‘Do you know who his partners were?’
‘The lady wot he worked for,’ Ruth replied. ‘She was one of ’em, and there was a gent an’ all. A toff. What was his name?’ She paused, wrinkling her brow as she endeavoured to recollect. ‘Buckin’am,’ she said, snapping her fingers. She glanced over her shoulder and shuddered, looking petrified when she noticed her husband shading his eyes with his hand and scouring the street, obviously looking for her. ‘I have to go or I’ll be in trouble. Don’t tell Sam what I told you or I’ll be in for a thrashing.’
And she was gone as quickly as she’d arrived.
‘That took courage,’ Riley said, watching her go.
‘It did, right enough.’ The two men commenced walking at a brisk pace, followed by a gaggle of grubby and inquisitive children. ‘Those brothers, Sam especially, didn’t like Ezra, or approve of his lifestyle. Do you suppose one of them did for him, sir?’
‘No, Salter, I doubt it. They’re too fond of their mother to commit fratricide but they won’t weep too many tears over his demise either.’
‘Sounds to me as if Ezra wanted to prostitute young Ruth.’ Salter sniffed. ‘“Meet and greet and make them feel welcome” indeed. How did he think his sort of customers would respond to that sort of provocation from such a pretty lass?’
‘That is a question for another day, but it would, I suppose, give Sam a motive for murder, if he knew of his brother’s offer. He seems to have his ear to the ground around here and I would be very surprised if he hadn’t heard a whisper. It must have been difficult for those two seeing their mother holding Ezra’s behaviour up as a shining example when they knew what a rogue he actually was.’
‘Neither of them are exactly honest either,’ Salter pointed out. ‘And that comment about letting you know if he hears anything. Pure tosh, that, guv’nor. No one squeals to the coppers round here, not even if their lives depend on it.’
‘If he tried to corrupt Sam’s wife with pretty clothes and easy money, it would be enough to make any man take matters into his own hands. Sam is easily roused to anger, especially when it comes to Ezra, whom he resented. Anyway, what do we know about this Reggie Lane character?’
‘I’ve heard his name mentioned in hushed tones but never had the pleasure,’ Salter replied. ‘The local force might have more on him.’
‘Or they might be on his payroll,’ Riley added, sighing at that very real possibility.
The streets improved slightly as they walked away from the Dawson household. Salter strode assuredly towards the Plough, this being his neck of the woods. He pushed open the doors to the taproom, which was half-full in the middle of a working day. All heads turned in their direction and conversations stalled.
‘Order us some ale and whatever they are serving for luncheon,’ Riley said, taking a seat at a quiet corner table, where his presence continued to draw curious glances.
Salter returned with the required ale and told Riley that two plates of stew would be forthcoming. ‘Can’t guarantee what it’ll be like,’ he added, seeming to find Riley’s presence in such a place amusing. ‘Sorry you’re having to slum it, sir.’
‘I’ll survive. Did you tell the landlord that we require a word?’
‘I did. That’s Jed Bishop behind the bar, giving us the evil eye.’
‘I thought as much.’
Their stew was delivered, and turned out to be better than Riley had anticipated. When Salter had finished his own and mopped up the remainder of Riley’s with crusty bread, Bishop joined them.
‘To your satisfaction, gents?’ he asked, eyeing the empty plates.
‘Perfectly so,’ Riley replied, going on to introduce them both, even though it was obvious that Bishop knew who Salter was. ‘We are making enquiries about the death of John Dawson.’
‘Most regrettable, but I want your lot to know that he was alive and well when he left this establishment,’ Bishop replied, far too quickly and defensively.
‘He was alive certainly, but not very well, from what we have been told,’ Riley replied.
‘He’d had one too many but there ain’t anything unusual about that with my customers.’
‘Who did he speak to while he was here?’ Salter asked.
‘Dunno. We was too busy for me to notice.’
‘I don’t believe you,’ Riley said, his upper class accent ringing out around the shabby tavern.
‘Beg pardon?’ Bishop blinked at Riley’s acerbic response.
‘I have yet to meet a landlord who doesn’t keep a weather eye on all his customers, especially the big-spenders, which I am sure Dawson must have been. He was the type who attracted attention, but not only because he had fat pockets and liked to flaunt his success.’ Riley paused, glancing at the pretty girl behind the bar trying to eavesdrop on their conversation. He could see a marked resemblance to the landlord. ‘You were worried about your daughter’s virtue, I dare say, as any good father should be.’
‘Here, what do yer…’
‘Answer the chief inspector, Jed,
