Bloody Winter: A Pyke Mystery (18 page)

‘It wasn’t anyone I knew.’

Knox nodded. He knew it was only a matter of time before one of them came upon the corpse of a friend or neighbour. He put on his coat and took his time buttoning it up. ‘I was being foolish, wasn’t I? Getting myself worked up over that man they found on Moore’s estate.’

‘You were just doing what you thought to be right.’

Knox picked up his hat. For some reason, he hadn’t told Martha that he’d sent a letter to the dead man’s son. It wasn’t an outright lie but he was uncomfortable about having withheld this information. Perhaps, Knox decided, it wouldn’t matter now.

Martha carried James to where he was standing and kissed him softly on the cheek. ‘I do love you, Michael. And it won’t always be this bad.’

Knox carried these words with him as he walked into the town. The sky was clear and bright and it was easy to believe they were true.

‘Constable Knox,’ one of the clerks said to him, as soon as he’d
set foot inside the barracks. ‘The sub-inspector wants to see you in his office immediately.’

Knox felt the muscles in his stomach tighten. He murmured his consent and shuffled up the stairs.

Hastings’ office was at the top of the stairs and enjoyed an uninterrupted view of the Rock. Knox knocked on the door, waiting for the sub-inspector to answer. Hastings opened the door himself and greeted Knox with a nod of his head. ‘Come in and sit down, Constable.’ He stood to one side and let Knox enter the room. There was someone Knox didn’t recognise sitting behind Hastings’ desk. A chair had been set out for him but Hastings opted to stand. He gestured to the other man. ‘This is the County Inspector.’
No name
. Knox inhaled sharply. The County Inspector was based in Clonmel.

The man in question had a thin, cadaverous face, a beaked nose and a widow’s peak that swooped dramatically down his forehead. His eyes were fixed on Knox. ‘Constable Knox.’ He gestured for Knox to sit down.

‘I have just received this letter from one of the commissioners of the Metropolitan Police.’ He held it up for Knox to see. ‘In it, he describes how one of my constables, namely you, has identified the body of a man who was murdered in the grounds of Dundrum Hall three weeks ago as one Detective-inspector Pyke – from the aforementioned Metropolitan Police.’ The County Inspector let the letter fall to the desk.

‘I wrote to the deceased’s son in Somerset, to inform him that his father had likely died in the circumstances you just mentioned.’

The County Inspector stared at him impassively. ‘And yet I also have in front of me the report you penned and submitted to the sub-inspector here, in which you made it clear that you could
not
determine the deceased’s identity.’ His mouth hardened.

Knox saw his mistake. If he’d come clean about his discovery, they would not have been able to touch him. After all, he could claim to have done what he had been told to do. But he had lied – and now he had been caught in that lie.

‘I couldn’t be certain that this man was who I thought he was. The letter I sent to the son was written in a personal capacity. I felt I
couldn’t let him live his life not knowing what had happened to his father.’

‘But you just said you couldn’t be wholly certain that the deceased was, in fact, the lad’s father.’

‘I had no idea the man was a policeman from London.’ Knox had lied again but they wouldn’t catch him in that lie if they didn’t get to see the letters Felix had written. He would tell them he’d thrown them away.

‘Surely you must have considered making some mention of this discovery in your official report.’

‘I did, sir.’

‘And yet there is no mention of it in the report. Can you explain why this might be?’

Knox lowered his head. He was sweating profusely; his only hope was to throw himself at their mercy. ‘I took from Lord Cornwallis that it would probably be best if nothing came of my investigation.’

The County Inspector exchanged a fierce look with Hastings. ‘This is a most serious allegation, sir. Are you suggesting that his Lordship tried to exercise undue influence over a police matter?’

Knox sat bolt upright, suddenly aware of what he’d said. ‘No, not for a minute, sir. His Lordship’s actions were absolutely proper throughout …’

‘He didn’t tell you how to conduct your investigation?’

‘No, sir.’

The County Inspector nodded. ‘But you assumed he would not have wanted anything arising from your inquiries to damage his estate’s reputation.’

‘I tried to approach the matter with the utmost caution. I understand that murder is a very sensitive subject.’

‘And yet – in spite of whatever assurances you may have given his Lordship – you went ahead and wrote to the son of the deceased.’

