Blood on the Strand (32 page)

Meanwhile, Bristol and his party were still quizzing Wiseman about his deductions; the surgeon answered with a patronising
haughtiness that was only just short of insolence. Bristol was quietly angry – not that he had been deprived of a suspect,
but because he had been manoeuvred into accusing the wrong man and made to look rash and volatile. And May was livid because
Chaloner had been exonerated.

Chaloner listened to people’s comments, questions and observations, carefully analysing them in the light of what he had heard
and seen himself. It was clear someone had either
taken advantage
of the incident with the horse, or had
engineered
it to provide a diversion. If the latter was true, then it had worked brilliantly: all the guards had raced outside, leaving
ample opportunity for the killer to do his work. Chaloner had heard voices, which told him Willys had conversed with his killer,
and Wiseman’s evidence indicated that Willys clearly had not thought he was in danger, or he would not have allowed himself
to have been stabbed from behind. The thump had been Willys’s body falling to the floor, and then the murderer had calmly
walked away, leaving Chaloner sitting in the cell next door as the prime suspect for the crime.

So, who had knifed Willys and, perhaps more importantly, why? Was it someone who wanted Clarendon’s faction accused of murder,
to bring the Earl himself into
disrepute? It was certainly the kind of ill-conceived strata gem Temple liked to concoct. Then there was May, delighted with
Chaloner’s predicament, and deeply disappointed when Wiseman had exculpated him. Could May have returned to the guardhouse
after he had been released? And finally, there was Holles, who always claimed to be the Earl’s man, but who nevertheless had
been oddly willing to believe Chaloner’s guilt. It was also Holles who had overlooked the dagger in Chaloner’s boot, which
had then later been produced as evidence against him. Had the colonel intended that to happen? Chaloner had considered him
an ally, but in the shifting sands of White Hall allegiances, he suddenly found he was not so sure.

Clarendon arrived at last, breathless and elbowing his way through the courtiers to reach his spy. ‘I have only just been
told what has happened. Holles swears he sent a servant with a message, but it never arrived and now the fellow is nowhere
to be found.’

‘Is that so,’ said Chaloner flatly.

‘You should not have challenged Willys and May to a fight,’ chided the Earl. ‘Thurloe will blame
me
if you die, and you were reckless to endanger yourself.
Did
you kill Willys, by the way? I shall not be angry if you did. He was an odious fellow, always trying to damage me.’

‘No, I did not,’ said Chaloner firmly, determined to quash any lingering doubts along those lines. ‘I did not even know he
was in danger.’

‘You will have to unveil the culprit, Heyden, or May will avenge Willys by sliding a sly dagger into
your
ribs. Do you think you can solve the mystery?’

‘I will try,’ said Chaloner unhappily. He did not see how he would succeed – although he understood
how
the
killer had claimed his victim, learning his identity was another matter altogether.

He washed the paint and powder from his face – there was no point in maintaining the disguise now – and left the guardhouse.
Outside, folk still milled about. Alice and Temple were with Johnson, and their serious faces suggested business was being
transacted. When Chaloner eased closer, to hear what they were saying, Alice hauled the two men away, but she was not quite
quick enough to prevent him from learning that Johnson had placed a hundred pounds at Temple’s disposal. It was to be invested
with the new owner of Webb’s ship. Chaloner looked around, and saw Behn standing nearby. The Brandenburger’s smile of satisfaction
indicated that Temple was operating on his behalf, and Chaloner found himself hoping with all his heart that the ship would
flounder before it could reap its grim cargo – and that they would both lose every penny they had ploughed into the filthy
venture.

‘These accusations were only levelled because you are Lord Clarendon’s man,’ said Lisle, stretching out a brown hand to waylay
the spy as he zig-zagged through the crowd. ‘This spat between him and Bristol is becoming increasingly bitter, and the likes
of you and Willys are nothing but pawns.’

‘Then virtually everyone here is in danger, too,’ said Chaloner, gesturing around him. ‘Most have declared a preference for
one side or the other.’

