The Regency Detective (14 page)

Theodore Evans turned the key in the door to lock his haberdashery shop, located in Westgate Buildings, and headed towards the city centre. As he walked down the street, the Abbey clock could be heard in the distance striking the hour. It was now seven o’clock in the evening and the shopkeepers’ meeting was due to begin at half-past. It was a direct route up Westgate Street and then Cheap Street, before a diagonal left turn would take him across the main High Street to the Guildhall.

The meeting was the one he had invited Fitzpatrick to, earlier in the day. He hoped the magistrate would be there so he could publicly challenge him over the corruption of certain of his colleagues: most particularly that of Kirby. But as much as he would have liked to think the magistrate would appear, he felt it was a lost cause.

Not to worry though, he thought, as he went around the corner into Westgate Street, as he had a speech which was sure to rouse the assembled body of men and perhaps it would incite them enough to march
en masse
to Fitzpatrick’s office the next day in a show of solidarity. He had been practising his speech all week and although he wasn’t the greatest orator, he felt confident he could deliver it well. He had injected a number of pauses at strategic places, in order to heighten the dramatic effect of several points he wanted to make and had even quoted Shakespeare towards the end. It was the speech from the second scene in the third act of the
Merchant of Venice
, where Shylock laments that if he is pricked, he will bleed and if wronged, he will be justified to seek revenge. By using this particular quote, Evans felt he would make a striking finale and he could almost visualise the cheers and clapping which would hopefully accompany the speech’s conclusion. He would then modestly acknowledge the applause and try to get them to agree to march the following day. If he could not have the law on his side, in the shape of Fitzpatrick, then the authority of England’s greatest playwright would have to suffice.

He began to recite the speech in his head one more time and when he came to the Shakespearean quote, he outwardly gestured his arms in the manner intended to be used while delivering it for real. The speech would hopefully also inspire his kinsmen to stand up against the likes of Wicks and Tyler. Official channels of justice did not seem to mean anything to criminals like them, as was witnessed not two days previously. Tyler was a troublemaker and perhaps the revenge Evans regaled in his speech would come to fruition against the thief soon. He recited the last line of the Shakespeare quote again. Yes, he would get his revenge on Tyler and it would be swift in coming.

Tyler had left his boss’ warehouse office several hours earlier, after having been summoned there by Tanner, who had informed him that Wicks was in a foul mood. Tyler was not happy to be disturbed, as he was upstairs in the Duke of York taking payment in kind from one of the regulars on his round, but you did not keep Wicks waiting. He had gone with Tanner to the warehouse and on his arrival found himself berated by Wicks for not being at the warehouse earlier, when Swann had entered. Tyler wouldn’t ordinarily let anyone else talk to him like that, and perhaps one day not even Wicks, but he realised from his boss’ expression that Wicks had been humiliated by the man who had also recently become a thorn in Tyler’s side.

Although angry with his subordinate, Wicks had nevertheless given Tyler two jobs to complete, both of which he now relished. Tyler had then carried out a few other errands before heading for the centre to complete the first of the jobs Wicks had given him.

Meanwhile, Evans was too caught up in his speech and the reciting in his head of various sections of it, that he did not notice a beggar shuffling towards him, coming the opposite way. The old man had his head down and so was knocked against a wall of the nearest building as Evans bumped into him. The shopkeeper immediately went to apologise to the man, but on seeing the state of his clothes, instead gave him an annoyed look and carried on, merely losing only the briefest momentum in carrying on his speech recitation.

Evans now passed the top of Stall Street, near the White Hart Inn, and carried on along Cheap Street, towards the Guildhall. As he did so, he had immediately come into the view of Tyler, who was waiting in the shadows of the White Hart’s entrance. Tyler now followed Evans and part by luck and part by design, caught up with his quarry just as the shopkeeper was passing the entrance to a doorway set a little way back off the main street. Tyler took his chance and struck. It was so quick there was no time for any reaction or cry of help from Evans. Within a few seconds the shopkeeper lay dying in the dark, a stab wound to his back, and his bill-purse taken, while his attacker was already on his way past the Abbey and into the darkness once more.

