‘Well, now you know,’ Jack said peevishly, ‘so perhaps you’ll let me get on with my business. And mind you, Roger,’ he added as I stepped aside, ‘I’m holding you to that there promise. I like to keep my nose clean. Don’t like getting mixed up with the law unless I have to.’
‘Do any of us?’
Jack snorted. ‘Can’t say it seems to bother you overmuch. You’ll poke that big snout o’ yourn into anything. What I say is that one day you’ll regret it, you mark my words.’
I followed him out of the cottage (not without a sigh of relief) to where the younger man had finished loading up the cart and was feeding the horse a wisp of hay from its nosebag. Jack Nym jumped up on the seat and gave the animal the office to start. I watched until they had disappeared round the corner, then turned to bid farewell to Jack Hodge, but he had already gone back to his work at the weaving sheds.
So I went in search of yet another Jack; this time Jack Gload.
He was not in the Councillors’ Hall near the High Cross, nor were Richard Manifold and his second henchman, Pete Littleman. Another of the Sheriff’s Officers informed me — not without a secret snigger, I thought — that the three were holding a special meeting at the Sergeant’s cottage to discuss their latest enquiry — into the theft of some jewellery from a merchant’s house — in peace and quiet, away from the noise and bustle of the hall. I thanked him and made my way towards the castle.
Richard lived in an apartment in the outer ward, rent-free I fancied, a fact which had never endeared him to me, particularly when he was eating my food and drinking my ale or warming himself at my fireside. I asked a passing scullion — not, thank Heaven, Ranald Purefoy — which of the cluster of ramshackle dwellings was Dick’s, and was directed to the one nearest the Barbican Gate, in somewhat better condition than the rest.
I entered without knocking.
The three were seated around a central table, a stoup of ale at each man’s elbow, their heads inclined towards one another, deep in portentous discussion. But at my sudden and unannounced entry, the heads jerked up in surprise and three pairs of eyes stared at me in astonishment.
I dispensed with any sort of greeting, striding round the table and hauling Jack Gload to his feet.
‘You thieving bastard!’ I yelled, not mincing matters. ‘Where’s my purse?’ I clamped both hands around his neck, my thumbs against his windpipe, and shook him like a dog shaking a rat. He made a sort of gurgling sound and cast a frantic look at his two companions.
Stools scraped against the flagstones and fingers clawed at mine in a vain endeavour to loosen their grip. But anger was giving me strength.
I heard Richard Manifold shout, ‘Let him go, Roger! For God’s sake, let him go!’ But I took no heed. It was only when I noticed that Jack’s face was turning from a rich shade of purple to a blotched blue colour that I finally released my victim. He staggered back to his stool, gasping for air and rubbing his throat, while Pete Littleman tenderly administered a few drops of ale.
‘You could have killed him,’ Richard Manifold accused me.
‘I was only doing the hangman’s job for him,’ I snarled. ‘That villain stole my money.’
‘I … It was a joke,’ Jack croaked. ‘I–I wasn’t goin’ t’ keep it.’ He delved into his own purse and flung a handful of coins across the table. ‘Have that t’ go on with. I’ll fetch the rest when I go home. I’m sorry!’
I refused to be mollified. ‘And what was the purpose of this stupid joke?’ I made another threatening movement in his direction and had the pleasure of seeing him flinch.
‘That’ll do, Chapman,’ Richard ordered, interposing himself between my quarry and me. ‘All right, it was a foolish prank to play, I’ll give you that. But Jack’s apologized.’
I said nothing for a moment, then asked dulcetly, ‘A prank, Sergeant? Are you sure that’s all it was?’
My abrupt change of tone disconcerted him. ‘Wh-what do you mean? Jack’s just told you it was meant as a joke.’
‘That’s right,’ Jack Gload confirmed, while Pete Littleman nodded in agreement.
‘Really? A joke was it?’ I regarded all three with narrowed eyes and what I hoped was an air of contained menace. ‘Is that so? Well, perhaps it’s escaped your notice that I have recently taken a beating, although somehow I don’t think it has. None of you would miss a thing like that.’
‘Thought your wife had given you a good hiding,’ Pete Littleman muttered with a grin, but didn’t get the response he was obviously hoping for.
‘Be quiet!’ Richard ordered sharply, while Jack Gload took a hurried gulp of ale without even so much as a smirk distorting his ugly features.
‘How … how did it happen?’ the former enquired solicitously. ‘Who … who did it?’
‘You know very well who did it,’ I snarled, changing my tactics yet again and returning to the attack. ‘Your friend and neighbour, Sergeant, Ranald Purefoy! How much did you pay him, eh?’
The shock of the question made Richard gasp and turn white, which only infuriated me more. Did he, in his arrogance, really think me so dim-witted that I couldn’t piece together his pathetic little plot?
‘What do you mean? What are you saying?’
‘I’m saying,’ I rasped, ‘that you’ve been trying to persuade me to drop my investigation into the death of Isabella Linkinhorne. First, you sent Jack after me to Bath, on the pretext of visiting his daughter and her family, but really to convince me that it was foolish to pursue the matter.’ I gave a derisive snort to demonstrate my contempt for such a piece of folly. ‘But if he failed to do so — which the idiot was bound to do — he was instructed to detain me on the road home so that he could report back in good time for you to arrange some other, surer form of deterrent.’ I laughed. ‘Instead, all it did was to make me certain that what I was beginning to suspect was indeed the truth. That you are the man I’m looking for.’
‘What’s he mean, the man he’s looking for?’ Pete Littleman asked ponderously. He was brighter than Jack (not much, but a little). ‘You told us it was to stop him gettin’ in the way while we solved the Linkinhorne murder.’
‘And so it was. Is,’ Richard said quickly. He drew himself up, suddenly the superior officer. ‘You and Jack can leave. Now. I want to talk to Master Chapman alone. You’ve caused enough trouble with your childish pranks.’ I saw Jack Gload’s mouth open in an O of astonishment, but Richard hurried on without giving him a chance to voice his indignation. ‘Out! This minute! I shan’t tell you again. You’ll be charged with indiscipline.’
‘All right! All right! We’re going,’ Pete muttered, but his expression was mutinous. ‘Come on, Jack. I’ll buy you a drink to ease that throat of yours.’ He glared at his superior. ‘We’ll be in the Green Lattis when you’ve finished talking to the Chapman. Alone!’ And he hooked a hand under his friend’s elbow, hauling him to his feet.
When the cottage door had closed behind them, Richard sank slowly on to one of the vacated stools and waved me to another. He looked pale and dejected, but most of all angry with himself, as if he knew that he had bungled things. To my annoyance, I found myself beginning to feel sorry for him.
‘I’m right, aren’t I?’ I asked, after several moments of profound silence. ‘You knew Isabella Linkinhorne.’
Richard nodded. ‘But I didn’t kill her,’ he added fiercely, ‘if that’s what you’re thinking.’
‘Then why have you tried so hard to conceal the fact that you were acquainted with her? Even to the extent of hiring a bully like Ranald Purefoy to beat me black and blue on the insulting charge that I’d been attempting to seduce his wife. Goody Purefoy! Dear, sweet Virgin!’ My temper was getting the better of me again, and I made an effort to be calm.
Even Richard was unable to suppress a fleeting grin, but it was gone almost immediately, like a glimpse of sun through clouds.
I said, ‘You haven’t answered my question. Why did you go to such lengths to prevent me finding out you’d known Isabella Linkinhorne?’