The Opening Night Murder (28 page)

“Even so, Pepper, it is by all accounts that Piers was not in those places at those times. There is no reason to believe Piers killed William.”

“Oh!” Here Pepper gave his friends a sly glance. “I see now I’m to be taken in by the testimonies of
actors
!” The smirky grin on his face angered Suzanne, and her cheeks flushed darker, but she held her temper and forced herself to draw deep, even breaths.

“Yes, indeed, constable,” she continued. “If you’re to find the man who did this, you must take into account the testimonies of those who witnessed it. And I would add that had you come to the murder scene in a timely manner instead of waiting for all the witnesses to go home and the body to be taken away, you might have found someone who actually saw the murder. If the only accounts are from actors, you’ve only yourself to blame.”

That also brought a chuckle from Pepper’s friends, but not from Pepper. His look was sour as he replied, “There is one eyewitness account more important than all the rest. I have a confession from your son. And in fact, I have it in writing.” He reached over and lifted a corner of a page that lay on his desk. Suzanne stared at it and wished mightily for the nerve to snatch it up and run away with it. But that would accomplish nothing in the end, so she held her hands in fists and tried to reason with this stupid man.

“He only wished to keep me from Newgate. I’m certain you know that, and you must understand that for that reason his testimony is as self-serving as my own.”

“It’s true I was prepared to press a case against you for the murder, what with your history with the victim, but I find it much easier to convict when I have a confession than when
I must build a case against one who protests. And I have no reason to believe your son a liar.”

“God forbid you should ever actually do your job.”

A stung look came over Pepper, and Suzanne wondered whether she’d gone too far. But he said evenly, “I’m a busy man, Mistress Thornton. Any happenstance that enables me to ease my day is a benefit not just to me but to the City of London, for it frees me for other, more important work.”

“Such as drinking with friends.” She glanced at the other men.

Pepper gestured to his companions with his glass. “I have important friends.” Now those friends, quite entertained with this exchange and enjoying Pepper’s performance, looked to Suzanne with the eagerness of a paying audience awaiting her response.

Suzanne hated such use from these men, but continued to press. “You must want to find the real murderer.”

Pepper shrugged. “I wish to have the case closed, to the satisfaction of the king, for that is the extent of my job: to make the king and the magistrate happy. I have no reason to believe I haven’t. And in any case, in the greater scheme of things, the matter is not so terribly important. William Wainwright was neither a weighty nor well connected man. Your son, though he might be important to you, is of no significance to anyone else. Since Wainwright was a rather vocal and annoying Puritan, the king wishes the case to be closed as quickly, quietly, and neatly as possible. I cannot imagine a solution more quick and neat than a full, written confession. Your son has done us both enormous favors, Mistress Thornton. In one gesture he’s not only saved you from the gallows, he’s also enabled me to please my sovereign and my immediate superior. Now good
day, and on your way out tell my clerk I wish to see him, to know how you were able to enter the office and annoy me today.” With that, he poured himself more brandy and resumed his conversation with his friends. Suzanne was dismissed.

T
he walk back to the Globe was not a long one, but Suzanne took it slowly and hardly saw where she was going. A fine rain drizzled over the city and a mist spilled from the river that made London a dream world, unreal and uncontrollable. People in the street, adults and children, vendors, prostitutes she’d known for years, drifted past as if incorporeal, silent in the muting fog. She’d neglected to bring an umbrella, and as the rain became more than a light softness she pulled her cloak around her and ducked her head.

As she walked she cast about in her mind in search of what to do next. Fantasies of breaking into Newgate with armed men to rescue Piers from his captors danced in her head. She imagined a sea of friends carrying knives, swords, and maces storming the gates of the prison, shouting and laying about them, then carrying away her son to safety. She imagined Pepper getting in their way and falling beneath their charge, trampled and finally bludgeoned to death. She pictured herself
leading this charge, carrying an axe with which she would break her son’s shackles and free him. She wanted enough for these fantasies to be true that she thought through the strategies and laid out in her mind the plan to accomplish them. But in the end, as she approached the theatre she came to her senses and understood her thoughts were only the product of desperation. Impractical and impracticable. With a sigh she let them go, and they dissolved in the damp air like ghosts.

When her vision cleared, she looked up and saw Daniel’s carriage standing outside the theatre. His driver had thrown blankets over the waiting horses, so she knew he’d been there a while and didn’t expect to depart soon. She picked up her skirts and hurried inside, her pattens clacking and wobbling on the cobbles.

“Daniel?” He wasn’t in sight, in the house or on the stage, where rehearsal was in progress. She went straight to her quarters, where Throckmorton awaited her. He’d been given a cup of ale and was sipping it patiently when she burst in. “Daniel.” She wanted to hug him for being there but refrained, afraid she’d mistaken his reason for coming, and further concerned that he might misinterpret her reason for wanting a hug. She stood still for a moment, got a grip on herself, and began calmly to divest herself of her dripping cloak and headdress. Sheila came to help her out of her pattens and to take the cloak. Then she brought a towel for Suzanne to dry off. At first she tried to leave her hair intact, but as it drooped she gave up and removed all the pins so Sheila could dry it all and brush it out.

When Sheila was finished and dismissed, Daniel set aside his ale, stood, and took her hand. His was warm and strong, while hers was very cold, wet, and trembling. He held hers in both of his to warm it. “Suzanne, where have you been?”

She retrieved her hand and stepped farther into the room to make space between them. “Speaking to the constable. He was no more help than you.”

He made a disparaging noise and set his hands on his hips. “That fool is no good to anyone, even himself. I don’t know why you went there.”

