Denton was still standing behind the bloodstained bed. ‘I think it’s claptrap.’
‘You astonish me.’
‘I liked the stupid doctor, what’s-his-name. Reminds me of people I’ve known.’
‘Coppers, probably.’ Guillam’s grin became tight. ‘Coppers are stupid, that’s the tale, isn’t it? Stupid coppers can’t solve a crime, call in the gentleman detective, all will be resolved with the application of one cigar ash, a baby’s wail and eighteen generalizations. Brilliant!’
Denton worked his way down the bed, the space so narrow that he had to go sideways. ‘I don’t know any gentleman detectives.’
‘Neither does anybody else — in real life!’ Guillam guffawed, stopped abruptly and said to Munro, ‘You done? I’m fair sick of this place, I am.’
Munro and Denton stood in the court while Guillam locked up. Munro said in a low voice, ‘Don’t mind him.’
‘I don’t.’
‘Georgie’s overworked. This is on top of everything else he has to do. He’s a good copper.’
Guillam came to them. ‘Talking about me?’ he said. He gripped Denton’s arm. ‘Didn’t mean to come down hard on you, Mr Denton. It’s frustration. Always afraid I’ll see something in these places that could be the Ripper. My nightmare.’
‘Do you think it was the man Willey’s holding that did it?’
Guillam held on to his arm, even massaging it slightly with his thumb. His eyes were fixed on nothing. ‘I think it’s a man. I think he’s vicious. I think he owns a clasp knife with a five-inch blade. Or did own — may not any more, if he’s got any brains.’ He let go of Denton’s arm. ‘That’s what I think. What I think isn’t worth two tinker’s dams in a pisspot until I know something different.’ He winked. ‘But I can report that in my judgement it wasn’t the Ripper, thank God.’
The constable saluted them as they went out, his eyes meeting those of each of them in turn as a mark, Denton supposed, of respect. They walked around to the Minories and Guillam got into a cab and, after thanking Denton in a slightly ironic voice, rattled away.
It was almost seven. Munro said he was expected at home. He was heading towards Aldgate station for the steam underground, why didn’t Denton walk with him a bit? But he hesitated, looking down the Minories, hunched, and finally he said, ‘I apologize for not supporting you better, Denton. Georgie can be hard sometimes.’
‘I didn’t expect you to support me.’
‘You know what I mean. I didn’t know he was going to come that rough. I really did think it was a tale, that about seeing how you’d react. He wasn’t quite straight with me.’ Munro looked at him. ‘He’s going to want to know where you were the night the girl was killed, you know. He didn’t ask you yet, but I know him. He will.’
‘My God, Munro, that’s what the whole Mulcahy business was about! I was home!’
‘He’ll want to know about the whole night.’
‘The girl was already dead by the time Mulcahy came to my house.’
Munro frowned as if he was worrying about Denton’s situation, then took Denton’s arm much as Guillam had, perhaps some sort of policeman’s grip, and began to walk him north up the Minories. ‘You could argue it was a good deal later. Office of Prosecutions can make that argument. Food in her stomach may not tell so much; as for rigor — all the blood run out, rigor’s guesswork. Guillam’s men will have talked to your servant by now, so they’ll know about that night. You go out?’
He had gone to Emma’s at eleven and she’d thrown him over. Then he’d gone to the Café Royal and got drunk.
‘I’m not going to answer you, Munro. It’s my business.’ He didn’t want to tell them about Emma. If he did, they’d question her. It occurred to him that she might even be angry enough to deny he had been there. No, surely not. Frailty, thy name is-
Munro made an unsatisfied grunt and muttered that the time would come when he might have to say something, want to or not. They turned into Aldgate High Street, and Munro, letting go of Denton’s arm, said, ‘This is where her pimp worked — here and up Whitechapel Road.’ He nodded at the street ahead of them.
‘I didn’t know she had a pimp.’
‘Kid himself, they say, name of Bobbie. No last name. City police can’t find him. Not that they’re trying what I’d call hard. Short on men, of course.’ He fell silent for several steps and then said, ‘Very modern pimp — used a photograph. It appears he had three, possibly four girls; he’d walk up and down, use that “Want my sister, sir? still a virgin but wanting a man, sir,” and show ’em the picture. Customer says yes, he leads him around to Priory Close Alley and the thing is done.’
‘Couldn’t be that he’s really her brother, could it?’
‘Only if he’s got several sisters, and I doubt they’re all virgins, night after night. Damnable leech.’
‘The girls are as much to blame.’
Munro glanced at him and looked away. Defensively, Denton said, ‘You know what I mean. The girls aren’t prisoners, after all. The oldest profession.’
‘Might as well be, a lot of them.’ He stopped. ‘I’m over there.’ He nodded across the street, where the underground station stood, next to it a chop house called the Three Nuns.
‘What sort of photographs?’
‘You know.’
‘French?’
‘Probably not that bad, they’re actionable, but — suggestive, you know. Revealing. Kind of men who come birding here, it doesn’t take a lot of female flesh to please them, all they get to see usually is the wife’s shoulder when she’s undressing in the closet.’
They shook hands. Before he turned away, Munro said, ‘Georgie doesn’t really suspect you of anything worse than muddying the waters. But don’t annoy him, all right?’ He touched a finger to his hat and moved away into a stream of pedestrians.
Denton watched him go, feeling that he was betraying Munro by keeping what he had seen in the girl’s room from him — Munro a decent man, for all he’d allowed himself to be overawed by Guillam.
‘Munro!’
Denton dived into the street, dodging a hansom and getting shouted at, then running past and around pedestrians like a footballer. He caught Munro at the door of the Three Nuns; somebody opened the door to go in and the warm smell of food was sucked out.
‘Munro!’
Munro looked startled, then guilty, as if Denton had caught him at something.
‘I’ve got something to tell you. Walk back there with me.’
Munro was clearly puzzled, thrown off by his sudden appearance. ‘We could go inside.’
‘No, I want to go back.’ He set his face. ‘I’m going back whether you do or not.’
‘What the devil for?’
‘I’ll tell you as we go.’
Munro made a face — displeasure, disapproval — but turned back, and they crossed the High Street together, Denton for a moment thinking how crazy it was that this had actually once been a ‘high street’, the spine of a village. London like a monster child that ate its mother and never stopped growing. He checked his watch and wondered where he’d get dinner.
He led them back the same way they had come, Munro always a few inches behind him as if reluctant. ‘I saw something in her room,’ Denton said. ‘I didn’t say anything in front of Guillam; he’d got under my skin — as he meant to.’
‘That’s suppressing evidence.’
‘Oh, come on! It isn’t his case, anyway.’
Munro grunted. They were walking back down the Minories, fewer people out now, everybody seeming in a great hurry. Denton said, ‘There’s a picture on her wall. The frame is fastened to the plaster.’ He waited for a response; none came. ‘Not hanging out from the wall at the top, flat against it.’ Again, nothing. Denton said, ‘Never saw that done except in a sporting house, for looking through from the other side.’ They had almost reached John Street. ‘I want to see what’s on the other side.’ He didn’t say how he knew the finer points of sporting houses.