living out in Roundhay. I remember thinking that I felt sorry for the little girl, having to grow up with a mother like that.’
‘You know her daughter died?’ Rob asked.
She nodded and he could see the start of tears in the corners of her eyes.
‘I read it in your father’s newspaper.’
He sensed that he was losing her to the memories of years ago, when she had a husband and a life in the city. She hardly seemed to notice when he rose to his feet.
‘Thank you,’ he said as he rose, bowing briefly as he left.
Seventeen
The man’s body had been heavily battered. Nottingham stared grimly at it on the slab in the cell they used as a morgue. He’d been young, the shape of his body and the thickness of his hair showed that, but his face had been so heavily pummelled, the bones all broken and the flesh swollen, that it was impossible to make out any features. He turned away. They’d found the corpse after a boy in threadbare breeches and a torn shirt had dashed into the jail, his features white with shock, eyes full of fear and excitement, and led them down to see his discovery in the woods by Sheepscar Beck.
Whoever he was, the man had put up an almighty struggle, his knuckles ripe and bloody, but he’d been overwhelmed. And then very carefully and coldly beaten to death. The Constable had examined him closely but hadn’t found any deep cuts and there were no signs of stab wounds.
‘What do you think?’ he asked Sedgwick.
‘It could be.’ As soon as they’d seen the body they’d both wondered if this was Tom, the brother of the false servant Nan. It was exactly the kind of punishment Worthy would dole out for what the girl had done. ‘He’d be about the right age, anyway. And killing him this way would fit. It would send a lesson.’
Gently, Nottingham pulled the sheet over the man. There was nothing more to see and no clues in the pockets, just a few small coins and a well-used handkerchief. The clothes gave nothing away, cheap and anonymous, once good perhaps, but he’d likely bought them from a stall at third or fourth hand. He could have been anyone from anywhere.
‘But if this is Tom it still leaves the girl,’ the deputy said.
‘I know,’ the Constable agreed slowly. ‘And if Amos has her she’ll get much worse than this.’
‘What can we do about it?’
He ran a hand through his hair in frustration. Inside, he was sure this was the lad called Tom, and that the pimp’s men had killed him. Worthy would have taken part; he wasn’t a man to leave the satisfaction of revenge to someone else.
‘I don’t even know how we can prove who this is,’ he said angrily, ‘let alone who’s responsible.’
‘That’s what he wants, isn’t it?’ Sedgwick said. ‘Everyone knows, but there’s no one can say or tie it to him. He’s shown no one can cross him but we can’t touch him. It’s clever, you have to give him that.’
‘And it’s his reminder that he can flout the law.’ Nottingham’s eyes were dark with fury. ‘I don’t care what that boy had done, he didn’t deserve to die like that.’ He took a deep breath and reached for his coat. ‘I’m going to see Amos.’
‘Boss-’ Sedgwick began, but the Constable had already left.
He pushed his way through the door and back into the kitchen. Worthy was standing there, leaning against the table and catching the sun through the dirty window. For once the fire wasn’t lit, but the summer heat trapped in the room left it unpleasantly warm.
There were no guards lounging by the back door or against the wall. Worthy was eating in silence, bread and cheese on his plate, a full cup of ale before him. He turned slowly and smiled as the Constable entered.
‘I wondered how long it would be before you showed your face,’ he said. ‘Do you want something to drink? Stop that thirst?’
‘You know why I’m here.’
‘Of course I do, laddie. You think I had something to do with the body you have in the jail.’
‘I know you did, Amos.’
Worthy’s eyes shone. ‘If you’re so certain, you’d better prove it, Mr Nottingham.’ He held up his hands, turning them to show both sides, the skin unbroken. ‘Does that look like I’ve been fighting?’
‘So for once you had someone else do the work for you.’
‘You want be careful, laddie.’ His voice turned colder and more serious. ‘Words like that could seem like slander.’
‘How did you know someone had died if you weren’t involved?’
‘Little birds are always telling me things.’ He broke off some of the bread and began to chew, letting crumbs spill carelessly down over his long waistcoat.
‘They told you fast.’
‘No point in knowing if you’re not the first. It’s old news by the time some other bugger has it.’
‘What about the girl?’ the Constable asked. ‘What have you done with her?’
Worthy put down the bread and stared straight at him.
‘I’ll spell this out to you so you don’t go making any mistakes. I don’t have the girl. But I’ll bloody well find her. And if you think I have summat to do with whoever you have on that slab, go ahead and prove it. I’ll lay odds you can’t do it, though. You want a wager on it?’
Nottingham didn’t react, holding the older man’s gaze for a long time.
‘Get out,’ the procurer said finally. ‘I want to eat.’
The sky was just taking on its evening colours when Sedgwick arrived home. He closed the door with a long, exhausted sigh.
‘Papa!’ James ran to him, clutching at his legs and gazing up with large blue eyes, silently demanding to be picked up. The deputy grabbed him round the waist, tossing him lightly into the air and catching him as the boy squealed with joy. He nuzzled his nose against James’s face, smelling the warm innocence of his hair then turning a circle with his son in his outstretched arms.
‘You be careful,’ Lizzie laughed. ‘He had summat to eat a little while back. If he’s sick you’re going to be the one cleaning it up.’
‘He’ll be fine, won’t you?’ He pulled the lad close and kissed him then let him slide back down his body to the floor. Lizzie came over, holding him and feeling the weariness in his bones.
‘Bad day?’ she asked.
‘Aye,’ he answered, thinking again of the bloody, misshapen face on the slab and wanting to leave it all behind. ‘But I’m home now.’
‘Come on, get your coat off,’ she told him, pulling lightly at the sleeves. ‘You’re settling in for the evening. There’s some food on the table. You want some ale?’
He nodded and she filled his mug. The first long sip tasted good, the second even better. He sat down, moving his head around to try and ease the tension of work out of his neck.
‘One of those days when you wonder why you do it?’ Lizzie asked.
‘Aye,’ he said, taking her hand, and pulling her down so she sat on his lap with a happy squeal.
‘I’m getting heavier, you know,’ she told him and patted her belly. ‘And I’ll be bigger fast enough.’
‘You’ll be lovely.’
With a smile she punched him playfully on the shoulder. ‘You say that now, John Sedgwick. But when I’m waddling round big as one of them houses at Town End you’ll think different.’
‘I’ll love you if you’re as big as the bloody Moot Hall,’ he laughed along with her and buried his face in her hair. He relished his work but he knew that this was what really kept him going, the prospect of coming home to these two. Here he could be a different person, or at least a different shade of the same person, gentler and kinder.
She stroked his hair as they sat, combing through it absently with her fingers, watching James as he played. Gradually he could feel himself relax, enjoying the closeness of this woman who wanted to be with him.
