Ghostly Images (14 page)

J
ACK
WAS
PANTING
FOR
BREATH
as he progressed up the long road leading up to the Mulgrave Estate. He had to get away from Whitby and hide until nightfall. It annoyed him not being able to steal the purse from the woman on the pier. Since losing his job, he was always hungry. But he had to return to keep a close eye on the abbey. He was sure that Hood would be there searching for the diamonds.

He reached the crest of a hill and paused for a few minutes to catch his breath. The track petered out at the wall surrounding the estate. Beneath him lay the village of Sandsend, its beach sparkling in the hazy rays of the sun.

In the distance, he could just about make out the ruins of the seven- hundred-year-old Mulgrave Castle and proceeded in its direction. Wild flowers, shimmering like a carpet of jewels, surrounded a clump of trees. Above him, a heron circled gracefully. He carried on walking, crushing the wild flowers under his feet.

The soft ground was broken at intervals by a scattering of moss-covered stones that had fallen from the once-great castle. Curling branches of beech and oak trees framed the ruin in a spidery web. The leaves of the trees had every shade of green, from light and pale to a vivid, darker colour. The only sound was the rustling of a squirrel in the undergrowth and a solitary bird in one of the trees.

Suddenly, he came across a young boy carrying a sack over his shoulders.

He grabbed the boy and dragged him to the ground. “Keep quiet,” Jack whispered. “Owner will be bloody furious if he catches me here.”

As if on cue, Jack saw a man dismounting from his horse by the front doorway of the ruined castle through the dense foliage of the bushes. The man took a swig from his hip flask, mounted his white horse, and galloped away.

Jack let go of the boy, and they came out from behind the bushes. “That was a ruddy close call,” said Jack. “What’s in sack?”

“Food. I run errands for Mrs Dillon’s shop.”

Jack snatched the sack and emptied its contents on the ground. There were three pork pies, one bread bun, and tripe in a bag. He rammed a pork pie in his mouth and devoured it, followed by the other two pies, the bread bun, and finally the tripe, scattering crumbs and fragments on the ground.

“You’ll have to pay me,” said the boy, nervously pulling out the crumpled bill from his pocket and lifting it up. Jack swept it away.

“Don’t need to read it.”

“Why not?”

“I can’t read.” Jack looked around. “They’ll be plenty of angry elephants about soon.”

“Elephants?” asked the boy nervously.

“Scared, are you?” Now, it was his turn to do the humiliating rather than be on the receiving end. He threw the last pieces of his food at the boy. The boy said nothing and wiped the flecks of tripe and crumbs away.

“Elephants trampled last few errand lads to death. There’s nothing left of ’em. Just like squashed hedgehogs after they’d finished. You’ll finish up same way.”

“I won’t,” said the boy meekly.

“You’re weak and skinny and can’t outrun them elephants.” Jack rubbed his chin and looked at the boy. “Turn out yer pockets.”

The boy obeyed. There was nothing of value, merely a snotty handkerchief.

“The other poor errand boys were big and tough like me,” said Jack.

“The ones killed by elephants?” asked the boy hesitantly.

“Don’t let anyone kid you there aren’t elephants. They’re sworn to say that.”

“Why do they say that there are no elephants?”

“They might have to get rid of them if there’s more trouble.”

“Aren’t you terrified of them?”

“Not me. One night, not far from here, an elephant charged at me. I put up me hand, and it stopped there and then, just like a tame dog. It could see it in me eyes.”

“What could it see?”

“That I had no fear. That I was its
master
.” He looked the boy up and down. “It would have smelt fear on yer and then trampled you to pulp.”

The boy trembled and looked around for signs of elephants.

“But there’s much more to worry about than elephants,” Jack growled, leaning forward.

“W-What else is there to worry about?”

“Me!” Jack grinned, widening his toothless mouth and revealing his tobacco-stained gums. He pushed the lad to the ground and placed his boot on top of the boy’s chest. “Don’t say anything about seeing me here to anyone.”

Jack removed his foot and the boy rose to his feet gingerly, gasping for air, and then Jack swung round and grabbed the boy by the collar, lifting him high. “I’ll kill you if you open yer bloody mouth. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir,” the boy wheezed and Jack brought him down. Never had he put such fear inside a person. It was exhilarating.

