Authors: Andrew Pepper

Tags: #London (England) - History - 1800-1950, #Mystery & Detective, #Pyke (Fictitious Character: Pepper), #Pyke (Fictitious Character : Pepper), #Fiction, #General, #Mystery Fiction, #Historical, #Traditional British, #Suspense, #Crime

The Detective Branch (31 page)

BOOK: The Detective Branch

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Pyke looked up at him, interested.

‘Eddie and I were able to trace Josephine Keate to an address on Poland Street. We went there and were told by a neighbour that a man and woman had turned up a few nights earlier and moved the old woman out, without leaving a forwarding address. That wasn’t the end of it, though. Apparently the next day, three or four ruffians forced their way into the building with knives and pistols looking for the old woman and ended up ransacking her home.’

‘When was this?’

This time it was Lockhart who spoke. ‘We did the calculations and worked out that the man and woman must have come for Keate’s mother on the same night that Charles Hogarth died.’

‘You’re sure about that?’

‘Certain,’ Shaw said. ‘Of course, we don’t know whether the two things are related,’ Shaw said. The youngest member of the Branch, Pyke noticed, had become more confident about stating his views in meetings.

Lockhart acknowledged Shaw’s concern with a frown. ‘Let’s just think about it for a moment. What if Guppy’s death upset someone - the fact that Guppy was killed on that date in particular and in the same manner as the boy five years earlier? It might have made this person, or persons, uneasy. Then Hogarth dies or, as you say, Pyke, is killed. Let’s assume there’s a connection between all the deaths. What happens? Immediately some men are dispatched to Keate’s mother to see what, if anything, she knows. But someone has already foreseen this and moved the mother to another place.’

Whicher cleared his throat. ‘So what you’re suggesting, Eddie, is that someone might have suspected the involvement of Keate’s family in the reprisals,
if
indeed that’s what they are, against Guppy and Hogarth?’

‘It’s a possibility, isn’t it?’

‘We need to find out why those men came looking for Keate’s mother - and who sent them,’ Pyke said, aware of both Whicher’s caution and the fact that he was siding with Eddie Lockhart.

‘I still don’t understand,’ Wells said, screwing up his face. ‘Why would someone want to rough up an old woman?’ It was the first time he’d spoken since the meeting had started.

‘Let’s assume, and this is still a very big assumption, that Keate didn’t do what he was found guilty of five years ago. Someone close to him finds out and sets about trying to right this particular wrong.’ Pyke hesitated and looked up at Wells, whose frown had deepened. ‘There are too many connections for us to ignore, Walter. If the Keate family are not involved in any of this, why did someone dispatch three or four men with knives and pistols to talk to the mother?’

‘So what do you suggest we actually do?’ Wells asked.

‘Keep looking for Keate’s mother, the two brothers and the sister.’ Pyke addressed Shaw and Lockhart. ‘Did any of the neighbours see the man and woman who came to collect Keate’s mother?’

Lockhart shook his head. ‘Not a good look anyway. The woman was wearing a headscarf and the man a cloak.’

‘And the men who turned up with knives and pistols?’

‘As yet, no one’s been willing to offer us any descriptions,’ Lockhart stated. ‘I’d say they were afraid of retaliation.’

‘Then bring the neighbours in here and lock them up if needs be. If we can trace those men, perhaps we can find whoever dispatched them.’ Pyke looked around at his team. ‘Someone is worried enough about what’s happening to want to kidnap an old woman and make Hogarth’s body, the coroner
and
the porter miraculously disappear.’

The meeting broke up and everyone, except Lockhart, who Pyke had asked to see, drifted out of the room.

‘I just wanted to thank you for staying with my son when he came here to find me,’ Pyke said once they were alone.

‘I just did what anyone would have done in the circumstances. I could see the lad was upset.’

‘He spoke highly of you, Detective Sergeant. It made me wonder whether I might’ve misjudged you.’

Lockhart loosened his collar. ‘I . . . I have to . . .’ He took a deep breath and looked around the room. ‘I admit I was angry at you for not trying to save Gerrett’s position.’

Pyke noticed he hadn’t accused him of deliberately trying to engineer it. ‘If I’d rated Gerrett’s abilities as a detective, I would’ve fought for him. I still might not have been able to save him, though.’

Lockhart conceded this point with a curt nod. ‘I haven’t told anyone this. I wanted to talk to you first.’ He took out his handkerchief and wiped his forehead. ‘I’ll be honest with you, Pyke. I do think you could have done more to help Gerrett. But what’s done is done. I also think you’re a good detective and I think you’re right about these murders. While you were away, I went to try and find the coroner. I didn’t succeed but I did manage to talk to one of the clerks who worked with him. I could see he knew something so I pushed him around, threatened him a bit. In the end he admitted he’d sneaked a look at Hogarth’s body.’ His face was now flushed with excitement. ‘Do you know what he told me?’

‘That Hogarth didn’t die of a heart seizure?’ Pyke hesitated, wondering how much he should say to Lockhart about what he’d seen in the mausoleum.

Lockhart looked at him and nodded. ‘You know what you said, about Hogarth’s death and the boy’s, Stephen Clough’s, being linked?’

Pyke nodded.

‘Well, this man told me he saw marks, holes bored into the hands and feet of Hogarth’s corpse.’ Lockhart wetted his lips. ‘He also told me the man’s stomach had been cut open.’

Pyke stared at him for a moment, trying to comprehend the gift Lockhart had dropped into his lap. ‘You have this man’s name?’

‘Tom Challis.’

‘And he’s willing to say this in front of a judge?’

Lockhart looked sheepish. ‘He’s afraid of what will happen to him if he does. He’s afraid of what
I’ll
do to him if he doesn’t.’

