A Tattooed Heart (43 page)

Then: ‘You, tell me what you saw.'

‘Me?' Serafina exclaimed. ‘When? What are you talking about?'

‘The cards,' Leary barked. He was sweating but his face was pale and clammy and his eyes flickered from side to side, trying to keep them all in sight. And he stank; Leo could smell him from the other side of the room. ‘You know where the gold is, don't you?'

Serafina opened her mouth but Friday got in first. She slid off the bench and took a step forwards.

‘Actually, you spigot-sucking piece of shite,
I
know where the gold is. I've seen Bennett and he told me.'

Leo, Serafina and Leary stared at her, astounded.

‘That's right,' Friday taunted. ‘See,
I'm
the one who knows where he is, not Harrie, and he told me all about it!'

‘Where is he?'
Leary roared. ‘Tell me!'

A flicker of movement caught Leo's eye and he glanced at the little window beside the door: Walter was peering in, his eyes huge. Leo dared not signal him, and a moment later he was gone.

‘Why should I?' Friday replied, her hands on her hips.

Surely she was lying, Leo thought. But what a bloody thing to say! He eyed Aria, who ever so stealthily was on the move again. Oh God, so was Serafina! She'd shifted to the edge of her chair and looked as though she were preparing to stand. Stay still, you idiot woman! He tensed again, ready to leap if he had to.

‘Because I'll shoot you if you don't,' Leary warned. ‘And this time I won't miss.'

‘Go on,' Friday said. ‘Then you'll never find out where he is.'

Leary's slitty eyes narrowed further. ‘You're full of shit. You haven't seen him. I don't believe you.'

‘Suit yourself. Give my regards to Ansilla next time you see her.'

Leary jerked as though stung by a bee. ‘Where
is
he?
Tell
me, you foul-mouthed jackwhore.'

Friday gave a great big hearty laugh. ‘Do you know something? It doesn't matter 'cos the gold's gone.'

‘What?' The word came out of Leary's mouth like a blast from a blacksmith's bellows.

‘I know, it's a hoot, eh? Your ma helped herself to it years ago.'

Leary's face paled even more. ‘What shit. She doesn't even know about it.'

‘Oh, yes she did. She took it and gave it to Bennett when he left Liverpool after his little, um . . . escapade. It's long gone. Dearie me, Jonah. All those months and months chasing round looking for him and it's all been for nothing. You can't do anything right, can you?'

Letting out a bellow of rage, Leary launched himself at her.

Leo leapt as well, and so did Aria. At the same time the door crashed open and two police constables skidded in, followed closely by Walter and a madly barking Clifford.

Leary landed on Friday, his free hand grappling for her throat, and knocked her against the tattoo bench, which slid backwards, depositing them both on the floor. Friday got an elbow up and managed to lever Leary's hand away from her neck but his thumb had dug in viciously, almost crushing her windpipe. Aria reached them first, snatched a handful of Leary's hair and wrenched his head up, while Leo gripped his arm and tore him away from Friday.

‘Bloody grab him!' Leo shouted at the startled constables.

Leary twisted in his grip, turned, raised his pistol and fired at Aria beside him.

But he missed and the ball struck the younger of the two policemen in the right eye, instantly reducing the socket to bloodied jelly. He staggered, mouth opening and closing like a freshly landed fish, went down on one knee, then collapsed on his side, motionless.

There was a second when everyone seemed inert from shock, then Leary made a lunge for the door but Serafina, still perched
on her chair, stuck out her foot and he tripped over it, sprawling headlong, the pistol flying out of his hand.

Between them, Leo and the other policeman, who appeared dazed and kept darting looks at his fallen colleague, hauled him to his feet and manacled his hands behind his back.

Aria crouched and examined the man on the floor. A small amount of blood had pooled beneath his head. ‘I am very sorry,' she said. ‘I think he is dead.'

‘You'll hang for this,' the constable spat, giving Leary an almighty shove. ‘I'll make damned sure of it.'

‘And we'll be there to watch,' Friday said vehemently.

‘Is this fit for Walter's ears?' Leo asked.

