Ghostly Images (19 page)

Reaching the bottom of the 199 Steps, a wave of jubilation swept through his body.

His pent up rage had been unleashed in a torrent the moment he broke into Hood’s home earlier. He smashed up the room, and when he was finished, he took great pleasure in urinating on Hood’s carpet. Nobody would ever humiliate him again.

He could barely contain his excitement when he took Hood’s beloved snake to achieve the ultimate revenge. It couldn’t have gone any better. Now, he could look forward to his future as one of the richest men in the world. He strode down Church Street, whistling merrily.

Suddenly, he stopped whistling. Hood’s reference to the curse did not unsettle him...but the thought of Percy tracking him down in Ireland did.

Chapter 34

Friday 14
th
September 1894

N
EWS
OF
H
OOD
’
S
DEATH
spread quickly. His associates in crime were in a sombre mood as they talked inside The Frigate Arms that evening.

“We’ve had some great times at Hood’s house,” said Percy. “It’s a pity we’ll never be able to have a drink in there again.”

Jasper made a dismissive wave of his hand. “Rubbish. Let’s get some beer and whisky and go there now.”

“We can’t turn the clock back,” insisted Percy.

Jasper ran his hand over is badly scarred bald head. “Sod me! All I’m saying is that we can have a few drinks and a game of cards like old times.”

Percy frowned. He didn’t want any of these light-fingered men getting their hands on Hood’s possessions, which rightfully belonged to him after his loyalty and faithful service over so many years. What was wrong with him? His best friend was dead, and all he could picture in his head was the money and spirits he could grab. He was being too hard on himself. In a matter of months, the enormity of the loss of his friend would begin to take hold, and as the years passed, the pain of his loss would grow stronger, not weaker.

When he left Hood at the graveyard to fetch the lads, he’d stopped off at his home only for a few minutes to get a bite to eat, but had fallen asleep, exhausted from his toils. It was the only time he’d ever failed his friend.

“It’s boarded up by coppers. They’re scared snakes will break loose,” said Percy.

Jasper shrugged. “So bloody what?”

“I’ll come,” said Alan, who always had some stolen goods on him, and on a couple of occasions, stole from taverns and clubs they had frequented. Percy didn’t like this. At least Jasper was a good thief and didn’t stoop that low.

“There’ll be nowt to pinch, Alan,” Jasper teased.

“I’ll still be there.”

“Good on you.” Jasper slapped him hard on the back with his fist. Alan winched.

“You can count on me,” said Uriah
.

“To bring your mummy with you,” added Alan, chuckling.

“I’ll give you a knuckle sandwich,” snapped Uriah.

“A show of hands please,” Jasper called.

The assembled group raised their hands, with the one-eyed Graham lifting his hand up last.

“Buy some drinks from the bar to take with us,” said Percy. “Hood doesn’t have any beer or spirits left at his house.” This was a lie. Percy knew where Hood had hidden stolen bottles of fine Scottish whisky and other spirits, along with at least sixty pounds in the attic. He was Hood’s best friend, but these other men were merely acquaintances.

The men left The Frigate Arms carrying the drinks they had bought. When they arrived at Hood’s home, crudely nailed planks covered the front door. On one of the planks it said K
EEP
O
UT
.

They combined their strength to rip the boarding away from the door. Percy led the way as the others followed slowly behind. Inside, Percy lit the two gas lamps in the living room. He shuddered. Smashed objects lay everywhere. Strewn over the floor were books with their pages ripped out. Furniture had been slashed with a razor-sharp knife. Also ripped to pieces was Hood’s favourite print by John Everett Millais,
Ophelia
. Hood had said countless times that the woman in the painting uncannily resembled the image of his late wife.

Percy didn’t need any convincing that the police were so fearful about the snakes that they’d never stepped a foot inside his house. It was Hood’s murderer that did this.

The only things that appeared untouched were the tanks containing the snakes on the two sideboards. Then Percy noticed that one of the tanks was missing—the tank containing the Chief Constable. Percy trembled in fright. “Where’s the Chief Constable?”

“Bloody hell,” blurted Jasper.

The men nervously scoured the front room and then the kitchen for several minutes. “We’re safe,” continued Jasper. “Someone’s taken the snake and tank. No need to panic.”

