t was dark as Raven made his way down the Canongate, bound for Evie’s lodgings. The lamps seemed almost futile in their efforts to penetrate the blackness and the fog, but he quietened his fear with the knowledge that if he could not make out his enemies amidst such gloom, then neither could they.
He entered Evie’s close with a soft tread, but did not make it as far as the stairs before a familiar figure blocked his path. She had emerged from her lair on the ground floor, beyond which a mouse could seldom pass unnoticed unless this fearsome sentinel was already well in her cups.
Evie always described Effie Peake as her landlady, but she didn’t own the place. She merely collected rent and kept a close eye on behalf of whoever did, for which she presumably got her own lodgings at a short rate. The woman was the nature of Edinburgh in microcosm, adept to the point of self-deception at compartmentalising her public and private faces. She insisted on being addressed as Mrs Peake, but this was rumoured to be an affectation, as according to Evie there had never been a Mr Peake. She reacted with outrage at any suggestion she was aware immoral conduct might be taking place upon her premises. But in truth, very little business escaped her notice: ‘Not when she’s taking a slice of every storm of heaves that happens beneath her roof,’ as Evie had put it.
So she knew who came here, and who they saw. Raven had no doubt that as well as the local clientele, those visitors included men of high standing, of impeccable moral repute, of power and of influence. He also had no doubt that neither Effie’s word nor the word of any woman here would be worth a fig against such men should an accusation be made. Nonetheless, Raven suspected Mrs Peake might prove a rich fount of information, if anyone could find the right means of tapping it.
She was short and stout, as though having developed her shape specifically to block this passageway. Despite her girth there was something narrow about her features, pale and pinched, as though if she ever smiled it would unravel the tight bun her hair was scraped into at the back. ‘If you’re looking for Evie, she’s not here,’ she said. An interesting choice of words, not least because it reassured him that she did not know he had been in the building that night.
Raven opted therefore to play along.
‘Where is she?’
‘Gone.’
‘Gone where? Will she be back soon?’
Effie sighed, a weary look coming over her. ‘I’m only telling you this because I recognise your face and I know Evie had a fondness for you. Evie is dead.’
Raven feigned shock and hurt, a task assisted by what Effie had just said about Evie having a fondness for him. It was also the first time he had heard anyone talk about her death beyond those callous words that had spilled from the mouth of that policeman.
‘What happened?’
‘Found her that way. Four, no five days ago.’
‘Where is she now?’
She looked at him as though he was a simpleton. ‘Buried. Where else would she be?’
‘I merely wondered, given that her death had been so sudden, whether it might have prompted an investigation of some kind. A post-mortem perhaps?’
‘A post what?’
‘An examination of the body, to determine the cause of death.’
‘Doctor from the dispensary determined it simply enough. Said it was the drink. Signed the certificate to that effect. Didn’t need much time to work that out.’
Raven pictured the body being carried out to the cart in that tattered and filthy shroud. Never mind a post-mortem, the doctor from the dispensary would have barely looked at her. Sometimes they didn’t even enter the house.
‘Where was she taken?’
‘How should I know? Some pauper’s grave, as there was no one to pay for anything else. Anyway, that’s all I can tell you, so you ought to be on your way.’
She folded her arms, her posture unmistakably defensive. She wanted him gone.
‘Could I see her room?’
‘Why? Are you some kind of ghoul?’
‘No, I’m a man of medicine.’
Effie allowed herself a scornful smirk. ‘You don’t look like a man of anything to me.’
Raven ignored this. ‘I would like to see if there is anything there that might help me deduce what became of her.’
‘I’ve already rented it. Can’t afford to keep good lodgings empty.’
‘Was there anyone with her before she died?’
‘I wouldn’t know. I respect my tenants’ privacy.’
Like her folded arms, this mutually understood lie was an indication that she was putting up the shutters. She would tell him nothing more, which served only to make him wonder what she wished to conceal.
Raven heard a door open above, saw a female face peering over the stairwell to investigate what she had overheard. The face disappeared again following a sharp look from Effie.
‘And what of Evie’s possessions?’ Raven enquired.
‘Sold. To cover expenses. Not that you get much for a couple of dresses and a pair of jet earrings.’
‘What about the brandy?’ he asked, wondering whether it and not the gut-rot might have proven toxic.
‘What brandy?’ she asked, but she had betrayed herself with her transparent surprise that he should know about it.
‘The bottle I saw in her room when last I visited.’
Effie’s face took on a defiant expression. ‘That’s long gone too,’ she said. ‘I drank it.’
‘In that case, I have reason to thank you.’
This truly confused her. ‘Thank me?’
‘For performing the most basic but reliable form of toxicological analysis. I had a concern that Evie’s death might have been attributable to drinking something that proved poisonous. By virtue of the fact that you are standing in front of me, I can deduce that it could not have been the brandy.’
With that, Raven departed back into the gloom.
He had barely traversed the breadth of the building when he heard footsteps at his back, approaching at speed. He turned, bracing himself to attack or to flee, but found himself confronted by the young woman who had been peering down the stairs some moments ago. It was difficult to be sure in the paltry light that fell here between two street lamps, but he thought she seemed familiar.
‘It’s Will, isn’t it?’ she asked.
‘Yes.’
‘Aye. I saw you with Evie sometimes. She talked about you. I’m Peggy.’
‘I recognise you. Can I help?’
‘I overheard. You were asking if Evie had anyone with her the night she died. She did. I’m in the next room.’
‘You saw who came and went?’ he asked, suddenly fearing where this might be going.
‘I never saw. I heard them, though.’
This came both as relief and disappointment. She hadn’t seen Raven, but nor would she be able to identify the visitor.
‘I don’t suppose his voice was familiar to you?’
‘No, but see, that’s the thing. It was a woman’s voice I heard.’