The Deadly Fire (8 page)

‘Mr Elmore told me that she is supposed to have a fortune invested in gold,' said Alfie. ‘He said that he had heard she had fifty thousand pounds in gold. I was wondering today if he had heard that from his brother or his father. They run a gold merchant's business in Ludgate Hill.'

‘Funny that Mr Elmore didn't work there,' said Sarah.

‘I suppose he didn't take to the business,' said Alfie, but something was running through his mind and when they reached the police station at Bow Street he stopped.

‘You go on to the cellar, Sarah. I'm going to have a word with Inspector Denham.'

‘I'll come with you,' said Sarah determinedly and Alfie didn't argue.

Inspector Denham was a small man with heavy, bushy eyebrows. He gave Alfie a keen glance.

‘What brings you here today, Alfie?'

‘Murder.' Alfie's answer was terse. He stared unflinchingly at the man across the desk.

‘Yes?' The bushy eyebrows shot up. He eyed Alfie with annoyance.

Alfie faced him resolutely. Inspector Denham didn't look well, he thought, but he still had to say what he came to say. Sarah glanced from one to the other.

‘So, who's been murdered? Give us a name.' Inspector Denham coughed for a few minutes, holding a white linen handkerchief before his mouth and then putting it back in his pocket.

‘Mr Elmore, the teacher from the Ragged School in St Giles.'

The bushy eyebrows knitted. The powerful man stared at the shabbily dressed boy. ‘There was a fire; I heard that. The man was trapped.'

‘Murdered.' Alfie still kept the confident note in his voice. Even Sarah, who knew him well, could detect no note of uncertainty.

‘Why do you say that?' snapped the inspector.

‘Lots wanted rid of him,' said Alfie succinctly.

‘Need more evidence than that; plenty of people want to get rid of me, but here I am,' said the inspector with a hint of grin.

‘And if you was to be found dead in your office with the place burned around you, I can assure you that I would investigate your death,' said Alfie grandly.

‘Well, that's a bargain, then. But I'll need more evidence before I can investigate the death of Mr Elmore, poor man. You tell me what you know and I'll tell you if there is a case. Who are these people who wanted him dead?'

‘First of all there was Mary Robinson – the woman who lends money to the costermongers at Covent Garden. Do you know about her?'

The inspector nodded. ‘Yes,' he said cautiously. ‘That's my patch, I was aware that something was going on.'

‘Charging six hundred per cent. That means that for every hundred pounds she lends, she gets back six hundred.' Alfie suddenly felt a pang. Without Mr Elmore he would never have heard of percentages, let alone understand how they worked. ‘He was on to her and he was trying to tell all the costermongers
in Covent Garden and the stallholders in the other markets about her tricks.'

‘Wasting his time.' Inspector Denham sounded dismissive. ‘What else can these poor people do? They haven't enough left over by Sunday night to buy their fruit and vegetables on Monday morning. They haven't a hope of doing without the money lender. Admittedly she's a particularly greedy lady, but other money lenders have disappeared from the markets, these days.'

Alfie thought of the box where, penny-by-penny, sixpence-by-sixpence, the week's rent was kept safe before any money could be spent on extra food or luxuries such as second-hand clothes. There were times when he felt sick and tired of the responsibility, but he now resolved that he would try to be a week ahead in the future. He never wanted to have to rely on someone as ruthless as Mary Robinson for their survival.

‘And then there was Thomas Orrack, the fellow that used to teach at the school. Mr Elmore insisted that he be sacked for being drunk and violent.'

‘That happened almost a month ago. Why do something now and not then?'

‘And then there is Joseph Bishop, the body snatcher,' said Alfie.

Inspector Denham's face darkened. ‘If you can pin it on . . .' he began and then tightened his lips.

Sarah shivered. She hated the name of Joseph Bishop.

Alfie gave a half-nod. ‘Mr Elmore was warning everyone about Joseph Bishop,' he said in neutral tones.

