Chapter Twenty-Six

VINCE GRABBED ALFIE Exeter by the collar and pulled him close to his face. “Explain!”

“I was chasing after the murderer, you gorilla,” Exeter said, struggling to get free. “He’ll be long gone by now.”

“Don’t believe you.” Vince didn’t loosen his grip one iota. “Knew Crimp was here. How?”

“Mr Norton told me,” Exeter said. “He saw me on the street when he was on his way to fetch you. I told him I’d come on ahead. I’m faster than the lot of you put together, and I was still too late!”

Sorcha put her hand on Vince’s arm. “Let him go, Commander.”

Vince stared into Exeter’s eyes for a moment, then dropped him. “Saw the killer?”

“I couldn’t get a good look at him,” Exeter said. “All I saw was a glint of something, might have been an earring. It all happened so fast.”

Vince rubbed his mouth with the back of his hand. He shouted at the sky. Mr Norton arrived, huffing and puffing. He doubled over, trying to catch his breath.

Exeter stood and dusted himself off. “What now?”

“The killer has gotten rid of the only witness,” Sorcha said. “There’s nothing more we can do.”

“What about the cherry house?” Exeter asked. “Did anyone see Crimp arrive?”

“Queenie did,” Vince said.

“Let’s go talk to her,” Exeter said. “Crimp might have told her something useful.”

“Go without me,” Vince said. “Scared Queenie enough for one day. Meet back at the shop later.”

“What are you going to do?” Sorcha asked.

“Ms Crimp had friends. Family. Deserve to know what happened before it’s spread all over town.”

“I’ll come with you, then,” Sorcha said. “Mr Norton can go with Alfie.”

“Don’t need you to—”

Sorcha held up her hands. “I cannot begin to imagine what those poor people are about to go through, but I expect it would be ten times worse coming from you.”

Mr Norton held his side and winced as he followed Exeter towards the entrance to the cherry house.

Vince stomped around the alley. An old crate took the brunt of his frustrations and several kicks quickly reduced it to splinters.

“I don’t think that crate is the killer,” Sorcha said.

Vince kept his back to her. He considered going straight to the Star We Sail By, Crimp’s favourite haunt. A good many bedworkers plied their trade from the Star’s sailboat balcony. Crimp’s friends would be there. Vince knew her family—a brother and grandmother—but doubted they’d want to see him. He thrust his hands into the pockets of his claret overcoat and sulked all the way to Lodestone Lane.

Sorcha followed him, making idle chit-chat all the while. He knew she was trying to keep his spirits up but he found himself blocking out the sound of her voice. Not hearing what he didn’t want to hear had always been one of his talents.

They found the Crimp house, a shambling wreck held together by plaster and hope. Sorcha knocked on the door. After several minutes, the door creaked open, then slammed shut again.

Vince huffed and took a moment to calm himself. He balled his fist and knocked. “Please,” he said. “Have news. About Ataraxy.”

The door opened, and they found themselves invited into a murky parlour by a small woman in a shawl, using two walking sticks. Her head bobbed beyond her control.

“Won’t stay long,” Vince said.

Sorcha perched herself on the edge of a chair like a bird on a branch. “We have some bad news, I’m afraid.”

Before she could say anything else, Ataraxy’s brother rushed in through the front door, carrying a stick. Vince instinctively raised his fists.

“Stop!” Sorcha said. “Stop. Please. We’re not here for a fight. Please, just put that down for a minute.”

Ataraxy’s brother looked Vince up and down before lowering the stick. “What have you done?”

Vince lowered his head. “Ataraxy died. Think she saw a murder happen. Murderer got to her before we could.”

The old woman dropped onto a chair without a word. Ataraxy’s brother’s eyes filled with tears but he scowled, trying to hold them in. Vince sat and told them what happened. Her family hadn’t heard from her in almost two weeks. He told them he would make the arrangements for the burial. They left the Crimp household after an hour or so and walked the length of Lodestone Lane.

“Why did you offer to pay for her funeral?” Sorcha asked. “You didn’t know her that well, did you?”

“Failed her,” he said. “Least I can do.”

“He was afraid of you. Ms Crimp’s brother.”

“Not surprised,” Vince said. “Beat him up once. Years ago. Group of his friends tried to take over a cherry house Ataraxy was working in. Over in Ironworks. One of my business interests. Had to step in to settle things down.”

Sorcha had walked on a few paces before realising Vince had stopped outside the collapsed and charred ruins of a house. “Who lived here?”

