Andrew Pepper - The Detective Branch

He entered the building through the back, and when he knocked gently on her door and there was no answer, he picked the lock and let himself in. It was a small space, barely enough room for a mattress, but Sarah had managed to erect an easel holding a canvas which she had yet to start. A few brushstrokes marked the white background but nothing else. Pyke gave the room a quick search but found nothing apart from some paint and a few brushes. The air, he thought, smelled of her; it made him think of the way the skin at the sides of her eyes creased when she smiled. It was late afternoon and Pyke was more tired than he realised. As soon as he had removed his coat and boots and lain down on the mattress, his eyelids drooped and he quickly fell asleep.

He was woken by a gentle kick, and when he looked up, Sarah Scott was standing over him, wearing a simple white dress and a blue woollen shawl. Her hair was partly held up in a clip.

‘So Lazarus rises from the dead.’ She said it with a vague sneer, and Pyke knew at once that he hadn’t been forgiven. ‘It’s nice of you to come and see me. Even though I thought I’d locked the door when I left this morning.’

Pyke sat up, yawned and scratched the hair on his chin. ‘I left you a note.’

‘I got it.’

‘When I last saw you, when you visited me, I had no idea I’d have to do something so drastic. I got some news at the last minute which made me realise I’d been set up; that there was no way I’d walk out of that courtroom a free man. I had to make other arrangements; and I didn’t want to involve either you or my son because I knew they’d come after you if I did.’

That seemed to soften her a little. ‘I met Felix one day outside the station house. One of the clerks told me who he was.’

‘Aiding an escape from prison or knowing about it in advance and not contacting the authorities. They can transport you for that.’

Pyke looked at the way her dress clung to her hips. He also thought about how she had come to his aid during his incarceration at Bow Street. But if she was, in fact, Kate Gibb, she had been wilfully deceiving him for the entire time he’d known her.

She saw the way he was looking at her and scowled. ‘You didn’t explain how you got into my room.’

Pyke made space for her on the mattress next to him and patted it. ‘Come on, Sarah. Sit down.’

In the end she did, reluctantly, but kept at least a yard between them. ‘I thought you were going to die, Pyke. We all did; everyone in that room.’

‘I’m sorry I didn’t come to see you sooner. There were things I needed to do.’

‘What things?’

‘If I said scooping shit out of other people’s cesspits, would you believe me?’

Intrigued now, she looked at him and sniffed. ‘I thought there was a funny smell when I walked in here.’

‘You know I told you about a man called Morris Keate?’ Pyke watched her reaction carefully. ‘I needed to find out about Keate’s family, his half-brothers and half-sister. Becoming a night-soil man was the only way I could do it.’

Sarah regarded him with curiosity. If she was Keate’s half-sister, she was hiding it well. ‘And did you?’

He shrugged. ‘Some details. Enough.’

‘Shouldn’t you be concentrating on how to get out of the mess you’re currently in?’

‘The only way I can do that is by proving other people’s culpability. Believe me, there’s nothing selfless about what I’m doing here.’

A lopsided smile spread across her face.

In spite of himself, Pyke found her coolness under pressure alluring. Could she really be Kate Gibb? Suddenly he couldn’t be sure of anything.

‘I missed you,’ she said, reaching out and touching him on the shoulder.

It was hard to tell who had pulled who into an embrace. Their mouths met somewhere in between, their kisses hot and urgent. She had already removed her shawl and he helped her with her dress while she tugged at his trousers. He had always liked her confidence, and her experience as a lover, the ease he felt in her company. Did it matter that she might not be who she claimed to be? This thought left his head as soon as he saw her naked body. He pulled her down on to the mattress, and, as he guided himself into her, feeling her breath on his cheek as he did so, he wondered, if only for a moment, whether he might be using her in some nameless, complicated way.

Afterwards, they lay in silence and stared up at the dark stains on the ceiling. He had done what he’d just done because he wanted to, because he couldn’t stop himself, because he liked her more than he wanted to admit, but he had done it, too, because he wanted to convince himself that she was who she claimed to be, that physical intimacy was somehow a guarantor of truthfulness. Now, exhausted, he saw this for the lie it was. She had been as ethereal and closed off to him as ever, and he’d used what they’d done as a sly form of interrogation. Where was the truthfulness in that?

‘Kate…?’ He waited for her to turn around and look at him.

Eventually she did, but her expression was quizzical. ‘ What did you just call me?’

He felt a slight dampness in his armpits. Perhaps he’d made a mistake.

‘Why did you call me Kate?’

Pyke suddenly felt very foolish. He had expected, or perhaps hoped, that having been addressed by her real name, she would turn to him instinctively and answer him. Now all he’d done was given her a reason to be angry at him.

‘Did I just call you Kate? I’m sorry.’

She pulled the sheet up over her shoulders and turned away from him. ‘Now you’ve got what you came for, Pyke, I think you should go.’

‘I said I was sorry, Sarah.’

She turned around suddenly, her eyes blazing. ‘If you call a woman by another name after you’ve just made love to her, it’s never well received. But this was something else. I could hear it in your voice. It wasn’t a mistake.’ She sat up, folded her arms.

He thought again about Matthew’s description of Keate’s half-sister and made a split-second decision. It had to be her. ‘Come on, Kate. You don’t need to pretend any more.’

Pyke saw the disappointment register in her eyes and knew at once he had been wrong. She seemed both bewildered and angry.

‘I mistook you for someone. I made a mistake. I think I should leave.’ Pyke couldn’t bring himself to look at her.

Sarah sat there quietly, trying to take it in, then shook her head. ‘Do you want to know why I came back here?’

Pyke stood up and found his trousers.

‘The main reason was that I didn’t want you to find out anything about me that would cast me in a bad light.’ She bit her lip.

‘And what might I have found out?’

‘It all seems so silly now. I should never have been worried about what you thought of me.’

Pyke buttoned up his trousers, thinking about what she had just told him. She had liked him and he had just ruined whatever may have existed between them. He felt sick and empty.

But Sarah’s anger hadn’t yet abated.

‘Jesus Christ. Did you even believe I lost my child? Probably not if you thought I was this Kate person.’ She wiped a tear from her cheek. ‘What kind of monster do you think I am?’

Pyke could feel the sweat pouring off him. Had he been swayed by Druitt? But there had been inconsistencies in her story; one moment she hadn’t wanted Druitt’s name mentioned, even in conversation, the next she’d admitted to quite liking him. And she hadn’t testified against Druitt at her trial. That had always bothered him.

‘If you were certain that Druitt had murdered your child, why didn’t you testify against him?’ When she didn’t answer, he added, ‘What is it you didn’t want me to find out?’