Mr Wyecliffe opened a drawer on his desk and pulled out a blue notebook. ‘Funny, really… if you think about it’ – he rattled the drawer shut, toppling the air freshener – ‘given Mr Duffy’s last question, we did win without your mother having to open her mouth. Even Mr Riley was stunned.’
Nick made for the corridor. Dimly, through a grey pane, he could see the lights of Cheapside.
2
Before coming to London Anselm had suffered a bruising – and inevitable – encounter with the cellarer.
‘Are you familiar with the Inland Revenue and its peculiar habits?’
‘Yes,’ said Anselm humbly He had presented himself after lauds to obtain the required funds for the trip.
‘I thought so.’ Cyril was in his office beneath an arcade – an ordered place without ornament, save for colour-coded box files: blue for apples (on the right), and green for plums (on the left). Each carried a date. His one arm was on the table like a cosh. He was large and square. His nose was red and his eyes were yellow He had a cold. ‘They require accurate records supported by all relevant documentation.’
‘They do.’
‘Can you give me an example?’
A receipt.’
Cyril sneezed, slamming his nose with a huge polka dot handkerchief After rattling a box out of sight, he counted out a precise sum to cover anticipated rail and Underground tickets.
‘God bless you, Cyril.’
‘Don’t mention it.’
When Anselm came to London he usually stayed with the Augustinians in Hoxton. Sometimes, however, as on this occasion, he booked a guest room at Gray’s Inn, his former legal home. The practice kept fresh his associations with the Bar; and it afforded an opportunity to see Roddy his old head of chambers. Having studied the Riley papers on the train, Anselm trudged up the narrow wooden stairs to his former place of work. It was evening.
Roddy had just purchased what he called a long blue smoking jacket. He sat with his legs extended, looking like a waterbed in a sari. After some chat about hypnotism as a means of trouncing addictions, Anselm said, ‘Do you remember the Riley trial?’
‘It was the only case you ever did with Elizabeth.’
‘Yes, how did you know?’
‘She remarked upon it recently’ He reached for a large carved pipe. Austrian,’ he said proudly ‘Made of bone.’
Anselm hesitated, letting his mind whirr and clank. When it stopped he perceived that Roddy already knew of the trial and its significance for Elizabeth. With this in mind, Anselm explained about the key, the red valise and the letter to be read after he’d met Mrs Bradshaw Throughout Roddy packed tobacco into the bowl of his pipe, prodding it occasionally with his thumb or a knife. Gradually creases gathered across his forehead, revealing agitation and surprise, as if he’d missed something he ought to have foreseen. Anselm’s conclusion snapped into place: Elizabeth’s confidence had not been given to Roddy beyond the trial. It was staggering – for Anselm and for Roddy: she’d held something back from the man who’d nursed her career like a father.
‘It’s been a very long time, Anselm, I’ve forgotten what happened.’ Roddy lit a match as if it were the opening of a ceremony ‘Tell me about Riley… that ruined instrument.’
‘Frank Wyecliffe sent the papers down to chambers for a conference,’ said Anselm. ‘Three teenagers said they’d met Riley at Liverpool Street Station. He’d offered them somewhere to stay free of charge. His story was that when he’d come to London, no one had been there to help him, that he’d spent months in a burnt-out bank near Paddington, that he wouldn’t wish that on anyone else, that people needed a break. They could think about rent once they were earning, and not before. So they moved into this house at Quilling Road in the East End. All he wanted was the contact details of someone they trusted with their lives – in case they did a runner. Then he gave them a key and he left them alone.’
While Anselm spoke Roddy struck matches, stroking them over the bowl.
‘Every now and then he’d come round and ask them how they were getting on, whether they’d found work yet,’ said Anselm. ‘Then, gradually things changed. They’d see him at the end of the street, milling around. Same thing at night. He’d just be standing there, rubbing his hands to keep warm. Then he’d be gone. And later, when he came to the house, asking how the search for work was going, he never said anything about having been in the area the week before. That was how it went on: they’d see him outside, near a street lamp, but then he’d be gone, turning up a few days later, and always at the same spot, as if he was waiting – sometimes in the morning, sometimes at night. Eventually they went out to ask him what was going on.’
On the train to London, Anselm had read several times the witness statement of a girl called Anji. She had recounted the confrontation with Riley:
‘Why do you keep hanging around?’
‘Because I’m frightened.’
‘What of?’
‘Not for myself.., for you lot.’
‘Us?’
‘Yes. Each of you.’
‘Why?’
‘The owner of the house is tired of waiting, and he wants his rent.’
‘You said this house was yours.’
‘No I didn’t, I said I had a house. It’s not mine. I’m just the rent collector… for him.’
‘Who?’
‘The Pieman.’
‘What?’
‘The Pieman… that’s what he calls himself He has lots of houses and he likes his rent. I let you use this one because I felt sorry for you. I thought that once you got settled in you’d have the money and we could smooth things over. But you’ve been slow and he’s found out. The Pieman’s not happy. That’s why I’m worried.’
‘How much does he want?’
‘What he’s owed.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Three thousand three hundred.’
The girls were stunned and angry. They swore and shouted. Riley said, ‘I’m here whenever I can to hold him back if he turns up, but this can’t go on. The best thing is to start making a contribution.’
They said they were off, that they were paying nothing to no one. Riley told them, ‘I wouldn’t do anything silly if I were you. The Pieman begins with those you trust. First of all he takes it out on them. Then he comes for you. And he’s a way of finding those who owe him. And I wouldn’t be standing out here, night and day, if I wasn’t worried what he might do. The best thing is to get some quick money, and in the meantime, I’ll calm him down.’
Anselm gave the gist of Anji’s evidence to Roddy At its conclusion, Roddy asked, ‘Who, pray was the Pieman?’
‘I said it was a load of nonsense, but Elizabeth thought I was wrong. She said this figure was very real for Riley, which was why he could make an abstraction so terrifying.’
Roddy opened his mouth as if to say ‘Ah,’ but nothing came out. Anselm continued with his narrative.
‘One of the girls ran off and turned up at the night shelter where George Bradshaw worked. They got talking. She left but came back a week later with the others. They told Bradshaw about Riley and the Pieman and he urged them to make a complaint. If we are to believe Bradshaw, he appreciated that these girls would have difficulty persuading a jury to believe them. They’d all committed offences of dishonesty. Their credibility would be an issue. So Bradshaw persuaded them to go back to Quilling Road. Only this time, he joined them when Riley was due to collect the rent. It was a sort of sting: in the event, they said they were leaving and that provoked Riley to make threats within Bradshaw’s hearing.’
