The Light Beneath the Cauldron Page 7

  “She did,” he answered, “What a woman,” he added falling into thoughts of her.

  “Did she say why she wanted him to escape?”

  “No, but I assumed it was because he was her brother.” This made sense but then another thought came to Muc,

  “Did she insist that he escape at the hanging? Would it have been possible for you to get him free any earlier?"

  “I suppose I could have loosened him altogether at the gaol and he would have escaped then or else on the way. I think the little fella would have been able to take on the guards at the gaol or those escorting him without much trouble if his hands were free,” Speer said.

  “I take it you haven’t mentioned this fact yet at work?” Muc said snidely.

  “Of course not, I’d be hanging myself if that was the case.” Muc nodded and then stood up to leave.

  “Nice running into you again, Sam, best of luck to you,” he said patting the man on the back and walking away just like that.

  Once outside Muc began to think hard on what he’d just learned. He knew he was drunk but he also knew if he concentrated on it enough on his walk home he would be able to recall a lot of it the following morning. As it stood, he couldn't make much of it. Madame Mel had been lying about her disdain for her brother, but he hadn’t believed that in the first place. Muc had seen Gaspard leave the brothel one day well after he was supposed to have left Ireland by Mel’s story. Was there any more to it than that? Did she know why he was killing all those people and if so did she know at the time. These were all things he was going to have think on when he was sober. He fancied as he stumbled home that he was much better than the Alderman was at all this investigatin’ stuff.

  Chapter 21

  Alderman James was not too surprised to find it was Edwards who had called to the door so late in the evening. James had looked for him and not finding him left a note at his home to come see James when he could. The butler showed him in at James’ request.

  “I see you got my letter, then?” James said pouring a glass of wine as Edwards came into the room and holding it out for the newcomer.

  “Thank you,” Edwards said taking the glass, “Yes I got your message and I have been dying to know what’s going on?”

  “There’s no point my talking around it, I need your help on this case,” James said taking up his own glass and sipping the wine.

  “No sign of Gaspard yet, then?” Edwards said nodding appreciatively at the wine.

  “It’s not that case,” James said, “I think the Newgate murder was someone else.”

  “Why so?”

  “I think Gaspard is long gone, I doubt we’ll ever see him again. I can’t say for sure why but I just feel this killer is someone else. It may even be the same killer who committed the ‘Shadow of the Dolocher’ murders.”

  “You’ve come round completely to the idea Spencer was innocent?” Edwards raised an eyebrow.

  “It seems that way,” James agreed. Mary Sommers’ pleading and the letter from Spencer had played over in his mind for a long time and each day his confidence in the culpability of Spencer diminished.

  “You think this is a continuation of those crimes now?”

  “Yes, I think he laid low after Spencer was arrested so we would think we got the right man. Then Gaspard came along and he saw an opportunity to kill again without raising suspicions about the old killings.”

  “He is hiding behind Gaspard now?” Edwards asked.

  “Yes, I think so. Everyone I’ve heard speak on this thinks Gaspard killed Cabinteely.”

  “Yes, that’s pretty much what I hear everywhere too,” Edwards agreed.

  “Is that what you think?”

  “Well, I have to admit it was until I saw the look on your face this evening, Alderman.”

  “I need access to your network of eyes,” James said, “If you are willing?”

  “I am willing, Alderman. You know me, always looking for something to excite me!” Though he was smiling, James noticed the tiredness in Edwards’ face. He’d seen it when he came in. Were the years of late nights abusing his body catching up with him at last?

  For the briefest of moments, the idea that Edwards could probably hold off any attack from the Mayor came to James’ mind but he dismissed it at once. It was one thing to ask for help when he knew of Edwards’ ability to get to places he could not, but it was quite another thing to be asking for help against the Mayor.

  “Thank you Mr Edwards,” James said, “Can you start with the Cabinteely murder and see what you might be able to find out about that?”

  “Consider it done.” Edwards smiled and held out his glass and James clinked his to it, the ring the contract between them. He wondered how long it would be before Edwards would begin to purposefully rile him.

  “I’ve been going back over the previous murders attributed to Spencer looking for fresh clues or things I may have not thought important at the time,” James said.

  “Perfect, you keep at that until I see what I can find out,” Edwards said. “I’m going to look into Madame Mel as well while I’m at it,” he added.

  “Madame Mel?” James asked.

  “Yes, I’m not as convinced as you are that her brother is gone. I’ll look into that possibility at the same time as we work on your theory.” James didn’t have any real objection to this save that he thought it might be a waste of time. The fact that it wasn’t going to be James’ time that was being wasted kept any protest silent.

  “If you like,” was all he said. There was no harm in it after all; it was possible James was wrong about Gaspard. It was just he didn’t feel wrong about it at all.

  “I suppose the whole Hellfire Club will come under your gaze now for the Spencer murders?” Edwards said sitting down by the fire.

  “Everyone is ruled in until they can be ruled out,” James said.

  “And me?”

  “I think you were ruled out at the time, considering you were with me when some of the things happened.” Edwards smiled into the fire at this answer and then shook his head ruefully, “So it’s possible Spencer went to his grave an innocent man? Hard to believe.”

