Death in the Dark Walk (27 page)

James shifted his position. ‘That's the devil of it, I can't remember exactly. It happened quite some while ago, you see. I got damnably drunk in London and slept most of the way home in the postchaise. A few days after that I looked for my coat and realised it had gone missing, so concluded I had left it in town somewhere.'

John stood up and paced irritably, still not certain whether the youth was a skilled liar or completely honest. And then James added, ‘But I did see the boy you're talking about. I noticed him at once.'

John shot him a black look. ‘What did you say, you precocious brat?'

‘I said I saw the person you mean. I noticed him particularly because I thought he was wearing my lost coat – or at least one very like it. It's got such a distinctive weave with those faint silver threads.'

John stood stock still. ‘I cannot make up my mind about you, you know. But, just for a moment supposing you are being truthful, then I urgently need to question that other lad. He is a vital witness. What colour do you maintain you were wearing that night incidentally?'

‘Unfashionable green,' answered James, with reluctance.

For the moment, the Apothecary had no choice but to accept what Master Leagrave had said, and he nodded silently. ‘Tell me, do you know the Dukes of Midhurst and Richmond?' he added tersely.

‘Slightly. Everyone from round here does. When we were younger, Henry Wilton and I used to be quite friendly but we grew apart as we got older.'

‘And what about the Comte de Vignolles? Are you acquainted with him?'

‘No, but Lizzie spoke of him, of course. He had her in keeping.'

‘While you enjoyed her in the afternoons,' the Apothecary commented drily. ‘What about his wife?'

‘I never met her. I believe she boasted bad health.”

‘Then I have one final question for you before we rejoin the party. Have you ever heard of the Masked Lady?'

‘The most mysterious woman in London? Yes, most certainly. I have even seen her at play,'

John smiled grimly. ‘I thought you probably had.' He caught Master Leagrave by the shoulder. ‘If you have been lying to me, you forward little hound, I shall find you out, never fear.'

James shook his head. ‘I have spoken truly. I
did
lose my coat. You have my word on it.'

‘We shall see,' answered John, stony-faced.

Beneath them, the ball was at its height, the room full of whirling couples. The Squire, fiercely drunk, was pursuing Miss Phoebe in a gallop, and even Miss Leagrave was going through the motions with one of her brother's reprobate friends. John, looking around him with wry amusement, turned to James.

‘Have you forgiven your father for his transgression with Lizzie?'

The boy pulled a wicked face. ‘Well, yes, I have. Because in the end, you see, I won.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘That it was me who went to visit her in London, not him.'

‘But he had finished with Lizzie by then, surely?'

‘She was not the sort of woman with whom one could ever finish,' James answered wistfully. ‘It was as if she got inside your brain and refused to go away.'

‘Are you saying that the Squire still yearned for her?'

‘Oh yes,' said James. ‘I am absolutely sure he did.'

He needed to leave, to go into the night air and sift his thoughts, but John had reckoned without rural hospitality, which was not content until all the gentlemen were drunk as lords and the ladies swooning or bedded. Halfway to the front door, John felt a hefty arm throw itself around his shoulder and himself forcibly dragged back into the fray.

‘Not thinking of going, are you?' Ralph Leagrave breathed moistly into his ear.

‘Yes, I feel I should be off, Sir.'

‘Nonsense. The party's only just started.'

‘It
is
getting rather late.'

The Squire peered into his face, small eyes glistening. ‘You ain't a flincher, I hope? I reckon you town chaps have no stamina, by God.'

‘Oh, that's not true . . .' John started.

‘But I envy you, y'know,' the Squire interrupted, obviously by now at the terrible sentimental stage of drunkenness. ‘I reckon I'd have made a regular blood had I been born in town.'

John made polite noises.

‘Fact is, I have a kind of yen for the place, slip up there as often as I can, as I've already told you, I expect.'

Despite the effects of the wine with which the Squire was plying him, a signal sounded in John's mind and he struggled back to full alertness. ‘I'm sure you do, a man of your stamp,' he said, nudging Ralph Leagrave boisterously. ‘I'll wager not many weeks pass without your paying a visit to town.'

