“Twenty-three of the fancy, eleven of the plain,” said Edward, grateful to have this opportunity to show his efficiency. “The ones with brass fittings are in the row at the center.”
“Just so,” Carfax approved. “Did you open any of them?”
Edward shook his head. “You said I should not.”
“So I did,” Carfax mused, then went on more briskly, “You have done well, Hitchin. I will pay you a bonus for your work.” He strode toward the stairs. “Oh. I suppose you should know I will take nine of them, for delivery. Tomorrow a drayer will come to fetch them.”
“You have a customer, then?” Edward said, relieved to hear it.
Carfax smiled. “In a manner of speaking.” He paused. “I will tell you which are to be taken, so you will not load the wrong ones.”
“Very good, sir,” said Edward, secretly glad to know some of the stock would be leaving the warehouse.
As he climbed up the stairs, Carfax said, “This is going very well. By winter I should be established.”
“There’s always a market for coffins,” said Edward, deliberately echoing Carfax’s sentiments as he followed him up the stairs.
“When did Carfax say he would arrive?” Inspector Ames asked, glancing at his pocketwatch for the third time. It was twenty minutes past the hour Carfax had said he would be at his warehouse for their meeting. The afternoon was closing toward evening already; fall was beginning.
“He said four, but he was coming in from the country, and he may have been delayed on the road.” Edward felt acute embarrassment at this predicament. “You may have to be patient. He was determined to meet with you, or so he said when he left day before yesterday.”
“Well, I will wait a while longer,” Inspector Ames said with a ponderous sigh. “He’s the last one I have to interview from this area.”
“Any progress?” Edward did not want to know, but he was determined to keep the inspector entertained during his wait for Mister Carfax.
“Not much,” Inspector Ames admitted. “The woman is still unidentified, which hampers our work. We are doing our best.”
Edward thought that did not sound promising, but he said, “No doubt you’ll find the murderer, eh, Inspector?”
“Are you mocking me?” Inspector Ames asked suspiciously.
Shocked, Edward shook his head. “No, sir. Nothing of the sort. I only meant what I said, that you will catch the criminal.”
Inspector Ames looked slightly mollified, but he glowered at Edward. “You… you poor people have no respect for the police.”
“I am not one such. My father worked for the police, in the stationhouse. It got him killed,” said Edward stiffly.
“Oh, yes?” said Inspector Ames, regarding Edward with slightly more interest. “How did it happen?”
Edward guessed that the inspector wanted to know so he could check out the story more than he had any genuine interest. “It was during the Ripper days. A man was brought into the stationhouse for Stepney, where my father clerked. He was under suspicion for savaging a… street woman, and some thought he might be the Ripper— the man in custody, not my father. The thing was, the fellow had a knife on him that no one knew about, and when he was being written up, he grabbed my father and used him for a shield to escape. Cut his throat on the stationhouse steps.” He swallowed hard. “My father said that police are the best hope we have to make life safe. No, Inspector, I would not mock you, for his sake if no other.”
“Just so,” said Inspector Ames, making it serve as an apology.
“I won’t say as police don’t make me nervous,” Edward went on, thinking he was saying too much, but unable to stop himself. “You said right when you said poor people—” He broke off. “Well, thanks to Carfax, I am not poor any longer.”
Inspector Ames nodded and was about to speak when Carfax himself came striding in out of the foggy, fading day. “Mister Carfax,” he said with energy. “I had about given you up.”
“I apologize for my tardiness,” said Carfax. “I have been at the zoological gardens. Most unusual. I must go again when I am at leisure to appreciate its occupants. I am afraid I forgot the time.” He glanced at Edward. “I trust Hitchin has been looking after you in a satisfactory manner?”
“He has, sir,” said Inspector Ames, not quite deferential, but less accusing than he had been with Edward. “I am sorry I must intrude, but there has been a—”
“—killing of a young woman,” Carfax finished for him. “Yes. So Hitchin told me.” He indicated the steps to the office. “Perhaps you would be more comfortable if I offered you a chair?” Without waiting for an answer he went up the stairs.
“I am coming, sir,” said Inspector Ames, tagging after Carfax.
Edward watched them go, feeling at loose ends. He had only the coffins for company, and he began to wander the aisles between the stacks of coffins. They no longer bothered him as they had done at first, although he was a long way from comfortable with them. He consulted his pocketwatch several times before he saw Inspector Ames emerge on the landing.
“Very good, Mister Carfax. I am grateful for your time.” He bowed slightly and started down the stairs.
“If I think of anything that has bearing on your investigation, I will be sure to inform you,” came Carfax’s voice after the policeman.
“Much obliged,” said Inspector Ames as he made his way down the stairs, pausing as Edward approached him to see him off the premises. He looked at Edward, his expression revealing nothing. “Odd sort of chap, your Mister Carfax.”
“Well, he’s foreign, isn’t he,” said Edward as he opened the door.
“That he is,” Inspector Ames agreed as he left the building.
* * *
The next body was found six days later: an amah coming from India with a military family was supposed to accompany the luggage from the docks to the family’s house. She never arrived, although the luggage did. Now the waterfront began to hum with rumors, and the police sent more constables to patrol the narrow, noisome streets where warehouses sat chock-a-block with ancient inns and houses of dubious reputation.
Edward admitted Inspector Ames a day after the ghastly discovery was made. He noticed the dark circles around the policeman’s eyes, and the downward turn of his mouth. “A terrible thing, Inspector.”
“That it is,” Inspector Ames agreed. “You know why I’ve come.”
Nodding, Edward said, “You think it is the same killer, then.”
“Yes. We have good reason to.” He said nothing more specific as he glanced around the warehouse. “Carfax has moved out more coffins.”
“That he has,” said Edward, taking indirect satisfaction in this turn of events. He permitted himself to boast a bit. “He has sent more than a dozen out of the city. He tells me that more are to go before the week is out.”
“He must be pleased,” said Inspector Ames, and exhausted his capacity for small talk. “Hitchin, what have you seen? What have you heard?”
“Nothing that you haven’t heard, or seen, sir,” said Edward as a cold fist closed on his guts. “Why should I? I am indoors all the day long, and into the night.”
“Do not tell me you do not while away the hours alone in that office upstairs?” The inspector’s incredulity was insulting enough to sting.
“I will not tell you, if you are not prepared to believe me.
But it is what I do.” He could feel the heat in his face, and hear it in his voice. He struggled to cool his temper. “Why do you doubt me?”
“Well, you know, I checked up on your father, and on you. Your report of his death was reasonably accurate, but I must tell you that the scrapes you have been in since his death are very troublesome to me, very troublesome.” He studied Edward a short while in silence. “You have been caught stealing, have you not?”
“Food. Only food. For my Mum,” muttered Edward. “The pension doesn’t go very far, and sometimes she’s gone hungry.”
