The King's Evil (17 page)
Jonathan
Bale ignored the light drizzle as he moved slowly around with his gaze fixed
firmly on the ground. It was a long painstaking search but it yielded nothing
of real value. He withdrew to the road and studied the site pensively. It was
deserted. Work on the house had been terminated and Samuel Littlejohn's men
sent home while he looked for alternative employment for them. Most of the
building materials had been removed for storage elsewhere. The once busy site
had a forlorn air, its ambition snuffed out, its bold design unrealised, its
vestigial walls giving it more of a kinship with the ruined households all
around it than with the new dwellings which were gradually taking their place.
Notwithstanding his reservations about the owner and architect, the constable
felt a pang of genuine regret.
It
was not shared by the man who strutted up beside him.
'The
message could not be clearer,' he asserted.
'What
message?' said Jonathan.
'God
has spoken. No house should ever be built on this site. It is patently doomed
to fall. First, came the Great Fire. Then, the spate of thefts. And now, a foul
murder. These are all signs.'
'Of
what, Mr Thorpe?'
'God's
displeasure.'
'You
believe that we have witnessed divine dispensation?'
'What
else?'
'Gross
misfortune,' argued Jonathan. 'God may be displeased but He would not initiate
a murder.'
'It
was a punishment inflicted upon the owner of the property.'
'What
was his crime?'
'He
embodied sin, Mr Bale.'
'Did
he?'
'What
greater crime is there than that?'
Sensing
that Jesus-Died-To-Save-Me Thorpe was in homiletic vein, the constable held
back a response. His task was to catch a murderer, not to look for theological
significance in what had happened and the last thing he wanted at that moment
was an extended sermon from the argumentative Quaker. He ran a ruminative hand
across his chin as he scanned the site again. His diminutive neighbour turned
to practicalities.
'Have
any arrests been made, Mr Bale?'
'Not
as yet.'
'Hast
thou any indications as to who was responsible?'
'According
to you, it was the Almighty.'
'Acting
through a human agent.'
'Oh,
I see.'
'What
clues have been found?'
'I
continue to search for them, Mr Thorpe,' admitted the other. 'That is why I
came here again this afternoon. I have been over every inch of the site three
times now but without much success.'
'I
am sorry that I am unable to help thee on this occasion.'
'You
prevented one crime, sir.'
'It
was my duty to do so.'
'Others
would have been too frightened to report what they heard.'
'I
am not afraid of common thieves.'
'You
deserve great credit. Thanks to your actions, four villains are under lock and
key. Those three thieves and their accomplice.' He gave a congratulatory nod.
'I must confess that I thought at first they might in some way be connected to
this murder.'
'How?'
'Arrest
will cost them dear,' said Jonathan. 'I conceived it possible that a
confederate of theirs was sent to exact a dark revenge by killing Sir Ambrose
Northcott. On reflection, I dismissed the idea.'
'Why?'
'Because
the owner of the house would be an unlikely target. It was I who actually made
the arrests with the help of Mr Littlejohn and Mr Redmayne. One of us would
have been a more likely recipient of that fatal dagger. Had I been the one,' he
said with a philosophical smile, 'it would not have been the first time that I
was attacked. Mine is an unpopular job but a necessary one.'
'And
necessarily corrupt.'
'How
so?'
'Because
thou servest a corrupt master, Mr Bale.'
'I
serve the citizens of this ward, sir. They include you.'
'Indirectly,
thou art a lackey of the King and his vile Parliament.'
'That
is not how I see it, Mr Thorpe.'
'Then
thou art purblind. One day, perhaps, thou wilt realise the error of thy ways
and allow thine eyes to be fully opened to the wonder of God.' He began to move
off. 'Farewell to thee.'
Jonathan
held up a hand. 'One moment, sir.'
'Yes?'
Thorpe halted.
'I
am glad that we have met,' said the other, turning up his collar as the drizzle
thickened, 'even if it is in such wet weather. It gives me the chance to pass
on a word of warning.'
His
companion bristled. 'Do I look as if I am in need of it?'
