Read The Detective Branch Online
Authors: Andrew Pepper
Tags: #London (England) - History - 1800-1950, #Mystery & Detective, #Pyke (Fictitious Character: Pepper), #Pyke (Fictitious Character : Pepper), #Fiction, #General, #Mystery Fiction, #Historical, #Traditional British, #Suspense, #Crime
The Detective Branch (19 page)
Palmer regarded him with interest. ‘I couldn’t agree with you more, Detective. Sir Richard was just being diplomatic. I plan to take the department for all I can get.’ He grinned at his own joke.
Palmer acknowledged Mayne with a nod of the head and then let himself out of the room.
‘This is good work, Detective,’ Mayne said, when they were alone. He was holding the route-paper Pyke had written. ‘Thorough and imaginative.’
‘Thank you, sir.’
‘This Catholic priest, the one you arrested, lied about not knowing Isaac Guppy?’
‘It would seem so; I plan to question him further.’
‘So, you have two lines of investigation. This priest constitutes one; Francis Hiley the other.’
‘That’s correct.’
Mayne looked down at the route-paper in front of him. ‘Question the priest but don’t forget about Hiley.’
Pyke wondered why everyone seemed to be so keen to implicate the ex-convict.
‘That will be all, Detective Inspector. Good afternoon.’
There was a woman waiting for Pyke in his office when he returned from his exchange with Mayne. She was respectably dressed in a dark-coloured blouse, a grey flounced crinoline skirt and a woollen shawl covering her shoulders. It took Pyke a few moments to remember where he’d seen her before.
‘Mrs Morris.’ He gestured for her to take the chair on the other side of his desk. ‘Now what can I do for you?’
‘I have a son, he’s twelve. Not a bad lad but he never listens to his mother. I found this among his possessions,’ she said, rummaging around in the cloth bag she’d brought with her. ‘I asked him where he’d got it and he told me he’d found it in one of the upstairs rooms at number twenty-eight.’ She removed what looked to be a garment of some kind and shook out the creases. ‘Apparently it was just hanging there on an old nail.’
Pyke took it from her and inspected it more closely.
Made from black cloth, it was a surplice with thin strips of rabbit fur attached to both shoulders.
TEN
B
rendan Malloy sat on the hard floor of the cell, back against the wall and arms wrapped around his knees, shaking. Neither his ankles nor his wrists had been shackled but he still looked pathetic. The gin fumes from his breath filled the small space and mingled with the scent of his body odour. In the light of a solitary candle it was hard to see his face beneath the dark, tangled morass of whiskers.
rendan Malloy sat on the hard floor of the cell, back against the wall and arms wrapped around his knees, shaking. Neither his ankles nor his wrists had been shackled but he still looked pathetic. The gin fumes from his breath filled the small space and mingled with the scent of his body odour. In the light of a solitary candle it was hard to see his face beneath the dark, tangled morass of whiskers.
‘Get me a pint of gin and I’ll tell you anything ye want, sir. Just get me some gin. Please.’ He held up his hands in supplication.
‘If you answer my questions in a manner I consider to be satisfactory, I might give you what you want.’
Pyke took a step into the cell. ‘When we last met, I asked you whether you knew or had ever met Reverend Isaac Guppy. You told me you’d never heard of him.’
Malloy’s stare fell to his boots; he didn’t make any attempt to deny the lie he’d been caught in.
‘Why didn’t you tell me you’d visited Guppy in March?’
‘Is that why I’m here? ’Cos I mighta been to the man’s house on one occasion?’
‘So you don’t deny you went to see him?’
Malloy just shrugged.
‘Why did you go to see him? And why did you lie to me about knowing him?’
‘I didn’t kill him.’ He looked up at Pyke, his eyes wide and pleading. ‘Isn’t that the important question?’
‘The hammer of witches. Is that just a coincidence?’
Malloy seemed puzzled.
‘Guppy was beaten to death with a hammer.’
The former priest held up his bony, trembling hands. ‘Does it look like I could kill a man with these?’
It was true that Pyke couldn’t imagine Brendan Malloy wielding a hammer to any great effect. ‘Where were you last Tuesday night, between the hours of eight and midnight?’
Malloy’s stare drifted back to the floor. ‘I couldn’t exactly say; these days I can hardly remember what I did yesterday. But I’d say I was where you found me earlier or in the Black Lion. I don’t tend to venture much farther ’n that.’
Pyke made a mental note to send Shaw to check with the landlord and drinkers there, to see whether anyone remembered seeing Malloy that night. ‘You still haven’t answered my question. Why did you go and see Guppy?’
Malloy wiped his hand across his forehead. ‘To warn him, that’s all.’
‘Warn him about what?’
‘Before I can tell you, you have to understand something about Ebenezer Druitt.’
Pyke nodded for him to continue.
Malloy’s hands were trembling violently now. ‘Do you know what a mesmerist is?’
‘I think I know what a mesmerist does. Or claims to do.’
‘Folk would come and see Druitt at number twenty-eight. Folk with ailments, problems. Druitt would put them to sleep and pretend he was curin’ them. They’d pay him good money, too.’
Pyke nodded. He remembered reading about Franz Mesmer, who’d studied medicine in Vienna and had initially believed that cures could be achieved by rubbing diseased bodies with magnets. Eventually Mesmer had come to realise that the power of suggestion was even more potent and he had travelled to Paris to try to convince experts that his findings had medical uses.
‘You’re suggesting Druitt was a fraud?’
‘A fraud?’ Malloy laughed bitterly. ‘No, I don’t think he was a fraud. But he was a dangerous man - still is. He could terrify and charm in equal measure, but he also claimed he had the gift of prophesy, said he was visited by spirits. If you’d seen one of his acts, you mighta believed him too.’