Lisle grimaced. ‘The follies of men never fail to amaze me. There is war brewing with the Dutch, outbreaks of a deadly plague
in Venice, and distressing levels of poverty in our great capital. Yet all the Court cares about is this ridiculous squabble.
I am just thankful that I have
managed to resist the attempts of both sides to recruit me – there are far more productive things to occupy my time, such
as my charitable work in the city’s hospitals. Do you still plan to visit me on Saturday?’

Wild horses would not have kept Chaloner from keeping the appointment. He nodded.

‘It will be a busy day for me, so come between Dillon’s hanging and the Public Anatomy – I shall be hosting Company guests
after that.’

‘What are you two whispering about?’ demanded Wiseman, coming to join them. He seemed larger than ever, swelled as he was
with the accolades of his success. ‘My astute detection work?’

Lisle beamed at him, to hide his own discomfort. ‘You were a credit to our Company today, and we shall make sure all our colleagues
know it. Eh, Johnson?’

Johnson’s face was a mask of pure envy as he approached. ‘You need not bother, Master Lisle. I am sure he is quite capable
of informing them of his cleverness himself.’

Hastily, Lisle escorted him away before there was a scene.

‘Thank you for your help,’ said Chaloner. ‘When you began your analysis, Bristol had sheathed his sword but May was still
armed. I am not sure if Holles would have been able to prevent him from stabbing me if you had not intervened.’

‘Would he have tried?’ Wiseman’s expression was sombre. ‘Holles, I mean. Have you asked yourself
why
he left you alone with Willys? And
why
May was rescued so long before you?’

Chaloner regarded him uneasily. ‘Holles means me no harm. We are on the same side.’

‘Are you sure about that? I am not saying Holles
did
put you in a dangerous situation deliberately, only that you should not dismiss the possibility.’

‘I shall bear it in mind,’ said Chaloner tiredly, thinking Surinam was looking increasingly attractive.

‘You were lucky I was to hand, actually: I had
just
received news that the King’s blockage has cleared without the need for surgical intervention and was about to leave. I am
performing a Private Anatomy this afternoon, you see.’

‘There seem to be rather a lot of those these days.’

Wiseman grimaced. ‘Yes, but
mine
will show students how the bladder is connected to the kidneys, which is something they need to know for when they perform
the operation you laymen call “cutting for the stone”. The one Johnson performed yesterday, however, was to amuse rich patrons.’

‘Which rich patrons?’

‘Buckingham and his entourage. Holles was there, too, incidentally. I glanced in on my way home, and saw him looking very
green around the gills. Not everyone has the stomach for dissection.’

‘Who was the subject?’

Wiseman was startled by the question. ‘You mean the corpse? I have no idea. He would have been some felon, donated by the
prisons, as usual. What an extraordinary thing to ask!’

‘Not so extraordinary. Do you know who was dissected for Temple’s edification? Webb, murdered while walking home from the
Guinea Company dinner.
He
was no felon.’

‘You are mistaken,’ said Wiseman, regarding him in astonishment. Then his face resumed its customary
arrogance. ‘Of course, cadavers change their appearance after death and laymen are easily confused. Johnson probably
told
Temple it was Webb, but it will have been a joke, although not one in particularly good taste.’

‘I have seen my share of corpses, too, and Webb was—’

Wiseman’s eyes narrowed suddenly and he snapped his fingers. ‘Hah!
I
understand why you think he was anatomised – it was
you
Johnson saw sneaking around the other day. I thought I had seen you off the premises, but you obviously came back. There
was no need – if you had told me you were experiencing a desire to drool over corpses, I would have arranged a private viewing.’

‘You are too kind. But Webb
was
the corpse. And I also know for a fact that he is not in his tomb in St Paul’s Cathedral. So, how did he end up in your Anatomical
Theatre?’

Wiseman shrugged. ‘If you
are
right – and I do not believe it for a moment – then there will have been a silly mistake. Gravediggers and vergers can be
shockingly careless – it makes one yearn for immortality.’ He saw Chaloner’s scepticism. ‘Come with me now, and I shall show
you our procedures. There is nothing untoward, I assure you.’

It was not an appealing invitation, but Chaloner accepted anyway. He had no idea whether Willys’s murder was connected to
the Webb case, but it was as good a place as any to start an investigation.

