Edward Marston - The Laughing Hangman

Yet still the murder remained unsolved. Pressure from above was strong and the official investigation was as thorough as it could be, but little evidence had been unearthed as yet and the Queen let it be known that she was displeased. Now that his body had been laid to rest, Cyril Fulbeck deserved to be avenged in the most prompt way. Additional men were assigned to help with the search for his killer.

Raphael Parsons kept his head bent and his thoughts to himself throughout the funeral. When the burial had taken place, he waited until the congregation left in strict order of precedence before slipping away in the direction of Blackfriars. When he reached the theatre, he was annoyed to see a sturdy figure waiting for him.

‘I am glad I have caught you,’ said Nicholas Bracewell.

‘Pray excuse me, sir. I am too busy to talk.’

‘But there is no performance here today.’

‘Sadly, no,’ said Parsons.

‘Even you would not expect to stage a play only hours after the funeral of the Master of the Chapel.’

‘I most certainly would. Sentiment and commerce must be kept apart. We cannot let the former dictate the latter. I was sorry to see my old friend laid in his grave, but I would not, from choice, let it affect the entertainment here.’

‘Is that not like dancing on a man’s tomb?’

‘Not in my opinion.’

‘Do you take no account of your actors?’

‘Actors exist to act.’

‘They have feelings, Master Parsons,’ argued Nicholas. ‘Senses, emotions, loyalties. That is especially true of your young company. Their hearts were not hacked from the same flint as your own. I’ll wager they did not want to tread the boards today.’

‘I’d have made them!’

‘They would have hated you for it. Westfield’s Men did not think twice about performance yesterday. When we discovered the body of Jonas Applegarth, the play cancelled itself. Not a member of the company could have been forced upon that scaffold.’

‘I’d have willingly taken their place,’ volunteered the manager. ‘Applegarth dead! I’d have danced a jig all afternoon to mark the occasion!’

Nicholas smarted. ‘Where were you when he was killed?’ he said. ‘With your friend in Ireland Yard?’

‘What is that to you?’

‘I wondered if you would use the same lie twice.’

‘I never used it once,’ retorted the other. ‘Yesterday morning, when that blessed hangman was testing Applegarth’s weight, I was here at Blackfriars.’

‘At dawn?’

‘My day starts early.’

‘Was any else here with you?’

‘Not for an hour or so,’ admitted Parsons. ‘But then Geoffrey, the porter, arrived. He’ll vouch for me.’

‘I am only interested in the exact time when Jonas Applegarth was murdered,’ said Nicholas. ‘You have a story but no witness to its credence. It is so with the death of Cyril Fulbeck. You claim to be in Ireland Yard when that occurred. But nobody there will speak up for you.’

Parsons bridled. ‘What do you mean?’

‘I have asked them all.’

‘The devil take you!’

‘Most residents did not even know who Raphael Parsons was.’

‘You had the gall to intrude on my privacy?’

‘Most certainly.’

‘By what right?’

‘Simple curiosity,’ said Nicholas easily, ‘and the urge to catch a foul murderer. Whoever killed Cyril Fulbeck used the same villainy on Jonas Applegarth. If he was not in Ireland Yard when he claims, he may not have been at the Blackfriars Theatre when he alleges. Do you follow my reasoning?’

‘Hell and damnation!’

Parsons lashed out a hand to strike Nicholas but the book holder was far too quick. He seized the manager’s wrist, twisted his arm behind his back, then pushed him to the ground. Parsons cursed aloud. Rolling over, he got slowly and painfully to his feet, dusting himself off and regarding Nicholas with growling hostility.

‘Let us begin again,’ said Nicholas. ‘Where were you when Cyril Fulbeck was hanged by the neck?’

‘In Ireland Yard.’

‘That lie will not serve.’

‘Ireland Yard!’ repeated Parsons through gritted teeth.

‘Then why will nobody come forward?’

‘Why do you think , man?’

‘Tell me.’

Parsons looked around furtively to make sure that they were not overheard, then glared at Nicholas. After much agonising, he decided that the only way to get rid of his visitor was to tell him a measure of the truth.

‘My dear friend in Ireland Yard is not in a position to acknowledge my friendship,’ he said.

‘Why not?’

‘She is married.’

‘Oh.’

‘Do not ask me to give you her name and address, for that is too great a betrayal. Just accept that I was with the lady at the time when Cyril Fulbeck was hanged.’ He glanced in the direction of Ireland Yard. ‘She would also swear that I was with her at dawn yesterday morning. Her husband is a merchant and travelling to Holland. Do I need to say more?’

Nicholas shook his head. He knew the man was telling the truth now. It absolved him of both murders and took away the one obvious link between Fulbeck and Applegarth. Parsons argued with the one and fulminated against the other. He gave more detail of his relationship with both men.

‘That was what we were quarrelling about only hours before he was killed,’ he said. ‘Cyril found out about her. He read me a sermon on the virtues of marriage and the evils of adultery. Was I a fit person to be put in charge of his choristers when I was committing a dreadful sin? Would not my mere presence corrupt their young minds? Arrant nonsense!’

‘What did you say?’ asked Nicholas.

‘What any man would have said. In round terms, I told him not to meddle in my affairs. What I do between the sheets, when I do it, and with whom, is my affair. I called him a vestal virgin and stormed out of the theatre.’

‘Before going straight to Ireland Yard?’

Parsons grinned. ‘I felt in need of consolation.’ The rancour returned. ‘As for your second accusation, I can rebut that as well. I hated Jonas Applegarth but I did not hang him. I was enjoying other pleasures at the time.’

‘Why did you detest him so?’ asked Nicholas.

‘Ask of him why he detested me ? For that is how it began. We admired his plays greatly and invited him to write one for the Chapel Children. And what did he do?’

‘Reject the offer and rail at you.’

‘Then continue that railing in The Misfortunes of Marriage . We work hard here in Blackfriars and have problems enough to contend with. Why should that bloated knave be allowed to sneer at everything we did? It was unjust. Applegarth simply had to be put down somehow.’

‘With a knife in his back?’

‘That was one way,’ said the manager calmly. ‘I prefer to stab him in the chest with a Prologue.’

Nicholas studied him for a moment with quiet contempt. There was nothing more to be gained from the confrontation, yet he found it difficult to walk away. The manager might have proved that he was not the Laughing Hangman, but Nicholas still felt that the man had some blood on his hands. Had he planned the murders and left a confederate to commit them? His work at Blackfriars was a testimony to his theatrical skills. Could not those same skills be used to stage two hangings?

Parsons taunted him. ‘Have you done with me?’ he said.

‘For the moment.’

‘Good. I must prepare for my rehearsal.’

‘On the day of the funeral?’

‘They’ve taken the performance from me. I’ll not be robbed of a rehearsal as well. The boys are coming here after Evensong.’

‘Why are you making them do this?’

‘I am not,’ said Parsons. ‘They requested it. Ask them, if you do not believe me. You are welcome to watch us, for we only rehearse a few scenes. The boys are rightly upset by the funeral. They want to push it out of their minds for a couple of hours.’ He peered at Nicholas. ‘Have you never lost yourself in work to escape your thoughts?’