coroner. The men will bring her in after he’s seen her.’
They settled in the jail to await the body.
‘We need to see if there’s any way to identif?y her and tell the family,’ Nottingham said. ‘They’ll want to bury her.’
Sedgwick slipped next door for a mug of ale and the Constable pushed at his cheeks with his palms, rubbing away the last of the sleep. If the corpse was Anne it would simply confirm what he suspected. But it didn’t help them find the killer.
He was still sitting with his thoughts about it when the door opened and two of the night men struggled in with a bundle on a willow hurdle, covered with a wretched, stained old blanket. They knew what to do, and carried it through to the cell the city kept as a morgue. On their way out he gave them a few coins for ale; if the remains were as far gone as the deputy had said, they’d need a drink.
He went through and pulled off the cover. But after a single glance he had to turn away, breathing slowly and shallowly to keep down the bile rising in his chest. Sedgwick hadn’t said enough. This was far beyond bad.
Nottingham took a kerchief from his breeches pocket and tied it around his face, trying vainly to keep the stench of death away. The putrefaction was so strong it made his eyes water and he had to keep stopping to wipe them with his sleeve.
The corpse had been a young woman, he could make out that much, but God only knew what she’d looked like. Her eyes were gone, pecked away, the skin all over her body chewed by beasts. One arm had been gnawed off, the teeth marks still sharp on the bone, maggots and flies crowding around the thick dried blood of the stump.
He did what he could to try and find anything recognisable in the decomposed flesh, stopping often to clear his mouth with a swig of ale, carefully examining what was left of the body. With what little remained there was no possibility of discovering what had killed her; John had been right on that. He did manage to find a birthmark, a small patch of darker skin on the skin around her hip, but nothing more. It might be enough to identif?y her.
He came out shaking his head and downed a deep cup, not tasting the beer but feeling it swill through his mouth, cleansing it.
‘Better get her out of here as soon as possible,’ he said, sitting down gratefully. ‘Find someone to take her tonight. And have the undertaker put her in a coffin with the lid nailed down.’
‘Right, boss.’
‘This man who found her, what did he have to say for himself??’
‘He hadn’t been around there for a couple of weeks, or so he claimed. He’d gone down to set up some snares, found her and sent word into town. When I got there he was shaking and pale. Couldn’t tell me much, just what he’d found. You think it’s the maid?’
‘Probably,’ Nottingham admitted. ‘There haven’t been any other reports of missing girls. Was she well off the path?’
‘Aye, in among some trees. She’d been covered with branches before the animals got to her. I looked around but I couldn’t see anything else.’
‘Probably nothing else to find,’ the Constable said in an empty voice. ‘There is something more, though. When Rob looked through Jackson’s letters it looked as if he was going to sell his share in the company and leave Leeds.’
‘So the pair of them would go together?’
‘In the end it makes sense, doesn’t it?’ The Constable poured himself another mug of ale. The taste of death had gone from his mouth now and he could finally savour the drink. ‘If they went off to London or somewhere no one would know them. They could live as man and wife.’
‘What about Anne?’
‘Most likely she’d have gone with them. Think about all the questions if she went back to her family.’
Sedgwick stretched in the chair and yawned. ‘All of which makes Godlove the most likely to kill her.’
‘I know.’ Nottingham ran a hand through his hair. ‘But I can’t see it. If he did, the man’s a fine actor. Why, John? That’s what I really can’t understand. Why would anyone want Sarah dead? The way I see it, we only have Godlove, or Jackson if she’d decided to stay with her husband. Am I wrong? Have I missed something?’
‘We’ll just have to keep digging, boss.’ He yawned again, covering his mouth with his hand.
‘I’ll go up to Roundhay tomorrow and talk to the servant’s parents.’
‘I’ll go if you want, boss. I’ve met them.’
The Constable shook his head. ‘No, it’s only right they hear it from me. You go home.’
‘I will.’ The deputy stood. ‘One thing I should tell you.’
‘I hope it’s good news,’ Nottingham said wearily.
‘It is.’ He smiled proudly. ‘Our Lizzie’s going to have a baby. I’m going to be a father again.’
The Constable laughed. ‘John, that’s wonderful.’ He stood and extended his hand. ‘How is she?’
‘As good as ever. She didn’t want me to tell anyone, but. .’ He shrugged helplessly.
‘I know,’ Nottingham said, ‘I felt the same, wanting to tell everyone. Still, at least it explains the gormless smile you’ve had for a few days. Make sure she looks after herself.’
‘I will, boss.’
Sedgwick made a circuit of the city, checking on all the night men before he went home. By the time he finally reached the room it was full dark, the stars generous in the sky. Enough of the moonlight came through gaps in the shutters that he could see his way. After undressing he knelt, stroking James’s hair as the boy slept on, unaware. A brother or sister soon enough, he thought, then crossed his fingers. Too much could go wrong. God forbid he’d lose Lizzie or the baby.
She was asleep when he climbed into the bed, her body warm enough that he had to roll away from her to stay cool. If anything the heat had increased since night had fallen and he pushed the threadbare sheet down to let the air at his body.
Once the baby arrived he’d want more time at home, a chance to be with Lizzie, to see the little ones grow. He’d need to have Lister trained by then, assuming the lad stayed — he hoped that he would. Rob was learning quickly, applying himself and doing whatever they asked.
He reached over to lightly touch Lizzie’s back where it curved out to her hips. Her skin was soft, and she stirred slightly as his fingertips rested on her.
‘John,’ she mumbled finally, ‘don’t.’
With a quiet smile he fell into sleep.
The three of them were sitting in the jail at six. The air had grown heavier, and simply walking into town Nottingham had felt the sweat rolling down his back, leaving his linen shirt sticking to his skin.
‘Did you find anything else, Rob?’
‘Nothing, boss.’
‘No matter. We know a little more than we did. Did Mr Sedgwick tell you what happened last night?’
‘Yes.’ Rob blanched. ‘He did.’
‘I’m going up to Roundhay this morning to try and find out if the body is Anne Taylor,’ Nottingham confided. ‘You two work on these missing thieves, we need to find them quickly. I don’t even know what else we can do on the Godlove murder at the moment.’
By the time he reached Roundhay village he was soaked from the heat and the horse was lathered with perspiration, eager to drink at the stone trough by the road. He let it have its fill then tied it and made his way to the first cottage. The door was open, and the smell of pottage cooking on the fire made him hungry.
He knocked and waited until the woman came bustling through. She halted when she saw him and he noticed the expression in her eyes change to one of bright fear.
‘You’ve come about Anne, haven’t you?’ she asked.
‘I’m sorry, I have. I’m Richard Nottingham, the Constable of Leeds. Is your husband here, too?’
‘He’s over in t’ fields.’
‘Is there someone you can send to fetch him?’ he asked soberly. He wanted both of them, to give comfort to each other if nothing more.
‘Wait,’ she ordered and walked to the cottage across the road. After a few words she returned. ‘He’ll be here soon.’ Awkwardly, hesitantly, she said, ‘You’d better come in and have a stoup of ale. It’s not at its best, I was going to brew some more today.’
They were words just to fill the space, he knew that, to ward off the ghosts that drifted in the silence, but
