âShe was always down to be killed,' said Mearns sadly as he looked down on the red, swollen face with its staring eyes. âHer sort don't often get a quiet ending.'
âNo, well, that's true,' Denny admitted. He was leaning against the wall, looking down at the body, one arm still propping up the unlucky finder of it, who was crying gently.
âI always kept my distance, I thought you did too.'
âHer prices were high,' said Mearns. âBut there's more than one way of paying.'
âEh?'
âOh, not by me.'
A few minutes later Felix appeared at the off-stage door. He looked at the dead woman. âOh dear.' He turned to Mearns: âYou were looking for me, of course.'
âOh, yes,' lied Mearns, who had been hoping that Felix would not appear. But of course, that was not the way Felix worked. In a theatre or not, he did not like to be off-stage.
The rest of the party were crowding forward to get a
look at what had happened. The Major saw Miss Fairface's horrified eyes. She was holding Beau's arm, and the look she gave Beau was enigmatic.
Mearns moved to push them all backwards. âDon't look ⦠Leave it to us.' He turned to Felix who was on his knees by the body. âWe'll have to tell Dr Devon, the Coroner, and Sir Robert Porteous, the Magistrate.'
Without looking towards him, Felix said: âYou forget that it is my Unit that will have to investigate the murder.'
A commanding, stout figure was pushing through the enlarged crowd surrounding the all-too-real scene; some from the audience had leapt across the orchestra pit, or out of the stage boxes, or pushed their way through the side doors. But others were still sitting in their theatre seats, and were beginning to shout for the second part of the performance to start. There was always a lighter ending, often with music and singing, and this was a crowd that wanted its money's worth, real life murder or not.
âHere, here, what is this?' It was the Theatre manager and owner. He got to the front of the crowd. âMy God, what's this?' he said, looking down. âIs she hurt? Is she dead?'
âShe's dead,' said Felix, crisply, standing up. âStrangled.' He moved forward. âAll this crowd must be moved away.'
It took but a few minutes for those few who wanted to go to leave and the great bulk of those who wanted to stay and see what was going on to be moved into the
street, where most stood watching.
âOh stay, Mearns, dear chap,' the Theatre manager, Mr Thornton, called out as he saw the Major and Denny moving off. Not that they intended to go far. âAnd your Sergeant, too.' He knew, as did most people, that when you got the Major you got Denny too.
âWeren't going,' muttered Denny. âJust moving my feet.'
Mearns grunted. âThe murderer may well be among those being moved out.'
So the Major and Sergeant Denny remained where they were. As did Miss Fairface, Beau and one or two other cast members. Miss Fairface had edged away from Beau.
âLucky for you that you were on the stage most of the night so you could not have killed Dol.'
âDon't say things like that,' he hissed back under his breath, a strange light in his eyes.
âBut then we don't know when she was strangled, do we? You could have done it before coming on stage.'
âHenry, Henry!' A middle-aged, beautifully dressed woman bustled forward to Thornton.
âWhat's going on?'
âOh, my love,' Thornton greeted his wife. âA death, a murder!'
âDear me, dear me, that will send profits down and we are on a knife's edge.' Then she brightened: âBut not for long; we shall make it up.'
âMurder,' he reminded her dolefully. âMurder, my dear. You cannot overlook murder.'
âWho is it?' She started to push her way towards the body. Thornton held her back.
âDon't look, dear.'
She hesitated. âSomeone we know?'
âOnly by sight,' he said hastily, nervously.
Rightly suspicious, and knowing her husband, she managed to get through for a look. Then she turned back to him. âDol,' she said. âBy sight, eh?' and she shook her head. Mrs Thornton, who always performed in their productions, whether there was a suitable part or not, had cleared her face of make-up and removed her cloak. She had been playing one of the witches.
âTidy your face,' she said to her husband. He had been another of the witches while fully dressed in his usual trousers and jacket under the witch's robes. Whether this was from absence of mind or for warmth was not clear. These cloaks did service from
Macbeth
to
Othello
to
Mrs Thrufts Heiress â
a very popular comedy in Windsor. So the robes were well known to all the regulars at the Theatre and had caused no surprise to Denny and the Major, who had also recognised Mr Thornton as the First Witch â a good part for him as he never learnt any lines but always made up his own.
Thornton passed his hand over his face, dragging brown powder down onto his collar and making his wife cluck in anger. âGrubby, grubby â¦no way to meet the dead.'
âShe's right about the dirt,' said Denny to Mearns.
âHe's probably had that on him since he last played Othello.'
The crowd of onlookers was slowly moving away under the directions of Felix, now assisted by another of his Unit. The chanting from those still penned in their seats, waiting for the performance to go on again, was getting louder. The custom was for a farce to follow the main play and, murder or not, they wanted the farce.
Dol lay where she had fallen, but a sheet had been dropped over the body. Denny drew the Major's attention to a short but elegantly dressed man pushing his way through the crowd. People drew back with respect as he was recognised.
âThere's Old Pompey,' said Denny. This was the nickname of Sir Robert Porteous.
Sir Robert, well informed and not a foolish man, bent his head politely towards the Major. He knew that Mearns was, in his way, an important figure in the Castle establishment.
He also knew what many did not â that Sergeant Denny was the Major's ears and eyes in the Castle. He knew that he was sometimes called Old Pompey, and sometimes Old Pompous, and that the origin of these names was from Denny. He was biding his time on that one and would one day get his revenge.
