already standing by the desk, hat in his hand. Nottingham tried to read the expression on his face.
“Well?” he asked. The word came out in a dry, nervous croak. He realised he didn’t want to leave this job.
Williamson smiled broadly. “We won.”
The Constable drew in a long breath and exhaled slowly. “Thank you.”
“No need to thank me,” Tom said merrily. “It was an embarrassment, really. The Mayor tabled his motion to dismiss you, and asked for the ayes. His was the only vote.” He slapped his thigh and laughed. “He was almost purple with fury after the nays had been recorded. I don’t believe I’ve ever seen anyone so humiliated. It was glorious, Richard. I wish you could have seen it.”
“So do I,” Nottingham agreed with conviction. He could imagine the colour rising from Kenion’s neck, and his frustration at being thwarted. But from here the Mayor would be keeping a close watch on everything the Constable did, though, and trying to apply a tight rein. Still, there were ways around that, and after so many years he knew them all.
“The aldermen all believe in you, Richard,” Williamson continued. “If ever a man had a vote of confidence, I’d say this was it.”
“Please give the gentlemen my gratitude,” Nottingham said formally, lost for words to express the relief and joy inside.
“I’ll do that.” The merchant grinned. “Now you can go on and find your killer.”
“Oh, I will.” He was really beginning to believe it. Things were moving. They’d find this bastard.
22
“What do you think?” Sedgwick asked in the White Swan, washing down the last of his stew with a long swig of ale. There was still the heel of a loaf on the table and he eyed it hungrily.
Nottingham filled their cups from the jug and leaned back against the wall. He’d related everything to his deputy.
“I think we’re going to have to keep looking over our shoulders for Worthy’s lot.”
“Worried, boss?”
He shrugged. He was still feeling a surge of confidence after the decision of the aldermen. “Just be careful, and don’t tell anyone anything.”
“There’s not a lot to tell,” Sedgwick pointed out. He reached for the bread and took a large bite.
“We’ll get there,” the Constable reassured him, “and we’ll do it first.”
“Right, so what do you want me to do now?” Sedgwick asked, his mouth full.
“Question the whores again, see if they’ve seen anyone strange,” Nottingham told him. “I doubt you’ll get anything from Worthy’s girls, but there are plenty more out there. Tell them what you remember about him and see if it rings any bells. Maybe someone’s seen him.”
“It sounds like a long shot, boss.”
“Long shots have to pay off sometimes, John.” He poured a little more ale and drank.
Sedgwick cradled his left hand around the mug, staring into the liquid.
“Why?” Nottingham wondered aloud suddenly, gazing intently at the deputy. “Why did he start this week? Why’s he killing prostitutes and their men?”
“Does it really matter? The fact is that’s what he’s doing.”
“Yes, but…” The Constable’s words tailed off. Ultimately, he supposed, Sedgwick was right. The reasons were irrelevant. It was the act that mattered, the taking of lives, and trying to prevent him taking more. “So what do you suggest?” he asked.
“So far it’s been every other night, right?” Sedgwick pointed out, and Nottingham nodded.
“Then tomorrow night we flood the streets,” he continued eagerly. “Get twenty or thirty men out there. Stop everyone who looks suspicious.”
The Constable listened carefully. “Go on,” he said. “You’ve obviously been thinking about this.”
“It puts the odds in our favour,” Sedgwick said fervently, his eyes bright. “If he’s out there, and we have twenty people around, then we have a much better chance of catching him. And even if we don’t, it should scare him and stop him killing.”
“For one night,” Nottingham pointed out.
“Then we do it every night!”
The Constable smiled briefly, watching Sedgwick carried away by his enthusiasm.
“I think it could work,” he agreed, before asking, “but where do we get the money to pay everyone?”
“Go to the Mayor and ask!” Sedgwick said heatedly. “It’s his city. He doesn’t want people killed.”
“I can tell you right now that his Worship won’t give me another penny,” Nottingham said flatly. “After what happened with the aldermen this morning, he’ll want nothing more than for me to fail. It would prove his point. So he’s not going to do a bloody thing to help me succeed.”
“Even at the cost of more lives?” the deputy asked in disbelief.
Nottingham ran a hand through his hair. “It’s politics, John. Right now I think the Mayor would spend lives to make me look a fool.”
Sedgwick spat on the floor in disgust. “So we’re stuck?”
“Not necessarily,” the Constable answered slowly. The kernel of an idea was growing in his mind. “How many people do you think owe us favours?”
Sedgwick glanced at him quizzically, uncertain of his meaning.
“People we’ve let off when we could have arrested them, little things we’ve let go,” Nottingham explained.
“I don’t know,” the deputy assessed. “There must be quite a few.”
“I think this might be a good time to start calling in some of those debts, don’t you?” He grinned wickedly.
“They won’t like it.”
“I don’t give a toss if they scream and cry like babies.” The Constable’s voice was firm and hard, the thought fixed in his mind now. “It won’t hurt them to show a little public spirit for once.”
“You think it can work, boss?” Sedgwick asked doubtfully. “Bringing in people like this?”
The Constable shrugged. “I don’t know. But I’m certain it’s the only way we’ll be able to get anything like this done. We’re not going to get the money to pay them, I know that.” He grinned. “So we’ll be creative instead.”
“Maybe the Mayor will be impressed,” Sedgwick laughed.
“I doubt it,” Nottingham said. “I hope not. I’d much rather he was upset.”
He could hear laughter as he approached the house, and picked out the voices of Mary, Rose and David, the young man who’d been courting Rose for months. As he opened the door, he was greeted by a wave of warmth. The fire glowed welcomingly, and the faces were happy. Nottingham could see Rose basking in the attention David was giving her. He wasn’t a bad lad, a draper’s apprentice who’d almost completed his time. Unlike most of the apprentices he didn’t run wild, but was sober and serious with plans for the future. And Nottingham knew his daughter liked him.
“Richard,” Mary said merrily, “come and sit down.” She patted a space on the settle. “Have you eaten?”
He nodded, making himself comfortable as Rose went to fetch him a cup of ale. He sensed anticipation in the room and wondered what had happened before he arrived. Once he was comfortable, sipping his drink, he saw Mary nod at David.
“Sir,” the young man began hesitantly, “I’d like… that is…” Nottingham could sense him struggling for words and began to understand, although he kept his silence. He’d suffered this once himself, and now the boy could do the same.
“I’d like your permission to marry Rose,” the youth blurted out.
He put the cup down and rubbed his thighs slowly, turning to Mary, who was beaming. His daughter was blushing, her face flushed deep red as she held the boy’s hand tightly.
“Then you’d better do right by the lass when she’s your wife,” he announced.