  “Terrible if true,” James answered. He took the bottle, went to Edwards and refilled his glass and then his own.

  “It seems we are almost back to the start all over again,” Edwards said.

  “Only this time the tensions are higher than ever and I don’t know what will happen if we don’t catch the killer soon.”

  “Yes, the rebels here are getting feisty aren’t they? I saw the wreckage of the ‘Black Dog’ today. I can’t believe it’s gone.”

  “I know, but in some ways that might be a good thing,” James said.

  “If I didn’t know better I’d say that sounds almost like treason, Alderman!” Edwards laughed.

  “I don’t mean that,” James said, “I’m talking about the fact that it can no longer be a focal point for all the murders that have taken place over the last few years. Who could look at that tower as it was and not think of Thomas Olocher? And when you think of him you then think of the ‘Dolocher’ and it leads on from there right up to Gaspard now.”

  “I suppose you’re right on that score, Alderman,” Edwards said. His voice sounded like his mind was elsewhere and James saw that he was looking into the fire with a strange intensity, like he could see something in there that troubled him. Coupled with the tired look, it was the worst James had ever seen him. Whatever it was that troubled him he wasn’t going to tell James, the Alderman was certain of that. He could only hope it wouldn't affect the case they were both now working on together.

  Chapter 22

  Peter Swift, the owner of Swift’s Tavern, looked warily on the brothel from across the street. The night was cool and dark and he had left his barman in charge at the tavern while he went on this little errand. He’d been two nights mulling over whether or not he should come here and in the end decided he had nothing to lose. The payoff could be great.

>   He walked over towards the front door, hoping that he would know one of the men there. As he got closer he saw that he didn’t and he ran through what he would say when they inevitably stopped him. Rather than make a fool of himself by trying to casually walk inside like he was a regular, he stopped and looked from one man to the other and said,

  “I have information Madame Melanie is going to want to hear.” The two men looked at one another and then back to Peter.

  “Tell me what it is and I’ll pass it on,” the one closest to him said.

  “I can’t,” Peter said fumbling then for a reason why this was the case. “It is for her to hear only,” he settled on, the words stumbling out of his mouth as he came up with them. The men looked at one another again and then one sighed and went up the steps and inside. The other one stood there without saying a word or looking at Peter. He didn’t know if the one inside was passing on his message or just going to the toilet. He felt it would be better to wait than ask.

  A couple of minutes later the man came back out and took up his position again before saying,

  “Go around to the back door. Whoever is there takes the message and that’s final.” Though disappointed with this—he hardly thought it likely Madame Mel herself would be answering the back door—he thanked the men and went on his way.

  The entrance to the laneway that ran behind the house was a well known gathering spot for those streetwalkers who either couldn’t get work in Madame Mel’s this evening or never got work there. Men would come and gawp at them and business was done in the surrounding lanes and alleys. Peter was approached by no fewer than ten women on the short trip around to the back of the house but he got there at last.

  “What’s this about?” a harsh woman’s voice said as he approached the back door. Peter was startled and had to look to see that the door was ajar and a pair of mistrusting eyes were peering out at him from the darkness within.

  “I have a message for Madame Mel—”

  “I know that part,” the woman hissed, “What is it about?” Peter was beginning to regret coming at all but then he thought he had the word that would see him to Melanie herself.

  “The hangman,” he said and then stood waiting for a response.

  “Bring him into the back hall,” another woman’s voice said, this one accented and coming from the floor above. Peter looked up but saw no one at the window. The door in front of him opened,

  “Come in.”

  Peter stepped inside and at once he could smell the women’s mixed perfumes and powders. It was almost overwhelming and he coughed a little to clear his throat. They went through a door and came out in a narrow carpeted hallway that ran off in both directions and around corners he couldn’t see in the gloom.

  “Wait here,” the woman who’d let him in said and he saw her face for the first time. She looked like she might be in her fifties but once might have been one of the girls here. He nodded his thanks as she went back out through the door leaving him standing there alone.

  “Tell me about the hangman,” Madame Mel’s sultry voice came to him just as she emerged into the thin light. He’d never seen her up close like this before and even in this light she was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen in his life. He found that he couldn’t speak. She came closer and looked into his eyes. “You don’t need to be shy here,” she said, “Tell me what you know and there is some reward for you.” His thoughts went to being in bed with her and he managed to say,

  “He said you paid him to let your brother escape.” He swallowed after these words. He decided against saying how the executioner said he was being paid. She looked dismayed a moment and then her facade was cool and collected once more and the smile came back to her lips.

  “What nonsense,” she laughed, “He told you this?”

  “Not to me, Madame,” the word sounded funny as he said it, “To Lord Muc. They were late in my tavern last night; no one else was there to hear it.”

  “Lord Muc?” she asked.

  “A local ruffian,” he said thinking how silly it was to think she’d know who the likes of him was.

  “I see,” she said, “Why do you think he is making up stories like this?” she asked. Now Peter felt even more foolish. He’d believed what the hangman was saying but now seeing Madame Mel and hearing her speak he knew she had nothing to do with it. Everything Speer had said had been lies; he was just trying to impress Muc most likely!