“Remember that well, lad.” He took a knife from his pocket and held it to the boy’s throat. “If you dare go to the police, you’ll have to answer to me. Is that clear?”

“Y-y-yes, sir!”

Jack smiled and replaced the knife in his pocket. “I’m glad we’ve got this understanding between us,” he said, slapping the boy playfully on his back and knocking him to the ground.

Jack took a handful of diced tripe and wiped it over the boy’s nose and mouth. He saw a long, fat, earthworm, picked it up, and placed it on the boy’s nose.

The boy shrieked in terror as the worm crawled on his lips. He got up and ran as fast as his legs could carry him.

Jack laughed so hard, it hurt his ribs, but seeing the worm on the boy’s face gave him an idea.

If it worked, Jack would see Hood squirm at his feet and begging for mercy.

Chapter 23

Tuesday 4
th
September 1894

B
EFORE
ENTERING
THE
STUDIO
THAT
MORNING
, David went for a stroll along the pier. He glanced at the sea. Normally, his mind would be on swimming. Today, his mind focused on Lucy.

He saw Frank Hawk setting up his Punch and Judy stand on the pier for his performance later. David thought it early for him to be setting up when the first performance wouldn’t be until late morning. When Frank looked up, David waved and caught his attention.

“Did your clock stop working? It’s only 7.15. You’re early setting up today.”

Frank put down his carpetbag and joined David on the bench. “It’s a pleasant morning, and it’s good to be in the fresh air. I need to practice a new routine for my show.”

“I could stay and listen. Give you my opinion.”

“That’s good of you, but I’d prefer to do this in private. At this time of the day, there is usually no one here.” Frank pointed to a bird hovering near the surface of the sea. “My son would have known what that bird is. Do you?”

“A cormorant?”

“If it had more tail feathers and was larger, I’d agree with you, but it’s a shag. It’s quite beautiful, isn’t it?”

David, who didn’t like being wrong, found it difficult to hide his disappointment at being incorrect. “Yes, I suppose.”

Frank laughed. “Don’t sulk. My son was an expert on birds and tried to teach me, but I don’t think I was a very good pupil. At least I am an expert on card tricks.” He produced a pack of cards from his pocket and began to shuffle. With an eager smile he said, “Take the deck and choose a card, but don’t show it to me.”

David took the cards and glanced through them briefly. He selected the Ace of Clubs. “What next?”

“Place the card you have chosen anywhere in the pack, then return it to me.”

David replaced the card, shuffled the deck, and returned them to Frank. The man flicked through the pack and, seconds later, produced the Ace of Clubs.

David smiled weakly. “You never get a trick wrong, Frank.”

The puppeteer put his hand in his inside pocket, took out a glove puppet of Mr Punch and placed it over his hand. Frank, or rather the shrill, little hunchback Mr Punch, said, “Hood has taken up an interest in the construction of ancient buildings.” Frank put the puppet back in his pocket.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not a good sleeper, so I often take a walk late at night or early in the morning. I saw Hood attempting to examine
every
stone in the abbey.”

“He’s a tour guide. He needs to explain to people all the features of the abbey.”

“You could be right. But he’s had more than enough time to count all the stones at least a thousand times by now.” He eyed David closely. “Keep your wits about you if you’re working with that man.”

“I will, and anyway, it’s just a temporary measure,” insisted David.

Frank shook his head. “When Hood gets his claws on someone, he doesn’t like letting them go. For some strange reason, he simply cannot allow it to happen.”

Out of curiosity, David asked, “Does Hood have influence outside Whitby?”

Frank took out a small case from his top waistcoat pocket and opened it. Inside were several self-rolled cigarettes. He took one out and lit it. “Remember that shag hovering over the sea? It’s not pelagic and prefers to keep near its little spot in the sea. If it went inland, it would perish. It has a limited territory...much like Hood.”

David considered this good news but wanted to be certain. “Does Hood have contacts in London or any other big town in Britain?”

“I wouldn’t worry about that.”

“Why?”