Only in the moment before contact had Evans been aware of someone behind him, as he had been in the middle of his speech’s dramatic finale and had not been paying attention. Ordinarily he would have been more aware and turned earlier, the city could be dangerous at night, but he was too caught up in exacting his revenge in his head. His body had slid down the side of the doorway and ended up in a heap on the dirty floor, on top of the garbage piled there. It would not be until the next morning that his body would be discovered and his missing bill-purse assumed to be the motive behind the killing. Meanwhile, Evans’ absence at the shopkeepers’ meeting was briefly mentioned in passing but the following item of business was then announced and the speech, which had been practised to near perfection, would never now get the chance to be aired in public.

By the time Evans had been murdered, the ‘old beggar’ he had bumped into earlier was already in the Fountain Inn for the pre-arranged meeting with George and Bridges. It had taken Swann around three quarters of an hour to put on the disguise, using items he always carried with him. Tonight it had been a choice between the ‘sailor amputee’ and the ‘old beggar’ but he had decided on the latter as he felt it better to have two legs on the ground at all times on this particular occasion.

He had learnt the art of disguise from a troupe of Parisian actors he had spent a summer with when he was younger. ‘Any disguise that you assume must be complete from the underclothes upward,’ the troupe leader had told him. ‘If you are to take on the guise of a peasant, for example, you must make certain there is dirt under the nails.’ He had been shown a variety of techniques to achieve this ‘completeness’ and he used several of them for this disguise, such as walnut oil to darken his face and a globule of wax to create a large blemish on his right cheek.

Swann had begun to don the disguise not long after Mary had gone out for the evening. He had wanted to slip out the back way without Emily seeing him, but just as he had reached the kitchen she had entered. She had screamed at the sight of him. It was a testament to his art that she had been taken in, but Swann then spent the next few minutes comforting her and apologising to her most profusely for his appearance. Once Emily had been suitably calmed, he apologised once more and then made his way out of the back door. He continued his way along the passage at the rear of the buildings and finally emerged at Laura Place. He crossed Pulteney Bridge and followed the route around to the Guildhall, before entering Cheap Street.

As he passed the White Hart Inn he had noticed Tyler loitering outside but there was nothing he could do, as he did not want to break character. He had continued on down into Westgate Street and it was here that he had bumped into Evans. He had not recognised him initially but by the time Swann crossed over Westgate Street and approached Avon Street, he remembered that it was Evans, the leader of the shopkeepers, and the man who had been in Fitzpatrick’s office earlier that day. Evans was on his way to the meeting he realised, where he would discover Fitzpatrick’s non-attendance. It would not be until the next day though, after Swann heard about Evans’ murder, that he realised the true significance of having also seen Tyler within the proximity of the crime scene.

Swann always used disguises when he needed to solicit information without people knowing who he was and also when he first wanted to see if people he was meeting could be trusted. George and Bridges seemed trustworthy but he wanted to make sure. At the same time, they had been right when they advised him that it was probably not wise to go into the Avon Street district in his ordinary clothes. The day time was one thing but he did not want to draw that kind of undue attention at night.

Swann now entered the Fountain Inn, like so many times before in London when he had worn a disguise to enter a den of iniquity. As places went, and considering the area within which it was located, it seemed more welcoming than most. It still had its share of trouble, no doubt, but there was a sense of community and of comradeship that was apparent the moment he entered. The landlord looked a friendly sort. It was alleged that he had killed a man in a street fight years before and not being a violent man, it had affected him greatly. Nevertheless, you still would not want to get on the wrong side of him.

Swann shuffled to the counter and ordered a drink. The pub was only half full at present but the noise gave the impression of its being more busy. George and Bridges sat at a table deep within the pub. There was a woman with them, who Swann assumed was their ‘contact’. He handed over the money for the drink and then made his way slowly over towards the table next to them. He sat down and listened to their conversation for a while. When he was satisfied that it did not seem to be a trap, he stood up and shuffled over.

