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Wednesday, 8th July 1908
‘What the buggery have you called me out for this time?’ Hammond made no attempt to soften his voice as he glowered at the duty sergeant.
‘It’s another body, sir. A cabby reported it to the beat bobby. Said he went to check when the cab in front of his didn’t move up the rank, he intended giving the other cabby a piece of his mind, but he wasn’t there. He’d left his cab unattended on the rank. That’s when he found the body. Inside the cab, it was.’
‘Where is the cabby?’
‘He wouldn’t leave his cab, sir. Said he’d done his duty and now it was up to the bobbies.’
‘We’ll see about that. Which bobby took the report?’
‘It was Constable Fraser, sir. He was patrolling with Constable McDonald when the cabby called him over.’
‘Get Fraser. I want to hear what he has to say.’
‘I’m sorry, sir, but Constable Fraser returned to the rank to mount guard on the cab.’
Exasperated, Hammond shook his head.
‘I’m assuming Fraser left McDonald guarding the cab while he came here to report?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Then why, tell me, does it take two of them to guard it?’
The sergeant shuffled his feet and flushed with embarrassment.
‘He thought that was what you’d want, sir.’
‘What I want –’ Hammond glared at the sergeant ‘– is a constable to take notes while I question the cabby and other witnesses.’
‘I thought you might. So, I took the liberty of calling out Constable Buchan to assist you. I hope I did right.’
‘Where is he?’ Hammond’s voice rose several decibels.
‘I’m here, Inspector Hammond.’
Hammond whirled around and glared at the young constable, standing in the doorway to the inner office.
‘Well, don’t just stand there. We have work to do.’ He turned and slammed out of the door without waiting to see if Buchan followed him.
Darkness clothed the streets and buildings. Nothing stirred the silence apart from the constable’s footsteps pattering behind him. Hammond bit on the mouthpiece of his pipe. He didn’t mind the quiet, though his pace quickened as he walked along Barrack Street where the wall of the Howff bordered the road.
When he reached the end of this street and entered the Overgate, it seemed like a different world. This was where the drunks and the doxies gathered. Petty thieves and pickpockets roamed among them, looking for easy pickings. He pushed his way through a bunch of men arguing over a bottle and crossed to the other side of the thoroughfare before hurrying along Tally Street to the cab rank in the Nethergate.
By this time, his temper had increased, and he glowered along the line of cabs until he found the two constables standing guard. He marched over, removed the pipe from his mouth, and glared at them.
‘Which of you is Fraser?’
‘That’s me, sir.’ The man who stepped forward was the older of the two. He stamped his feet together and saluted.
‘Well, don’t just stand there. Where is the cabby who found the body?’
‘He’s sitting on the perch of his cab, sir.’
‘I would like to interrogate him.’ Hammond enunciated the words, annoyed because he was having to spell out what he wanted. If the constable had any gumption, he would have realised that without having to be told.
‘Yes, sir.’ Fraser scurried to the cab behind the one he’d been guarding. ‘Inspector would like a word,’ he shouted to the man sitting on the high perch behind the cab’s compartment.
The cabby secured the horse’s reins, slotted his whip into its holder, and climbed down, a scowl on his face.
‘I’m losing customers,’ he grumbled. ‘Those bobbies won’t let me get on with my work.’
Hammond studied him with narrowed eyes. The man wore the typical cabby’s uniform – tight trousers, a high-necked jacket with military-style brass buttons, and a bowler hat. His rigid stance emphasised the outrage which shone from his eyes, but the inspector had met his type before. Taking his time, Hammond tapped the bowl of his pipe on the low wall surrounding the church. Satisfied he’d emptied the ash, he thrust the pipe into his pocket.
‘That’s too bad.’ He returned the man’s scowl. ‘I need you to answer my questions before we can let you go.’
‘Let me go? I’m not being arrested, am I?’
‘Not at the moment.’ Hammond watched the man squirm.
‘I’ve told the bobbies everything I know.’ The cabby’s voice was sullen.
‘Well, now I need you to tell me. Start at the beginning, when you found the body.’
