he is. He must have paid them well.’
‘He won’t pay unless they bring him the girl,’ Nottingham told him. ‘They’re just scared of what he might do if they peach on him.’
‘You broke the wrist of the one you hit,’ Rob said.
‘He’ll live.’ He turned to Sedgwick. ‘It’s Nan.’
‘I thought it must be.’
‘She had to watch her brother beaten to death. Said Worthy was there.’
Lister grimaced at the thought. ‘Would she say that in court?’ he asked.
‘No point,’ the deputy told him. ‘Worthy has the Corporation in his pocket.’
‘It’s true,’ Nottingham agreed. ‘They use his girls, borrow money from him, and in return he gets away with murder. Literally.’
‘So what are we going to do with them?’ Rob asked.
‘Keep them a while and then turn them out. Meanwhile I’ll go and have a word with their boss. I’ll tell them before I release them and we’ll see how fast they run.’
Sedgwick smiled. ‘What about Nan?’ he wondered.
‘She’ll be for the Quarter Sessions. You’d better take her over to the prison at the Moot Hall. And tell the turnkey I want her watched.’
‘Yes, boss.’ He tousled Lister’s hair. ‘Come on you, escort duty for us.’
He waited until they’d marched her out, each holding one of her arms, and then he locked the jail and strode down Briggate.
In the heat the street was rank from the piles of horse turds and the waste that had dried in the central runnel or on the road. Worthy would be at the Old King’s Arms, down at the corner with Currie Entry; it was where he always ate a late dinner. He might have owned the place for all the Constable knew.
He was sharing a bench with two of his men, his fingers greasy from the chicken leg he held, its flesh mostly gnawed away. Nottingham stood by the table until the pimp glanced up.
‘You can leave,’ he told the others. ‘Don’t go too far, mind, we’ll take a walk after.’ He put down the bird and wiped his fingers on his waistcoat, the stains joining hundreds of others on the fabric.
‘Drink, laddie?’ he asked, pouring himself a fresh mug of ale.
‘I hear you were there when Tom got killed, Amos.’
Worthy looked at him guilelessly. ‘Tom? Who’s that, Constable?’
‘Nan’s brother.’
He nodded as if he’d just added an interesting new fact to the store in his mind.
‘I heard you used your stick on him, too.’
‘Did I?’ He took a long drink. ‘People have been telling you things, haven’t they? Shame they’re all lies.’
Nottingham stared firmly at him. ‘Nan got away, though,’ he continued. ‘Whoever you hired to find her almost got her. Except we got them. And she’s safe in prison now.’
‘Is that so?’ Worthy raised an eyebrow.
‘Going to press charges against her, Amos?’
‘No need. She’ll hang without anything I say.’
‘Gall you a bit, does it? That you didn’t get to make an example of her?’
Worthy shrugged. ‘I’m just glad to see you doing your job and catching thieves.’
‘I’ll be letting the two men who were after her go. Funny, they don’t seem to have heard of you.’
‘Strangers, mebbe, then. I’m sure if they stay here long they’ll know my name.’
‘I’ll tell them that, shall I?’ the Constable asked.
‘Up to you, laddie. Doesn’t matter either way to me.’
He appeared completely unconcerned, but Nottingham knew that inside the pimp was seething. He’d caught Tom and made him pay, but he needed the girl, too, needed her more than her brother to show that no one could cross him in this city.
‘I doubt if the lass has your money any more.’
Worthy smiled, showing the meat stuck between his teeth. ‘There’s always more to be made, Mr Nottingham. In my business, at least.’ He stood, pushing himself away from the bench, and with a mocking bow swept out of the inn. The Constable followed, watching from the doorway as Worthy and his men strolled down Briggate.
Thoughtfully he ambled back to the jail, enjoying the afternoon sun on his back, not too hot, just enough to feel comforting. Inside he unlocked the cells of both men, told them they were free to go and relayed Worthy’s none too cryptic message. He let them scurry away, one still clutching his broken wrist, then went over to the Moot Hall.
The prison was in the cellar, a frozen pit in the winter but pleasantly cool in this weather, well shaded, the walls solid and thick. The heavy stones of the floor resounded to his boots.
The prisoners there were waiting for the Quarter Sessions, when their fates would be decided. A few might go free, but most knew they’d end up dancing in the air, transported, or serving their sentences elsewhere. As the court date neared the cells would fill up. At least they were treated better in Leeds than in other cities. Weatherspoon, the turnkey, was a fair man. He saw his charges fed, there was straw to sleep on, sometimes even clean, and the slop buckets were emptied every few days to cut down on the chances of jail fever.
Even so, Nottingham held a handkerchief to his nose as he entered. The temperature might have been pleasurable, but the smell of unwashed bodies and slops was acrid.
‘Afternoon, Constable.’ Weatherspoon was at his desk, oblivious to the odours after so many years. He was at least sixty, a small and wizened man with cramped, arthritic fingers and a shiny, hairless skull. He’d been here since Nottingham was a boy, looking after his underground kingdom with meticulous care. His clothes were old but well cared for, his suit of light wool sponged clean, shoes polished so their metal buckles shone, hose always the same spotless white.
‘Mr Weatherspoon.’ He gave a smile. ‘The girl they brought over a little while ago. I need to talk to her.’
The man hefted a large, heavy ring of keys from the desk and made his way down the corridor. Nottingham waited. He could hear Weatherspoon fetching Nan — ‘You! Not you, you stupid baggage, her in the corner. Yes, you, someone to see you.’ — then the shuffle of feet as he returned with the lass.
She’d been in the place less than an hour but she looked older, careworn, as if she’d begun to fully understand the depth of her fate. There were fresh stains on the worn dress and already the stench of the prison was clinging to her skin and her hair.
‘Hello, Nan,’ he said. She smiled tightly in return but said nothing. ‘Not the loveliest place to stay, is it?’
‘No,’ she agreed. ‘Not been in worse than this before.’
‘You’re lucky,’ he told her truthfully. ‘Another city and this might seem like luxury.’
She looked at him in sullen disbelief.
‘You’re going to be here a month or more until the Quarter Sessions. You’d better get used to it.’
‘And then the noose?’
‘Maybe not.’ He dangled the idea before her and this time her gaze sharpened with his words, hope flickering behind her eyes. He waited until he had her complete attention, then continued, ‘Amos Worthy won’t be pressing charges. If you admit the others, you might be able to escape hanging.’
‘Why do you care?’ she asked suspiciously. ‘What do you want?’
‘You managed to get away from Worthy. That’s reason enough for me by itself.’
She kept looking at him. He knew she didn’t believe him, but he held her gaze and said no more.
‘So what do you want?’ she asked finally.
‘Nothing,’ he told her, ‘except to know how you and your brother started on all this.’
She looked at him suspiciously. ‘Have you ever been hungry?’ she asked.
‘Yes.’
She snorted. ‘You’ve been late for a meal?’
‘I know exactly what you mean,’ Nottingham said soberly, ‘and I’ve been hungry.’
Nan eyed him for a moment, then continued. ‘You live like that for a while and you’ll do what you need to do. Me and Tom, we were on our own after me dad died. Me mam died when I was born.’
‘Not everyone does what you did.’
‘We’re not all saints,’ she said wearily. ‘Tom had fast hands. I’d distract them, he’d take the things.’
