Andrew Pepper - Kill-Devil and Water

Field’s irises contracted slightly. ‘And you decided to wait until now to inform me of it?’

‘I didn’t think anything of it at the time. Or I didn’t know what to think.’

‘But you still kept it from me.’

‘Jerome Morel-Roux.’

‘Just that?’

Pyke nodded. ‘That was all she said.’ He waited. ‘You know he’s the valet awaiting trial for the murder of Lord Bedford?’

‘I’m aware of that fact.’

‘Do you know why Bessie Daniels might have wanted to pass on this name to you?’

‘I have absolutely no idea.’ But something about the way Field said this told Pyke he was lying.

Pyke looked around the orderly room, still trying to reconcile it with his sense of Field. ‘I’ve done what you asked me to do.’

The only noise in the room was the rattling of iron-shod wheels and clip-clop of horses’ hoofs outside on the street.

‘What’s this man’s name?’ Field asked, fiddling with his moustache. ‘The one who’s absconded.’

‘Alefounder. William Alefounder.’

‘And the mistress?’

‘A woman called Elizabeth Malvern.’

Field looked up at him. ‘Could you repeat that name for me?’

‘Elizabeth Malvern.’

‘That’s what I thought you said.’

Pyke looked into Field’s eyes. ‘Do you know her?’

‘No, not personally,’ Field said, waving off a fly. ‘But if you were to ask Crane the same question, he might well give you a different answer.’

It took Pyke a few moments to comprehend what Harold Field was trying to tell him.

‘Where’s Bessie Daniels?’

Pyke had followed Crane through the shop into a dirty yard and then on to a dilapidated printing room. There, they were joined by Sykes and another man Pyke had never seen before.

‘As I’ve told you before, I let her go.’

‘She hasn’t returned home.’

‘You know that for a fact?’

‘What have you done with her?’

‘I’m getting a little tired of repeating myself.’ Crane shared a brief look with the hulking Sykes.

Inside his pocket, Pyke brushed his finger over the sharp end of his sheath knife. ‘Field thinks you’re involved in some kind of political action relating to the trial of a Swiss valet, Jerome Morel-Roux. ’ This was just a guess — and a wild one at that — but Pyke couldn’t think of any other reason why Crane would be connected with the plight of the Swiss valet.

Crane’s hooded eyes glittered. ‘A political action, eh? Like storming the barricades?’

‘So you don’t deny the basic truth of what I just said?’

‘I’m certainly intrigued to know how he reached this particular conclusion, even if it is utterly wrong.’

‘It’s not true, then?’

Crane just shrugged. ‘I can’t see why a criminal like Field would be interested in a squalid little political… what did you call it? Political action.’

‘At least Field knows what he is.’

‘And I don’t?’ Crane seemed amused by this notion.

Pyke took a step towards Crane and saw Sykes and the other man stiffen. ‘I’ve upheld my end of our agreement. Now I want to know what took you to Thrale’s lodging house.’

Crane wetted his lips. ‘But have you? For all I know you’ve just plucked something out of the air.’

‘Why did you go and see Mary Edgar and Arthur Sobers?’

‘It was nothing really. Sobers had been harassing this woman he’d slept with. The brothel owner, and a friend of mine, asked for my assistance in putting him straight.’

‘And that’s it?’

Crane’s stare was empty of sentiment. ‘I’m sorry if you were expecting something more dramatic.’

‘You’re quite sure about that?’

‘Quite sure.’

‘In which case,’ Pyke said, holding out his hand, ‘perhaps we should shake hands and go our separate ways.’

Crane exchanged a glance with Sykes before offering his hand. It took Pyke just a few seconds to twist Crane around, retrieve his knife, put his head into a lock and hold the serrated edge against the pornographer’s neck. ‘One move and I’ll slit your throat, and not give it a moment’s thought,’ Pyke whispered in Crane’s ear.

The quickness of Pyke’s move had caught Sykes and the other man by surprise and neither seemed to know what to do.

‘That understood?’ When Crane didn’t say anything, he added, ‘Is that understood?’

‘Yes,’ was all Crane managed.

‘Now tell your two apes to back off and not attempt anything rash.’ He dug the blade into Crane’s neck and drew a few spots of blood. ‘ Do it.’

‘Do what he says,’ Crane hissed. The two others did as they were told.

‘Now tell me what really took you to Thrale’s lodging house.’

Crane squirmed a little in his grip but Pyke kept the knife to his throat. ‘You’re a dead man, Pyke,’ he whispered. ‘You kill me, you’re a dead man. You don’t kill me, you’re a dead man.’

Pyke dug the edge of the blade deeper into Crane’s neck. ‘I just want the truth.’

‘I did it as a favour for a friend. They wanted to frighten Sobers and Edgar into leaving the country.’

‘Your friend’s name.’

‘You’ll have to kill me before I tell you that.’

‘Elizabeth Malvern.’ Pyke felt Crane’s body stiffen. ‘I’m right, aren’t I?’

‘If you knew that already, why are you even here?’

‘I need to know why she asked you to try and intimidate Sobers and Mary Edgar.’

‘I don’t know. You’ll have to ask her.’

‘Don’t worry, I will.’ Pyke could smell the acrid scent of Crane’s body odour. ‘But right now I’m asking you. Where can I find her?’

‘She’s not here.’

‘So it’s true she’s gone to the West Indies?’

‘If you know all about her, why do you need me?’

‘Why did she go?’

‘Something to do with her brother. That’s all I know.’

‘What’s someone who volunteers for the Vice Society doing with a pornographer like you?’

‘You may as well cut my throat now,’ Crane whispered, ‘because that’s as much as I’m going to tell you.’

Pyke could see that Sykes was preparing to take matters into his own hands. Wheeling Crane around so that they were blocking the door, he released his grip around Crane’s neck and pushed him into Sykes’s path. As they collided, Pyke bolted for the entrance and was all the way across the yard before Sykes could raise the alarm.

‘Don’t you understand, Pyke? Your son was caught trying to pick a gentleman’s pocket on Camden Place. If I hadn’t been in the vicinity, and hadn’t spoken on behalf of the boy and offered to make amends to the injured party, they would have hauled him before a magistrate, perhaps even sent him to prison.’

Pyke stared at his uncle, still trying to take in this news. ‘Is he here?’

‘Upstairs in his room. He wouldn’t say a word to me. Jo’s tried to talk to him but he won’t talk to her, either.’

‘I’ll try.’ His words sounded hollow.

Godfrey shook his head. ‘Your place is here with him, Pyke. Now more than ever. Not gallivanting off to the West Indies in pursuit of this phantom.’ He stroked his white mane and looked across at Jo, who had just entered the room. She and Pyke exchanged an awkward glance. ‘How is he?’ Godfrey asked.

‘He still refuses to say anything.’ She looked at Pyke. ‘I think we can assume he was led astray by the older boy you saw him with the other day.’

Until now Pyke had assumed that travelling to the West Indies in pursuit of Alefounder, and perhaps Elizabeth Malvern, though arduous and potentially costly, would not harm his own interests. Without really thinking about it, he knew instinctively that it was something he had to do. But here was the clearest of indications that his absence might do more harm than good. For how might Felix react if he knew what Pyke was planning? Perhaps Godfrey was right; perhaps the sensible thing to do would be to abandon his plans to travel to Jamaica. After all, he would have to bear the cost of the trip himself. He considered this, as he watched Godfrey and Jo. Yet he knew that he couldn’t give up the investigation. He had come too far; he had given his word. It was true — no one else cared about Mary’s death.