‘Came here a couple of times, but we could do nothing.' The inspector sounded apologetic. ‘Seemed we could never catch him in the act. He knew too many ways of hiding if there were any policemen around.'

He brooded for a moment. And then his eyes sharpened. He looked from one to the other.

‘Whatever you do,' he said emphatically, ‘keep away from Joseph Bishop, both of you. No investigating Joseph Bishop; that's an order. I wouldn't like to feel responsible for anything happening to either of you. Now off you go, the two of you. I'll make a few enquiries, I promise you.'

‘Get your men to look at the site – there's a burnt-out oil tin there. Mr Elmore didn't use oil. There was nothing but a few tallow candles there in the Ragged School.' Alfie still did not want to mention the clay footprint. He wanted to think about the significance
of this. And, of course, if possible, he wanted to be the one to track down the owner of the footprint.

‘Useful piece of information,' said Inspector Denham. He took a shilling from his pocket and placed it on the table. ‘Here's something towards the rent. You're managing all right, the four of you, are you?'

‘We're managing all right,' said Alfie. He gave a slight grimace at the thought that, with Charlie, the gang was probably now five.

‘You eat well!' Charlie swallowed his last sausage and sat back. He was terribly thin, thought Alfie as he poked the fire. He would need a lot of feeding up. He looked at the boy dubiously and Charlie looked back at him hopefully.

‘I suppose I should be moving along tomorrow morning,' he said.

Alfie grinned. ‘Got a good job lined up at the Bank of England?' he enquired and Charlie laughed.

‘I'll be all right,' he said brightly. ‘I'll find something.'

‘You can stay if you like,' said Alfie carelessly. ‘We'll find you something to do. Can you do any tricks?'

‘I could teach him,' said Tom eagerly. ‘We could work up some sort of routine.'

‘If you could get me some clay, I could make some marbles and Tom and I could sell them to kids,' said Charlie. ‘Some of the fellows at the brickworks used to do that as a sideline – no one would miss the clay.'

‘How would we get clay?' asked Alfie. ‘And where would we get the shovel to dig it?

‘I can tell you an easy way of stealing some if you don't mind going out at night. I daren't go near the place, myself. That foreman would have me clapped in jail as soon as he laid his eyes on me. He kept telling everyone that the last fellow who ran away got two years' hard labour in the prison. We have to get the clay, though, and then we can sell the marbles for a penny a dozen. It's easy money, the fellow at the brickworks told me that.'

Alfie began to feel interested. He had his own reasons for wishing to have some clay. His gaze went thoughtfully to the chunk of hardened clay, still bearing the distinct mark of a boot sole.

‘How hot a fire would you need to get something as hard as this?' he asked, reaching over and handing the lump to Charlie.

Charlie turned it over admiringly in his hand.
‘This is as hard as you can get it.'

‘Could you make it as hot as that in our fire?'

Charlie shook his head. ‘No, not a big piece like that, but the fire there would be all right for marbles.'

‘That's not what you were thinking, was it, Alfie?' Sarah's sharp eyes were fixed on his face.

‘No,' said Alfie. ‘I was thinking about the fire at the Ragged School. You see, I put this clay in that crumbling old timber cupboard by the front door. I reckon that someone put a can of oil into the same cupboard, set fire to it and then sneaked back out. The fire would have burned inside the cupboard for a while . . .'

‘And the oil would have made it burn very fiercely,' interrupted Sarah. ‘Even oil lamps are very hot, much hotter than timber fires.'

‘Let me feel it.' Sammy stretched out his hand and Alfie placed the hard lump on his brother's knee, guiding the sensitive fingers so that Sammy could feel all the imprint of the boot.

‘Got a good sole on it – you wouldn't slip with all those ridges, would you?'

Sammy was still running his fingers across the piece of clay. ‘Not too large a boot, is it?' he added.

