Chris Nickson - Come the Fear

The man was close to tears, the deputy thought. He believed him, though; Robert Cates was racked with enough guilt to fill the Parish Church by himself. He hadn’t been the one to seed Lucy, although God only knew how many others he had. He stood slowly.

‘I’ll give you a word of advice, Mr Cates. The next time the devil’s on your shoulder, urging you to take one of the serving girls, brush him away. Remember that they might not want it.’

He left Cates staring into space and closed the door quietly.

The walk up Briggate to Town End didn’t take long. Ben Cates had joined so many of the other merchants up there, a little removed from the stench of the city. There were fields close by, the smell of wild flowers mingling sweetly with the scent of money. Somewhere close by, doves were cooing in their cote.

Will Cates wasn’t at home, the servant told him coldly. He was meeting someone at the Talbot. That place again, Sedgwick thought as he retraced his steps. It seemed as if half the bad things in Leeds happened there. If he had his druthers, he’d tear it apart, brick by brick. But no one was going to grant him that wish.

The place was a warren, a cockpit in the back, rooms for whores and private gambling up the stairs. He wasn’t surprised that he couldn’t spot Cates when he entered. He found a place on a bench close to the door, ordered a quart of ale and waited.

Much of the talk had stopped when he came in, and over the next half hour he was gratified to see many of the customers leave. He allowed himself a small smile at ruining trade for a while. One of the few remaining, half hidden in a shadowed corner, was another of the Constable’s men, watching for the thief taker. The deputy didn’t acknowledge him, but stayed alert for a glimpse of Cates.

When the man finally emerged he was adjusting his coat then stooping to wipe some dust off the silver buckle of a shoe. A wig stood slightly askew on his head and he took the time to straighten it. As he walked towards the door Sedgwick stood and said,

‘Mr Cates? I’d like a word with you, if you’d be so good.’

Taken by surprise, Cates raised his eyebrows, scrutinizing at the deputy’s old clothes and wild hair.

‘And who are you? Looking for charity?’

‘I’m the deputy constable of the city, sir,’ Sedgwick replied, emphasizing the title. ‘We can talk here, or we can go to the jail. Or to your house, if you prefer.’ He allowed the threat of the words to hang in the air.

‘I’ve already talked to Rob Lister,’ Will Cates said impatiently. ‘Didn’t he tell you that?’

Sedgwick smiled. ‘Of course, but there are some more questions I need to ask. Where do you want to talk?’

Cates let out a frustrated sigh and sat, snapping his fingers for the potboy to bring ale. Finally, when they were alone, he said,

‘I hope this is important. There are places I need to be.’

‘Just a stop for a doxie on the way?’ the deputy wondered with a smile.

‘None of your business,’ Cates told him.

‘You knew Lucy Wendell, the serving girl at your house?’

‘Bloody Lucy again?’ Cates raised his voice. ‘Haven’t you found the girl yet?’

‘Oh yes, sir, we’ve found her,’ Sedgwick said.

‘Then what’s the problem?’

‘She was dead. Someone had killed her and her baby.’

Just like his brother, the colour vanished from Cates’s face and his hands trembled as he took a drink.

‘And what do you think?’ he asked. ‘That I had something to do with it? Is that it?’

‘Did you?’

‘Of course not. Don’t be so stupid. I told Rob I wouldn’t have fucked her with another man’s pizzle.’

‘Someone did.’

‘Don’t look to me.’

‘But you’ve had other serving girls.’

Cates started to laugh, the confidence of position and money returning.

‘For the love of God, man, what’s the point in employing a pretty girl if you can’t enjoy her?’

‘Doesn’t matter if they want to or not?’

Cates stared. ‘Of course they want to. If they wish to keep their jobs, that is.’

‘And Lucy?’

Cates shook his head. ‘Not me,’ he said firmly. ‘Try asking my brother, she might have been to his tastes.’

‘I have,’ Sedgwick said. ‘He denies it.’

The man halted with the mug halfway to his mouth and inclined his head.

‘You have your answers, then.’

‘I have some answers,’ the deputy corrected him. ‘I still have to see if they’re honest ones or not.’

Cates seemed amused. ‘You don’t believe me?’ he asked.

‘There’s a great deal in this world I don’t believe until it’s been proved.’

The man shrugged and took a sip of his ale. ‘I can’t prove I never tupped the lass. I’ve been honest enough, I’ve told you I had others, and that I didn’t want her.’

‘The others aren’t dead,’ Sedgwick observed. ‘That’s a good reason for a man to deny something.’

‘Maybe you should ask my father,’ Cates said with a chuckle. ‘I think he’s had almost every serving girl. He likes anything female. Except my mother, of course,’ he added with a smile. ‘He hasn’t wanted her in years.’

‘I’ll be talking to him,’ the deputy promised.

‘You do that.’ Cates stood. ‘See how happy he is with your questions. I can guarantee that he won’t be pleased your stupid little bitch is causing us trouble in death.’ He nodded his farewell.

Sedgwick sat and slowly finished the drink. He believed the brothers when they said they’d never touched Lucy. Their disgust seemed too genuine. He’d been lied to by better men than them, and he felt they’d given him the truth. If they thought twice before lifting the skirts of another serving girl, then some little good would have come from the questions. But he doubted that; it would pass from their minds soon enough. And he still had to deal with Ben Cates; that would be a different matter. He wasn’t young and callow. He was a man who’d made his mark in the city, with wealth and power, and important friends. Still, it was the job he’d wanted and he had to do it.

He walked back up Briggate in the drizzle, the collar of his coat turned up, the smell of wet wool in his nostrils. The day seemed muted, the buildings in shades of grey, the ginnels leading through to the courts filled with deep, dark puddles. At least the rain had cleared some of the shit from the street, he thought, as the turds moved slowly down the runnel on the road, grabbed at by stray dogs crowded around the Shambles. Their ribs showed through their fur, and they snapped and barked at each other as they hunted the scraps from the butchers.

This time he marched to the front door of the house in Town End. He’d barely finished knocking when it swung open and he was looking at Grace the maid.

‘Hello, Grace,’ he said. ‘I’m looking for Mr Cates. Is he in?’

‘Yes, sir.’ She looked flustered, glancing around her, eyes fearful.

‘I’d like to see him.’

Grace took a breath and closed her eyes for a moment to gather herself before showing him through to a parlour.

‘I’ll see if he’s available, sir,’ she said. In a whisper, she added, ‘Please don’t say anything about. .’

‘I promised you,’ the deputy told her. ‘Not a word.’

‘Thank you.’ Relief flooded her face. ‘I’ll tell Mr Cates you’re here.’

He waited a quarter hour by the clock until the door opened again and Cates entered, a frown on his face.

‘The girl said you wanted me.’

‘That’s right,’ Sedgwick said.

‘She said you’re the deputy constable?’

‘I am,’ Sedgwick acknowledged.

‘And what’s the reason you’re here?’

‘Lucy Wendell.’ He spoke the name loud and clear, looking for a reaction.