Arrowood

He shrugged. ‘Could of been any reason. He swindled them. Let slip something to the coppers. Made a promise he couldn’t keep. Could of been anything.’

‘What did Martha have to do with it?’

‘Nothing, far as I know. Except Mr Piser was always sweet on her. That’s the only connection far as I can see. But she was sweet on Terry. Mr Piser, well, he didn’t like it.’

‘Did they have an argument?’ asked the guvnor.

‘Mr Piser never had an argument with no one. Doesn’t talk enough to argue.’

‘Why do you think she was murdered, Harry?’

He drained his coffee and straightened his back.

‘Probably on account of going to meet you,’ he said, holding the guvnor’s eye. ‘That’d be my guess, sir.’

The guvnor looked like he’d had the wind knocked out of him. I don’t know why. He knew it as well as I, knew it the minute we saw the girl lying on the church path. Sure as day we’d gotten her killed.

‘Tell us about Terry’s friends,’ I said. ‘Know any of them?’

‘I only know him from the kitchen. Don’t know what he does outside.’

‘You never talked about his life?’

‘I know he went out drinking, but I couldn’t say who with. Never had the money myself to go out for a spree.’

‘Where did he go? Which pubs?’

‘Sorry, sir. I don’t recall him ever saying.’

I gave Harry his shilling along with a little ticket with the guvnor’s address on it.

‘If you hear anything else.’

‘Yes, sir,’ he said, standing. He pointed at the pudding. ‘Can I take it?’

‘Course you can. Take it all.’

‘And you won’t tell no one you talked to me, will you?’

‘You have our word,’ said the guvnor. ‘But tell me, Harry. How long has your wife’s drinking been a burden?’

Harry’s mouth fell open.

‘Her . . .’ he began, but seemed unable to continue.

‘You tolerate her so far?’ continued the guvnor, then left his special silence that I knew well enough by now not to fill. He looked kindly at the thin man, who shifted from foot to foot. Finally, Harry cracked.

‘But how did you know? Somebody tell you, did they?’

‘Nobody told me, my friend. I saw it in you.’

‘It ain’t easy, sir. I don’t get no sleep, what with the youngsters. But I work such long days, she got no one to discipline her. And the old crow next door leads her astray.’

The guvnor stood and grasped his hand. ‘Such things are sent to test us. I know you have the strength to pass the test, Harry, but you must nourish yourself. You’re too weak to be a proper father. You must eat more.’

‘Yes, sir,’ said Harry, his eyes on the floor, ashamed.

‘Thank you for your help.’

When he was gone, we stood and wrapped ourselves up in our coats. The sky was clear, but though it was summer the air was cold. Mrs Willows cleaned and swept and turned out the lamps.

‘How did you know about his wife?’ I asked as we stepped out onto the pavement. On the other side of the road a copper walked his beat.

‘I sensed it, Barnett.’

‘Give over. How did you really know?’

‘How much do you think a junior cook makes? Thirty shillings a month? Forty? It’s enough to feed his family and pay for their room without him starving himself. Yet he steals food and risks a job that he badly needs. It must mean his money’s going elsewhere. He doesn’t have the money to go drinking himself, he told us that much. So where?’

‘Plenty of other places,’ I said. ‘Gambling debts, maybe.’

‘Too sensible for that. He was very careful in what he told us until we gained his trust. That doesn’t speak of a gambler. But did you see how he looked away when confessing his wife was alive? Did you notice how he changed the subject when I asked if she fed him?’

‘She might have been bed-bound. She might have been put away.’

‘He would have told us if she was ill. There’s no shame in illness – half of London is ill. Drinking was a guess, Barnett. I admit it. But this city is drowning in drink. It was a good guess.’

‘A lucky guess.’

He laughed.

‘I’m a lucky man, Barnett. In some respects.’

As we wandered back through the early morning streets, past the piles of bodies wrapped in rags outside the workhouse and the cab station where an old fellow swept up a great pile of horse manure, he laughed again. His hollow laugh echoed in the quiet street like a thunderclap.

Chapter Seven (#ulink_96de75cc-bdf4-53c9-932e-7a492809cc93)

I arrived the next morning to find Ettie in a considerable fury.

‘Were you out drinking with him?’ she demanded. ‘He hasn’t been home since yesterday!’

‘No, Ettie. I wasn’t.’

It seemed as if the room had grown in size since the last time until I realized that all his stacks of newspapers were gone.

‘Did he go to a woman? Is that what he did?’

‘We met a man about the case around midnight. I parted with him at the corner of Union Street, not five minutes from here. He said he was going home.’