'This
is for your own good, Mr Thorpe.'
'I
prefer to be the judge of that.'
'Then
hear me out,' said Jonathan seriously. 'There are rumours that a seditious
pamphlet has been distributed among the Friends. It is said that it pours scorn
on the established religion and goes so far as to incite violence. I am sure
that you realise the penalty for printing such a document.' 'Only too well.'
'Distributing
such material carries an additional penalty.'
'I
am familiar with the savagery of the law.'
'Even
reading this pamphlet is a crime.'
'If
it exists.'
'I
believe that it does, Mr Thorpe.'
'Rumours
are usually false.'
'This
is more than a rumour. I merely wished to say that I hope you are not involved
with this publication in any way.'
'Am
I accused?'
'Not
by name, sir, but we are bound to look to you.'
'Innocence
should be its own protection.'
'If
- that is - you are entirely innocent.'
'I
am, Mr Bale. In my own mind.'
'That
is a contentious issue.'
'Then
let us debate it here and now.'
'No,
sir,' said Jonathan tolerantly. 'We both know where the other stands. While I
cannot agree with your position, I respect you for taking it. All that I wish
to do here is to give you fair warning that you are under scrutiny. It would be
foolish of you to flout the law again.'
'The
real folly lies in the law itself.'
'I
have said my piece, sir.'
'It
did not need saying, Mr Bale,' came the vehement reply. 'Look at thyself, man.
Thou art trying to solve the heinous crime of murder. Does the printing of a
pamphlet rank alongside that? Canst thou not turn thy attention to real
villains and leave us be?'
Jesus-Died-To-Save-Me
Thorpe was about to launch himself into a diatribe but his neighbour cut his
fulminations short with a kind inquiry.
'How
is your wife, sir? I was sorry to hear of her illness.'
The
Quaker was checked. 'She is much better.'
'I
am glad to hear that.'
'Hail-Mary
will soon be able to venture out again.'
'Please
give her my regards.' 'Thy own wife hast been very kind,' said Thorpe quietly.
'Mrs Bale brought food and comfort to our house. That chicken broth of hers has
done Hail-Mary the power of good.'
'It
is Sarah's favourite medicine.'
'A
wholesome remedy. I tasted it myself.'
'It
can cure many ills.'
'But
not, alas, the ones that afflict this city.'
Jonathan
took an involuntary step back, fearing another broadside about the moral
turpitude of the King and his counsellors, but his little companion instead
gave a rare smile.
'I
will spare thee my opinions this time,' he said. 'Thy warning was well-intentioned,
though no less irritating for that. It deserves a like favour from me. Besides,
someone else waits to speak with thee.'
Jonathan
looked around. 'Who?'
'Do
not keep the ladies waiting, Mr Bale.'
Jesus-Died-To-Save-Me
Thorpe touched the brim of his hat in a faint salute then strode off quickly.
The constable, meanwhile, looked across at the two women who were hovering a
short distance away with their hoods drawn up against the drizzle. The older
and plainer of the two was, judging by her attire and her subservient manner, a
maid of some kind. Though he could only see half of her face, Jonathan did not
need to be told who the much younger woman was. The resemblance to Samuel
Littlejohn was clear. It had to be his daughter. Hands clasped together and
lips pursed, she gazed wistfully at the site. Jonathan strolled across to her.
'Did
you wish to speak to me?' he asked politely.
Margaret
Littlejohn came out of her reverie to look at him.
'Yes,
constable,' she said.
'Well?'
'Are
you acquainted with Mr Christopher Redmayne?'
'I
am indeed.'
'Do
you happen to know where he is?' 'I believe so.'
She
reached out impulsively to grasp him by the wrist.
'Please
tell me how I can find him.'
Amid
the musty books and sheaves of paper in his office, Solomon Creech was bent
over his desk, perusing a document with intense concentration. The tentative
knock on the door went unheard. When it was repeated, it had marginally more
authority. Clicking his tongue, he looked up with a mixture of annoyance and
dread.
'Come
in,' he snapped.