‘Bring him in, I’d like to talk to him.’ Pyke waited. ‘Do it quickly and quietly and don’t tell anyone else what he knows. If I’m not here, put him in my office and stay with him.’ He smiled. ‘I don’t need to tell you this is first-rate detective work. More than that, I can now take this to the commissioners.’ Pyke waited and added, ‘You said just now you hadn’t told anyone about this?’

‘That’s right.’

‘No one in the Detective Branch and no one in the police as a whole?’

This time Lockhart’s eyes narrowed a little, as he sensed perhaps that his honesty was being questioned. ‘That’s what I said.’

‘You did the right thing.’ Pyke reached forward and tapped him awkwardly on the arm. ‘And thank you, Eddie.’

Later Wells came to offer Pyke his condolences; he had also sent a wreath to the house, which Pyke had already thanked him for. It felt strange, thinking about the funeral, the fact that Godfrey had died. At times, when he was occupied with other things, Pyke could almost forget about what had happened. It was the same for the first few moments when he woke up in the morning. Then the reality of the situation would sink in and Pyke would feel despair descending on him once more. Could it
really
be true that he’d never again see or have a conversation with his uncle?

‘I saw you talking to young Lockhart,’ Wells said. ‘I trust he wasn’t causing you any problems.’

‘No, no problems.’ Pyke could see that Wells wanted to know what they’d been talking about.

‘He seems to have buckled down, got on with things. Perhaps Gerrett’s dismissal will be good for him, good for all of us.’

Pyke sat down in his chair and waited for Wells to do the same, but Wells opted to stand. ‘You didn’t say much in the meeting, Walter. I take it you don’t approve of the turn the investigation’s taken?’

‘I said I’d support whatever course you wished to steer.’

‘But you don’t think this is the best one?’ Pyke raised his eyebrows. ‘You still think Francis Hiley killed Guppy?’

Wells’s eyes drifted to the small window behind Pyke. ‘We’ll find him eventually, and then we’ll know one way or another.’ His expression darkened. ‘But I’ve had to redeploy most of my men to another most disagreeable matter. You won’t have heard about it yet, I suppose.’

‘Heard about what?’

‘A man was shot dead yesterday. The body was found in the river near the Billingsgate stairs.’

Pyke’s blood ran cold. ‘Who?’

‘One of the Rafferty brothers. Sean was his name, I believe.’

The news took a few moments to sink in. ‘Do you have any idea who might have done it?’

‘Could be one of a hundred thousand, I’d say.’ Wells rubbed his hard, waxy skin. ‘You know as well as I that the Irish are prone to violence and a wildness of spirit that can be quite lethal, especially if they find themselves under a feebler police than they’re used to.’

‘And you think that’s what’s happened here? Sean Rafferty has been shot dead because we, as a police force, have become permissive?’

Wells smiled. ‘Indeed, I’d forgotten that your attitudes vis-à-vis our Irish brethren are less hostile than mine. Nevertheless, this murder will have to be investigated with our characteristic thoroughness and the task of doing so has fallen to me. I don’t doubt it will be a nasty job; the list of names bearing brutes like the Raffertys a grudge is likely to be a long one and I can hardly expect assistance from the brothers.’

‘Except this time the Raffertys are the victims.’ Pyke thought back to the summer when Wells had been convinced of the Raffertys’ guilt on the pawn shop murder.

Wells’s eyes shifted focus. ‘I might have leapt to the wrong conclusion about the Raffertys before but you can hardly blame me for doing so: they’re notorious for their thieving and general disregard for the law.’

‘I’m sure you’re right, Walter,’ Pyke said, sighing, not wanting to further antagonise the man. ‘Actually, now that you’ve reminded me of the murders in the pawn shop, there was something I wanted to ask you,’ Pyke added.

‘Oh?’

‘You remember I mentioned that a constable in uniform had been seen in the vicinity of the pawnbroker’s just before the shooting?’

Wells jaw tightened. ‘You said someone saw this man, a beggar or hawker.’

‘A crossing-sweeper.’

Wells looked at him carefully. ‘What about it?’

‘He said the policeman in question had a limp. I met a sergeant matching that description a couple of weeks ago. Man by the name of Russell.’

‘Russell?’ Wells seemed to give the matter some thought. ‘No, I don’t think I’ve come across him.’

‘Part of Kensington Division.’

‘Still doesn’t ring a bell.’

‘I didn’t expect it would, but it struck me the other day that Pierce was in charge of that division before he moved to Holborn.’

‘I’m not sure what you’re implying, Pyke?’

Pyke eyed Wells carefully, not sure himself what he was suggesting, whether the matter was worth looking into or not. Perhaps it would turn out to be a dead end. Perhaps it was just the case that Sharp, the tall man they believed had shot the victims in the Shorts Gardens robbery, had acted on his own volition and had taken the secret of the cross’s whereabouts to his grave. But that didn’t explain how Sharp had come by the cross in the first place, nor why a policeman in uniform had failed to respond to the sound of three loud blasts of a pistol.

‘Sergeant Russell?’ Pyke waited to see whether the man would recognise him or not. He had presented himself at the desk in the police building on the King’s Road and asked whether Russell was available. The man had kept him waiting for a little more than five minutes.

Russell was heavier than Pyke remembered and, without his stovepipe hat, his hair was bushier and more unkempt. He had the same ferret-face, with small, quick eyes, thin lips and a pinched nose. It took the man a few moments to recognise Pyke and when he did, he stiffened slightly.

‘Detective Inspector . . .’ Russell paused and grimaced. ‘Trout?’

‘Pyke.’ He held the man’s stare. ‘With a “y”.’

BOOK: The Detective Branch

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