“Used to be my house,” Vince said. “When I worked for Mudge.”

“I thought you’d have taken a house in Gravel Hill,” Sorcha said. “You must have made quite a bit of coin in those days.”

“More than a bit. Was the whole point. Was raised in an orphanage, then went to work in Chase Manor–one of the island’s great houses. Went from abject poverty to a place of wealth beyond my imagination. Any wonder I preferred the latter? Wasn’t lucky enough to be born to it so I decided somehow, some day, I’d take it. Made no sense to me that some people can have so much while the rest of us scrabble in the muck just to get by.

“Took a house here to keep me close to my people. Thought it better to stay humble. Must have been burned down after I left, last Midwinter. Suppose the locals didn’t want me back.” He set his hand on the scorched remains of a wall. “Can’t say I blame them.”

WHEN THEY RETURNED to the tailor shop, they found Lieutenant Hancock standing outside, looking up at the sign.

“Ah, Mr Knight, there you are. I was told I could find you here. I wondered if I might have a word?”

They led her inside. Orla had a number of fabric swatches on the counter.

Mrs Maunder stopped leafing through them and stared at Lieutenant Hancock. “Oh! I recognise you; you’re one of the Sentinels! Let me say what wonderful work you are doing.” She glanced briefly at Vince. “It’s about time someone did something about the riffraff in this town.”

Vince snorted through his nose at her, causing her to quail. He guided Lieutenant Hancock through to the floral parlour.

“Captain Godgrave wanted me to ask you about the Spradbery murder,” she said.

Vince leaned against the mantelpiece and tipped tobacco into his pipe. “So ask.”

Lieutenant Hancock stared at him. “Since the Watch is no longer a going concern and the Sentinels have taken over the peacekeeping duties in the town, Captain Godgrave feels we should pick up the search for Sergeant Spradbery’s killer. Have you made any headway?”

Vince puffed on his pipe. “Found a witness,” he said. “Bedworker named Crimp.”

“Oh, that’s a start. Where is—”

“Dead,” Vince said. “Killer got to her first.”

“Ah.” Lieutenant Hancock crossed her legs and rested her hands on her knees. “Anything else?”

“There was a man.” Sorcha took off her cap and threw it on the settee. “Mr Exeter saw a man at the cherry house. He ran after him but he, umm, didn’t catch him.”

“Just a vague sighting of a man?”

“A man with an earring, maybe,” Sorcha said.

“It’s not a lot to go on but I don’t know what else I expected from civilians.” Lieutenant Hancock stood and straightened her tunic. “If you hear anything else, let us know as soon as possible.” She nodded and Sorcha saw her to the door.

Before long, Mr Norton and Alfie Exeter arrived. Alfie flumped onto the settee, narrowly avoiding Sorcha’s cap. “This is a bit of a step up from the old Watch House,” he said. “Much more comfortable.”

“This is not your new Watch House!” Orla shouted from the hallway. “And get your feet off the furniture!”

“We’re not the Watch, so we don’t need a Watch House,” Mr Norton said. “Frank and Clive have taken up work at the docks. And Ruth has gone back to working behind the bar at the Jack Thistle.”

“The Sentinels are going to take up the hunt for Sergeant Spradbery’s killer,” Sorcha said.

“What’s left for us to do?” Mr Norton asked.

“Want to find the killer,” Vince said. “Important.”

“Why?” Exeter asked. “Why not just leave it to the greencoats?”

Vince puffed his pipe. Clouds hung about his head, like at the shrouded peak of a mountain. “Need to have something to show for my time as Watch Commander. Can’t have been a complete failure. Won’t let it.”

Mr Norton sat in the window seat. “Queenie confirmed Ms Crimp came to her and asked her for a place to hide. She’d only been there a short time before we arrived.”

“Who told you she was at the cherry house?” Sorcha asked.

“One of the staff, Mrs Marjory Winkleigh. She works there as a cleaner.”

Vince puffed out a cloud of smoke. “Another of your informants?”

“I asked her to keep an eye out for Ms Crimp. It’s the only cherry house in town, if a bedworker wanted someplace familiar to lay low, I knew that’s where they’d go. Mrs Winkeligh came and told me she’d spotted Ms Crimp, I came and told all of you.”

“So we’re no closer to finding the killer,” Sorcha said. “That’s it. They’ve gotten away with it.”

“Not yet, they haven’t.” Vince puffed on his pipe again. “One chance left to find them.”