His
clerk stepped into the room and closed the door behind him, keeping his back to
it. He gave an apologetic smile.
'Well,
Geoffrey?' said the other.
'You
have a visitor, Mr Creech.'
'I
told you that I would see nobody today.'
'The
gentleman would not be turned away.'
'Who
is he?'
'Mr
Redmayne.'
'Henry
Redmayne?'
'His
brother.'
Creech
gave a mild shudder. 'That is even worse. Tell him that I am far too busy and
send him swiftly on his way.' The clerk hesitated. 'About it straight, man!
What is keeping you?'
Geoffrey
Anger gave a nervous laugh and swallowed hard. Fate had committed a libel when
he was named for nobody was less capable of showing anger than the timid clerk.
A shy, studious man in his thirties, he peered through spectacles which served
as much as a protective screen as an aid to his poor vision. Thinning hair and
a pinched face made him look considerably older than his years. He was a
conscientious clerk who toiled for long hours without complaint but who was
racked with guilt whenever he did anything as violent as swatting a fly off his
desk. To expel an unwanted visitor was a Herculean labour to him.
'Go
on, Geoffrey!' ordered Creech. 'Do as I tell you.'
'What
if the gentleman will not leave?'
'Make
him leave!'
The
clerk let out a cry of alarm and brought a hand to his throat. He did not
relish his task in the least. Mustering all of his resolve, he went back into
the outer office to pass on the message to the visitor. It was not
well-received. Brushing him aside, Christopher opened the door of Creech's
office and went in to confront the lawyer. Geoffrey Anger was left bleating
ineffectually in his wake.
Solomon
Creech had ire enough for twenty men.
'What
is the meaning of this?' he said, leaping to his feet.
'I
wish to speak to you, Mr Creech.'
'This
is my private domain, sir. You cannot come bursting in here like that. It is
tantamount to trespass.'
'I
was left with no alternative.' Christopher closed the door on the gaping figure
of the clerk. 'I came here for some answers and I will not depart until I have
them.'
'I
am not available to clients today.'
'I
did not come here as a client.'
'I
am not ready to see
anyone!’
'Then
I will wait until you are.'
The
visitor lowered himself on to a chair and folded his arms in a show of
determination. Creech lost his temper completely, yelling wildly, waving his
hands in the air and threatening to have him evicted. None of his imprecations
had the slightest effect on Christopher who simply waited until the storm blew
itself out. The lawyer eventually sat down in his chair and frothed with
impotent rage.
'I
went to Priestfield Place yesterday,' said Christopher at length.
'Indeed,
sir?' growled the other.
'Lady
Northcott was most unimpressed with your behaviour. She felt that it was your
duty to pass on the sad news. You failed her miserably.'
'I
was too caught up in events here, Mr Redmayne. In any case, why should I bother
to send word when you were intent on travelling to Kent yourself? But,' he said
defensively, 'I have not been idle. The body has at last been released by the
coroner. I arranged for it to be transported to Priestfield Place so that
burial can take place in the family vault. Even as we speak, Sir Ambrose is
making his final journey.'
'He
leaves many pertinent questions behind him.'
'I
am struggling with some of them now, sir,' the lawyer said, pointing to the
document before him. 'This is his will. Its provisions are highly complicated
and it demands my full attention.'
'So
do I,' insisted Christopher.
'Could
we not postpone this discussion until tomorrow?'
'No,
Mr Creech.'
'Until
later on this afternoon, then?'
'Now,
sir! I insist.'
'I
will not be browbeaten, sir,' warned the other.
'Nor
will I.'
Their
eyes locked in a tussle but it did not last long. The lawyer soon saw the
futility of trying to defy his visitor. Christopher Redmayne was no fearful and
reticent clerk who could be brought to heel with a snarl. He was resolute and
single-minded.
Creech
resigned himself to the inevitable. He became curious.
'How
did Lady Northcott receive the news?' he asked.
'Very
bravely. In the circumstances.'
'What
do you mean?'