One of the town constables had arrived and he was talking to Felix Ferguson. Relations between the Constables and the Crowners' Unit, as with the Coroner and the Magistrate for that matter, were guarded and cautious.
Felix had been a good soldier â as the Major, who had
made enquiries, had to admit â but he had not fought in any battles with the Major and Denny, which made a gap between them. And they judged that, if you hadn't had the touch of the whip from Napoleon, then you didn't know what a fight was.
Denny had been thinking out loud: âI suppose Dol's death couldn't have anything to do with Traddles? Just wondering.'
The Major did not answer at once; he could see that someone else was arriving. Then he said: âPossible, but it's a different sort of killing. I don't think Tommy Traddles was strangled; his eyes weren't bulging at all. It looked as if his death had been quick and sharp.'
âTeam work, you think?'
Denny had also noticed a new face. âThe Coroner's just come. Thought he wouldn't be slow in getting here.'
The Coroner disliked all the other law keepers in Windsor and, in particular, Felix Ferguson and his Unit. He had no time for the Constable, or for the Magistrate, both of whom he regarded as encroaching on his territory.
âThe Coroner's Office,' Denny had heard him proclaim more than once, âdates back to Norman times when men kept the peace by means of the Frankpledge system.' He would then go on to explain the Frankpledge system â until stopped.
But, like the Magistrate, he too respected the position of the Major and of Sergeant Denny in the Castle. He smiled at them, then bowed. The Major responded in kind.
âDol will go down to the mortuary once Dr Devon's given the word,' said the Major. âI wonder how he feels about seeing her this way.' He eyed Denny.
âThere's plenty who knew the way to her little cot,' said Denny.
The Major shrugged. âWho knows?' In fact he did know; he had made it his business to know. Not hard in a town like Windsor to scout around and find out who visited the lovely whore. Traddles had been one of his informants.
âSo you think the good doctor will go down to the mortuary with Dol?'
âSure of it. He'll want to inspect her. Make sure what she really died of, and when. If he can.'
The Sergeant dragged out his own worry. âI hope Tosser doesn't say anything about our bundles.'
âI don't think he will.'
âIt must be getting quite crowded in there.'
âAnd there's still the rest of Traddles around somewhere waiting to get in,' said Mearns with grim humour.
âI feel a bit nervous, Sir.'
âWe've been in worse places, Sergeant.'
âIt's not myself I'm worried about ⦠It's Mindy. Felix was probably going to walk her home, but now he's bound to stay for a bit and Mindy will have to see herself back to the Castle.' He fixed the Major with his knowing eyes. âDon't like to think of her doing that.'
Mearns passed over knowingness; it never paid to let Denny feel how clever he was (although in his mind
Mearns acknowledged that Denny was exceedingly sharp â which was why he valued working with him). So yes, Denny had noticed how the Major's feelings for Mindy had grown into love.
For that matter, Mearns knew one or two things about Denny that he did not talk about. Denny certainly had a wife in Cripplegate, but he also had one in Winchester, and probably another in Worcester, and another in Widness â all places where his army life had taken him. Mearns wondered if he had always taken care that none of his wives could write so they could not pester him.
But no, that was too devious for Denny. In his own way he played a straight game. And after all, thought Mearns, perhaps they had been glad to lose Denny. He remembered Denny's relief when he met an early romance in Windsor, now a plump commanding school virago.
âWell, Mindy hasn't gone,' said the Major, looking across the stage. âShe's still here. I reckon she wanted to know who was dead. We'll walk her home together and tell her what we know.' Which wasn't much, he thought.
âShe'll be safe enough in the Castle,' assured Denny, giving Mearns another knowing look.
âSafe enough from me?' thought Mearns. âWhat the hell does the beggar mean?' Denny always meant something by his looks.
âThere's one in the Castle who's been seen looking at Mindy.'
âShe's a handsome woman,' said Major Mearns.
âAye, and this is one who knows it.'
âYes,' thought Mearns, âme too.'
They were walking towards Mindy, who had seen them coming and was smiling.
âAnd this one is hard to deny.' This was Denny again.
By now they had caught up with Mindy.
âI don't want to stay,' she told them. âLet's walk up the hill together, please.' She was always polite.
âI came with Felix but he â¦' she shook her head, âhe can't leave yet.'
The Major nodded. âI know.'
âFelix sent a message back to me; a poor soul has been strangled. He didn't say more, but all around people were saying it was a woman called Dol. Mr Pickettwick says so.'
âHow did he know?'
âThe boy Charlie told him.'
âOh, he'd know all right,' said Denny. âCan't keep anything from that one. Not anything he wants to know anyway.'
âDenny doesn't like Charlie,' announced Mearns.
âOh, I do
like
him; he's a taking lad. But he frightens me â¦he looks through me. Like he could see a joke the other side.'
Â
As Denny had aged, so his voice had got deeper and more uneven; he was a great smoker of a large pipe, which had probably contributed to this. But as well as deepening, so his voice had become gruffer.
âOh, you're barking,' said Mindy with amusement.
âLike a dog, he can do that!' Mearns smiled.
âA nice little terrier, though, Denny,' said his friend Mindy â ever anxious not to hurt his feelings.
Â
Charlie watched the Major and Denny leave with some wistfulness. He liked Miss Fairface and he enjoyed the atmosphere of the Theatre, but he also felt drawn to the Major and his Sergeant. They were men. He knew this was what he would be one day, but he had not quite got there yet.