They were in the kitchen-cum-parlour: Leo, Serafina, Friday, Aria, Walter and Clifford. Given the morning's startling turn of events Friday had postponed her tattoo session and Leo had hung the
CLOSED
sign on the door. Serafina had cleaned the poor young constable's blood from the floor after his body had been taken away, and now they were having a well-deserved drink. When Leo, without thinking, had offered Friday brandy, she'd politely refused, and was now sharing a pot of tea with Walter and Aria. Only one iced bun had been eaten, by Clifford. The rest remained in a sad and sticky pile on a plate, everyone else having lost their appetites.

Friday said, ‘I expect Walter's ears are used to it by now. Stop being such an old fusspot.'

‘Someone has to look out for the lad. You can't have known about Bennett for long, or you'd've told us. Harrie, at least. Why
didn't
you tell us?'

Friday glanced at Aria. This was going to be the tricky bit. She hadn't meant to blurt to Leary that she knew about the gold, but she'd panicked when she'd thought he was going to shoot Serafina, and out it'd come. Now she was going to have to explain how she'd known, and without betraying Bella's secret.

‘I only just found out.' A lie: she'd known for six weeks.

‘Did you know?' Leo asked Aria.

‘No, she didn't,' Friday said. ‘No one does. And I couldn't tell you. I couldn't tell anyone.'

‘Why not?'

‘Because he asked me not to.' God it was difficult to say he rather than she, Friday thought. To her, Bennett Leary would forever be Bella Shand, née Jackson.

‘Why? Who the hell
is
this bloody cove?'

‘No one in particular. He just didn't want Jonah to find him. I mean, would you? He'd probably have killed him.'

‘So how did
you
find him?'

Friday was struck then by a flash of inspiration so blindingly clever she almost couldn't get the words out. ‘By accident, really. He came in for a session at Mrs H's and I saw his tattoo. The map?'

Leo scowled. ‘Isn't he a convict? How could he afford a session at Elizabeth Hislop's?'

‘Well, I'm a convict, and so are Harrie and Sarah. We can afford lots of things. Anyway, I said, “Are you Jonah Leary's brother?” and he said he was, so I told him Jonah the Arsehole was looking for him and he nearly died.' The lies were coming easily and Friday was quite enjoying telling them, though she dared not look at Aria. ‘So I said, “Don't you want him to find you?” and he said, “Shit, no” or words to that effect, so I told him that if he told me where the gold was, I wouldn't tell Jonah I'd seen him. I thought if I could tell Jonah where to find the gold, he'd fuck off and leave us all alone. 'Course, Bennett nearly died all over again when he realised I knew about the gold, so I had to explain about Malcolm kicking the bucket in your shop and Jonah terrorising Harrie for months and stealing Charlotte and all that.'

‘Hang on,' Leo said. ‘How were you going to tell Jonah about the gold? As far as you knew, he was still in Newcastle.'

Whoops. But then a wispy image drifted up from the depths of Friday's memory. ‘I thought I saw him one night here in town, though I
was
swattled.'

Frowning, Leo spread his big hands and gazed down at the word
HOLD
tattooed across his left fingers, and
FAST
across his right. Friday wondered how much of her story he was believing. She suspected he knew she was lying, but couldn't work out exactly what she was lying about.

As for Serafina, one of her eyebrows had gone so far up her forehead it was almost in her hair.

‘Mmm. Go on,' Leo said.

‘So anyway we did a deal, which was if he told me about the gold, how his mother had pinched it and given to him when he'd left Liverpool, I wouldn't tell Jonah where he is.'

‘And where is he?' Serafina asked.

‘Now? He's dead.'

Taken aback, Leo said, ‘Dead? When did that happen?'

‘Two weeks ago. Or so I heard.'

‘Ah,' Serafina said, nodding thoughtfully. ‘That fits.'

Friday realised that Leo was staring at her very, very intently, looking exactly as though he'd finally found something he'd lost and had been seeking for ages. ‘What are you gawping at?'

‘That wouldn't be the same day Bella Shand's house burnt down with her in it, would it?'

‘I dunno. Would it?'

‘I read in the
Gazette
that those bodies were so badly burnt you couldn't tell who the hell they were. Or what.'

‘Terrible, wasn't it?' Friday agreed.

She and Leo stared at one another for a long moment. He knew about Bella, she thought. He bloody well knew.

