‘Good. And among the night men?’
‘There’s no one, really,’ the deputy admitted. ‘Best to let Rob pick someone, they’re his men.’
‘True. I suspect we’re going to see a few burglaries. Have everyone keep their eyes open.’
‘This thief taker’s involved?’
‘If he’s not yet, he will be soon enough,’ Nottingham said with certainty. ‘And once that starts, we’ll have him.’
‘Yes, boss.’ He paused. ‘What about the Cates men? What are we going to do about them?’
‘I know what that servant girl told you, but they can deny it easily enough,’ the Constable said in frustration. ‘Who do you think most people will believe?’
‘I’d believe the girl,’ the deputy told him without hesitation.
‘So would I, for all it matters. One of the men could have left Lucy with a baby and killed her.’ He sighed. ‘Trying to prove it will be close to impossible, though.’
‘We still need to talk to them,’ Sedgwick countered. ‘I’ll do it.’
‘Are you sure?’ Nottingham wasn’t certain how wise that was. The deputy could be subtle with his questions, but he was at his best with the ordinary folk.
‘Positive,’ he answered with relish. ‘I’ll enjoy every moment of it.’
Finally the Constable nodded his agreement. It might not be a bad thing to shake them up a little.
‘Start with Robert,’ he advised. ‘If he has religion the way everyone says he should be quick enough to admit his sins.’
‘What about the father?’ Sedgwick asked.
‘Leave him for last. You’ll need to be very careful with him. The same with Will. He’s a smart lad, by all accounts. But if he’s expecting anyone, it’ll be Rob, not someone he doesn’t know. You’ll be able to press him harder.’
‘When should I go?’
Nottingham considered.
‘Tomorrow morning, I think. Start down at the warehouse. At least one of them should be there. If they’re not, go up to the house. I doubt you’ll get a confession but there might be something. And it could scare them enough to keep their hands off the girls for a while,’ he added.
‘Why not today?’ Sedgwick asked.
‘Do it when you’re fresh.’ He put on his coat and the tricorn hat. ‘I’m going over to talk to Joe Buck and find out what he’s heard about our thief taker. I think he’ll have a few things to say.’
‘If it’s taking business from his purse I’m sure he will,’ the deputy laughed. ‘Tight as a squeaky farthing, is Joe.’
‘And he’ll probably hear about some of the burglaries that won’t reach our ears. It could be a good way to catch our man.’
‘So you’d be willing to work with him?’
Nottingham smiled.
‘I’ll use a very long spoon to sup with that devil, but yes, if needs must, I will. It’s in his interest, too.’
‘You know Joe, he’s not going to do anything that doesn’t help him.’
The bell at the parish church tolled midday, the sound dying softly.
‘Come on, boss,’ Sedgwick said, ‘let’s go to the White Swan first. I don’t know about you, but my stomach thinks someone’s slit my throat.’
Joe Buck lived on the south side of the Aire, among the tangle of small, ugly streets that were tucked out of sight behind of grand merchant palaces of Meadow Lane. Most of the houses were poor and faded, run down, a few even gutted, everything useful taken. There was rubbish against the walls, left where it had been thrown, and the stink of piss and shit. Packs of stray dogs roamed and growled and bony feral cats slunk quietly into the dark ginnels. But Buck’s house was spotless on the outside, the windows clean and shining, blue paint fresh and sparkling on the door. Nottingham knocked and waited.
The servant arrived quickly, a large man with a small, powdered periwig on top of his head and sleeves rolled up to show muscled forearms. His skin was so dark it seemed to glow, his wide smile showing white teeth. Few would have believed he was Buck’s molly boy.
‘Constable,’ he said, giving a brief bow. Only when he opened his mouth did the sense of the exotic drop away; his accent was broad Yorkshire. ‘’Ant seen thee in a while. Tha’s here to see the master?’
‘Yes, Henry, I am.’
‘He’s in t’ back, same as he always is. Tha’ knows where to go.’ The servant stepped aside, his bulk almost filling the cramped hallway.
The parlour was immaculate, everything lovingly dusted, the way it always was when Nottingham visited. Buck was sitting at a rosewood desk and stood as soon as he saw the Constable. He was dressed in a suit that showed the tailor’s art, the cut of the coat and waistcoat hiding his thickening belly, the breeches tight enough to display a strong pair of thighs. The hose, shirt and stock were all dazzling white, the shoes well-buffed, and a full-bottomed auburn wig was combed out to lie flatteringly on his shoulders. The business of selling stolen property paid well, Nottingham thought. Never mind that the Constable knew what Buck did, in ten years he’d never been able to connect the man with anything, not to the point of arrest.
‘Mr Nottingham,’ he said, extending his hand. ‘Sit down, sit down. Do you want something to drink? A glass of wine? Small beer?’
‘No, thank you.’ The Constable settled in the chair and looked at the other man.
‘So what can I do for you?’ Buck asked. ‘Although I’ve a feeling I know,’ he added with a small smile.
‘The thief taker.’
‘I thought so,’ he said with satisfaction. ‘Our friend Mr Walton.’
‘No friend of yours, I’d imagine,’ Nottingham said.
‘You’re right there,’ Buck admitted wryly. ‘If I were in business — which I’m not,’ he added cautiously, ‘he’d be taking trade away from me with his little scheme, and I wouldn’t care for that at all. You know about the robbery up by the Red House?’
The Constable nodded.
‘There are rumours there was another last night.’
‘I hadn’t heard that,’ the Constable admitted.
‘People talk,’ Buck said idly. ‘So nothing’s been reported to you?’
‘No.’
‘Which means they’re relying on Mr Walton to retrieve their goods.’ He frowned.
‘That would touch an honest business in the pocket,’ the Constable said, and Buck glanced up sharply.
‘And it could turn people away from the law.’
Nottingham knew that. If he didn’t hear that a crime had been committed he couldn’t find the people who’d done it. They could conduct things any way they wanted in London and elsewhere, but he wouldn’t stand for it in Leeds.
‘What are we going to do about it?’ he asked.
‘Our friend could just disappear,’ Buck suggested thoughtfully. ‘It could be arranged easily enough.’
‘No,’ the Constable told him firmly. ‘I can’t condone murder, Joe. If he’s going, he needs to be discredited. Caught with stolen goods or arranging a robbery. We’ll do it the right way. It’ll discourage anyone else from trying the same thing.’
Buck smiled and nodded in acknowledgement. ‘Whatever you wish, Mr Nottingham.’
‘You know the thieves in Leeds.’
Buck raised his eyebrows. ‘Me?’
‘I’m not going to play words with you, Joe,’ the Constable told him, shaking his head slowly. ‘I need your help. What I’m saying is we need to work together on this. When you hear what’s going on, that someone’s been in a house and taken things, you tell me, and I’ll go after Walton.’
Buck sat quietly, hands steepled under his chin as he weighed the idea. The house was so quiet he could hear the longclock ticking softly in the hall.
‘And you’ll not come after me?’ he asked eventually.
‘I won’t. You have my word on it.’ He paused. ‘Not until all this is over, anyway.’
Buck gave a slow smile. ‘Anything more would have been too much to ask, wouldn’t it?’
‘Far too much, Joe,’ Nottingham agreed with a grin. ‘Now you’d better tell me about last night’s break in.’
‘All I know is one happened. I can find out for you.’