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  ‘I will tell Sir Richard you are here”. I walked in to the office, and slammed the cane down hard on to the desk; my anger at the death of another friend was beginning to show. How do you know Robert is dead? This does not prove this, and we have had no reports of corpses being found. ‘Every time a cane is delivered to me, someone has been murdered, and what are you doing about it? Why has no one been caught?’ I then proceeded, to explain the happenings of the day before, and the events of that morning.

  ‘You say that you saw a man in your house. Can you describe him’?

  ‘He was about six feet tall, with thinning hair. His face was thin, but what struck me was his skin, what I glimpsed of it was deathly white’.

  ‘Is that all that you can remember? ‘Yes, well he was about twenty yards from where I was standing’.

  ‘It isn’t very much to go on. If you think of anything else, anything at all, do not hesitate, to tell us. I will have a police artist’s impression drawn up, and circulated. That is all I can do for now. Do not forget my abilities are limited by the amount of officers I have, and some of them, have been dismissed from the force for being drunk’. He then began to tell me of the failings of the force, and the picture he painted, was not one of a police force worth having, but one of, chaos. How Irish police could be put in charge of the Irish contingent, and the Scottish police in charge of the Scottish contingent was beyond me It was obvious what would happen. Crime was out of control. What sort of people would put their own people in custody It was clear that something had to be done, and quickly. I would go and see Prime Minister Viscount Palmerstone that very day. I thanked Sir Richard, and walked to Downing Street, which was only a short distance. I pulled a card from my wallet, and handed it to the officer, who stood outside the front door, asking him to inform the Prime Minister of my arrival. We had been friends for a very, very long time, although enemies in parliament, we shared a peace away from the public eye. For a man of his age, he was considered a lady’s man, always being cited as correspondent in quite a few divorce cases, but he was a very good Liberal politician, and brilliant statesman. I was greeted by his wife, and shown into the Library, where he sat, to the left of the fire.

  ‘Sit down James’, he said with a smile. ‘How is life in the shires’?

  ‘Cold at the moment, but you will always be welcome at Braebourne. Come over in the new year, when the weather warms, about May time, and we will fish the top lake’.

  ‘We will. Tell me, what brings you here?’ Having explained about the death of Richard Flemington, Jason crane, and the probable death of Robert Rowan. He uncrossed his legs, leaned forward, and placed his hands under his chin.

  ‘I am aware of two of these deaths, as well as the attempt on your life, and I am most shocked. We have just passed the ‘Offence against the Persons act’. This will go some way to dealing with criminals after they are caught, but this does not help you’.

  ‘No! This will not help. I have spoken to Sir Richard Mayne, and he believes that at least, two more divisions of police are needed to abate the crime-wave which seems to be out of control’. ‘Sir Richard always wants more men, but in this instance, I believe him to be right’. I would like to see more men, and better trained officers to control them. We need to show a higher police presence on the ground, as a deterrent’.

  ‘I quite agree, but there are other things to consider, like funding’.

  ‘I have already explained to Sir Richard that I would personally contribute to this end, if need be’.

  ‘I will put the motion forward. I am sure it will be passed. I want you to promise me that you will stop trying to be a policeman, and go home to Braebourne, as Sir Richard wanted’.

  ‘I was going home today, before the events of the morning stopped me’.

  ‘Make sure you are on the next available train home. Now will you have some tea? Tell me of any new editions to your butterfly collection which I know is as broad as mine. You never know I may have some that you require, and visa-versa’. The conversation then centred on the African, and Indian butterflies. I promised I would send a case of western blue beauties, of which I had many, in return for, a case of Tigers from India, of which I had very few. The deal agreed, we chatted on about other mundane subjects whilst drinking copious amounts of tea, and eating pork sandwiches, with liberal amounts of mustard. Having taken my pocket watch, from out of my waistcoat, pocket, I looked at the time, and realised my train would be in an hour, I had to leave. ‘Have you another appointment?’

  ‘I have to catch the four thirty, if I am to get home today.

  ‘I will have my coach take you to the station’. ‘Thank you, and do not forget May’.

  ‘I will be there, and I will send a telegram to tell

  you when I will be coming. With that I placed my top hat under my arm, and bid the Prime Minister farewell. I was on my way home.

  HOME TO BRAEBOURNE:

  The fog, which hung thick over London, lifted; the further away I got from it. A sense of calm which I had not felt for the last two weeks began to creep over me, and I slept most of the way home, drifting in, and out of sleep, only coming to my senses, when the train went over a junction. I arrived home, just as daylight ebbed away from the grey, snow filled skies that hung overhead. I walked into the drawing room to find my beloved Charlotte, completing a sampler by the fire. I knelt beside her; and the smile on her face illuminated the room. I placed my head on her knee, and swore that I would never leave her again. ‘Is it over, Have they caught the killer’.

