Roddy had just purchased what he called a long blue smoking jacket. He sat with his legs extended, looking like a waterbed in a sari. After some chat about hypnotism as a means of trouncing addictions, Anselm said, ‘Do you remember the Riley trial?’
‘It was the only case you ever did with Elizabeth.’
‘Yes, how did you know?’
‘She remarked upon it recently’ He reached for a large carved pipe. Austrian,’ he said proudly ‘Made of bone.’
Anselm hesitated, letting his mind whirr and clank. When it stopped he perceived that Roddy already knew of the trial and its significance for Elizabeth. With this in mind, Anselm explained about the key, the red valise and the letter to be read after he’d met Mrs Bradshaw Throughout Roddy packed tobacco into the bowl of his pipe, prodding it occasionally with his thumb or a knife. Gradually creases gathered across his forehead, revealing agitation and surprise, as if he’d missed something he ought to have foreseen. Anselm’s conclusion snapped into place: Elizabeth’s confidence had not been given to Roddy beyond the trial. It was staggering — for Anselm and for Roddy: she’d held something back from the man who’d nursed her career like a father.
‘It’s been a very long time, Anselm, I’ve forgotten what happened.’ Roddy lit a match as if it were the opening of a ceremony ‘Tell me about Riley… that ruined instrument.’
‘Frank Wyecliffe sent the papers down to chambers for a conference,’ said Anselm. ‘Three teenagers said they’d met Riley at Liverpool Street Station. He’d offered them somewhere to stay free of charge. His story was that when he’d come to London, no one had been there to help him, that he’d spent months in a burnt-out bank near Paddington, that he wouldn’t wish that on anyone else, that people needed a break. They could think about rent once they were earning, and not before. So they moved into this house at Quilling Road in the East End. All he wanted was the contact details of someone they trusted with their lives — in case they did a runner. Then he gave them a key and he left them alone.’
While Anselm spoke Roddy struck matches, stroking them over the bowl.
‘Every now and then he’d come round and ask them how they were getting on, whether they’d found work yet,’ said Anselm. ‘Then, gradually things changed. They’d see him at the end of the street, milling around. Same thing at night. He’d just be standing there, rubbing his hands to keep warm. Then he’d be gone. And later, when he came to the house, asking how the search for work was going, he never said anything about having been in the area the week before. That was how it went on: they’d see him outside, near a street lamp, but then he’d be gone, turning up a few days later, and always at the same spot, as if he was waiting — sometimes in the morning, sometimes at night. Eventually they went out to ask him what was going on.’
On the train to London, Anselm had read several times the witness statement of a girl called Anji. She had recounted the confrontation with Riley:
‘Why do you keep hanging around?’
‘Because I’m frightened.’
‘What of?’
‘Not for myself.., for you lot.’
‘Us?’
‘Yes. Each of you.’
‘Why?’
‘The owner of the house is tired of waiting, and he wants his rent.’
‘You said this house was yours.’
‘No I didn’t, I said I had a house. It’s not mine. I’m just the rent collector… for him.’
‘Who?’
‘The Pieman.’
‘What?’
‘The Pieman… that’s what he calls himself He has lots of houses and he likes his rent. I let you use this one because I felt sorry for you. I thought that once you got settled in you’d have the money and we could smooth things over. But you’ve been slow and he’s found out. The Pieman’s not happy. That’s why I’m worried.’
‘How much does he want?’
‘What he’s owed.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Three thousand three hundred.’
The girls were stunned and angry. They swore and shouted. Riley said, ‘I’m here whenever I can to hold him back if he turns up, but this can’t go on. The best thing is to start making a contribution.’
They said they were off, that they were paying nothing to no one. Riley told them, ‘I wouldn’t do anything silly if I were you. The Pieman begins with those you trust. First of all he takes it out on them. Then he comes for you. And he’s a way of finding those who owe him. And I wouldn’t be standing out here, night and day, if I wasn’t worried what he might do. The best thing is to get some quick money, and in the meantime, I’ll calm him down.’
Anselm gave the gist of Anji’s evidence to Roddy At its conclusion, Roddy asked, ‘Who, pray was the Pieman?’
‘I said it was a load of nonsense, but Elizabeth thought I was wrong. She said this figure was very real for Riley, which was why he could make an abstraction so terrifying.’
Roddy opened his mouth as if to say ‘Ah,’ but nothing came out. Anselm continued with his narrative.
‘One of the girls ran off and turned up at the night shelter where George Bradshaw worked. They got talking. She left but came back a week later with the others. They told Bradshaw about Riley and the Pieman and he urged them to make a complaint. If we are to believe Bradshaw, he appreciated that these girls would have difficulty persuading a jury to believe them. They’d all committed offences of dishonesty. Their credibility would be an issue. So Bradshaw persuaded them to go back to Quilling Road. Only this time, he joined them when Riley was due to collect the rent. It was a sort of sting: in the event, they said they were leaving and that provoked Riley to make threats within Bradshaw’s hearing.’
‘Where was he?’
‘In one of the bedrooms. Apparently Riley refused to go up the stairs… he wouldn’t even go near the bottom step. He always made them come down to the hall.’
Roddy chewed his pipe. ‘How peculiar.’
‘So Riley was in deep trouble,’ continued Anselm. A witness of impeccable character would corroborate the girls’ evidence. There was no reason to doubt him except for one significant consideration: Riley, too, had no previous convictions. Bradshaw was therefore of central importance.’
Another match flared in Roddy’s hand.
‘When I arrived for the conference, Elizabeth was already there with Riley She listened while I went through the statements with him.’
Riley came to Anselm with a flash: wiry limbs, the jaw chewing minutely ‘He was calm, even though his defence was based on conjecture: that the girls had framed him when he’d kicked them out for rent arrears; that Bradshaw had been the pimp who’d lost out, which explained his involvement in the scam.
Roddy examined the bowl of his pipe. ‘What did Elizabeth make of that?’
Anselm had found a summary of Elizabeth’s words scribbled on the back of a witness statement — made by himself at the time. ‘Words to the effect, “Mr Riley, I am very familiar with people who pretend to be one thing when in fact they are another; and with people who lie, and they rarely do it without very good reason. If these witnesses did not know you, if by some marvel you received remuneration arising from their work without them realising it, then perhaps we might find a technical route off these charges. But since that does not apply, in order to promote your defence we are going to need far more than ingenuity”’ Anselm paused, as if he were in the room again, stunned by her contempt. ‘It was terrific.’
‘What was his response?’
‘He was smiling.’
‘Smiling?’
‘Yes, and Elizabeth said, “If I may respectfully say so, you do not appear to appreciate the gravity of the situation in which you find yourself” The smile had gone from Riley’s face but he was simmering. He said, “You’re wrong there. I know exactly what position I’m in.” If Elizabeth had thought he’d buckle and plead, she was wrong. There was going to be a trial.’