The Body in the Fog (9 page)

Alfie rolled his eyes at Jack. ‘Of course,
you
were the one who had the good idea and made the board, not him,’ he said, but Jack just shrugged and Alfie said no more. He had
too much else on his mind to be annoyed by Tom.

‘We’re thinking so much about Flash Harry and his mob of cracksmen that we’ve forgotten about the death of Jemmy,’ said Jack after Sarah had told them how she visited
Inspector Denham.

‘Yes, Inspector Denham still says that’s the root of the whole matter,’ said Sarah.

‘Well, I think that we need to make sure that Bert the Tosher had nothing to do with it first,’ said Jack.

‘And Opium Sal,’ said Alfie. ‘I’ll question her tomorrow and you can talk to Bert, Jack.’

In his mind he felt that it wasn’t too likely that Bert the Tosher had murdered Jemmy. After all, the whole affair of the gold cufflink was over and done with. What good would Bert do to
himself by murdering Jemmy? He would just get himself hanged and leave his wife a widow and his children fatherless. In any case, thought Alfie, Inspector Denham was a smart man and if he felt that
Jemmy’s death was connected with the post office raid – well, the chances were that he was right.

And then he remembered Inspector Denham’s advice to keep away from Flash Harry and his story about the man who ended up in the Thames with a lump of lead tied to his feet. Chances were
that he was right about that, also!

CHAPTER 15

As soon as Alfie had had some breakfast next morning, he went to see Inspector Denham. He had combed his rough curly hair carefully and put on the boots that Inspector Denham
had given him money to buy. They were too big because he had got them so that they fitted Jack’s feet as well, but they probably did make him look more respectable and might put the inspector
in a good mood.

He needed the inspector if he was going to get through this affair without being knifed or shot.

‘Next time I see a piece of paper flying through the air, I’ll remember to let it fall into the gutter,’ he said dramatically as soon as he was allowed into the
inspector’s room.

Inspector Denham looked up from the papers on his desk with a frown.

‘What piece of paper?’ he asked and then smiled at the sight of the large pair of boots.

‘Well,’ said Alfie, who loved to tell a good story. ‘There I was standing over Jemmy’s dead body, when Flash Harry himself came driving those post office horses across
Trafalgar Square. He let this piece of paper drop, and I picked it up – and he saw me do it and ever since then he’s been hunting me.’

‘Where’s the piece of paper?’ asked the inspector eagerly, but Alfie shook his head.

‘Probably down in the Thames with the flood water,’ he said and then told the whole story of how he and Jack escaped by going down into the underground river under the cellar of the
White Horse Inn and how the flood waters had swept them down until they managed to hold onto the wooden barrier gate.

‘Well, you must be born to be hanged! You’ve had more lucky escapes in your short life than any man I know. Whatever was written on that piece of paper must be of vital importance to
Flash Harry and his mobsters. You can read, can’t you? You read it, I’m sure.’

Alfie nodded and then remembered Sammy’s words. ‘Would it be possible, sir, to put some sort of notice outside the police station to say that the piece of paper was lost –
between Haymarket and Trafalgar Square? That’s the truth, too. You see, sir, I can’t put my mind to solving your murder while I’m being chased all over London by men with guns in
their pockets.’

‘I can see that.’ The inspector nodded. He took a steel pen from a tray in front of him, dipped it in the ink bottle, rapidly wrote a few lines and then showed it to Alfie, ringing a
small brass bell on his desk at the same time.

The red-nosed policeman came in immediately, scowling slightly at Alfie. ‘Take this down to Monmouth Street, Constable,’ said the inspector authoritatively, ‘and get the
printer to make half a dozen copies. Tell him that it’s a rush job and that you’ll wait until he has finished. Then put one outside this station, one in Trafalgar Square, one in
Haymarket outside the White Horse Inn and the rest anywhere nearby. Be as quick as you can.’

The door had hardly closed behind the constable when Inspector Denham leaned across the desk and said, ‘Tell me what was on the piece of paper.’

‘Well, the paper itself was interesting,’ said Alfie, who liked to tell a story in his own way. He eyed the man’s impatient face and added sweetly, ‘Very
interesting.’

The frown was knitting the black bushy eyebrows again so Alfie continued quickly, ‘You see, sir, it was toff’s paper. Real thick stuff – very white – and that
doesn’t come cheap, does it? Very thick too, and with wavy bits around the edge, all done in gold.’

‘Toff’s paper,’ murmured the inspector. ‘Well, well, well, that’s very interesting. Fits with what I was thinking. Tell me what was written on it.’

‘Nothing,’ said Alfie, but then, as he saw the disappointment in the man’s eyes, he added slowly, ‘but there was something drawn on it.’

‘Drawn?’ The inspector looked confused.

‘Can’t read, poor old Flash Harry, I bet. Not too bright.’ Alfie pushed away the memory of how recently he had learnt to read himself. ‘There was a picture of a moon and
a clock beside it with the hands pointing to twelve – twelve at midnight, I suppose.’

‘Hmm.’ There was a disappointed note in the man’s voice. ‘Hardly seems worth all the fuss, does it?’

‘There was a signature, too, though I couldn’t read it – more a sort of scrawl at the bottom of the page. We thought that Flash Harry might use it for blackmail – getting
money from the cove that wrote it.’

‘Now that, I suppose, would make it worthwhile trying to recover it.’

There was a silence. The inspector shuffled papers on his desk and Alfie looked into the fire. It was a pity that he had taken the piece of paper from its hiding place and then lost it, but
there was no use crying over spilt milk.

