‘We’ve got nothing on the factor, John. Nothing at all. I’ll wager you a shilling that the mayor’s going to call me in tomorrow and ask why I was questioning him.’
‘What now, boss?’
‘I want you to start asking around and see what you can find on Solomon Howard. And I’d better go home and get ready for church.’ He paused. ‘It’s good news about Isabell.’
‘It is. For a time there. .’
‘I know,’ he said. ‘I know. Be thankful.’
He walked to church with Mary on one arm and Emily on the other. The morning was crisp, brisk, slate clouds scudding across the sky, the year dying slowly as winter came creeping. He dozed as Reverend Cookson gave his sermon, the words reaching him as a drone until his eyes closed.
Mary nudged him awake in time to stand for the final prayer. Glancing around, he saw other faces that looked as if they’d just been shaken from sleep. Outside, men coughed and cleared the dust from their throats, standing around awkwardly as their wives chattered merrily.
A hand closed tightly around his arm and pulled him away from the throng. Mayor Fenton wore the chain of office proudly over his coat, a polite public smile on his lips but his eyes hateful and furious.
‘I want you in my office tomorrow morning, Nottingham.’
‘Yes, your Worship,’ the Constable answered.
‘Have you caught him yet?’
‘No.’ For now, at least, he’d leave it at that.
Fenton snorted and turned away. ‘Tomorrow,’ he repeated.
‘What did the mayor want?’ Mary asked as they strolled home. Emily was talking to her friends before meeting Rob; they’d have the luxury of a house to themselves for a few hours.
‘What do they always want? He’s not happy with me.’ He smiled at her. ‘I’ll worry about it when I’m going to the Moot Hall.’
All the deputy could find was shreds of gossip and tittle-tattle. Solomon Howard hadn’t been born to money. He’d been a child who’d grown up around Briggate, the son of a draper with a shop down by the bridge. Not rich, but not without a penny, either.
Sedgwick had talked to a pair of men who’d known him back in those days. Even then he’d been one to keep to himself, they’d told him, solitary and silent, with a love of money, spending little and keeping his coins hidden.
His father had paid to apprentice him to another draper over in Bradford. It was no more than a handful of miles but the lad had rarely come back to visit his parents. When he did return to Leeds he was twenty and just appointed as Darden’s factor. He was young for the job but learned quickly from his employer. The young man had grown into well-cut coats and breeches and long, draped waistcoats shot through with thread that ached to be gold.
From there Sedgwick had chased ghosts of words. Howard had lived a quiet life. He’d never married and if he’d had any dalliances he’d been discreet enough about them.
Then someone had told the deputy about the whore. He found her in a gin shop, old before her time, the flesh of her face sagging as she nursed a small glass. Her chin was soft, the grey showing in her hair. He bought her another dram and she looked up with clouded, tired eyes. ‘Aye, there were a few of us he used. Me, Sally, Ann. He paid well enough. But he was a rough bastard for his money.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Tha’ knows.’ She blushed, a flush of surprising innocence. ‘He liked to hurt me when he did it.’ She held up her right hand; the little finger was crooked. ‘He did that. Broke it.’ She swallowed the gin. ‘None of us liked it when he came around, we’d not be able to work for a day or two after.’
‘Then why did you go with him?’ the deputy asked.
‘Because he paid as much as we’d make in a week, mister. You think any lass can turn that down?’
He ordered more gin for her, a small jug this time. She smiled, showing brown, broken teeth.
‘What does he do these days?’
She shook her head. ‘I don’t know, love, but good luck to her, whoever she is. He dropped me as soon as I started looking old.’ She drank greedily and gave a short, hard laugh. ‘Not that anyone else wants to pay for me now, either.’
He left a couple of pennies on the bench for her. Another hour and she’d probably forget she’d ever talked to him.
The day was edging towards twilight, a damp, chilly mist beginning to form as Sedgwick walked along Boar Lane. There were few people about; candlelight shone through gaps in the window shutters as people settled in their homes for the night.
He turned up Cripplegate then trod through the old manor orchard to reach Mill Hill Lane and followed it to the Head Row by Burley Bar. Howard’s house stood by itself across the road, close to the corner of the road out to Woodhouse. It was a trim building, square-fronted and even, built in the new style, a short path leading to the door. The garden was neatly kept, a wall taller than a man at the back of the property to keep people out. The closest neighbour was a good thirty yards away. A girl — or a child — could scream in there and no one would hear. It could be worth talking to the servants, he thought as he strolled.
‘Evening, Mr Sedgwick.’ Holden was in the shadows, leaning against a tree, his eyes fixed on the house.
‘Has he been out today?’
‘Just to church.’
‘How many work for him?’
‘Two that I’ve seen. Do you remember Hugh Smithson?’
The deputy searched through his memory. ‘Wasn’t he the one we caught digging up railings to sell them?’
Holden grinned. ‘That was Dick Sawyer. No, we thought Hugh was beating and robbing folk but we could never prove it.’
‘Aye, that’s it,’ Sedgwick said slowly, the man’s face taking shape in his mind.
‘He’s working for Howard now. By the look of it he lives in.’
‘That’s worth knowing.’ He thought for a moment. ‘If you see Hugh going out for a drink, come and find me.’
He was glad to close the door behind him and feel the warmth of the fire. Isabell was sitting on the flagstones playing with the horse he’d awkwardly whittled from a piece of wood. She looked up at him with a wide, innocent smile, a scatter of white spots across her face.
‘Hello, beautiful,’ he said, scooping her up in his arms and tickling her so she giggled. ‘How’s she been?’
‘You’d think she’d never been poorly at all,’ Lizzie answered. She shook her head but there was relief in her voice. ‘James is over at Joseph’s, that lad from school. I told him to be back by six.’
He replaced the little girl on the floor and put the toy in her tiny hands, then stood a moment to watch her. Lizzie came up behind him and wrapped her arms around his waist.
‘Hard to believe you and me made a little miracle like that,’ she said.
He turned and held her close. ‘Not when she has a mam like you.’
She laughed. ‘I bet you say that to all the girls, John Sedgwick.’
‘Not for a while now.’ He grinned.
‘And you’d better keep it that way if you know what’s good for you. Come on, there’s pottage in the pot. Are you hungry?’
‘Bloody starving.’
‘Just as well I made plenty then, isn’t it?’
The Constable finished the daily report, gave the ink a moment to dry, then folded the paper. He straightened his stock and coat and set out for the Moot Hall.
Martin Cobb was already at his desk, smiling as Nottingham approached.
‘The mayor wants to see you.’
‘He told me after church yesterday.’ He placed the report on the desk and knocked on the door, hearing a murmur then entering.
‘Sit down,’ Fenton told him. ‘I told you to leave Jeremiah Darden be.’
‘I did.’
‘So instead you’ve gone after his factor.’ The mayor stood and began to pace around the room. ‘Mr Darden came to see me on Saturday to complain. What do you have to say about it?’
‘I’m doing my job properly. The job the city gave me.’