Pyke felt his frustration rise. ‘What’s any of this got to do with Isaac Guppy?’
‘I was just tryin’ to explain. Earlier this year, Druitt told me he’d foreseen that an Anglican vicar called Guppy would die. This was when we were still on speakin’ terms. I asked him whether he felt he had a duty to warn this Guppy. Druitt just laughed, said that one less vicar in the world would be a good thing. At first I didn’t know what to do, but I didn’t feel I could sit back and do nothing, so I went looking for him.’
‘You just approached him, a total stranger, and told him a man called Druitt had prophesied his death?’
Malloy nodded.
‘Did he believe you?’
‘Not at first.’
‘What changed his mind?’
‘I don’t know. At the time, I thought I’d convinced him that Ebenezer Druitt wasn’t a man to be taken lightly.’
‘But afterwards?’
‘It was only when I told him my name that his whole attitude changed.’
Pyke contemplated this. ‘You think he knew who you were?’
‘I’d say so,’ Malloy replied, nodding.
‘Only you’d never met him before.’
‘That’s right.’
‘Maybe Druitt wanted you to tell Guppy. Did you ever think about that? I mean, why else would he go to the trouble of taking you into his confidence?’
Malloy shrugged. ‘That could be true, I suppose. Druitt could’ve had some business with Guppy I didn’t know about. It would have been like him, too. Wantin’ to frighten the man and gettin’ me to do it for him.’
Pyke studied Malloy’s face for signs that he was lying. ‘And did you tell Druitt what you’d done?’
That elicited a gallows laugh. ‘’Course I didn’t tell him. Druitt’s not just a mean man, sir, not just a man with violence in his blood. If he were just that, I wouldn’t have been afraid of him.’
Pyke dug his hands deeper into the fur-lined pockets of his greatcoat. ‘Then tell me why you were afraid.’
‘Still am, sir. Still am.’
‘Even though he’s locked away in the Model Prison at Pentonville?’
‘Evil recognises no walls, sir, and that’s the truth. Look into his eyes and you’ll know what I’m talking about. You’ll feel the chill in your soul.’
Pyke considered this for a moment. He believed that Malloy was telling the truth but he had no way of knowing how mentally disturbed the former priest actually was.
‘I’d like you to tell me about Sarah Scott,’ he continued.
‘What about her?’ Malloy said, curling up into an even tighter ball. His eyes glistened manically in the candlelight.
‘Did the two of you live together at number twenty-eight?’
‘She lodged there for a while.’
Pyke nodded. ‘Were the two of you lovers?’
‘That’s none of your business, sir,’ Malloy muttered, but his indignation seemed unconvincing.
‘It’s my job to find out who killed Isaac Guppy, and if I decide your affair with this woman, Sarah Scott, is relevant to my enquiries, then I’ll make it my business to dig up every sordid detail, whether you like it or not.’
Malloy said nothing but continued to glare at him.
‘Is that why you left the Catholic Church?’
‘I had my reasons, sir.’
‘Do you know where I can find her now? If I felt you were being co-operative with me, I might allow the gaoler to bring you some beer or even some gin.’
That seemed to do it. ‘Last I heard she’d gone to live in a vegetarian colony in Suffolk.’ Malloy hesitated and then continued. ‘A place called Stratford St Mary, near Ipswich.’
‘Are the two of you still corresponding?’
‘She’s there, I’m here,’ he said glumly.
Pyke considered the man crouched in front of him for a moment. ‘I read the court transcript of Druitt’s trial. I was interested to see that Sarah Scott wasn’t asked to testify.’
‘She’d just lost her child. Is it any wonder she didn’t feel up to takin’ the stand?’
Pyke looked into Malloy’s proud, gin-ravaged face. ‘In the end, it came down to your word against Druitt’s. The jury believed you and not him.’
‘I was there. I
saw
him. That bastard, he knew I was watchin’ him, and you know what he did, just before he let go of the baby? He looked down at me and smiled.’
saw
him. That bastard, he knew I was watchin’ him, and you know what he did, just before he let go of the baby? He looked down at me and smiled.’
‘What still puzzles me is the lack of motive. Druitt didn’t have any reason for wanting that child dead.’
‘Haven’t you listened to a single word I’ve told you?’ Malloy said, shaking his head.
‘Are you saying that Druitt didn’t need a reason?’ Pyke made it clear that he didn’t believe this for a moment. Instead, he said, ‘The surplice that Isaac Guppy was wearing on the night he was murdered turned up the other day in one of the upstairs rooms at number twenty-eight.’
‘So?’
‘So, it stands to reason that Guppy’s murderer took the surplice to your old address. And at the moment you’re the only person I can think of who lived at number twenty-eight and had met Guppy. Now, do you see the trouble you’re in?’
But Malloy seemed far away. ‘I always knew he could still get to me . . .’
‘Druitt? But he’s locked away in Pentonville?’
Malloy held his breath, as if weighing up what Pyke had just said. ‘You still don’t understand, do you? I thought I’d be safe; I’d be out of his reach.’ Malloy started to rock back and forth, his arms clamped tightly around his knees.
‘Has Druitt been sending you letters from prison?’
Malloy buried his face in his hands and began to sob. It was a while before he was able to speak. ‘When you fall from grace, when you cut yourself off from God, there’s nowhere left to hide.’ Without warning, Malloy sprung forward and grabbed Pyke’s coat sleeve. ‘Don’t you see what I’ve been trying to tell you? Druitt isn’t just a dangerous creature. He’s not just a man. He’s the Devil. Druitt is Satan himself.’
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