The Mangle Street Murders Part 18

The lady sat heavily opposite me.

*And a big slice of pie,' she called. *I do hope she heard. Oh, you are that horrid policeman.'

*Am I?' Inspector Pound smiled uneasily.

*You know you are.' She turned the pot so that the handle faced her. *Trying to convince everybody that that sweet little man is a murderer. Well, you have not deceived the jury, I hope. One look at William Ashby tells you he is innocent.'

*But all the evidence points to his guilt,' Inspector Pound said.

*Evidence is a trained monkey.' The woman peeped into our milk jug. *It will point wherever you want it to but it does not mean anything by it.' She sniffed the milk and poured a lot into her cup.

Sidney Grice laughed and said, *I had not thought of it in those terms before. Might I help you with your hat, madam? It looks like it is about to escape.'

*Like an untrained monkey,' the inspector said, producing a neat meerschaum pipe and a small penknife to sc.r.a.pe it out.

*No, you may not.' The woman jerked her head away and her hat slipped a little further back.

The waitress returned with a jug of hot water and a cup and saucer as the inspector tapped some tar-soaked strands into a brown china ashtray.

*No pie?' As the lady asked, Sidney Grice leaned towards her. *Leave it alone, sir.'

Sidney Grice leaned back.

*I was merely trying to see how it was fastened, or not, in this case.'

*For goodness' sake,' I said. *A man's life is in the balance and all you can worry about is tea and millinery.'

*It is from the seemingly trivial that some of our greatest advances have been made,' Sidney Grice said, and seemed about to take something from his inside breast pocket but then to think better of it.

*Quite so.' Inspector Pound brought out a scratched leather pouch and unb.u.t.toned the flap. *Where would we be today, for example, without James Watt's observations of the steam from a kettle?'

*It would be nice to see a bit more steam from the kettles in this cafe,' Sidney Grice said. *This tea is cold as Sarah Ashby.'

Inspector Pound laughed and tamped some tobacco lightly into his pipe with his finger.

*That is a filthy thing to say,' I said as the doorbell clattered again and a police constable came in breathlessly, brus.h.i.+ng past the waitress and straight to our table. He bent and whispered into Inspector Pound's ear.

*So soon?' The inspector raised his eyebrows and the constable mouthed, *Yes, sir.'

Inspector Pound slipped an unstruck match back into its box and nodded to Sidney Grice.

*Come, Miss Middleton.' My guardian stood up abruptly.

*Are you going?' the woman asked.

*It would seem so,' I said, and she smiled contentedly and tapped the pot with her spoon, saying, *All the more for me then.'

Sidney Grice slapped a s.h.i.+lling on to the table and said, *Good day, madam. I hope your pie arrives soon or there shall be nothing left of you.'

There were still people queuing to get into the cafe as we hurried back down the street.

*Why the hurry?' I asked. *The jury cannot have been out for half an hour yet.'

*Well, they are back in now.' Sidney Grice was limping badly. *So we should be in time to see how Ashby takes the news.'

*Two to one says he tries to change his story,' Inspector Pound said.

*Not him,' Sidney Grice said. *Besides, what could he change it to?'

*He could claim it was suicide,' the inspector said with a thin laugh.

I made no response as we re-entered the building. I was still hoping that the jury would see what the lady and I had seen a the innocence of his eyes.

23.

The Verdict We had hardly reclaimed our seats when it was time for us to rise for the judge. The twelve men filed in and William Ashby was brought back into the dock. He stumbled as he climbed the steps and grabbed his escort's arm to steady himself.

*I beg your pardon,' he said and stood looking about him, at Grace Dillinger sitting anxiously with the priest, at the jury grave-faced in their box, at Inspector Pound, Sidney Grice and me, then back at Grace Dillinger who tried to force a smile.

*All be seated,' the usher called as the judge adjusted his wig.

The chairman of the jury handed a note to the usher, who gave it to the clerk, who pa.s.sed it on to the judge, who unfolded it with a weary air.

*Members of the jury in the case of the Queen versus William Ashby, have you come to a verdict?'

The chairman stood, a petty thin-lipped man, suddenly finding himself important.

*We have, my lord.'

William Ashby coughed helplessly into a bloodstained handkerchief.

*And is it the decision of you all?'

*It is, my lord.'

*The prisoner will stand.'

William Ashby rose painfully, his eyes etched grey, his right hand holding the polished bra.s.s rail.

*On the charge of wilfully murdering his wife, one Sarah Ashby, how do you find the prisoner?'

The chairman paused to savour the greatest moment of his life and the words which decided William Ashby's rang out proudly. *Guilty, my lord.' His face glowed with the death that he delivered and the courtroom burst into a fusillade of clapping and cheers.

*Oh dear G.o.d,' I whispered.

*Excellent.' My guardian clapped his hands together.

William Ashby swayed. He closed his eyes and flung back his head as the judge banged his gavel repeatedly.

Eventually the usher restored quiet and the judge addressed the prisoner. It was a foul deed that William Ashby had performed. He took a young and innocent wife, who looked to him for support and protection, and he slaughtered her with a savagery that would have been unworthy of a wild beast. And all in the false hope of filling his coffers with silver. To compound his felony, he had cruelly deceived the poor girl's mother into supporting him, the murderer of her child. Why, even the private detective who had been hired to clear his name was forced to the same conclusion as the court.