‘I parked my cab in behind this one, but it didn’t move on when the cabs in front were hired. We have to wait our turn, you see. I thought the cabby might be asleep, so I went to give him a poke and tell him to move up to the next space. He wasn’t on his perch, so I looked into the cab, thinking he might be inside.’ The cabby took a deep breath. ‘That’s when I saw the lady. I thought she was sleeping, even though that seemed strange. Then I saw that thing around her neck and her face looked all peculiar. I didn’t know whether she was dead or maybe had a funny turn. So I ran up Tally Lane looking for a bobby. I knew I’d find one in the Overgate.’ The man stared at Hammond with an anxious look in his eyes. ‘That’s all I know, sir. I swear it.’
Hammond waited until Constable Buchan stopped writing in his notebook before continuing.
‘What time did this take place?’
‘Midnight was striking on the steeple clock when the rest of the cabs moved up the line, so it must have been a few minutes after that.’
‘What about the driver of this cab? Did you see him when you parked behind?’
The cabby shook his head.
‘The cab was here when I arrived, and I didn’t see anyone. Maybe one of the cabbies in front might have seen something.’
Hammond turned to the two constables guarding the cab.
‘Did either of you question any of the cabbies further up the line?’
‘No, sir.’ Fraser shuffled his feet.
‘Well, what are you waiting for? Get on and do it.’
‘Yes, sir.’ Fraser beckoned to McDonald, and they headed for the cabs further along the rank.
‘Right, you.’ Hammond turned back to the cabby. ‘Give your name and address to my constable here and then you can get on with your work. But no funny business, mind. I can easily track you down.’
The cab containing the woman’s body was no different from any of the others in the rank. The horse stood patiently, held by its reins secured to the narrow iron rail on top of the cab, while the perch sat empty. Hammond reckoned that any cabby who took a tumble from there would be in danger of breaking their neck. The passenger compartment was flanked by two large wheels at either side, which raised the cab high off the ground.
Hammond grabbed the wheel when the cab swayed as he placed his foot on the iron step. Pausing for a moment to regain his balance, he hoisted himself upwards to the higher step running the length of the compartment. He peered over the wooden, folding doors; it was as the cabby described. The woman sat with her head resting against the back of the seat as if she were asleep. The ends of her silk scarf dangled in front of her, and although Hammond couldn’t decipher the words in the gloom, he knew they said ‘Votes for Women’. It was another one of those damned suffragettes.
He opened the half doors to examine the body. He searched her dress for pockets and looked for a reticule or handbag. The only thing he found was a handkerchief with the initials CD. Closing the doors again, he clambered down from the cab.
‘I told the cabby he could get on with his work and he’s moved up the rank. I hope I did right, sir.’
‘Yes, yes. You got his name and address first?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Fraser and McDonald? Have they reported yet?’
‘They’re on their way back, sir.’
Buchan’s constant use of ‘sir’ grated on him, but he’d no intention of telling him to stop. The young bobbies needed to show respect to their elders.
‘Well,’ he snapped as the two bobbies reached him. ‘Did any of the others see anything?’
‘No, sir.’ It was Fraser speaking again. Hammond wondered whether McDonald had a tongue, or if he was in the habit of following Fraser’s lead.
‘What about the cab? Did they have any information on the driver?’
‘No, sir. But they said there should be registration details on a plate or card either inside or outside the cab. It’s the licensing law, sir.’
‘Good lad. We’ll have a look for that when we get the cab back to police headquarters.’
Buchan looked startled.
‘Can we do that, sir?’
‘It’s better than trying to remove the body here. It would help if we could identify her first.’ Hammond stared across the street to the houses opposite. ‘As I recall,’ he said, ‘two suffragettes live around here. They might be able to identify her.’
‘At this time of night, sir?’
Hammond ignored the comment.
‘You know the address and you’ve been there before, so you can lead the way.’
Buchan shuffled his feet, his reluctance obvious.
‘Snap to it, Constable. Why are you waiting?’
‘But they’re ladies, sir, and they could be alarmed if we rouse them in the middle of the night.’
‘Ladies?’ Hammond spluttered. ‘They are suffragettes, lad, and they get up to all sorts, doesn’t matter if it’s night or day.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘In the meantime –’ Hammond addressed Fraser and McDonald ‘– you two remain on guard here until we get the body identified. After that, one of you will get the job of driving the cab to headquarters.’ He turned back to Buchan. ‘Come on, Constable. Let’s rouse the ladies from their beds and get this over.’