Chris Nickson - Constant Lovers

‘You knew about her?’

Hill pursed his lips. ‘Not really. You know what Will could be like, he played his cards close and never said too much. He did drop a few hints when he was in his cups, though.’

‘Oh?’

He drank and wiped the corners of his mouth fastidiously with a cloth napkin before looking curiously at Rob. ‘I have the strange feeling this conversation isn’t just social.’

‘It’s not,’ Lister admitted easily and lifted the dish to taste the steaming, bitter coffee.

Hill seemed amused. ‘Well, I never imagined I’d be talking to a Constable’s man. Why are you interested in Will, anyway? It hardly seems to be anything to do with the law if he killed himself.’

Rob tried to make his words light. Whatever he said wouldn’t be convincing. ‘Loose ends, if you like. What did he tell you about the girl?’

‘Oh, next to nothing, really.’ He waved his hand idly in the air. ‘Is she married? I thought she must be since he’d say so little about her.’

Lister didn’t respond and finally Hill gave up with a small, gracious bow.

‘He told me they were lovers. But the last time he was drunk he was talking about how things might change in the future.’

‘Change?’ Rob asked sharply.

‘I don’t know, he was very secretive about it. He didn’t say any more than that.’

‘When was this?’

Hill thought. ‘The Wednesday before he killed himself??’ he wondered. ‘Yes, it must have been. I ran into him on my way home from the cockfight at the Talbot and we went on to the White Swan.’

‘And you didn’t see him after that?’

‘No. I went up to visit dear papa for a few days to keep in his good graces.’ He sighed. ‘I’ll miss him, you know. Will was a good friend to me over the years.’

‘I know,’ Rob agreed quietly.

‘Come out with me sometime soon,’ Hill suggested with a wan smile. ‘When you find some better clothes and you’re not asking questions.’

‘I will,’ Lister promised.

He strolled down to the Calls with a faint feeling of satisfaction, ignoring the thick, rancid smells of ordure from the tannery. Talking to Henry was the first thing he’d handled himself and he believed it had gone well. He’d asked his questions and he’d learned a little more about Will.

He was certain he could enjoy this work. So far he’d done so much more than he could ever have imagined in his life. He was seeing a Leeds he’d never known, never even guessed at, as if someone had drawn a whole new city over the one that was familiar to him. But however gruesome it might be, all this was giving him the sense of being alive. It made him think and that was more than any job in the past had done.

Far more than that, he liked the Constable, and John, too. They weren’t cowed by wealth or title, and that was something to admire. He believed he could learn from them. His father might imagine he’d leave after a week, as he’d done in so many other situations, but he was sure he’d stay a great deal longer if he could satisf?y the boss.

At the cloth finishers he noted that the name of Jackson on the sign had already been crudely painted out. He didn’t have to wait long for Tunstall to appear, looking anxious and harassed.

‘I wish you people would stop coming here,’ he complained. ‘First it was that what’s his name, the tall one, and now you. It’s bad for business when people see the law arriving.’

‘We’re just trying to find out about Mr Jackson,’ Lister said mildly.

‘He killed himself, that’s what happened. You know that.’ He threw his arms in the air in exasperation.

‘You’ve taken him off the sign fast enough.’

Tunstall fixed him with a fierce gaze. ‘Well, wouldn’t you? Who wants to deal with a firm where one of the owners killed himself?? Who wants to be reminded of that? Our orders are already down. The sooner he’s forgotten the better, if you ask me.’

He pushed his hands into his coat pockets defiantly, rocking on the heels of an expensive pair of buckled shoes. There was money here, Rob thought and smiled pleasantly at him.

‘Then it’s best we find out everything as soon as we can, isn’t it?’

Tunstall sneered. ‘Go on, then. But I hope it’s the last time.’

‘The week before Mr Jackson killed himself, was he here all week?’

‘Most if it, aye.’

‘When?’ Lister asked. ‘Do you remember?’

‘I know he was here on the Monday because we had to sort out some problems with one of the pressing irons and that put us behind. Tuesday, let me see. . aye, we had to keep on those lazy sods in there to finish an order. Wednesday we were looking over the accounts and talking about whether we needed a bigger place.’

‘Business was good, then?’

Tunstall gave a bitter laugh. ‘Business was bloody wonderful until he went and killed hisself. This week I can hardly get any bugger to talk to me.’

‘What about the rest of that week?’ Rob prompted.

‘He was gone Thursday, I remember that. Said he had people to see.’ He paused and thought. ‘He popped in after dinner. Checked a couple of things and left again.’

‘What was he looking for?’

Tunstall shrugged. ‘No idea. He was only here a minute or two. He looked poorly, and he didn’t come in Friday, either, I remember now. Sent a message that he wasn’t well.’

‘And when he came back?’

‘He was fine. Whatever he’d had, he was over it, working hard like he allus did. First I knew of anything wrong was when someone said he was dead at the Cloth Hall, and I didn’t believe it.’

‘No signs at all?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Then I’ll leave you,’ Lister said.

‘Just make sure you don’t come back. I’ve a business to try and run here.’

He found Sedgwick and the Constable in the White Swan. There was a plate of bread and cheese between them and a mug of ale on the table.

‘Sit down and help yourself,’ Nottingham told him. ‘What did you find out?’

As they ate and drank Lister passed on what he’d learned. The Constable studied him thoughtfully.

‘So now we know that Jackson had the time to kill Sarah. But if they were lovers, why would he want to do that?’ He glanced at the others. ‘Any ideas?’

‘What if she’d told him it was over?’ Sedgwick suggested. ‘That could do it.’

‘Go on.’

‘Well, if she was pregnant, maybe she was going to be faithful to her husband and she broke things off.’

‘But Will told his friend that things might change,’ Lister pointed out.

‘He didn’t say what kind of change, though, did he?’ the deputy countered.

‘No, true, but. .’

‘What it means is that we need to look more deeply into the idea that he murdered her,’ Nottingham interrupted firmly. ‘Right now we have two people with the time to do it, him and Samuel Godlove, and I really don’t believe Godlove was behind it.’

‘So what do we do?’ Lister wondered.

‘Dig,’ Sedgwick told him.

‘He’s right,’ Nottingham agreed. ‘Rob, I need you to go through Jackson’s papers again. I’ll go to his lodgings and see if there’s anything more. And I’ll see if he has any knives that match the murder weapon.’

‘Yes, boss.’

‘But,’ the Constable warned, ‘we need to be careful. Keep your mind open. Just because Jackson seems the likeliest killer, it doesn’t mean he did it. We need to keep looking for others, too.’

‘And try to find the maid,’ the deputy added, but Nottingham sighed.

‘She’s dead somewhere, John. She knew too much. She probably saw too much. No one would kill Sarah and leave Anne alive.’

Lister slid out of the bench. ‘I’ll go and make a start.’