  ‘No, they have not, and I fear that Robert Rowan has met the same fate, but as of yet no body has been found, and the police have no suspects’. Charlotte placed her hand on my head, and stroked my hair. She openly cried, for I knew she always had a soft spot for Robert, because he always made her laugh.

  ‘He will more than likely turn up in the Thames’. ‘Perhaps, he will, but for now. I had to come home. London can be a lonely place, even if you talk to people you know, or think you know’. I then told her about Robert, Jason, and Richards other lives, for I had no secrets from her, and would never have. ‘Too much time on their hands will always do the devil’s work, but you are safe, and that is all I really care about’, she said holding my hand, and patting it with the other.

  ‘How have you been, and how are the children?’ One would have thought that I had been gone for an eternity, such was the depth of feeling we shared between us.

  ‘The children are well, but Emy has missed you dearly. We will face whatever way this leads, and we will face it together’.

  ‘I will not let any of my family get hurt. I would rather die first’.

  ‘I am sure it will not come to that James’.

  ‘The hour is getting late, and I am very tired. I think I will retire for the night’.

  ‘Yes, it is getting rather late; tomorrow will be a better day, I’m sure of it’.

  I placed Robert’s cane in the rack next to the fire, and bowed my head, in respect of my dearest departed friends, vowing that their killer would be bought to justice, no matter what. Charlotte and I made, our way up to the bedroom. I was so exhausted, that I held the banister, and pulled myself up the stairs. ‘I will join you shortly. I just want to see the children first’. I opened the door, and made my way to Charles. I kissed him gently on the forehead. Emy must have heard the door open and cried papa, over and over again. She gave me a hug, tears of happiness streamed down her face. ‘Don’t cry Emy. I am home now’, wondering if I had done the right thing, by coming home. I dried her tears, and bid her goodnight, cradling her in my arms. I left the room making sure the door was firmly closed, and locked behind me. I closed, and locked the door to my bedroom, wishing that all of this was but a bad dream, but knowing that it wasn’t. Charlotte said goodnight, and kissed me with the type of kiss, that said I love you. Gazing up at the ceiling I said a silent prayer for the safety of my family, and the safety of the remaining canes. Soon I was fast asleep with my arms wrapped a
round Charlotte. Morning came, and I went through the same routine, as always welcoming the day with cold water, and stroking Charlotte’s hair, but something had changed. I did not feel that I could stand by, and do nothing, whilst my friends were being butchered. I had to do something, but I had no idea what. Confusion set in. I was torn between the safety of my family, and the lives of my friends. I thought that returning to Braebourne, would put an end to the feelings I had, of anger, hatred, and sorrow, but it only made matters worse. Three weeks passed, and I was beginning to settle back in to the old routines, of estate life. I knew I had missed my appointment with Robert William Thompson; and I would have to formulate my apologies by telegram, I thought. I was in the library when Carlton delivered a telegram, placing it on the silver plated tray, on the sideboard. Charlotte opened it, and wept openly. ‘They have found Robert’s body in the Thames, as I thought they might. The autopsy revealed that the cause of death was a garrotte, fracturing his wind pipe’. I could not console her, and she fled upstairs. How could he die like that, with only a few months to live? I thought. I rushed up the stairs, to the bedroom where Charlotte was still in tears.’ You will go back to London, in the morning and do not return, until their killer is caught, alive or dead’.

  These were not tears of sorrow, but of anger. I wondered if perhaps she thought more of Robert, than she was prepared to tell, as if there was something in the long past. I knew there had been other suitors, but surely not Robert. I put this from my mind immediately. I had known her all my life, or so it seemed, and, would not even think of this again, was I getting suspicious of everyone, even my own wife.

  RETURN TO LONDON:

  ‘I will do what I can, but I make no promises’.

  The morning soon came, and I was on my way back to Cheyne Walk. It was now approaching the end of October, and the weather was turning worse. It had begun to snow, ice had begun to form on the Thames, but I doubted that it would freeze, to the extent of 1814. Freezing fog hung low, and it hurt to breathe. Sir Richard Mayne’s office was warm and friendly in contrast to the inclement weather outside. My thoughts were with Charlotte, my children, and the life I had once again been wrenched from.

  ‘Good morning James. I know why you are here’.

  ‘Are you no closer to finding the killer, not even with the description I gave you?’