Serafina said, ‘Leave her alone, Leo. What does it matter? Jonah will hang, the other two Learys are dead, Harrie and her daughter are safe. All's well that ends well.'

‘Maybe. I can't help feeling that madam here's being stingy with the facts. I don't like loose ends.'

‘There aren't any. What you mean is you don't like not knowing everything.'

Aria laughed, and so did Walter.

‘One more question,' Serafina said to Friday. ‘That time I read your cards. It was him, wasn't it? Bennett? The Magus
and
the Empress?'

Friday hesitated, then finally nodded.

Unexpectedly, Serafina's face filled with compassion. ‘The poor, poor thing.'

Leo frowned yet again. ‘What Empress?'

‘Women's business, my darling. Nothing to do with you.'

Life went back to normal. Most days Friday struggled without her gin, but the joy — and relief — of waking up in the mornings without being crippled by a sick stomach, headaches, guilt and creeping, nameless dread was ample compensation. She had energy, her appetite improved (perhaps a little too much), the ugly little spots that had appeared regularly on her chin, nose and bum disappeared, and her mind was clear. And she had Aria back. They were ridiculously content. When Friday went to work, Aria shut herself in the office with Mrs H and did, as far as Friday was concerned, indescribably dull things with long columns of numbers, invoices and receipts. Aria was happy because she was earning a wage and no longer bored, and Mrs H was delighted as she could get out and about more.

That day she was off to the Devonshire Street cemetery for a gab with Gil. Jack was waiting in the yard with the gig, but she couldn't find her favourite hatpin to nail her hat to her head. It was handmade in twenty-two-carat gold and topped with an amethyst carved in the shape of a little bird with rubies for eyes, and had cost an absolute fortune.

‘Are you sure you haven't seen it?' she grumbled to Ivy, who was helping her dress. ‘I'm sure I put it back in the safe.'

Standing behind her doing up her buttons, Ivy shook her head so hard her teeth rattled, then let out a tiny sob.

Elizabeth glanced at her in the looking glass. ‘Don't worry, dear, I'm not accusing you of anything. It's just that I haven't seen it for ages.' She opened a drawer to offer Ivy a hanky, and there it was, poking out from beneath a kid glove. ‘Oh dear, that was a bit careless of me, wasn't it?'

Ivy cheered up immediately, while Elizabeth wondered whether she was going blind, or demented from old age. Or both.

Outside Jack helped her into the gig and they headed off. It was a nice day for visiting the cemetery, though a little hot. Jack had raised the hood to keep the sun off but she could feel it beating through the black canvas. The dust around Brickfield Hill was bad, too, sticking to her lips and getting in her eyes, and a good breeze wouldn't have gone amiss.

They pulled up under the trees outside the cemetery and she sat for a few minutes in the shade while Jack got down and tended to the horses. She'd grown used to Gil's new resting place, and had even almost managed to convince herself that he was the grave's only occupant. Who the hell Jack thought she was visiting, God only knew. She never asked. But it was nice coming to a graveyard: whereas before she'd talked to Gil through the floor of her office, now she put on her good clothes and turned it into a proper outing.

And today there were quite a few visitors — there often were when the sun was shining — and even now a couple more gigs were arriving.

Jack handed her down. ‘How long would you like?'

‘Oh, the usual. Time enough to get yourself a beer. Don't be all day, though. It's hot out.'

Saluting, Jack headed for the Hope and Anchor on the other side of George Street.

Elizabeth entered the cemetery via the lychgate and made her way towards the Roman Catholic section, which she could do blindfolded now. Someone always tended Clarence Shand's grave — pulled the weeds and clipped the grass around the tomb, though it hadn't been Bella herself, she was sure — and she wondered if it would continue now Bella was dead. Perhaps she'd have to open her own purse, though maybe not: someone might well ask why.

As she set her reticule on top of the tomb and placed her hands on the warm sandstone, ‘feeling' for Gil, two men ambled past and raised their hats.

One said cheerily, ‘Good morning, madam.'

‘Good morning.'

‘Lovely day,' the second remarked.

‘It is.' Go away, Elizabeth thought, I'm busy.

They did, stopping some distance farther at a grave marked with a Celtic cross. Elizabeth watched as they removed their hats and stood in silent repose.