Bruce Alexander - The Price of Murder

He took two laps at a trot, then a canter, and back to a trot, then, for the first time that morning, at a full gallop, and only then was Pegasus allowed a walk. The important thing, as Mr. Patley explained it, was to keep the horse moving. Yet there was never any sign from Pegasus that he wished to rest. He seemed always to be ready to go round again at full gallop-and not only to be ready, but eager to do so.

Mr. Patley shook his head and whispered to me, “I never saw a horse so willing.”

At the first sign of another horse and rider, Deuteronomy pulled him in and ended Pegasus’s sport. No more gallops, though he might be permitted to prance a bit.

“What say you to a bit of breakfast?” asked Mr. Patley. “My turn to buy.”

“Well,” said I, “that suits me well, but let’s return by way of the market.”

“Why? You so hungry that you can’t wait?”

“No, it’s just that I was figuring that if we’re hungry, then Stephen and Alice must be, too. I think it’s a good time of the day to look for her there.”

“How is it you always got an answer for me that makes good sense?”

“I guess I’m just a sensible young fellow,” said I.

“There you go,” said Patley. “You did it again.”

The market area was even larger than I had at first realized. There was a whole street of fruit and vegetables that led off from the market square, which I had not noticed previously. The sun was well up now, and the crowd from the hill poured down from above. I dawdled my way through the market that the constable might have a chance to peer into the face of each and every woman we passed, whether she be dressed in a teal-blue or a plum-colored frock, or whatever. Alas, he looked in vain, for she was nowhere to be seen. I rewarded him for his effort with an apple-from the barrel, of course, but unbruised and unspotted. It cost me a pretty penny.

Up at the inn, eating a breakfast of johnny-cakes and coffee, we discussed how we might go about seeking Alice Plummer, and what we might do with her if and when she be captured.

“’Twould be an awful pity to leave Newmarket before the race is run,” said he to me.

“Well,” said I, “that’s true enough. I’ve even agreed to do a favor for someone. I’d have to back out of my promise if we headed right back to London.”

Mr. Patley put on a gloomy face and let go a great sigh. “It ain’t good to back out of a promise. That someone you’re doing the favor for wouldn’t happen to be Mr. Deuteronomy, would it?”

“It might be just anyone, but I’m not free to say who it is.”

“I’ll take that to mean that I’m right.”

“Just as you choose,” said I with a smile.

And why the smile? Not merely to bedevil Mr. Patley, for there were simpler ways of doing that. I’d had an idea, one that would make it unnecessary to tie our prisoner to the bed in our room at the Good Queen Bess; to bind and gag her; or to do anything that might ultimately prove embarrassing to us and reflect badly upon Sir John; one, in short, that would work to the satisfaction of all except Alice Plummer.

Though I now had an idea of just where Alice might be, and Mr. Deuteronomy had told us enough about Stephen so that we might recognize him in a small crowd, it was still no easy matter to find them. We must have visited near a dozen stables, asking for Stephen, telling our lies and half-truths about our need to find him, lies that sounded merely specious even to me. Then, let us say, at the thirteenth stable (it may have been at a greater or lesser number, but that is what we shall call it), we found our Stephen.

Mr. Deuteronomy’s description had done him fair justice: he was tall (about six feet) and certainly fair (his hair was so blond that it appeared at first look to be white), and he could not deny his name was Stephen, for he answered to it when Mr. Patley bellowed out the name. He came from the rear of the stable, a pail of water in his hand. I allowed Mr. Patley to take the lead at this place, as he had at each one thus far.

“Your name is Stephen, then?” Mr. Patley asked.

“Supposing it is,” he said, “what was it you wanted?”

“We’re looking for a woman named Alice-Alice Plummer. Do you know her?”

He gave it some thought, then pouched his lower lip and shook his head in a firm denial. “No, I can’t say I do.” Then he surprised us by adding, “But I used to know a woman by that same name, I think it was. What was the last name again?”

“Plummer.”

“Yes, I knew an Alice Plummer, all right, but that was seven or so years ago.”

“Oh, well, have you seen her about in the last few days?”

“Why no. Is she here?”

“She’s been seen. If you happen to run into her, or if she comes by for a visit, ask her to get in touch with us, will you? That’s Mr. Proctor and Mr. Patley at the Good Queen Bess. We’re up here from London, and we’ve a message for her about her daughter.”

“Well, what is the message? I’ll pass it on to her if I see her.”

For some reason, Mr. Patley looked at me in an inquiring manner, as if wondering what now he might say and asking me for a suggestion. I was ready for him.

“We’ve been told to give the message to none but her,” said I. “Sorry.”

He hesitated, and then, certain there was no other way out, he promised to pass the message on to Alice, should he happen to run into her. We left him, staring after us and looking a bit confused.

We were no more than a few steps away and just out of earshot when, in quiet tones, I called the constable’s attention to a wall just round the corner where we might wait for Alice.

“I give her five minutes at the most,” said I.

“Closer to two, I vow.”

If we’d had a wager riding on it, Mr. Patley would have won. There was no mistaking her voice: first, a mildly acrimonious overture as she and Stephen wrangled over whether or not she should go to the inn and discover the nature of the message about Maggie.

“Alice, dear Alice, don’t you understand? ’Tis only a device to force you out, to get you to show yourself.”

“And don’t you understand?” came the muffled reply (for they were still inside the stable). I’ve little choice-none at all! If Maggie needs me, then I must go to her.”

Then did they quite explode into view-she running out the door of the stable, and he pursuing her, catching her up, grasping her arm to pull her back. The two nearly collided with another couple, older and ill-tempered, who abused them with harsh words and curses. Then, as Alice struggled to free herself from Stephen’s grip, they gathered a crowd round them, which was not at all to our liking. Yet those in the crowd were mostly women, and they set up a great din in her favor; whores and pickpockets were they by the look of them; they were her jury, and they found in her favor.

“Leave her be!”

“Unhand her, you bully!”

“She did naught to deserve such treatment, I wager.”

Her friend Stephen found it impossible to withstand such force. In spite of myself, I pitied him, though had he prevailed, our immediate problem might have been greatly complicated. Yet his last words could have been, and should have been, much gentler.

As he released her, he snarled, “Awright then, you drunken cow, you’re goin’ into a trap. I’ll do what I can for you, but I’ll have to wait till my relief comes on.” He turned away and headed back to the stable.

Alice, now free to go, stumbled about for a moment, looking round her wildly. Then, without a word to her rescuers, she set off down the hill at an awkward run.

I had then to restrain Constable Patley. He was all for catching her up and detaining her soon as ever we could-chasing her down, if need be.