‘I’ll be going now, sir, unless you want me for something else.’ Alfie rose to his feet. He knew what he was going to do with his day, but for the moment he didn’t want
to talk about it to the inspector. This was a job that he could manage better than any flat-footed policeman.

‘I’ll tell you something about that scrawl, sir,’ he added. ‘I’d say it were a toff that wrote it. Ordinary coves just print their name.’ He noticed with
satisfaction that the man looked more cheerful at that news.

‘I still think it might have been someone from the post office that did it,’ said the inspector as he slipped something from his pocket into Alfie’s hand. ‘The thing I
can’t make out, though, is why that old beggar man was murdered. That’s the real mystery in this business. Solve that and we might solve everything else.’

Sarah was in the cellar when he got home. She smiled to herself as she heard Alfie coming down the steps, whistling. His interview with Inspector Denham must have gone well, or
else given him ideas.

‘Lumme, you’ve been tidying up here, haven’t you,’ said Alfie when he came in. Whenever Sarah felt nervous she always organised the boys into a clean-up.

‘I can’t think when there’s a mess around me,’ she said.

‘Doesn’t bother me,’ said Sammy with a quiet smile.

‘Not Mutsy, neither.’ Alfie hugged the big dog exuberantly and placed the shilling that the inspector had given him into the rent box. Then he sat down beside the newly-cleaned
window and told them about his talk with the inspector.

Sammy listened thoughtfully, then spoke. ‘I was thinking that the link might be between Jemmy and the cove who drew the pictures. It might be nothing to do with Flash Harry.’

‘Flash Harry wouldn’t bother about someone like Jemmy,’ Tom chipped in. ‘Old Jemmy couldn’t tell the police anything they didn’t already know about Flash
Harry and his mob.’

‘I was thinking about that, too, Sammy,’ said Alfie with a nod at Tom. ‘But I don’t suppose this toff who wrote the note, whoever he might be, was around that night,
directing operations. There’d be no point in writing that note if he was going to be on the spot, unless he was just there secretly, of course.’ A sudden idea occurred to him and he
turned to Jack.

‘Jack,’ he said, ‘could Jemmy read?’

‘Yes, he could,’ said Jack readily. ‘I was telling him about going to the Ragged School and how I was getting on well with my reading and then he got a bit down and told me
that he and his brother had both learnt to read and write before their mother died, and that the only good it did him these days was that he was able to write down Opium Sal’s orders for
drugs.’

‘Opium Sal,’ said Sammy thoughtfully.

Alfie punched his brother on the arm. ‘That’s what I’m thinking too. It’s not just sailors, lascars and such like, who take opium. You get toffs there too. What do you
say that a toff, perhaps someone working at the post office who was in league with the robbers, wrote the note down there in Opium Sal’s place – safer than at the post office? Perhaps
Jemmy saw him . . .’

‘Saw the name of Flash Harry on the envelope.’ Sarah was starting to look excited.

‘And then when Mr Unknown Toff was walking through Trafalgar Square, just strolling around to see everything was going well, Jemmy saw him . . .’

‘And put two and two together . . .’ finished Jack. ‘Jemmy was a clever fellow. I told you that, didn’t I?’

‘And the toff raises his stick and hits him on the head.’ Sammy looked a bit doubtful. ‘But that would be a great risk, wouldn’t it? To do it right in the middle of all
the crowds. Wouldn’t it be more sensible to get Jemmy another time – perhaps at Opium Sal’s place?’

‘I think Sammy is right,’ declared Sarah. ‘I can’t see a toff behaving like that. They’ve got too much to lose, these fellows with money and good positions. If
anyone murdered Jemmy on the edge of Trafalgar Square like that – well, I’d say it would be Flash Harry or one of his mob. They don’t care. They have so many hiding places that
they can get out of the police’s way in minutes and be running along a roof, or down a cellar. Once they get into St Giles or Devil’s Acre they’re safe. No one in those places
would dare to squeal to the police.’

‘I’ve thought of something else,’ said Jack. ‘I don’t think that hole in Jemmy’s forehead looked like it were done with a stick. More like something really
heavy rammed into him. I remember seeing the bones pointing backwards.’

‘Well,’ said Alfie, ‘we’d better get to work. The thought of that ten-pound reward makes me hungry. Even a quarter of it would make us rich. We need all the information
that we can get about how Jemmy spent the day – who he talked to and all that sort of thing. Jack, you do the fish market, Sammy and I will have a chat with as many of the other beggars in
Trafalgar Square as we can find. Tom, you try the street sweepers. They often know something.’

‘What about the place that he dossed down in?’ asked Tom.

‘I haven’t forgotten,’ said Alfie. ‘As soon as it’s dark I’ll go down to Opium Sal’s place and have a few words with her. I have a feeling that the
solution to the mystery is there.’

‘Don’t go down to that opium den on your own,’ said Sarah with a shudder. ‘You never know with people who take opium. They’re fine when they have it and then after
a few hours they need it again and they turn violent. They say Opium Sal would rob or murder to get the money for it. A girl I knew at the Coram Fields place – her mother took opium; she had
to have it or she got the shakes, or else started screaming. Patsy told me that it costs more than a week’s wages to buy a thimbleful – imagine that!’

Alfie could imagine. His father had owned a thimble to fit over his finger when he was stitching the heavy leather of shoes and the boys’ grandfather used to tell Sammy stories about it
being a cup for the fairies. It would only have held a half-teaspoon of the powder.

‘Take Jack with you,’ said Sarah. ‘Opium Sal’s place could be dangerous.’

CHAPTER 16

When Alfie set off that evening, once the supper of steak and kidney pie had been eaten and reports had been made, it was Sammy, not Jack, that he took with him.