‘No,' agreed Alfie. ‘Bigger than Jack's, though, isn't
it, Jack? And Jack has big feet for his age. So I don't think it was any of the kids going to the cupboard, and Mr Elmore would have said if he had stood on a lump of clay. He'd have had a word with me about leaving it on the floor.'

‘Definitely bigger than my boot,' said Jack, neatly cleaning the frying pan by licking the cooled fat from its surface and then putting it down so that Mutsy could finish the job. He placed the remaining string of sausages in a tin box and then sat down beside the others.

‘Bears down heavily on the right foot, too, I'd say.' Sammy had not yet finished with the clay. ‘See, this side of the heel is worn down. Do you know what I'd guess, Alfie,' he continued. ‘I'd say that the person that wore this boot, walks a bit heavily on that side, not exactly a limp, more like bearing down a bit. Got rheumatism, or something in the left leg. Could be that.'

‘So we look for someone who favours one leg when he walks?' Alfie nodded to Sarah. ‘At least it's something to get started with.'

‘Or someone who favours one leg when
she
walks,' said Sammy quietly. ‘Didn't you tell me that Mary Robinson wore men's clothes?'

Alfie nodded. ‘That's right, and she does wear boots.
Big woman so she probably would have big feet.'

‘So she definitely could be a suspect,' said Sarah.

‘Suspect for what?' asked Tom.

Jack was also looking puzzled.

‘Alfie thinks that Mr Elmore was murdered – that the fire wasn't an accident but was meant to kill him,' said Sarah.

‘And we all went home and Mr Elmore went back upstairs to his office with that little tiny window. That was what trapped him,' said Jack sadly.

‘We must find out who killed him,' said Sarah. ‘Inspector Denham didn't think it was a murder, so now it's up to us. We've done it before with Mr Montgomery's murder, and we can do it again.'

‘Inspector Denham was pretty free with his shillings after you solved the last murder. I remember the slap-up meal we had that night.' Jack rubbed his hands at the thought of it.

‘There'll be no reward for the death of Mr Elmore,' said Sarah with a sigh. ‘He only mattered to the poor people. That father and brother of his didn't look like they cared.'

‘So who are the suspects, then?' asked Tom in a businesslike manner, with an eye on Charlie to see whether he was impressed.

‘Mary Robinson is my number one suspect,' said Alfie. ‘We know that she had a motive for getting rid of Mr Elmore and we know that she was outside the school that night.' From the corner of his eye, he could see Tom blushing in a shamefaced way and Jack looking worried, so he hurried on. ‘But we have to think of Thomas Orrack, too – you remember him? The teacher that Mr Elmore dismissed because he was always drunk and on account of him beating little Emily in the alphabet class just because she didn't understand something, poor mite. And then there is Joseph Bishop. Mr Elmore kept going to the police about him. He warned all the kids to keep away from him and more or less said that he suspected him of murder. That's three suspects to be going on with! Any more that you can think of, Sarah?'

‘Not really,' said Sarah, ‘but I'll keep my ears open when the servants are having their dinner. Everyone was talking about it today and they'll probably still be discussing it tomorrow. Are you going to tell Inspector Denham about the clay print?'

‘No point,' said Alfie firmly. ‘He's made up his mind that it's an accident. Anyway, it's better if we solve it ourselves. We've got more brains than those fellows in Bow Street.'

‘How are you going to do it?' asked Jack.

‘What we need,' said Alfie, ‘is to get a print from the right boot of all three of the suspects.'

‘So you need some clay!' Charlie had a grin on his face. ‘And afterwards we can use it for marbles. That's the great thing about clay. Until the moment it's baked, it can be used again and again.'

‘So how do I get it?' Alfie squared his shoulders solidly.

‘You'll need to wait until after midnight,' said Charlie. ‘Until then the work is going on and it starts again at six o'clock in the morning. But between those times it's quiet. Everything is locked up, of course, but there's a loose board in the fence next to Adeline Street and you can get through there.'