*Personal detective,' Sidney Grice muttered.

All the time the judge was speaking, William Ashby was fighting the spasms in his chest. *No,' he said three times, his sandy hair falling over his eyes, his chest convulsing with infection.

Had the prisoner anything to say as to why the full penalty of the law should not be exercised upon him?

William Ashby whispered. *I...' but shook his head and closed his eyes again.

A terrible silence crept over us as the black cloth was placed upon the judge's head.

*It is the sentence of this court that you be taken from this place to a place of detention and from thence to a place of execution, where you shall be hanged by the neck until you are dead. You should be grateful that your death will be more merciful than that of your wife, and may G.o.d have mercy upon your soul.'

The crowd applauded and William Ashby stood holding the rail of the dock shakily, and a woman cried out, *Dear Lord. Please, no.' It was Mrs Dillinger. She had sat silently until then.

*Grace,' William Ashby cried back. *You know I did not do it.' And she buried her face in her hands.

*It was an accident,' Ashby said almost to himself, but my guardian and the inspector heard him and laughed.

William Ashby was taken away but Sidney Grice hardly glanced at him. He was too busy fiddling with his notebook. The court was clearing, the crowd happily chatting, but we stayed in our seat and Grace Dillinger in hers. She looked lost when she stood at last, like a sleepwalker, as she came up the steps towards the exit.

*So much for your innocent son-in-law,' Sidney Grice jeered as she drew level, and Grace Dillinger stopped.

*It is an evil thing you have done,' she said. *May you rot in h.e.l.l.'

*Sweet William will be dancing his way there on the end of a rope long before me,' he crowed.

Mrs Dillinger raised her hand and, to my horror, Sidney Grice raised his hand above his head as though to strike back, but in reality to mime a rope round his neck, his head to one side and his tongue extruded.

*For the love of G.o.d,' I said. And Mrs Dillinger cried out, *You are a monster!' as she launched herself into him, grasping his lapel in one hand and las.h.i.+ng out with the other. Sidney Grice moved quickly. He rose and grabbed her flailing arm by the wrist and pushed her with surprising strength away from him. Grace Dillinger stumbled backwards and would have fallen were it not for the priest coming up behind and steadying her.

Sidney Grice stood alert for another a.s.sault, but Grace Dillinger's face set hard as she turned away and rushed from the courtroom.

The priest's voice trembled as he said, *If I were not a man of the cloth I should strike and break you like the venomous creature that you are, sir.'

*But we are in the same business, you and I,' Sidney Grice said, *seeking out sinners.'

*I try to save them,' the priest said.

*Just as I have saved Ashby from murdering again,' Sidney Grice responded. *Go tend to Mrs Dillinger, Father. She has more need of you than I.'

*You have more need of me than you know,' the priest said, and hurried after her.

Sidney Grice winced.

*She gouged my face,' he said, dabbing his cheek with his handkerchief.

Inspector Pound hurried over. *You are lucky she did not take your other eye out.'

*And who would have blamed her?' I said. *The poor woman is carrying her dead husband's child. She has lost her daughter and is about to lose her son-in-law, and you chose that moment to taunt her. It was cruel and pointless.'

*I have to agree with your young lady on that point.' Inspector Pound stood aside to let some people past. *What on earth came over you, Mr Grice?'

Sidney Grice smiled.

*My words may have been unkind and I have never claimed to be a kind person,' he said, *but they were certainly not pointless.'

He inspected his handkerchief which was streaked red.

*It is only a scratch,' Inspector Pound said.

*A small price to pay then.' Sidney Grice brightened up. *Well, we got the conviction, Inspector. I think you at least owe me a pot of tea.'

24.

The Maze of Vice Time pa.s.sed quickly. There was a coolness between myself and my guardian after the day of the trial but we saw little of each other anyway, as he was occupied with an alleged suicide in Warren Street.

I found plenty to occupy myself, however. There were parks and squares to be explored, shop windows to be ogled, cafes where a young lady could sit and take coffee, with perhaps a nip of brandy to colour her cheeks, and watch the metropolis go by.

It was my guardian's suggestion that I visited an exhibition of paintings. He had been given a ticket by a grateful client but had neither the time nor the inclination to attend. It might amuse me, he told me one Tuesday over breakfast.

*Run up the green flag when you are ready but do not forget to run it down again. Molly forgot once and the whole of Gower Street became blocked with hansoms, their drivers arguing over who had seen the signal first.'

*I could easily walk there.'

Sidney Grice raised his eyebrows. His mother, he told me, would never have stepped out of her front door to cross the road if there were not a carriage waiting. It was a question of standards. I walked.

It was a lovely day and Oxford Street was choked with traffic, hawkers and pedestrians. I stopped to watch a mangy monkey dancing in a red fez and waistcoat on a barrel organ. The music was raucous and the monkey was obviously poorly cared for, and I was just about to leave when I heard a man's voice very close by shout, *Stop!' I turned and saw Inspector Pound grabbing a ragged little boy by the sleeve, but the boy dropped to the ground, twisting himself free, and scurried off between the legs of the other spectators.

*Stop, thief!' Inspector Pound shouted after him, but he was gone.

The inspector bent and picked something up.