.

'Was
I seen consorting with him at all?'

'No.'
Stubb shifted on his feet. 'But that don't mean. '

'And
why not, Constable? Because I was not there. It was...' I stopped,
within an ace of hanging myself. 'It would have been a busy room
filled with men and noise, and I doubt whether the landlord could in
all truth remember one out of a hundred customers, let alone, as you
suppose, two.'

'But
we need not rely on the landlord.' Cunningham had kept silent during
Stubb's attack, watching with a vague air of disapproval from under
the shadow of his hat. 'Or at the least, we can verify his story. He
says you were seen with a girl.'

I
had forgotten Isobe
l.
If the landlord remembered her, then she could demolish my defence
with two words.

'The
widow Dawson.' Cunningham wiped a dewdrop from the rim of his hat. 'I
imagine she can unravel this matter.'

I
imagined she could, and prayed it would be in my favour. It might yet
prove to be the landlord's mistake, for surely no-one could confuse a
young waif like Isobel with any widow.

Cunningham
and I stood in that freezing courtyard staring silently at each
other, while Stubb went to fetch the Dawson woman. I suggested
retracting inside for a drink and some breakfast, but Cunningham
waved the idea away impatiently. The grooms shoveled piles of
steaming dung from the stables, and the morning light slowly took on
the grayness of the day as my legs stiffened and my clothes grew
damp.

Stubb
returned; instantly I saw that I was ruined. God knew what her
conjugal history had been at such an early age, for she did not look
much more than seventeen, but there was no mistaking the girl at
Stubb's side, complaining loudly at the force of his grip. Isobel
wore a modest blue dress, and her hair was tied back in a way that
accentuated her thin little neck, but her dark eyes flashed with
anger.

'If
you have to drag me out of the laundry,' she hissed at Sir Lawrence,
'there's no cause to do it like I was a common thief.'

'No,'
he agreed. 'Stubb, let her go.'

Reluctantly,
Stubb released her arm, though he stayed standing uncomfortably
close, licking at his lips.

I
saw my one chance. 'Sir Lawrence believes we met in the
Crown
and Anchor
three nights ago,' I said quickly. 'I have assured him that you will
disprove '

'Silence!'
snapped Cunningham. 'Mrs Dawson, I apologize for the need to trouble
you, but I must establish certain facts. The landlord at the
Crown
and Anchor
claims to have seen you talking to, and leaving with, Mr Jerrold
here, three nights back. I do not wish to impugn your virtue, Mrs
Dawson, for I am all too aware of the esteem in which you are held.'
Through my confusion, I noticed the sarcastic bite in his words. 'But
I must know the answer.'