‘There’s no room here for you,’ said George, as Swann went to sit down.

‘Now, good sirs,’ said Swann, assuming an appropriate downcast accent, ‘that be no way to treat an old soldier like me self.’

‘That’s for a very important gentleman, he’ll be here soon.’

‘Can I just sit me self down before your gentleman friend arrives, then?’

George started to stand up, angry at this disturbance.

‘All right, George,’ said Swann, reverting back to his normal voice but in a hushed tone. ‘You’ve done well, but I would prefer you didn’t announce my arrival so vocally next time.’

‘Mr Swann?’ said George, not yet being able to see through the disguise.

Reading George’s lips, Bridges now smiled. Swann nodded to him.

‘Please Mr Swann, sit down,’ said George.

‘Thank you George, although I suggest you do not address me by that name this evening.’

‘All right sir,’

‘Or be that formal. I am an old soldier, remember. If you have to use any name, then call me Jack.’

‘Right you are, sir, I mean Mr Swann, no er … Jack.’

‘Settle yourself, George, it is alright and we do not want to draw attention to ourselves. This is your friend?’

The woman was in her fifties and her face reflected the life she had led.

‘Yes er … er … Yes. Her name is Rosie.’

‘Rosie,’ said Swann, quietly, ‘has George told you who I am and why I am here?’

She nodded.

‘You knew Malone?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘He’s dead now though.’

‘That’s right, but George said you knew him before, in Ireland?’

‘Yeah, I knew all the Malone family there. Nasty pieces of work they were, every last one of them. Good riddance to ‘em, I say.’

‘And it was the same Malone in Bath?’

‘The same Malone as what?’ the woman said, puzzled.

‘The Malone who was killed here in Bath was the same Malone who you knew in Ireland.’

‘Yes,’ she replied. ‘He came over here ‘bout two years ‘fore me.’

‘So he left Ireland for London and then came here.’

‘I don’t know nuthin’ ‘bout London, only when I came to Bath, he was here.’

Swann then got Rosie to describe Malone’s features, which matched the image he had held in his memory for the last twenty years.

‘Thank you,’ said Swann, after she had finished. ‘That is all I need to know.’

Swann discreetly took out three coins of varying denomination and distributed them accordingly. Each recipient looked at their coin and thanked Swann. He then addressed George and Bridges.

‘Well gentlemen,’ whispered Swann. ‘May I thank you for all your assistance in this matter today. It has been a pleasure knowing you.’

Bridges smiled and signed to George.

‘Bridges says if you are ever in Bath again, sir, he would be more than happy to assist you. The same goes for me.’

‘Thank you, George, Bridges.’

Bridges nodded.

As Swann went to stand up, Rosie whispered in George’s ear.

‘Rosie asked what Malone did that you’re so interested in him being dead.’

‘I guess it no longer matters any more to say. Well, Rosie, twenty years ago, Malone murdered my father in London. I have been seeking him ever since, so I could see that justice was served.’

Rosie whispered in George’s ear again.

‘Rosie is confused,’ he then said. ‘She says when was twenty years ago?’

‘It was 1783,’ replied Swann.

After more whispering George spoke again. ‘She says if it was 1783 your father was murdered, it couldn’t have been Malone what did it. He didn’t leave Ireland until 1787.’

As promised, Harriet’s carriage arrived at six o’clock outside the house in Great Pulteney Street. After Mary entered, the driver had made his way out of Bath and headed to Harriet’s manor, located near the market town of Frome, famed for its blue cloth and textile industry. There were three other women in the coach but after exchanging polite greetings, the ninety-minute journey was spent in silence. Although Mary felt some awkwardness in the quietness, there was also a relief at the absence of small talk; that annoying and persistent chatter which was always present at any social engagement in the city and which one felt obliged to reciprocate. Despite the darkness and the severe motion of the carriage at times across the roads, the journey, although conducted in silence, was no less pleasant for it and the absence of scenery to observe was replaced with the anticipation of meeting Harriet once more and the actual lecture itself.