He looked ill and his eyes were red-rimmed from weeping. His hand shook as it clasped mine. ‘Master Chapman,’ he said urgently, ‘I must speak with you.’
I invited him into the parlour, to Margaret’s great annoyance. She sniffed loudly and shepherded the children upstairs to change out of their better clothes which they had donned for the Epiphany service. They had all calmed down by now, and Luke waved a chubby fist in valediction as he was borne up the stairs in Margaret’s arms.
I shut the parlour door. ‘Well, Master Cleghorn?’
‘This is a terrible business,’ he moaned. ‘A terrible business!’ He sat down limply on one of the chairs. ‘That dear, sweet boy! Murdered!’ He glanced up. ‘Master Chapman, tell me honestly! Do you truly believe that Miles Deakin might have done this dreadful thing?’
I frowned. ‘Master Cleghorn, I can’t give a positive answer to that question because I don’t know. But it’s possible.’
He gave another groan and twisted his hands together in his lap. I guessed what was coming, so held my tongue and waited for him to continue.
After a few more seconds, he raised his head to look into my face. ‘I was loth to say anything when you and young James Marvell came to visit me on Sunday, but the reason for my reluctance …’ He paused.
‘Yes?’ I asked, trying to curb my impatience.
He gave a dry cough and then went on: ‘The reason for my reluctance was because of where I thought I had seen Miles Deakin. You see, I thought I saw him — if it was him, that is — coming out of Dame Drusilla’s house.’ Having once made this admission, he proceeded with greater ease. ‘It was over three months back, towards evening when it was growing dark; that dusky, autumnal half-light that you get at that time of year. I was returning from visiting a friend in Redcliffe and was passing Dame Drusilla’s on the opposite side of the street. As I did so, her door opened and a man came out. I have to admit that he was well muffled up in a cloak and hood, but the hood had fallen back on his head a little and a wall torch had been lit above the doorway. Its light fell directly on his face for a moment or two, and I recollect thinking to myself, “Miles Deakin, by all that’s holy!” As I told you, the Deakins were related to my wife and at one time we visited them regularly, much against my will. I also knew, of course, about the scandal three years back when young Miles wormed his way into the old lady’s affections.’ The baker paused once again before adding, ‘But it was only a glimpse. The man adjusted his hood almost immediately to cover his face. I could well have been mistaken. I was, and still am, not at all certain that it was Miles.’
‘You were certain enough to tell his father that you’d seen him when you encountered Master Deakin in North Nibley. At least, so Agnes Littlewood told me.’
Baker Cleghorn was indignant. ‘I was surely not so positive as that. I said I might have seen him.’ The tears filled his eyes again. ‘But that’s no matter. All that matters now is to discover the murderer of that dear boy.’
‘And both the other murders,’ I added grimly.
He looked startled. ‘Of course. One forgets … What will you do now?’
‘I shall consult with Master Marvell directly. In fact, I was on my way out to see him when you called.’
‘Then I won’t detain you.’ The baker got unsteadily to his feet and wiped his nose on his sleeve. ‘Whoever did it, may he rot in hell.’
I nodded. ‘You won’t be the only person wishing that, Master Cleghorn. Dick Hodge was much liked in this town.’
This was very true, and there was a sombre atmosphere lying like a pall over the city as I made my way across the bridge into Redcliffe. More than one person stopped me to discuss the dreadful news, tears unashamedly running down their cheeks, and several expressed the wish to lay hands on Dick’s killer.
‘He wouldn’t even reach the scaffold, Master Chapman, I’ll tell you that! The hangman wouldn’t even be able to see where his head was to put it in the noose. It’d be screwed up between his legs.’
James and his family were at church when I arrived at the Marvell house, but I was given a seat in the hall to await his arrival. Fortunately, I was still wearing one of my decent suits which I had put on to attend St Giles’s, so I looked less of a disgrace than usual. I also had with me my new blue cloak, which now I could hardly bear the sight of. If only I hadn’t let Jenny persuade me into giving Dick my old one! For I felt quite sure that Sergeant Merryweather’s suggestion was correct. In the general darkness and confusion of the wassail, and recognizing the grey cloak as mine, someone had mistaken Dick for me. It was not a comfortable thought, and I hoped Adela would not refine too much upon it.
It was less than half an hour later that the Marvell family returned from Mass, and as soon as the steward indicated my presence, James hurried to greet me.
‘Master Chapman, have you heard the terrible news?’
I lowered my voice. ‘That’s why I’ve come. I’ve had a visit from Baker Cleghorn.’
He drew a sharp breath. ‘And?’
‘I can’t tell you here.’ I glanced over his shoulder to where the other family members were regarding us, openly curious. ‘We must be private.’
He took my arm and marched me out into the street, offering no explanation to his indignant relatives. It was very cold and trying to snow again. I shivered and pulled my hood well down about my ears.
I gave him my news, including Sergeant Merryweather’s theory that someone other than Dick Hodge had been the intended victim.
‘With which I agree,’ I said, and gave him the history of the two cloaks.
‘Dear sweet Jesus,’ James breathed. ‘You mean you think the murderer thought young Hodge was you?’
‘Yes.’
‘But why?’
‘Because our killer thinks I’m getting too close to the truth.’
‘Miles Deakin?’
‘That is what we have to find out.’
James turned towards Drusilla’s door, outside which we were standing. ‘Then there’s no time like the present,’ he said and, raising his hand, rapped smartly on the big iron knocker. And when his knock was not immediately answered, he rapped again, even louder.
An indignant porter opened the door. ‘Impatience! Impatience! Oh, it’s you, Master James. You can’t see the mistress now. She’s just about to eat her dinner.’
My companion pushed the man aside and indicated that I should follow.
‘My aunt’s dinner can wait,’ he replied brusquely. ‘Where is she? In her usual room?’
He was heading for the stairs but the porter said tetchily, ‘Dame Drusilla’s in the little solar at the back of the house. It’s warmer there. But she won’t want to see you, my young master, I’ll tell you that. I’ll be standing ready to show you out again.’
James ignored the man and brushed past him to open a door on his left. ‘This way, Master Chapman.’
The little solar was indeed warm. It was a small, cosy room, its walls hung with tapestries depicting the story of Esther and Mordecai, and a great fire blazing on the hearth. A table was drawn up close to this and spread with a fine white cloth, silver dishes winking in the firelight. Dame Drusilla was seated at the head of it, knife in hand, but no food had as yet been served.
She glanced towards the door expectantly as we entered, then frowned. Today, she had again abandoned her colourful garb and was dressed all in black, but with a great ruby cross hung about her neck on a golden chain, and with sapphires and emeralds studding her girdle.
She stared angrily at her great-nephew. ‘James, what is the meaning of this intrusion? Who let you in? Don’t you know it’s my dinnertime? Go away and come back later.’ She noticed me and her frown deepened. ‘And take your friend with you.’
‘Where’s Miles Deakin, Aunt?’ James asked.
The old lady froze in her seat. Only her eyes seemed alive in the wrinkled face. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ she said as soon as she could command her voice.