Knox tried in vain to swallow. ‘It seemed like the right thing to do.’

‘And did lying to the sub-inspector in your report seem like the right thing to do?’

‘As I tried to explain, sir, I wrote to the son as a father.’ He hesitated, trying to clear his mind. ‘On the subject of the investigation,
I have to admit I was a little surprised that a man of my lowly rank would be given such responsibility.’

The County Inspector’s eyes narrowed. Knox knew he’d made a good point. It would be hard for them to discipline him for his failings as a detective because to do so would be to admit their own culpability – dispatching a constable with no experience to investigate a murder.

As if to underline this point, Knox added, ‘I wasn’t told whether the report should be what I absolutely knew to be true or what I thought
might
be true. In the end, I used the former standard.’

Below in the yard, a horse and cart rattled to a halt. The County Inspector waited for silence. ‘I can see that mistakes were made on all sides.’

Knox ignored the sweat spilling down his face.

‘I am concerned, however, about the lingering taint on the good character of Lord Cornwallis.’

‘As I tried to explain, sir, his Lordship conducted himself with absolute propriety at every juncture …’

‘I am pleased to hear this. I would like to be able to say that his Lordship feels the same way but I’m afraid to report that he has made a rather serious accusation about your conduct as a policeman.’

Knox felt his blood run cold. ‘I’m sorry …’

The County Inspector consulted another document. ‘Were you summoned to Dundrum Hall on Sunday the tenth of January this year?’

‘It’s possible. I would need to think about it …’

‘Perhaps I can jog your memory, Constable. Were you, or were you not, asked by his Lordship to transport a man by the name of McMullan, who’d been caught stealing blood from the estate’s livestock, to one of the cells at the barracks to stand trial for theft?’

The room started to spin. Knox tried to sit up straighter but it didn’t seem to make a difference.

‘Please answer the question, Constable.’

‘Yes, sir … I was.’

The County Inspector nodded. ‘And yet this man never appeared at the barracks.’

‘No, sir,’ Knox muttered, trying to plan a new defence for himself.

‘Would you care to tell us why not?’

‘The man in question broke free of his restraints and escaped. I searched but wasn’t able to find him.’

‘I see.’ The County Inspector glanced across at Hastings. ‘Were you made aware of this fact?’

Hastings shook his head.

The County Inspector turned back to Knox. ‘So you didn’t feel the matter was important enough to report it to the sub-inspector?’

‘On the contrary, I realised what a big mistake I’d made. I was too ashamed to admit I’d failed.’ Knox bowed his head and exhaled. He could feel the thump of his heartbeat.

‘A pattern of deception is beginning to emerge.’ The County Inspector looked at the document in his hand. ‘Is there anything else you wish to add?’

‘Nothing, sir – aside from my humblest apologies.’ Knox waited, not daring to breathe. Perhaps all they wanted him to do was grovel.

‘You don’t, for example, wish to make it known that you were acquainted with the thief?’

‘I knew who he was but that’s not surprising, given the size of the community we both grew up in.’

Hastings coughed. ‘Constable Knox was given special dispensation to serve in his county of birth, sir.’

‘Ah, I see. But I’m assuming you didn’t treat this man, this suspected thief, any differently to others you have taken into custody.’

‘No differently, sir.’

The County Inspector smiled for the first time. He picked up the piece of paper he had been consulting. ‘I have here a letter, signed by your own father, stating that you took the thief, Davy McMullan, back to your family’s dwelling that same day, and presented him to them as a friend in need.’

It was as if the air had been sucked out of the room. Knox had to stop himself from retching. The worst of it was that his own flesh and blood had betrayed him; he didn’t know where to look.

‘Is it true, Constable? Did you introduce McMullan to your father as a friend rather than your captive?’

Knox didn’t have the capacity to lie any more. He nodded listlessly.

‘Speak up, Constable.’

‘Yes, it’s true.’

‘And is it also true that you allowed McMullan to go free because you felt sorry for him?’

Knox could feel the tears in his eyes. ‘Yes.’

The County Inspector shoved another piece of paper across the desk. ‘That’s good, Constable. You will sign this document, if you don’t mind.’ He held out a pen and indicated that Knox should approach the desk.

Knox tried to stand up but his legs buckled. ‘What is it?’