‘Ha ha?' said the Squire, and winked a tiny eye.

‘I know you haven't been to the Pleasure Gardens since the season began, I remember that,' John continued, throwing caution to the winds. ‘So where have you been, I wonder.'

Sir Ralph lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘Where do you think?'

A moment of inspiration came to John. ‘To the house in Leicester Fields?' he said, the puzzle beginning to fit.

The Squire roared in astonishment. ‘By God, you're sharp. Of course, I have. And while I was there recently, in all that throng, d'you know I saw someone who shouldn't have been there at all. Naughty young scamp!'

He was near the answer, John knew it instinctively. ‘And who was that?' he said, his voice shaking very slightly.

‘Well now,' answered the Squire, putting a thick red finger to his lips, ‘that would be telling, wouldn't it?'

He did not stop even to wash or change his travelling clothes; instead John took a hackney straight from The Borough to Bow Street, arriving at the Public Office just as darkness fell. The hour being quite late, the Fieldings had obviously eaten their supper and from the family rooms above the official quarters came the sound of a harpsichord. Just for a second, John stood listening to its music, enjoying the counterpoint provided by a blackbird singing in a neighbouring tree, before he climbed the steps and knocked on the front door, delighted at being able once more to discuss the situation with the finest brain in London.

Joe Jago answered the summons almost immediately, a quill pen behind his ear. ‘Ah, Mr Rawlings,' he said, grinning his foxy grin. ‘Have you had good hunting?'

‘I've learned a great deal,' John answered, ‘though the answer still eludes me, I fear.'

‘Then I'll step aloft and ask Mr Fielding to join you below. Mrs Fielding and Mary Ann are amusing themselves with songs and it would not be his wish to disturb them. Now if you will be kind enough to wait in here, I'll see that some refreshment is brought to you.'

He ushered John into the same room in which he had first encountered the Blind Beak, the chamber used by Sir Thomas de Veil for the purposes of interviewing his pretty female witnesses. Thinking how much had happened in the short space of time since he had first set foot in there, John took a seat on the sofa.

He had not slept at all on the journey back to London. Instead, his mind had gone over and over all the information he had gathered, trying to collate it into a series of linking facts. If James was to be believed it would appear that by some means, not yet clear, the murderer had either stolen or found Master Leagrave's coat and had then used it to disguise himself. So in that case, what was the identity of the elusive boy? Had Elizabeth broken another lad's heart at some time in the past? Or did someone John had already interviewed briefly don the garment in order to mask his true personality?

With a puzzled shake of his head, he was just about to picture the scene at the Cascade yet again when the tap of a stick told him that John Fielding was approaching. Standing up to mark his respect, the Apothecary turned to face the door as it opened to reveal the looming figure of the great man himself. As the blinded eyes turned towards him, John studied the strong feature of the heavy face, realising yet again that Mr Fielding was of no particularly great age, still in his thirties, in fact. Yet it was almost impossible to credit such a thing, in view of the power and force exuded by the awe-inspiring being John was regarding.

‘Good evening, Sir,' said the Apothecary, a note of genuine reverence in his voice.

‘Mr Rawlings,' rumbled the other, ‘take a seat, do. I have ordered a good bottle of claret to come up from the cellars, to be followed by another if that is not sufficient. Now, pray tell me all that you have discovered.' And with those words the Blind Beak felt his way towards the chair opposite John and sat down, the black bandage turning towards the speaker as the Apothecary began his story.

‘So,' said John Fielding eventually, ‘it would seem that Squire Leagrave holds the key to it all.'

‘To be perfectly honest with you, Sir, I find the man utterly confusing. He lies in a very subtle sort of way. First he told me that he was glad when Elizabeth Harper was sent packing because he was afraid that she was growing too demanding, then James assured me his father still lusted after her. Then he said that he had only seen her once since she left his employ, and that by chance in Vigo Lane. Yet the Squire admitted to me just before I left that he frequents the house in Leicester Fields. He has bewildered me so much that I no longer know what to believe, particularly about his not being at Vaux Hall since the beginning of the season.'