Percy picked up a ripped draught’s board from the floor. “Hood and me had many a game on this board.”

“We all did, mate,” said Jasper.

“But you lot usually lost,” said Percy triumphantly.

“I was the best at that game,” added Graham.

Uriah came and stood next to Alan and looked up. “I’ll give you a game.”

Alan shook his head. “I don’t think so Tiny Man.”

“Frightened I’ll beat you?” Uriah jeered.

“It’s ripped to bits, you barmy idiot,” snapped Alan, who slyly took a bottle of beer from Uriah’s bag.

“Give it back! Get one from your bag!”

“Sit down, you two,” ordered Percy, irritated by their bickering.

“Where?” queried Alan as he gazed around the room at the smashed up chairs. “Did Melvin Shank or Gordon Deakin wreck the place? Had Hood given them that rotten ’baccy mixed with sawdust?”

Percy shook his head vehemently. In truth, he and Hood sold a lot of contraband and stolen tobacco, which they had adulterated with sawdust and other fillers to beef up their profits. It had made them a few enemies. But they had always been careful to ensure that Melvin Shank got the very best and purest of their wares, usually free of charge. However, Percy recollected that Hood regretted not being on better terms with Gordon Deakin and thought it was only a question of time before he might exact some terrible retribution on Hood.

“Sit,” said Percy who took the lead by sitting on the floor, and the others followed suit. He clinked two bottles of beer together sharply to gain their full attention. “To Hood! We miss you, mate.”

“Here’s to you, Hood,” added Jasper, raising his bottle of beer in the air and draining its contents in a long gulp.

“Do you think the bloke who messed up Hood’s place might have murdered him?” asked Uriah.

“Of course he did, you dim prat,” replied Alan.

Uriah threw a bottle top at Alan. “Could that toothless man have done Hood in?” he asked. “He did threaten to kill him.”

Percy sniffed. “A spineless coward like Jack Sheldon couldn’t kill a spider.”

Graham took a swig from his bottle. “Hood was going to teach me how to read and write, like he did for Percy.”

Percy swallowed on hearing this. He was in awe of Hood but felt like his slave at times, given pennies when his master made a great deal of money that he foolishly gave away. He never understood that. The few years in which Hood taught him to read and write were not just miserable. It was hell. He didn’t want to learn to read and write, but Hood was insistent. It was essential for business he had said. Despite all of his misgivings, Hood was his best friend. His only friend.

“It only seems like yesterday when we’d be going up to order crate loads of drinks to bring back here to sup,” said Alan.

Jasper tossed the now-empty bottle of beer on the floor at the side of him. “Yes, but it was always us paying for drinks, not you, you mean bastard.”

“You’re a bastard,” snapped Alan.

Percy banged a bottle on the floor to gain their attention. “Stop bickering,
ladies!
”

An angry frown clouded Alan’s face. “I always get my round in. Ask anyone round here.”

“You haven’t even brought any bottles with you. You’re always cadging beer and ’baccy off us,” responded Jasper, spitting in Alan’s direction but falling short in his aim. Alan smirked at the feeble effort.

“Hood had no stomach for bickering!” reminded Percy. “Let’s have no more of this. He’s gone, and if this goes on, we’ll lose the rest of our group. Is that what you want, Jasper?”

Jasper lowered his head apologetically. “No. I’m sorry, Alan.”

Alan grinned. “That’s fine, on one condition.”

“What’s that?” asked Jasper.

“Chuck us over a couple of your bottles.”

Jasper shrugged and then laughed. He took two bottles from his bag and tossed them over to Alan.

“Can’t you make it three bottles, mate?”

“What?” shouted Jasper.

Alan laughed. “I’m just joking.”

Percy gazed at the broken tables and chairs and piles of litter on the floor. “Crikey Moses! I’ll get the bastard who did this and killed Hood.”

Jasper nodded. “After a hard day, I always looked forward to coming here for a game of cards and to get bladdered.”

“At least Hood will be with his wife in heaven,” said Percy.

“He might have gone to Hell,” Alan said, pointing to the floor.

Percy shook his head defiantly. “With all the help he’s given local people over the last twenty-plus years, the only fitting place for him would be heaven.”