The ride to Chyrurgeons’ Hall was an uncomfortable one for Chaloner. He was daunted by the prospect of
unravelling the twists and turns associated with the various murders he had been charged to solve, and disturbed by his growing
conviction that Holles could not be trusted. He was used to working under the assumption that everyone was an enemy, but was
disappointed in the colonel nonetheless. Wiseman sang all the way, pleased with himself and his performance at the guardhouse,
and Chaloner might have enjoyed his rich bass, had the surgeon not chosen to warble a ballad by the composer–lutenist John
Dowland, in which a bitter man contemplated different ways to dispatch his rivals.

When they arrived, students were already beginning to flock to the Anatomical Theatre. Wiseman muttered venomously that they
were an hour early, although Chaloner sensed he was flattered; their enthusiasm was testament to the veneration in which he
was held. All wore the uniform gowns and hats that marked them as Company apprentices, and there was an atmosphere of scholarly
anticipation as they walked in twos and threes towards the door. Wiseman stopped humming abruptly when he saw Johnson arrive
in another carriage, accompanied by Lisle. The pair were immediately waylaid by Clerk Reynell, who was gesticulating in an
agitated manner. Johnson’s face darkened as he listened, then he turned and made a beeline for Wiseman.

‘Reynell says you plan to use
four
corpses for your demonstration today,’ he shouted furiously. ‘The fresh one that came this morning,
plus
three old ones from last month. What are you thinking of ? The stench of rotting entrails will linger in the theatre for
days, and it will spoil our guests’ appetites for the dinner after the Public Anatomy on Saturday.’

‘If they cannot stomach a little odour, then they do
not deserve to eat,’ retorted Wiseman. His expression was malicious – he was delighted to be causing problems. ‘I need four
cadavers for comparative purposes, or our students will go away thinking all people’s innards are the same.’

Johnson regarded him with dislike. ‘Important men will be present on Saturday, ones who make donations. If you destroy our
hopes in that direction, I shall invite them all to another dissection the following week: yours.’

Wiseman sneered. ‘Then I hope they will not come with the hope of learning anything – not if you are to do the honours.’

Chaloner stepped back, anticipating fireworks, but Johnson displayed admirable restraint. ‘Just try not to make too much of
a mess. We do not want Reynell scrubbing all day tomorrow, when he should be polishing the ceremonial silver. Incidentally,
I have invited an acquaintance to watch you this afternoon. In return, he will give us a pair of silver spoons.’

‘You have done what?’ exploded Wiseman. ‘You invited laymen to
my
dissection? How dare you! It is for students and colleagues only.’

Johnson pointed at Chaloner. ‘
He
is not a student or a colleague, but you have invited
him
. And our records show that he has not yet settled his account for the treatment you gave him last Saturday, so obviously
he
is not going to give us any silver spoons. Or did you pay
him
, for letting you experiment on his limbs? Lisle says he will never regain the use of his fingers.’

Lisle heard his name brayed, and hurried forward to pour oil on troubled waters. Reynell was with him, and Chaloner was again
struck by the clerk’s handsome clothes. Close up, however, he saw they had been marred
by some very unpleasant stains, and supposed it was impractical, if not impossible, to maintain an air of sartorial elegance
while working for the barber-surgeons.

‘Gentlemen, please!’ said Lisle wearily. ‘Not in front of the apprentices.’

‘Did you say I botched Heyden’s treatment?’ demanded Wiseman dangerously. ‘And have you offered to rectify it for him?’

‘Of course not,’ said Lisle soothingly, not looking at Chaloner. ‘Although I
would
offer to make amends, if I thought a member of my Company was guilty of malpractice. However, this is neither the time nor
the place for such a discussion. Let Johnson’s friend watch you today, Wiseman. He may learn something, and silver spoons
will not go amiss. Meanwhile, perhaps Johnson would be kind enough to test the syllabub for Saturday. We all know he is an
expert on such matters.’

‘True,’ agreed Wiseman contemptuously. ‘God has given every man a unique skill with which to walk the Earth. Mine is surgery
and his is scoffing syllabubs.’

‘I think it needs to be stored in a cooler place,’ said Lisle, before Johnson could respond. ‘In fact, I want you to inspect
it
now
. I shall come with you.’