Anger rose. If he couldn’t help, then at least he could refrain from criticizing her for attempting to help Piers herself. “I had nowhere else to turn. You weren’t forthcoming with a solution.”

“My hands are tied, I’m afraid. I can’t be of much use to you.” He spread his palms, and to her his hands didn’t appear so very bound.

“Your son’s neck will be tied if we don’t do something.” Her own words choked her so she had to stop speaking for a moment. She stepped farther away, and he went toward her until she had to walk past him to keep from being cornered in the small room. He turned to follow her.

“You don’t think I would help if I could? You don’t think I would storm the very prison if I thought it would help my son?”

For a moment Suzanne had an eerie feeling that Daniel had read her mind and was using her own thoughts against her. Then it touched her heart that he’d been thinking the same thing as she had. But she recovered herself and said, “Your son? Daniel Stockton, do you know that’s the first time you have ever referred to him as your son?”

He thought for a moment, surprised. “Well, he is.”

“Only by blood.”

“Which, as they say, is thicker than water. I’m here to offer my support, for what it’s worth.”

“After thinking long and hard.”

“Of course I gave it some thought. Only a fool acts without
first considering the consequences.” He drew her to sit, and he sat next to her. “I couldn’t give an answer just then, when you sent the messenger. I needed to think through some things. And I still don’t know what I might be able to do.”

“What is there to think through? How can you be his father and not want to give everything you have to save his life? Why shouldn’t you storm Newgate to free him?”

“Suzanne, you don’t understand everything. There are things you don’t know and I can’t tell you. It’s not just me who has a stake in the situation. As I said, my hands are tied by things not under my control.”

“Such as…?”

“Things I don’t care to talk about.”

That stung. “Daniel, you can tell me anything. Why don’t you trust me? What secrets have I ever betrayed?”

“None, my dear. You’ve done nothing. But this is how the world works. Only when one has nothing to lose can one traipse off to rail at the constable, or whatever remedy comes to mind. There are people involved in this case who carry more weight than Samuel Pepper, and I must keep my own counsel.”

“Tell me who.”

“Suzanne, you know who.”

“Anne.”

“And others.”

She stood. “Daniel, I must ask you to leave. You come here to offer your support, but it’s only talk. You do nothing.”

“Suzanne, you must believe me.” He stood and reached for her hands again, but she held them behind her back to keep away from him. If she allowed him to touch her, she might fall into his arms and her cause would be entirely lost. He straightened and drew his chin in, angry now.

“And why? How do I owe you my faith? And why should you care what I believe or don’t believe?”

His voice took on a sharp edge. “You wouldn’t have this theatre without me.”

There it was, the age-old control. She owed him money, so she must owe him whatever he might ask. Not for the first time in her life she was aware that the only freedom was to not care. “I would hand it back to have my son restored to me. I care nothing for this theatre, and everything for him.”

There was a long pause as Daniel considered his next words, then he said them. “Without me you wouldn’t have him, either.”

Again she saw the “you owe me” trap, and declined to step into it. “Exactly. He’s your son, too. No matter what you let be known publicly, he’s your flesh and blood and there’s no denying it. Help me save him!
You owe him that!
”

Daniel’s frame sagged in defeat. “I simply don’t have the power. The king thinks he’s guilty, and there’s no persuading him otherwise.”

“Piers didn’t steal the crossbow. He wasn’t in the green room that night. He’s almost never in the green room.”

“That may very well be true, but you can’t prove it. Suzanne, to convince Charles there must be more than just a mother’s word that your baby boy wouldn’t have done such a terrible thing.”

“Surely you can convince him, Daniel. Nobody would ever accuse you of having too much affection for Piers.”

Daniel blinked at the barb and didn’t reply immediately. Then he swallowed, as if getting rid of the insult, and said, “They would. They surely would. But that’s neither here nor there. I simply don’t have that kind of influence, for it’s a matter
of larger things that cannot be controlled. Take my word on this, Suzanne. I would save him if I could, but I can’t.” For a brief moment his face dissolved in a mask of grief, but he overcame it and continued. “I simply cannot.”

There was a long silence. She gazed into his face and he into hers, and she realized there was nothing more to be said except, “Please leave, Daniel.”

“Suzanne—”

“Leave now.” She called out, “Horatio!”

The large man plainly had been listening outside the door, for it opened immediately and he filled the doorway. “My lord,” he said to Daniel in his gentlest voice, which nonetheless commanded attention, “I require thy compliance with my mistress’s request, if thou will’t.” He gestured with an open hand for the earl to take his gracious leave.

Daniel looked over at him. “And if I decline?”

“I wouldn’t care to ’compass the consequences, my lord. It wouldn’t be pleasant at all, I’m afraid.”

Daniel gazed blandly at Horatio, as if weighing those consequences against his desire to stay. Then he looked back at Suzanne. “I wish you would trust me.”

She replied, “I wish for my son not to hang, and further I would you wished it. I’m appalled that you don’t.”

There was no possible reply to that, so Daniel straightened his jacket and allowed Horatio to accompany him to his carriage.

T
HE
play, of course, went on that afternoon as usual. Still
Henry V
, though the next production would open the following day. Suzanne went to watch from the third floor gallery directly over the entrance doors. She liked to watch from there,
though it sometimes made the dialogue hard to follow if too many patrons nearby chatted amongst themselves. The house today was full once again, but Suzanne found a wide enough space on a bench near the front of the gallery and settled in to watch.

She’d seen this play many times, of course, and had performed it as Katharine in earlier days when she could convincingly fill the role of a young French princess. She watched the play unfold on the stage below as her mind wandered to that night when William had fallen from the stage gallery, across the way and a bit to her left. She looked across, with a mind to what a witness might have seen. So many spectators, and not one had seen William before the fall.