“Why was he digging up graves? Was he drunk as usual?” asked Alan.

Percy was quick to answer. “He must have seen the grave robber in action and tried to stop him, but the man must have killed him. That’s what I’ve told Sergeant Philpott.”

“But why was he in the graveyard so late at night?” persisted Alan. “Why would a grave robber want to trash Hood’s home? I keep telling you, it has to be Shank or Deakin that’s behind all of this.”

“You sound like Len Tanner, Alan. Are you sure you’re not a copper, or worse...a copper’s nark?” said Jasper.

Alan angrily flicked some beer at Jasper. “That’s not funny.”

Percy frowned. He went to the kitchen and removed four journals from under a flagstone, placed them on the kitchen table, and sat on a chair. He could hear the men’s lively banter but paid little notice of it. He couldn’t take over Hood’s role as the leader of the gang. Percy could take orders, not give them. David and John had nothing to fear from him. Nobody did, except the man who murdered his best friend.

Percy had stabbed Raymond Hogg in the back for being responsible for the death of his son and had thrown the knife into the sea. Now he realized he should not have thrown it away so prematurely. He would need a weapon to kill the man who murdered Hood. As a mark of respect to Hood, Percy also aimed to make life uncomfortable for Tanner. He’d take his time and plan something that would have made Hood proud.

Percy flicked through one of the journals and noticed a piece of paper inside with his name on it. He picked it up and read it out to himself:

“Dear Percy. I was not sure about Patrick Tate’s camera, but if you are reading this note, I want you to look at the photograph hanging in the tavern. The marks on my head in the print foretold my death. Please deliver my journals to the reporter Lucy Shaw at
The Whitby Herald
. I hope she will have the decency to write a suitable obituary after reading them. As Plato once said, ‘Death is not the worst that can happen to man.’ Do not be sad. I will now be finally at peace with Claire by my side in the beautiful Isles of the Blest.

“‘I know that you sprayed perfume in my bedroom late at night to cure me of my melancholia. I could hear your footsteps on the floorboards. But Claire truly did visit me, and I could smell her fragrance, a sweeter and more delicate blend than the one you used.

“‘My final instructions and dying wish is for you, with the assistance of Jasper, Uriah, Graham, and Alan, to steal my body and give me a Viking funeral. Put me in a small boat just outside the entrance to the harbour and set it alight.’”

Percy returned to the room carrying the journals in his arms. “Hood’s left us instructions. We’re to steal his body and give him a Viking funeral. He says—”

The sound of heavy footsteps came from the doorway.

“This is the police! Who is in there?” A young police officer came into the living room. “Why have you disobeyed the order to keep out?”

The men were silent. The police officer cautiously walked through the debris on the floor. “I’ll have to arrest all of you for breaking and entering,” the officer said, his eyes darted anxiously around all corners of the room.

“We’re not doing any harm,” Jasper said. “We’re just having few drinks to remember Hood.”

Alan burped and took another swig of beer.

Graham passed out.

“I’ll add drunk and disorderly to the charge,” said the officer frostily.

Percy tried to keep control of his tongue, but he snapped. “You should be out catching the bastard who murdered Hood and not wasting your bloody time here!”

“We’re still making inquiries about that,” said the officer.

Nervously, Jasper stepped forward. “We don’t want any trouble. Some bugger has wrecked the place. It must be the same person who killed Hood.”

“Come on, Joseph, we’ve got work to do.”

Percy bristled at the sound of Len Tanner’s voice, and the man soon appeared from outside.

“This lot shouldn’t be here,” insisted Joseph. “We had the place boarded up to keep people out.”

“They’re not doing any harm. None of you have any stolen goods, do you?”

“No,” said Alan meekly, hiding his bag behind his back.

Tanner approached Alan and grabbed the bag from him. He glanced inside but said nothing and gave the bag back.

“I have to keep coming here to make sure Hood’s snakes are alright,” said Percy.

“No harm’s done, then.” Percy couldn’t believe his eyes. Len Tanner actually smiled at him. “Are any of Hood’s snakes missing?”

“Just one,” said Percy.

“Is it a deadly cobra?” asked Tanner.

“Yes.” Percy didn’t know what to say next but figured he might as well. “Hood called it Chief Constable.”