  ‘No, we have exhausted all of our lines of enquiry. There seems to be no motive, which we are aware of’.

  ‘Three of the canes are dead, all aristocracy, and

  all of them were extremely wealthy. These crimes seem motiveless. Little or no money had been taken, so that leaves aristocracy. Consequently I can only presume this to be the reason, for now’.

  ‘Let us, pray that this is not the reason, for that would be serious indeed’, thoughts of other countries being involved raced through my mind. ‘Do we know anything of Robert’s activities before the attack, and where it took place?’

  ‘He had been in the Thames for quite some time before a mud lark found him. The autopsy also showed he had Tuberculosis at an advanced stage’.

  ‘He told me that he had only a short time to live. I assumed that this was the reason because of his dreadful cough’.

  ‘He also had liver disease’.

  ‘I guessed that, due to the colour of his skin. That only leaves two of the canes in London, myself, and George Fairfax’.

  ‘I Know George Fairfax. He seems to be hell bent on self destruction, permanently’.

  ‘He comes from a military background, all of the males in his family, have died in battle, and I believe he wished he had died in the Crimea. Life seems to hold very little meaning to him’.

  ‘Is that why he enters illegal prize fights? He has already been bound over for twenty pounds twice this year. It seems he is always at war’.

  ‘I was not aware of prize fighting’, this was yet another blow, which I had not expected. ‘I will see him, and do my best to remedy this’.

  ‘You will not succeed, and you know this’.

  ‘Yes, but I have to try. I would not be his friend if I did not. We are probably the strongest of the canes, and with your help we will be extremely hard to kill. I will have to go now, for I have other matters to attend to’.

  ‘I hope that does not include police work?’

  ‘No it does not’. I made my way to the orange coffee house, hoping that I would see, Robert William Thompson. I found him discussing ideas at one of small tables which were placed at intervals of maybe five feet apart. Having made my apologies, I asked him to explain his Ideas to me fully, later that day at Cheyne Walk, about, seven o’clock. I rose, and left him to finish his debating, which like most debates, was getting rather too loud. Having caught a hansom cab, I was soon mounting the steps to Cheyne Walk. A short rap brought Edith to the front door. Did you have a good journey Sir’?

  ‘It was agreeable enough, until I saw the London fog. Will it ever lift’?

  ‘It has been bad lately. Will you be staying to dinner Sir’?

  ‘I may be here quite some time Edith. I will have company tonight, so can you make that dinner for two’?

  ‘Most certainly Sir. Would you like anything in particular’?

  Something simple will do, and can you serve it in the library, about eight o’clock’.

  ‘Very well Sir’

  The rest of the day went slowly, every tick of the clock, seemed to last an eternity. I lay down on the day-bed next to the window, the shadows from the firelight, made me drift in and out of sleep. What could I do to catch the killer, what was his reason, for the killing, and would I be his next victim? I threw myself off the day bed, and

  scattered pieces of paper across the floor, writing notes on each piece, trying to find patterns to link the deaths of my friends. I began with Richard Flemington Aristocracy, knifed in the back, nothing was taken, Mary Jeffries. Jason crane, Aristocracy, fractured skull, gambler, robbed, Mary Jeffries. Robert Rowan Aristocracy, ‘garrotted’, found in the Thames by a mud lark, Mary Jeffries. I had found only two links, all Aristocracy, and Mary Jeffries. I felt that she must know a lot more, than she was telling. I had to speak to her, which was something I wished I did not have to do and I would find the mud lark tomorrow, for there were questions I needed to ask. I gathered up my scraps of paper, and placed them in a drawer, in the writing slope, which sat upon the desk, and waited for my visitor to arrive, which he did, promptly at seven o’clock.

  MEETING WITH R.W THOMPSON:

  Edith showed him in, to where I was seated in the library; I rose, shook his hand, and asked him to be seated.

  ‘There has always been a problem with transportation. We have, and are building canals, to move goods from various cities, around Great Britain, as well as goods from the docks, and to the docks. We have horse drawn carts, but these are slow. What we need are machines that are capable of carrying much heavier loads, and faster, to make things more profitable. There have been experimentations with steam for this purpose. What I propose is a steam driven engine, capable of this task’.

  ‘Have you designs for this’. I knew only too well of these problems, for most of my dealings, relied on the canal system entirely. He produced several heavy sheets of paper, containing comprehensive drawings of his ideas. I looked at them, knowing that if he succeeded he would certainly slowly, but altogether change, the transportation system worked forever. I could see the fire in his eyes, and I knew that he would accomplish what he set out to do. ‘How much will this cost, and how long will it be, before I will see a return on my outlay’.