The Mangle Street Murders Part 22

*How so?' Sidney Grice said, pulling up a chair to face the fire.

*It is probably nothing,' Inspector Pound said, *but you remember William Ashby's description of the Italian who bought the knife?'

Sidney Grice's eyes narrowed and he leaned forwards.

*Of course,' he said quietly as Molly came in.

*Where is my tea?'

*I was just about to bring it when you rang, sir.'

*Then why did you not bring it with you?'

*I thought it might be urgent.'

My guardian snapped his fingers in her face. *I do not pay you to think, lumpen girl. If I did I would want my money back. From now on I shall use a code. One ring means come instantly. Two rings a bring tea. Three rings a fill my flask. Got that?'

*I think so. Sorry, sir.'

*Go and get the tea.'

*Yes, sir, but what happens if you ring four times?'

*Now.'

Molly ran out and I said, *You are so unreasonable to her,' and my guardian flapped his hand.

*I am always a reasonable man,' he said. *Unfair, unkind and rude, I grant you, but my powers of reasoning have never failed me yet.' He tidied the black handkerchief in his breast pocket and turned back to our visitor.

*We had a report from Paddington,' Inspector Pound said. *A trivial matter on the face of it, but apparently a street urchin went into a p.a.w.nbroker's shop off Star Street, trying to sell him a wig.'

*But-' I began.

*What of it?' Sidney Grice broke in.

*Probably nothing, but the broker was suspicious as to how the lad had come into possession of such an expensive item, and summoned a policeman.' Inspector Pound hesitated. *It was a very curly wig with bright red hair.'

*And you think this somehow substantiates Ashby's fantastical tale?' Sidney Grice asked.

*It is a thought,' Inspector Pound said.

*And an absurd one. Where' a my guardian's eye fell out and he popped it back without a pause a *is this ragam.u.f.fin now then?'

The inspector looked queasy. *We have him at the station.'

*Well, I have nothing else to do.' He swivelled his eye around with one finger. *Let us pay him a visit.'

Molly returned a little shakily with a laden tray.

*Have you ever heard of the saying better late than never?' my guardian asked her.

*Yes, sir.'

*It is a lie put about by indolent servants and you are too late. Take it away.'

Molly's lip quivered. *Yes, sir.' And Sidney Grice s.n.a.t.c.hed up his cane.

*You had better come too, March. All this sitting about moping is making you very plain indeed.'

30.

The Boiling of Bones It was the same interview room and the same constable stood behind the same chair, but this time the occupant of that chair was a skinny boy in a filthy grey s.h.i.+rt.

*Stand up when the gentlemen and lady come into the room,' the constable said, and the boy got up warily. His cut-down short trousers were much too large for him and tied around his jutting hips with a length of frayed rope, and his legs were badly bowed by rickets. His head too was characteristically large and square.

*Sit,' the policeman prodded him.

*Stop bullying him,' I said and the constable prodded him again.

The wig lay on the table like a dead animal. Sidney Grice went straight over and picked it up.

*Where did you come across this?' he asked and the boy sniffed.

*I told the prawnman and I told the peeler. I found it in the ca.n.a.l.'

*Where?'

*Round the back of Factory Street. If you can't find it use your snout. It don't 'arf pen when they boil up the bones. There's a bit sticks out near an old coal boat. I fought it might be worth somefink. I din't know it was part of the crowned jewels.'

Inspector Pound laughed and said, *And that is as much as we got out of him this morning.'

Sidney Grice looked at him and said, *Ever been in trouble with the law before?'

*Didn't know I was in it now,' the boy said. *I've never done nuffink but fish a old syrup out and, if there's a reward, it's mine by rights but you'll be keeping that yourselfs I don't doubt.'

*Do you know who I am?' Sidney Grice asked, and the boy shrugged but did not reply.

*I am Sidney Grice. Do you know who I am now?'