‘Urn,' said the Blind Beak and relapsed into silence.

John did not dare utter, too afraid of breaking Mr Fielding's train of thought. Thus he sat, tense and mute, until the Magistrate spoke once more.

‘I think that the man tells half truths. He may well have seen Lizzie in Vigo Lane but yet I feel certain he had accidentally come across her in the brothel long before that.'

‘Because of the fact that Jemmy Groves knew where she was and wrote to her?'

‘Precisely. Who else from Midhurst travelled regularly to town? And who else knew the miller and his family? My strong impression is that Sir Ralph went to Leicester Fields as was his wont, there discovered the whereabouts of his ex-servant, and at some time after that, probably in his cups, passed the information on to Jemmy Groves.'

‘Who told Eleanor what he knew, thus enabling her to reveal the secret to James. Yes, I believe that must have been how it happened.'

The Blind Beak did not move, the extraordinary stillness which always surrounded him never more apparent. ‘So if James Leagrave is telling the truth it seems that there was someone else at the Pleasure Gardens that night, a someone whom we have been referring to as the apprentice lad, who somehow came by James's coat and used it to disguise himself, never thinking for one moment that its true owner would also be present.'

John looked thoughtful. ‘But we cannot necessarily presume that this person is the murderer. He might simply have shrouded his identity for another purpose entirely.'

‘And there again he might merely have stolen the coat and the fact he wore it on the night of the murder was pure coincidence. But in any event it might possibly explain why the Duke of Midhurst thought he saw young Leagrave in The Dark Walk but was uncertain of the fact when you pressed him. He probably recalled the coat but thought that the face of the owner did not quite fit.'

‘It would appear so, yes.'

The Blind Beak shifted slightly. ‘How odd that the Squire would not reveal to you the identity of the person he met in the brothel.'

‘I don't know about odd, Sir, but it was certainly irritating. It seemed he gave his word of honour, a gentleman's agreement apparently, not to say who it was.'

‘Well, let us see if we can flush that person out. Whoever was present at the time of the killing, however innocent they might presently appear, must of necessity fall under suspicion. Therefore, I intend to take the ultimate step.'

John felt a frisson of excitement run the length of his spine. ‘What do you mean, Sir?'

‘I am going to ask Mr Tyers to close the Gardens to the public and to recreate the scene with all the players in place.'

‘But would they all come?' John asked in astonishment.

The Blind Beak made a small sound of amusement. ‘They will be ordered to do so by the Court, Mr Rawlings. Failure to comply will be a punishable offence.'

‘But what about the Comtesse de Vignolles and Squire Leagrave?'

‘I shall invite them to attend as well. I do not think they will refuse.'

At that moment there was a noise in the passageway and John brightened as the door opened to reveal Joe Jago bearing a tray of delicacies. The clerk twitched his brows at his employer, just as if the Magistrate could see him. ‘I heard what you said through the door, Sir. Would you like me to draw up one of my lists?'

‘I certainly would, Joe. And be so kind as to check it with Mr Rawlings before he leaves in the morning.'

‘The morning?' repeated John.

The Blind Beak smiled tolerantly. ‘I imagine that the combination of fatigue, excitement and good wine will deter you from going home tonight and I am therefore delighted to offer you my hospitality.'

‘And I am equally delighted to accept.' John paused and his face changed. ‘But there is one thing that still worries me, Sir. As neither you nor I know who the apprentice is – unless it is James, of course, and all he said is a sham – how are we going to get him there?'

John Fielding took a sip of the wine that Joseph Jago had poured for him. ‘I truly believe, Mr Rawlings, that he must have entered the scene by now. That somewhere, unbeknownst to us at the moment, he is lurking. I therefore feel that if we invite everyone connected with the case, he will be present, come what may.'

‘And do you still think that the murderer might be a threat to me? I was unnerved by the forced entry of my shop, I can assure you.'

The Blind Beak nodded. ‘I think you should continue to be careful. The killer must be aware that the net is tightening and might yet try to silence you. Particularly when the invitations to the re-enactment are issued. For he will know quite clearly then that I will be relying on your sharp eyes to pick him out.'