Anne Perry - A Christmas Promise

“Indeed. And do you know if it was there before Alf went out with Charlie the day he was killed?” he asked with interest.

She saw what he was thinking. “Yer mean if it weren’t Alf or Charlie, then it ’ad ter be ter do wi’ the casket?”

“I was assuming that, yes. What does this Stan do for a living, Gracie? Do you know?”

“Yeah. ’e’s a cabbie …”

Mr. Balthasar nodded slowly.

“An’ ’e’s mad, an’ scared,” she added eagerly. “D’yer think Minnie Maude worked that out too?” Her eyes filled with tears at the thought of what violence might have happened to Minnie Maude, if Stan were the one who had left the casket for the toff.

“I think we had better finish our tea and go and speak to Cob,” Balthasar answered, rising to his feet again. “Come.”

“I gotta get me own shawl, please?” she said reluctantly. Compared with the thick red one, hers was plain, and wet.

“I will return it to you later,” he replied. “This one will keep you warm in the meantime. Come. Now that we have so many clues, we must make all the haste we can.” And he strode across the wooden floor and flung open the back door, grasping for a large black cape and swinging it around his shoulders as he went.

Outside in the street he allowed her to lead the way, keeping up with her easily because his legs were twice the length of hers. They did not speak, simply meeting eyes as they came to a curb, watching for traffic, then continuing.

They found Cob on his corner, the brazier giving off a warmth she could feel even when she was six or seven feet away.

Balthasar stood in front of Cob, half a head taller and looking alarmingly large in his black cape. He seemed very strange, very different, and several people stared at him nervously as they passed, increasing their pace a little.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Cob,” Balthasar said gravely. “I must speak to you about a very terrible matter. I require absolute honesty in your answers, or the outcome may be even worse. Do you understand me?”

Cob looked taken aback. “I dunno yer, sir, an’ I dunno nothin’ terrible. I don’t think as I can ’elp yer.” He glanced at Gracie, then away again.

“I don’t know whether you will, Mr. Cob. You may have black reasons of your own for keeping such secrets,” Balthasar answered him. “But I believe that you can.”

“I don’t ’ave no—” Cob began.

Balthasar held up his hand, commanding silence. “It concerns the murder of a man you know as Alf, and the abduction of Minnie Maude Mudway.”

Cob paled.

Balthasar nodded. “I see you understand me perfectly. When Alf left you, on the day he died, which way did he go?”

Cob pointed south.

“Indeed. And it was two streets farther than that where someone caught up with him and did him to death. Somewhere in that distance Alf gave the casket to somebody. Who lives or works along those streets, Mr. Cob, that Alf would know? A pawnshop, perhaps? A public house? An old friend? To whom would such a man give a golden casket?”

Cob looked increasingly uncomfortable. “I dunno!” he protested. “’e di’n’t tell me!”

“How long after Alf spoke to you did this gaunt gentleman come by?”

Cob moved his weight from one foot to the other. “Jus’…jus’ a few moments.”

“Was he on foot?”

“Course ’e were,” Cob said derisively. “Yer don’t go ’untin’ after someone in a carriage!”

“Hunting,” Balthasar tasted the word. “Of course you don’t. You don’t want witnesses if you catch him, now, do you?”

Cob realized that he had fallen into a trap. “I di’n’t know ’e were gonna kill ’im!” he said indignantly, but his face was pink and his eyes too fixed in their stare.

Gracie knew he was lying. She had seen exactly that look on Spike’s face when he had pinched food from the cupboard.

“Yer mean yer thought as the toff, all angry an’ swearin’, were one of ’is friends?” she said witheringly. “Knows a lot o’ rag an’ bone men, does ’e?”

“Listen, missy …,” Cob began angrily.

Balthasar stepped forward, half-shielding Gracie. He looked surprisingly menacing, and Cob shrank back.

“I think you would be a great deal wiser to give an honest answer,” Balthasar said in a careful, warning voice. “How long after Alf was here did the toff come and ask you about him?”

Cob drew in breath to protest again, then surrendered. “’Bout five minutes, I reckon, give or take. Wot diff’rence does it make now?”

“Thank you,” Balthasar replied, and taking Gracie by the arm, he started off along the street again.

“Wot diff’rence does it make?” Gracie repeated Cob’s question.

“Five minutes is quite a long time,” he replied. “I do not think he would have run. That would draw too much attention to himself. People would remember him. But a man walking briskly can still cover quite a distance in that time. Alf would be going slowly, because he would be keeping an eye out for anything to pick up.”

“Then why di’n’t ’e catch up wif Alf sooner?” Gracie asked.

“I think because Alf stopped somewhere,” Balthasar answered. “Somewhere where he left the casket, which is why he didn’t have it when the toff killed him. And that, of course, is why the toff also took Charlie and the cart, to search it more carefully in private. He could hardly do it in the middle of the street, and with poor Alf’s dead body beside him.” He stopped speaking suddenly, and seemed to lapse into deep thought, although he did not slacken his pace.

Gracie waited, running a step or two every now and then to keep up.

“Gracie!” he said suddenly. “If you were to kill a rag and bone man, in the street, albeit a quiet one, perhaps a small alley, and you wished to take away the man’s cart in order to search it, what would you do to avoid drawing attention to yourself and having everybody know what you had done?”

She knew she had to think and give him a sensible answer. She had to try not to think of Minnie Maude and the trouble she was in; it only sent her mind into a panic. Panic was no help at all.

“Cos I di’n’t want nobody to look at me?” she pressed, seeking for time.

“I don’t care if they look,” he corrected. “I don’t want them to see.”

“Wot?” Then suddenly she had an idea. “Nobody sees rag an’ bone men, less they want summink. I’d put ’is ’at on an’ drive the cart meself, so they’d think I was ’im!”

“Magnificent!” Balthasar said jubilantly. “That is precisely what a quick-thinking and desperate man would do! In fact, it is not necessarily true that he was killed where his body was found. That too could have been carried a short way at least, and left somewhere to mislead any inquiry. Yes, that is truly a great piece of imaginative detection, Gracie.”

Gracie glowed with momentary pride, until she thought of Minnie Maude again. Then it vanished. “’as ’e got Minnie Maude?” she asked, afraid of the answer.

“I don’t know, but we will get her back. If he took her, it is because he still doesn’t have the casket, so he will not harm her until he does. We must find it first.”

“Well, if the toff don’t ’ave it, then Alf must a given it ter someone else between Cob an’ wherever ’e were killed.”

“Indeed. And we must find out where that is. It is unfortunate that we know so little about Alf, and his likes and dislikes. Otherwise we might have a better idea where to begin. Perhaps we should assume that he is like most men—looking for comfort rather than adventure, someone to be gentle with him rather than to challenge him. Tell me, Gracie, what did Minnie Maude say to you about him? Why did she like him so much? Think carefully. It is important.”