Possession (14 page)

Jacob's gaze
never shifted from my face. It was still cold and dark. "I found
Arbuthnot."

I gasped. "Is
he...?"

He shook his
head. "He's not dead, but someone else is. He killed a man and the police
arrested him. He's in prison."

CHAPTER 8

After breakfast,
I told Celia I was going to George's house. It wasn't a lie. I
did
go to
George's, and then we traveled by coach to pick up Theo. From there we went to the
Leman Street police station in Whitechapel. I gave both George and Theo the
details Jacob had given me.

Jacob. He wasn't
in the coach with us, thank goodness. I couldn't sit so close to him and not scowl
at him or kiss him or...something! I don't know what I wanted to
do
, let
alone what I wanted from him.

At least I had a
task to occupy my mind. Thinking about Mortlock was infinitely better than
thinking about Jacob's rejection.

So I told Theo
and George everything that Jacob had told me. Knowing Mortlock and Finch had
been acquaintances, Jacob had haunted the East End pubs, brothels, and cock
fighting pits near where Finch had lived. Eventually he'd found Mortlock, still
occupying Arbuthnot's body. Jacob's plan was to follow him until morning then
come and tell me where to find him.

When morning
came around, so did the police. They arrested Arbuthnot at dawn in The Bear
Ring, a filthy pub in Whitechapel so Jacob said. It took four men to drag him
outside while the remaining drunken patrons looked on. When one of his
companions asked what he'd done, the officer in charge said, "Murder."

Jacob followed
them and learned that a witness had seen Arbuthnot leave the scene of the
murder with blood on his hands and clothes. The blood had still been there when
the police arrested him.

"A witness,"
George said. "That's not good."

"Men have
been convicted on much less evidence," Theo said. Of the three of us, he
looked the most worried. His face was pale and dark circles shadowed his eyes. As
Wallace Arbuthnot's cousin, he had every right to be concerned.

"Does Jacob
think he did it?" George asked me.

I nodded. "The
victim was a well-known troublemaker himself apparently, so it's likely he knew
Mortlock. They might have been in the same gang and had a falling out."

"Like
Finch," George muttered.

"And the
boys he killed before his own death," Theo said. He scrubbed both hands over
his face and groaned. "We have to get Wallace out of this mess."

"How?"

"We need a
good barrister."

"I have a
better idea," I said. "Jacob? Jacob, are you there?"

He appeared and
immediately squashed himself into the corner away from me. "What's wrong?"

"We need
your help. Do you know the name of the witness who saw Arbuthnot leave?"

He crossed his
arms. "Yes."

"Care to
share it with us?"

"No."

I clicked my
tongue. "Why are you being so...so obstinate?"

"Because I
know what you want to do and I don't want you going to visit him."

"Ah. He
lives in Whitechapel then."

"You are
not going into Whitechapel."

"Excellent,"
George said, oblivious to Jacob's dark mood. "We were already heading to
the Leman Street station. Is it far from there, Beaufort?"

"Does he
really think I'm going to allow you to go into Whitechapel?" Jacob asked. But
he wasn't looking at George or me. He was watching Theo. His eyes narrowed. His
frown deepened.

Sometimes you
have to say something you don't want to say, in front of people who don't need to
hear your private business. This was one of those times. "I think that
after our last conversation, you have no right to tell me where I can and can't
go."

George and Theo
politely turned their heads to look out the window.

"George,
ask the driver to stop," I said. "We'll wait until Jacob tells me
where to find the witness."

He did and the
coach slowed, coming to a halt at the side of the street. It wasn't busy and
there was enough room for other coaches to pass. We could wait there all day if
necessary.

Jacob said
nothing, so we all sat there. Waiting. The horses whinnied and the coach
rocked. Someone outside coughed. Jacob tapped his thigh with his finger like he
was playing the same note on a piano over and over. The tapping became faster. The
silence grew heavier.

He cracked
first. "You're so stubborn, Emily Chambers."

I tried not to
smile at my small victory. "Giving me the witness's name and address is
the only way," I said. "I have to be involved."

He grunted. "What
do you plan on doing to him when you meet him? Force him to retract his
statement by beating him with your reticule?"

I thought it
rude that he was completely ignoring my companions in his scenario. George
probably wouldn't be much help if we needed to use physical force, but Theo
looked quite capable. He was tall with broad shoulders and a lean frame. He
could turn out to be as useless as George, but I didn't think so. They bred
strong men in the country.

"Yes,"
I said, miffed. "The reticule will have to do since I didn't bring my
parasol."

Jacob gave a
snort of laughter that wasn't really a laugh at all.

"Your
reticule?" George said. "No need for that, Emily. I have money. How
about you, Theo?"

"I don't
need money," I said. "I'm not going to buy anything."

"On the
contrary. You are going to buy his silence."

"What an excellent
idea!" I forked a brow at Jacob. He ignored me and watched as Theo and
George checked the wallets tucked into their waistcoat pockets. Between them
they had two pounds and ten shillings.

"The
address if you please, Jacob," I said.

Grudgingly, he
gave it. "But I will be watching the entire time."

"Good. Because
if the money doesn't work, we may need to scare him."

***

Jack Rose lived with
his wife and five children in a few small rooms in a shabby lodging house in the
best part of Whitechapel. "Best" simply meant none of the wretched
souls who watched us openly tried to pick our pockets. I suspected a nighttime
visit would have a different result.

We'd decided to
leave the coach near the police station where it should be safe, and walk from
there to Rose's address. That way no one could identify the coach if the police
ever questioned Rose's neighbors about his retracted statement. It had been
Theo's suggestion and I thought him overstating the competency of our law
enforcers by suggesting they would follow up on Rose. But then Jacob said he
wanted me to drive all the way in the coach, for safety reasons, and I decided
a walk through Whitechapel would be an education if nothing else. I was in a
contrary mood where Jacob was concerned. Childish perhaps, but there you have
it.