'Well,'
said Christopher, 'to begin with, she had to endure the shock of learning that
her husband had been brutally murdered. That is ordeal enough for any loving
wife. But I inadvertently inflicted another wound when I happened to mention
the new house. Neither Lady Northcott nor her daughter had the slightest notion
that it existed.'
'Indeed?'
mumbled the other.
'You
know
that it is so, Mr Creech. And that is my first question. Why were they not
told? What kind of husband keeps something as important as this from his wife?'
'It
is not for me to speculate.'
'Sir
Ambrose had a reason to conceal that house from them.'
'I
suppose that he must have.'
'What
was it, Mr Creech?'
'I
can only guess,' said the other evasively. 'Sir Ambrose Northcott was a close
man. He took nobody into his confidence.'
'Except
his lawyer.'
'Only
in respect of legal matters.'
'Building
a new house
is
a legal matter,' Christopher reminded him. 'You drew up the contracts and
visited the site while Sir Ambrose was away. That brings me to another point.
Where did he go during those three weeks?'
'It
is a private matter, Mr Redmayne.'
'I
need to know.'
'Well,
I am not able to tell you.'
'But
it may have a bearing on his death. Something may have happened during that
time while he was away which led to his murder.' He spread his arms
questioningly. 'Do you not want this crime solved?'
'Of
course.'
'Then
give me some help. Where was Sir Ambrose?'
'I
wish I knew.'
'Surely
he confided in you?'
'I
knew only that he was going away on business. He often did that. I never
pressed him for details of his wherabouts.'
'But
you must have had some inkling where he went.'
'No,
sir.'
'I
think you are lying.'
'You
may think what you wish.'
'I
am minded to shake the truth out of you.'
'If
you do, my clerk will fetch a constable to arrest you.' , Christopher stood up
abruptly and leaned across the desk.
'Who
killed him, Mr Creech?'
'How
should I know?'
'Because
you were closer to him than anyone else. Sir Ambrose trusted you. He told me so
himself. His business affairs must have brought in an enormous amount of
contractual work for his lawyer.'
'That
is true,' conceded the other.
'Then
you were more aware of his activities and his movements than anyone else.' He
remembered the look of surprise on the two faces at Priestfield Place. 'Far
more aware, for instance, than his own family. They were kept wholly in the
dark, it seems. Come, Mr Creech. You must have your suspicions about the
identity of the killer. Reveal them. Who were Sir Ambrose's enemies? Who were
his rivals?'
'Mr
Redmayne—'
'With
whom did Sir Ambrose do business?'
'That
is confidential information.'
'Heavens,
man! This is a murder investigation.'
'In
which you have no rightful part.'
'Give
me some
names!'
'No!'
howled Creech. 'I'll not be interrogated like this!'
'I
need your help.'
'Well,
you will not get it by forcing your way in here and trying to intimidate me.
Nobody is more eager to have this crime solved than I am, believe me. The death
of Sir Ambrose Northcott has left me with the most extraordinary amount of
work to do on his behalf,' he said, waving a hand at his desk. 'I have to
process his will, write countless letters to inform people of his demise and
take over the running of his business affairs until someone else is appointed
to do so. With all that pressing down on me, I do not have time to indulge in
pointless guesswork with you.'
'It
is not pointless. You know those names.'
'I
know only what Sir Ambrose permitted me to know.'
'What
was the motive for the murder?'
'Good
day, Mr Redmayne.'
'Where
should I start looking?'
'Anywhere
but here!' affirmed Creech. 'The only legitimate business you have with me
regards the house and I can assure you now that the contract will not be
revoked. Though the house will not be built, you will not lose the entire fee.
Compensation will be paid.'
'That
is the least of my worries at this moment.'
'It
is among the most immediate of mine. I like to keep things neat and tidy, sir.
It is a rule of mine. Funds will soon be released to all the parties involved.
Mr Littlejohn will get his money. So will you. And so will your brother.'
Christopher
frowned. 'My brother?'
'Yes,
Mr Redmayne'.
'Monies
are due to him as well?'
'Did
you not realise that?'
An
unsettling thought came into Christopher's mind.
'Tell
me more, Mr Creech,' he said.
