'Never knew her name. I found her. In me lodgings, all dead and cold. Right inside the door, so I tripped over her when I went in. I never meant nuffing, I swear to you.'
'Did you kill her?' When Bottle Bill only began to weep, I shook him. 'Tell me. Did you kill her?'
'I don't know,' he wailed. 'I were drunk, weren't I? I'm always drunk.'
'Where are your lodgings?' I asked.
'Down Strand way. Back of beyond. I had to move her, didn't I? Had to get her out of me doorway. He helped me. We wrapped her up tight, carried her to a lane, and buried her there. Out of sight. No one to find her. Rest in peace.' He pressed his hands to his face and sobbed.
Auberge looked bewildered, clearly unable to follow Bill's garbled speech.
'You said he helped you,' I prompted. 'Who?'
'Don't know 'im. Said he'd help me, and I wasn't to tell, 'cause I'd swing.'
'Bill, for God's sake. You have to tell me who it was.'
'Don't know, do I? Had a posh carriage. But it were dark, and I were drunk, and I don't remember.'
I believed him. Bill sober was a weak, gentle man; Bill drunk was mean and violent. Two Bills, one in a bottle.
'What did he look like?' I asked. 'Tall, short? You must remember something. '
'I don't. Don't hurt me, Cap'n, I swear I don't remember nuffing.'
I tried another tack. 'Why did you bury her under debris?'
'Don't know. Seemed decent. Gent said no one would think I did it if she were streets away.'
'What I mean is, there are better ways of disposing of a corpse. Toss her into the river, take her out into the country and bury her, sell her to a resurrectionist.'
Bill blinked. 'Never thought of that.'
'Of course you didn't. It was the gentleman's idea to hide her, was it not?'
Bill nodded fervently. 'He helped me. He helped me 'cause he said I'd swing.'
Auberge frowned, trying to work out what we were talking about. 'What is this resurrectionist?'
'Grave robbers,' I answered. 'They prey on corpses of the indigent and sell them to quacks who teach other quacks. Some of the more unscrupulous stoop to murder to further their trade.'
'Ah,' Auberge said. 'In France, we have a similar thing.'
'Why did this man help you?' I asked Bill. 'Why should he not shout for the Watch when he saw you with a dead woman?'
'Don't know. I were drunk, Cap'n. I don't remember nuffing, I said.'
'I know you don't. That's why I don't believe you killed her.'
Bill opened his red eyes wide. 'She were on me doorstep. And I were drunk as anything.'
'Likely you were. And this posh gent, knowing Bottle Bill can't control himself when he's in his cups, places the body of a young woman inside his doorway to shove the blame onto you. When you come home too soon, he's happy to help you hide her, because, he says, he feels sorry for you. But instead of disposing of her body in a way in which she won't be found for some time, he helps you hide her in a nearby lane, where someone is certain to find her very soon. Perhaps someone will even see you covering her up. That will scream your guilt, and you will pay for a crime you did not commit.'
Bill looked confused. 'I didn't kill her?'
'I'll wager you did not. I wish you could tell me about this gent with the posh carriage.'
'I didn't kill the poor thing?' Bill asked hopefully. 'You sure?'
'Almost sure. I will be completely certain when I find him. Now then, I want to ask you something else. Did you know a girl called Black Bess?'
Bill looked surprised. 'Bessie? Sure, I know her. She laughs at me but sometimes gives me a penny when I've drunk away all me coins.'
'She went missing about the same time Mary did.'
His eyes widened. 'Cor.'
'When was the last time you saw her?'
He considered. 'Don't remember. Not long. Days are all the same to me.'
'When you saw her last, did Bess talk about having a wealthy protector? Or that she soon would have one?'
'No,' he answered doubtfully. 'But then, she did say she'd come into some money. Maybe she meant a rich flat.'
'Maybe she did.' I sat back, not satisfied, but my mind turned over several ideas. 'If you remember anything, anything at all, about Bess or Mary or the gentleman who helped you, you come and tell me right away. If I'm not about, tell Denis's man. Understand?'
'Aye, Cap'n.' Bill fumbled a salute. 'I don't want to swing,' he added in a trembling voice. 'I truly don't.'
I left him huddled in the carriage. Outside, I addressed Denis's man. 'Watch him. Both because he might be lying, and because this other man might try to make certain he remembers nothing more. If Denis objects, he can speak to me.'
'Planned to watch 'im, Captain,' the pugilist said. 'We're looking out for your daughter, too, sir. Mr. Denis said to.'
'Tell him I am grateful.' I was, at that moment.
'He wants to see you, sir.'
'No doubt. I have an appointment at Tattersall's that I must not miss, and I might be able to call upon him after that.'
The pugilist's face never changed expression, but I saw skepticism in his eyes. 'He likes gents to make an appointment or come when they're called.'
'I know he does. He will simply have to make do.'
I set my hat straight. The clear blue sky was beginning to cloud over, England's rainy climate tired of giving us sunshine. The pugilist watched me as I nodded to Auberge, and we started back for my rooms.
I left Auberge behind when I kept my appointment at Tatt's. Auberge rejoined the search with Bartholomew and Matthias, who, to my knowledge, still hadn't slept, but they looked none the worse for wear.
Black Nancy wandered in as I made ready to depart, and flopped into the wing chair.
'Goodness, but I'm wrung dry. I ain't run this hard carrying ale at the inn. It's heartbreaking, too, Captain. No sign of her.'
'I know,' I said, trying to keep the dejection from my voice.
'That Mr. Thompson says his watermen haven't reported finding anybody in the river. Me pals is checking more of the bawdy houses, but so far, nothing.' Nancy stuck out her feet and pointed her toes, swiveling her ankles. 'I'll be out again soon as I rest a bit, don't you fret.'
'Rest as long as you want, Nance,' I said. 'You are kind to help, but I fear very much that it will all be in vain.'
I had not wanted to express that fear in front of Grenville, or Auberge, or even Bottle Bill. But with Nancy, for some reason, it came out of me. My voice caught as I said it, and my eyes stung.
Nancy rose from the chair and came to me. 'Take heart, love,' she said softly. 'I didn't mean to sound like I was giving up.'
'I only…' I swallowed, wet my lips, and tried again. 'I know too much about London and what happens to girls in it, you see. They can be ruined, or lost, or dead, in the blink of an eye. You know that.'
'Maybe, but most girls don't have someone like you looking out for them.' Nancy rubbed my shoulder. 'Don't give up, Captain. We'll bring her in.'
With effort, I mastered myself and wiped my eyes. 'What can you tell me about Felicity?'
Nancy blinked. 'Felicity? She's a good sort, I suppose. Not mean spirited, like some game girls can be. Why d'ya want to know?'
'She intrigues me. Where did she come from? Has she always lived in London? I've not seen her about, in any case.'
Nancy looked a bit annoyed at my interest. 'Her mother was a maid, brought over from Jamaica. Her father,