‘It’s a legal document. By signing it, you will be recognising that the decision I have taken regarding your situation has been informed solely by your behaviour towards Davy McMullan – and is in no way related to your regrettable errors in the matter of the murder investigation.’

Dazed, Knox went over to the desk, picked up the pen and signed his name. ‘What decision have you taken, sir?’

The County Inspector took the document and inspected it. Eventually, when he was satisfied that everything was in order, he said, ‘Your employment at the constabulary has been terminated with immediate effect.’

Knox just managed to make it back to his chair before his legs gave way.

‘Once you leave this room, you will change out of your uniform and you’ll present it to the sub-inspector along with any other items belonging to the constabulary.’

‘How will I pay my rent? How will
I live
?’ His thoughts turned to the weekly ration of corn.

‘That is no longer our concern.’ The County Inspector gestured to the door. ‘Now, if you’ll excuse us …’

‘I have a wife and a young child. This is all I have, sir. All that’s standing between us and …’ Knox couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence.

‘Then, sir, you should have considered your responsibilities more carefully before you appointed yourself judge and jury in the matter of Davy McMullan.’

Knox thought about throwing himself on to the floor and begging for his position. ‘
Please
, sir …’

The County Inspector stared at him dry-eyed and held up his hand. ‘That will be all.’

He didn’t know how far he had walked, or for how long, but by the time he arrived home, it was dark. He was greeted at the gate by the dog. Martha must have heard the barks because the door opened and her face appeared. She saw at once that something was wrong. Ushering him into the cottage, she sat him down next to the fire and then pressed her warm hands against his icy cheeks.

‘What’s the matter, my darling? You look terrible and you’re so cold.’ She stared at him, her expression guileless and loving.

It made him despise himself even more; the stupidity and selfishness of his need to be good. ‘I’m fine.’ He smiled weakly. ‘I’ve just had a long day.’

Martha took a step back and studied him. ‘You don’t look fine, Michael. You look sick.’

‘Really, I’m fine.’ He had kept his uniform for the day as he’d had nothing to change into. ‘I just need to sit for a while and get warm.’

‘When I opened the front door and saw you by the gate, I thought you were about to cry.’

Knox could feel his grip on the situation begin to loosen. He knew he would have to tell Martha what had happened in time – but not before he’d come up with a plan. He had two pounds in savings – hidden under the ground in the yard. This would pay for the rent and keep them in food until some time in March. If he could find alternative employment, news of his dismissal wouldn’t be so devastating.

‘It was just one of those days.’ He corrected himself. ‘
Another
of those days.’

‘Are you sure that’s all it is?’ She looked at him dubiously. ‘You don’t seem your usual self.’

More than anything Knox wanted to tell her the truth, tell her that he’d been dismissed, because this was what they had always done – tell one another the truth – but he felt too frightened and too ashamed. ‘Really, Martha, I’m just tired down to my bones.’

She didn’t appear convinced but decided not to push it any further. ‘Well, I’ll just put on the water for supper.’

Nodding silently, Knox thought about their dwindling supply of corn. ‘Just give me half of what I’d usually have. They fed us today.’

She came over to where he was sitting and touched his forehead. ‘You don’t have a fever.’

‘I feel fine, Martha, really I do. I’ll just go upstairs and look in on James.’

‘He was asking for you earlier.’

As soon as he reached the top of the stairs, Knox had to steady himself by holding on to the banister. His lip started to quiver. Looking up, he saw James, fast asleep in the cot, and he started to weep.

Knox woke early, before it was light, and slipped out of bed without waking Martha. He dressed quickly in civilian clothes and a pair of old boots and went downstairs. There, he lit a candle and let himself out into the garden, where he was greeted by Tom, who had forgotten the indignity of being locked out in the cold and jumped up at him, wagging his tail. It was drizzling and most of the snow had melted, which meant the ground was no longer frozen. Watched by the dog, Knox found a shovel in the coal shed, went to the spot under one of the birch trees, and sliced the blade into the earth. It took him less than a minute to dig up the pouch he’d buried there. Brushing it, he emptied the coins into his hand and counted out two pounds and twenty shillings. He put the two pounds back in the pouch and then buried it again, patting the mud into place with the back of the shovel. With the twenty shillings in his pocket, Knox let himself back into the cottage, followed by Tom. There, he swept out the grate, prepared the fire and lit it with a match.