  “I just thought I should let you know,” he said trying to cover himself, “It’s a terrible thing to be saying about you.”

  “You are very kind,” she said smiling again. “Thank you for letting me know.”

  Afterwards Peter Swift would have no idea what she had done but he knew she’d done something that let him know it was time for him to leave. He opened the door and looked at her once more,

  “You’re very welcome,” he said and stepped outside. Her face was still smiling beautifully as he left and he would think about it for the rest of his life.

  Chapter 23

  Adams was both a little embarrassed and also delighted when Madame Mel sent the letter asking him to kill Sam Speer, the hangman she’d paid to save her brother's life. Embarrassed because he’d let loose his urge to kill only a few nights previous and now here was an offer to do the same again. Had he only been patient he could have killed anyway without having to hide anything from Mel. Oh well, every cloud. No one was likely to find the woman he’d killed for a while; he’d weighted her and dropped her out at sea in a rowboat. He’d kept himself in shape for these things, recalling how much work went into transporting dead bodies.

  Of course the letter had not said she wanted him to kill anyone. It simply said S.S was talking and would have to be dealt with. There could be no misunderstanding what this meant. He did wonder who Speer had been talking to however, and how Melanie had found out about it but he could ask all that at a later date if he still wanted to.

  Adams went straight out on reading the letter to where Speer lived. He watched the street and then saw Speer coming out on his way to work. His real job was down at the docks hauling cargo on and off ships; Adams already knew all of this. As soon as Madame Mel had told him how Gaspard escaped Adams had made it his business to find out all about Sam Speer; where he lived, where he worked and who he spent time with. He didn’t have a family and his friends were few and far between. He was not, Adams concluded, a man that would be missed by too many people.

  Once he’d made sure Speer was actually going to work and watched him at the ships for a time, Adams decided there was no time like the present. He looked around at all the buildings about and saw that there was quite a lot of them that were high. All that was missing was the top of the tower of Newgate Prison. Adams was one of the few people who would miss that tower. It held fond memories for him.

  Looking at the rooftops, he thought what better place to launch his attack from. Gaspard would be in the news once more. He smiled at this thought and imagined Edwards hearing about this. It would rattle his cage even further.

  Now that he knew what he was going to do, he went for some coffee to plan it out better. All the time he sipped, he kept a sharp look outside. It wouldn’t do for someone to recognise him, least of all Edwards himself. From all reports he’d received on Edwards there was no telling where he might turn up at any time night or day. He seemed a creature of complete whim and entirely unpredictable. Still, he wouldn’t be on the lookout for Adams, and that young runt of his had never met Adams to know what he looked like. He shook his head as he finished his coffee; those two shouldn’t be what was on his mind right now.

  After stopping off at his hotel for his ‘instrument’ and some old clothes, Adams went to the tallest building overlooking the market and docks. It was an old bank which was now used for housing right up to the top third floor. As he’d expected the door was not locked and no one challenged his entry.

  In the hallway, he covered his clothes with the old rags and tucked the ba
g into his trousers before starting up the stairs. On the top landing, he pictured the building from without and chose the door to the extreme right facing out. He listened at the door, someone was in there. Looking around and seeing no nosy neighbour peeking out, Adams tapped lightly on the door. The movement inside stopped a moment and then light footsteps approached. He could tell they were those of someone small and light.

  The door opened eagerly and a young girl stood looking out at him. She couldn't have been more than eight years old. Looking behind her Adams saw she was alone and had been sweeping the floor when he knocked. Taking a coin from his pocket, he held it out for her,

  “Your mother says you are to go to the market and get as much as you can for this coin,” he said leaning down to her eye level. The girl looked at the coin and then took it without hesitation,

  “What should I get?” she asked.

  “Potatoes and a little something for yourself,” he smiled. “But be quick now, your mother wants you to hurry.” He stood back to his full height and looked at her suddenly worried face as she stood there a moment and then rushed off down the stairs. Adams put a foot in to stop the door from closing and then stepped inside.

  The room was empty as he was already sure, and he closed the door and locked it behind him. Taking out his bow and loading an arrow, he walked to the window and looked down to the ship where Speer was working. Sure enough, there he was pulling on a rope that levered a large box being unloaded.

  Adams opened the window as far as it would go and then stood back so he could not be seen from outside. He watched Speer for a time, training his arrow on the slight movement of the man.

  “You would have done better to keep your mouth shut,” Adams said as he let the bowstring snap.

  For a moment he lost sight of the arrow but he looked to Speer and smiled when he saw the steel tip shred through his neck up to the flights. His hand jerked up to his neck and the large crate came tumbling down. Even from this distance, Adams saw the blood starting to flow out all over Sam Speer’s clothes. A woman shrieked and people began to look and then there was more screaming. People began to run and rush about and Adams smiled and soaked in the pleasure of his kill. He strode out of the room and down the stairs coming out into the crowd of people who’d been leaving the market area. He already knew that no one save the little girl would ever know he’d been here, and she most likely would never be able to describe him with any accuracy.