When we first
offered the money to Mr. Rose with our instructions for retracting his account,
he simply stared at the coins in George's palm. Then he rubbed his chin, pursed
his lips and rubbed his chin some more. "I dunno," he said. "Wouldn't
be the right thing—"

Mrs. Rose
snatched the money out of George's hand before her husband finished. "Tell
'em whatever they want, you stupid fool." With five young children playing
on the packed earth floor dressed in nothing but bits of rags sewn together, I
didn't blame her for taking it. I only wished we'd had more to give.

"You'll go
to the station now," Theo told Rose. "Right away. We'll walk back slowly
to allow you time to get there ahead of us."

"No
stopping at the pub on the way," George added. He lifted his chin and
stared through his spectacles and down his nose at Rose.

Rose was too
busy watching his wife stuff the money down the front of her dress to notice
his condescending tone.

"That also
buys your silence about our visit," Theo said. "Understand? No one is
to know we were here."

Mrs. Rose
slapped her husband's shoulder. "Did you 'ear the gen'leman?"

"Silence,"
Rose repeated. "Won't say a word." He grinned, revealing a gap in the
middle of his top row of teeth.

"Thank
you," I said. "And don't worry, your conscience is clear. We are
absolutely certain Mr. Arbuthnot didn't cause that man's death. We just
couldn't see any other way to convince the police."

"But I saw
him walkin' away."

"No, you
didn't." His wife slapped his arm again. "Fool."

***

We arrived at
the Leman Street police station after a slow walk through light rain. Theo and
George kept pace either side of me like two guards, albeit chatty ones. Jacob
walked behind, silent.

The police
station was located next to the Garrick Theater. It must be a busy place before
and after a penny gaff performance, but it was reasonably quiet when we
arrived. George's coach, driver, and footmen waited patiently out front, a
collection of excited children once again patting the horses.

Like the rest of
Whitechapel, Leman Street was a miserable place. The roads were greasy from the
rain, the steps leading up to the front door of the police station in need of
repair. Inside, pasted on every wall, police handbills shouted REWARD in bold
lettering above smaller writing describing the wanted criminal. A uniformed
officer sat at a desk, writing.

"Yes?"
he said.

"My cousin
is being held here," Theo said. "Mr. Wallace Arbuthnot. Can we see
him?"

The officer
pointed his quill pen at another uniformed man sitting behind a partition in a
kind of office. The upper part of the partition was glass with a square hole
cut out so he could talk to us through it. He stood and introduced himself as
Inspector Arnold. He wasn't a tall man but was square and bulky like a brick. The
collar of his uniform looked tight around his muscular neck and his fat nose was
slightly crooked, as if it had been knocked off-center. His black, deep-set eyes
raked over us, twice.

We introduced
ourselves. Jacob disappeared then reappeared on the other side of the
partition. He read the ledger sitting open on the counter top.

Theo repeated
his question. Inspector Arnold hesitated then pointed at the ledger. "I
was just considering his situation."

"Oh?" Theo
was all politeness and innocence. "We understood he'd been arrested for a
rather heinous crime. One I can assure you my cousin is not capable of
committing."

"He's very upright
and gentle-natured," I added.

Inspector
Arnold's lips drew together. He regarded me levelly, without condescension for
my age or gender. I liked that. "It took four of my men to arrest Mr.
Arbuthnot," he said. "Two of them got black eyes for their troubles,
one's got sore ribs. My ears are still ringing with language I wouldn't repeat
here in front of a lady." He snorted. "Gentle, my ar...foot." He
coughed and pretended he wasn't about to say "arse."

"And yet
you said you were wondering what to do with him," Theo said. "Does
that mean you don't think he did it?"

We waited,
watching, holding our breaths. Even Jacob focused on the inspector as if
willing him to give in and release Wallace. The longer Inspector Arnold took to
answer, the more concerned I became that he didn't believe Jack Rose. That's if
Rose had indeed gone straight to the station like we'd asked him to. I wished
we'd followed him closer to make sure.

"The
witness was just here," Inspector Arnold said, putting me at ease. "Told
me he made a mistake and saw nothing. Says he was blind drunk and couldn't have
witnessed no one coming nor going from the murder scene."

"There you
have it," George said on a breath. "Release Arbuthnot. He's
innocent."

Inspector Arnold
turned his shrewd gaze on George. George's Adam's apple bobbed furiously. "Not
so fast," Arnold said. "He had blood on his hands."

Silence. I could
almost hear Theo and George thinking fast, wondering how to explain the blood.

"How did
Mr. Arbuthnot say it got there?" I asked.

"He says he
doesn't remember."

"It doesn't
matter," George said. He tugged on his cuffs and lifted his chin,
switching to his gentleman-in-charge persona. "He can't stay in here
another minute. People like Wallace Arbuthnot do not commit such terrible
crimes. You have the wrong man."

The inspector
came out from behind the partition and stood close to George. Very close. He
was shorter by a few inches but much wider. He had the sort of arms that could
rip tree stumps out of the ground or squeeze the air out of a low-life's chest.
George's swallow was audible.

"If you
don't keep Culvert quiet," Jacob said, "he's going to ruin any chance
you had of getting Arbuthnot released today."

I laid a hand on
George's arm. "I can tell you how Mr. Arbuthnot got that blood on his
hands, Inspector." The three live men looked at me. "He cut me
accidentally last night, you see. There was quite a lot of blood. He mustn't
have washed it off."