“I was once his friend some years ago. Only for a few months, mind—but I learnt a lot about him.”

“Such as?”

“Oh...things like how Hood can suffer from melancholia late at night. At these times, Percy secretly sprays a rose-violet perfume throughout Hood’s bedroom.”

“But why should he do that?” David scratched his chin.

“His late wife used that type of perfume. Hood thinks his wife is visiting him from beyond the grave when he smells the fragrance.”

David shook his head. “I would have thought that’s the last thing a cynical rogue like Hood would believe.”

“He’s a complex character, David, and very difficult to fathom. But he’s convinced that is wife visits him from beyond the grave. He’s also insistent that he has a genuine psychic ability that reveals itself from time to time.”

“Does he?”

Frank gave a deep-throated chuckle. “Not with cards, at any rate. I had to teach him all the card tricks, which he later exploited to cheat people...to my shame.” He took a drag of his cigarette. “I was never comfortable cheating people and wanted something pure and innocent. That’s why I began my Punch and Judy act for the children. Perhaps, in a strange way, I’ve got Hood to thank for that. I now have a job I love.”

“You said that when Hood gets his claws on someone, he doesn’t like letting them go. So why did he let you go?”

Frank gave a crooked smile. “Let’s just say that I know a thing or two about Hood that Tanner would give his right arm to obtain. If anything unexpectedly should happen to me, I’ve made sure that Tanner would get this information. Hood knows this, so he leaves me alone.”

“What else do you know about Hood?”

Frank shook his head dismissively. “I don’t want to waste any more time on discussing that charlatan.” He took a long pull off his cigarette. “Has Tanner interviewed you, by any chance, about those murders?”

David was going to be evasive but then decided to be candid. “Yes,” he mumbled.

“I wouldn’t worry about that. He’s interviewed a lot of men, including me.”

David was dumbfounded. “I don’t believe it! Why should he do that?”

“I didn’t want to mention this in The Queen’s Head, but Elizabeth Betts made fun of my son’s stammer. A few days after his funeral, I went to the dress shop and told her that she should be ashamed. I didn’t shout or scream, but others in the shop overheard what I said.”

“Tanner shouldn’t have interviewed you for doing that.”

“I publicly confront a woman, and several months later, she’s dead. Tanner was simply doing his job. He was very pleasant to me and said that if he’d been in my place, he’d have done the same thing.”

David checked the time on his pocket watch. “I’d better go to the studio and get ready. We’ve got several appointments today.”

Frank dropped his cigarette and stamped it out. “And I’d better practice my new routine.”

Chapter 24

Tuesday 4
rd
September 1894

J
OHN
PACED
UP
AND
DOWN
THE
STUDIO
, studying two photographs in his hands, and when David arrived, he rushed over. “I think you should have a look at this.”

David stepped forward to look at the prints and blinked just in case his eyes were deceiving him. The print of the two girls sat on the steps in Argument’s Yard playing with their tatty dolls had a semi-transparent image of a young girl standing behind them. She appeared to be looking on enviously at the girls playing. “Did you use any darkroom tricks?”

“No,” snapped John. “But we’re getting remarkable results of psychic phenomena using the collodion process.” John lifted the other print close to show David. “What do you think of this one?”

It revealed ghostly white shadows of several people ascending and descending the 199 Steps. David saw John’s smug grin of satisfaction. “It will have a scientific explanation. The sun was bright and could have produced a lens flare.”

“That’s not all,” said John as if he expected that reply. He went into the darkroom and brought out another print. “What
scientific
explanation do you have for this one?” John pointed to the middle of the photograph. “Can you see those dark marks over Rachel Varley’s neck, chest, and stomach?”

David took a cursory glance at the image, but a chill ran down his spine. “You know that using collodion frequently produces dark residues.”

“But they’re normally at the extreme edges of the print, not anywhere else.”

“I thought you frequently said chemistry baffled you. Are you suddenly an expert now?”

“No, I’m not an expert, but there are ghostly images on five out of the six other photographs from Monday,” He brought these prints over. “I took five of the portraits with a four-second exposure. The one that didn’t reveal anything unusual was about two or three seconds.”