The boy perked up. *You're that geezer what 'unts people down.'

Sidney Grice's mouth twitched.

*I am indeed that geezer,' he said, *and if I find out that you have been lying to me it will be your bones they are boiling in that factory next.'

*I 'aven't been lyink. Straight up, Mr Grice.'

*If I find out that you have,' Sidney Grice repeated slowly, fixing him with his eye, *I shall track you down, however far and fast you run, whatever continent you flee to, whatever drain you hide in a be sure of it a I always get my man.'

The boy looked impressed but only said, *Can I go now?'

*What is your name?' I asked.

*Albert, miss. Named for our dead Prince.'

*You need milk,' I told him and put a s.h.i.+lling in his hand.

*G.o.d bless you, miss,' he said as the inspector caught him by the wrist.

*Give the lady her brooch back, Albert.'

*It must 'ave fell orf.'

Albert opened his fingers to reveal my mother's cameo in his grubby palm.

*You have two choices,' Inspector Pound said. *Either you stay here and get arrested or...'

*I'll take the second choice,' Albert said, and was out of his chair and through the door in an instant.

*Perky little chap,' Inspector Pound commented.

*He will die in the gutter or on the gallows,' Sidney Grice said, and looked at the wig again. *There is a label in the lining here. It is quite faded but I think I can make it out.' He held it up to the light. *Simon Grave, Wigmaker. Can I borrow this, Inspector?'

Inspector Pound flicked his hand in the air.

*As long as you like, Mr Grice.' His lips struggled to stay straight. *But I should not have thought it was your style.'

*I have no style, Inspector,' Sidney Grice said. *You should know that by now.'

It was starting to rain, great plas.h.i.+ng drops, when we went outside and there was not a hansom to be seen.

31.

The Wigmaker's Shop The Wigmaker's shop was difficult to find. There were no street signs or numbers on the doors, and the window of the shop was boarded over so that we pa.s.sed it twice, thinking it was derelict, before we realized what it was.

*They keep smas.h.i.+ng them and Mr Grave cannot keep re-glazing them,' Mr Grave, the owner, explained.

Sidney Grice showed him the wig.

*How could Mr Grave forget this one?' Mr Grave asked, picking it up and tidying the curls. *The biggest head I have ever come across. Wanted a pair of matching moustaches as well. Fussy gent he was too. Well, you know what they are like.'

*Who?' Sidney Grice asked.

*These theatrical folk.'

*He was an actor?' I asked.

Mr Grave shook the wig and tutted. *This has not been treated well at all. Drop it in a muddy puddle, did he? Criminal what-'

Sidney Grice rapped his stick on the counter. *Do you have his name?'

*No.' Mr Grave picked at the wig sulkily.

*It is a great shame about the wig,' I said. *It must have been beautiful when you made it. Do you have any idea who the man was?'

*Oh, Mr Grave certainly knows who he was.' Mr Grave smelled the wig and pulled a face. *He just does not know his name.'

*Oh, for...' Sidney Grice threw up his hands.

*Who was he, Mr Grave?' I asked.

*Mr Grave told you. He was one of those theatrical dagos.'

*What do you mean by dago?' I asked. *Spaniard or Italian?'

Mr Grave snorted. *A dago is a dago. What's the difference?'

*The Spanish speak like theees,' I said, *whereas the Italians speaka lika thisa.'

*That was almost as bad as your c.o.c.kney,' my guardian muttered.

*The last one,' Mr Grave said. *He was in that dago musical just off Drury Lane. The one with the stupid name.'

*Rigoletto,' I said.

*That's the one.'

*And you are sure he was Italian?'

*'Course he was,' Mr Grave said. *No Englishman would wear a wig like that. Speaking of which, hope you won't mind Mr Grave saying, but that hairpiece of yours does not look very natural, sir. Mr Grave could do you a very nice one for twenty guineas.'

*This is my own hair,' Sidney Grice said.