William was about to turn away in disgust, when Henry addressed the man sharply. “We have reason to want to meet with the family,” he said in a crisp, authoritative tone. “Kindly tell us where we can find them.” As he spoke, he put his hand in his pocket as though suggesting that reimbursement for information would be forthcoming, though the gesture seemed as much threatening as potentially generous.
The young man’s posture straightened. “They’s not here, sir,” he said. “They’s been out of the area since Lord knows when; it’s to gather the coins that the people put that up.” He indicated the sign.
“You, you mean,” said Henry sternly.
“Not me,” said the man defensively. “I sometimes stop by to see what’s been put in, but it weren’t my idea.”
Several older women who had gathered on the steps of the building nearby approached, and the shifty-eyed young man, who must have decided he was out of his depth, sought their assistance. “These gents say as they have matters to discuss with Kate’s family,” he explained to one of the older women.
She had a square red face and a stout build and looked like she could wrestle half a dozen men to the ground if it were required of her. A flowered apron was the only indicator of some link to domesticity. “Katie had no family,” the woman said shortly. “What she had, gone off to Liverpool years ago, poor girl. What would you be snooping here for, anyway? The police are always snooping. Never gettin’ anywhere for it, though.”
“We’re not police,” William reassured her. “We’re Americans.”
Some members of the group nodded, as though they understood these sets to be mutually exclusive. “Maybe you’ll shoot the bastard who did this,” one of the women said. “You Americans at least know how to bring ’em to justice.”
“Bang! Bang! Shoot ’em up,” said a man without teeth, who had appeared out of nowhere. He looked at William, whose disheveled appearance was probably not reassuring, though perhaps he could pass for a cowboy.
Henry moved in to clarify. “We are here in an unofficial capacity to help with this sorry case. We are convinced, you see, that the American point of view may shed light on what may have been overlooked.”
There was more nodding among them. Henry’s courtly manner and clipped enunciation had drawn the respect of the crowd, and William realized that he had been wise, after all, to let his brother accompany him.
“Them Americans are smart,” called out one of the women. “Even the poor ones are rich over there.”
“We’re seeking additional views on what happened,” said William, taking the lead now that Henry had eased the way. “Anyone who might have theories or information that they wouldn’t want to share with the police, we’d be pleased to hear. We promise to keep what we’re told in confidence as far as possible.”
“Maybe Mary Wells’ll talk to ’em,” suggested one of the women. “She knew Polly Nichols.”
“Mary wouldn’t open ’er mouth to the police,” said another woman, “ever since they arrested her Tom for pilferin’.”
“Mary’s Tommy?” said someone else in the group. “Everyone knows ’e got sticky fingers.”
“She don’ deny it, only says ’e didn’t steal that time; they hung it on ’im ’cause he took the horse the week before. ’Er boy may be a thief, she says, but that don’ mean they can say anythin’ stolen, ’e done it. That’s corruption, she says, and it’s worse than stealin’.”
“She has a point,” said William.
“She might speak to you,” said another woman, “seeing as you’re American and she has that daughter in America.”
“Where does her daughter live in America?” asked Henry.
“She’s in some city. Milarky, I think it’s called.”
“Milarky?” asked William.
“She probably means Milwaukee,” said Henry. He then addressed the group. “It’s a fine city in the great state of Minnesota.”
“Wisconsin,” William corrected his brother under his breath.
“Yes,” continued Henry, undeterred, “we’ve spent quite a bit of time in Milwaukee. We might even have met her daughter.”
“In that case, you should talk with Mary for sure. She’ll want to hear any news about Tessie. She’s around the corner, two houses on this side. It’s the one with the yellow curtains. And she’ll be wearing a red apron. She goes in for the colors. What with Tessie gone and Tommy ’n prison, it’s the least she can do to keep ’er spirits up.”
Chapter 12
Mary Wells wore the red apron that had been predicted, and she also had on a crisp white cap and a freshly laundered white blouse. Her home, though modest and not in the best repair, was neat and welcoming. She had opened the door wide enough at the brothers’ knock so that they could see inside, but she stood squarely blocking the entry and squinting at them suspiciously.
William was surprised at the economy with which Henry proceeded to make his case for an interview. “We are American citizens here to lend a hand in the resolution of the Whitechapel murders at the request of your queen. Your name was given to us as someone who might be of help. I should add that we are on a limited visit to London, since we have work to do at home in our great city of Milwaukee.”
The woman, who had been staring at them blankly at the beginning of this speech, suddenly broke into a smile. “You live in Milarky?” she exclaimed.
“Yes, we do, though we’re often asked to perform special errands outside our fair city.”
“My daughter lives in Milarky!” said the woman excitedly. “Tessie Wells is her name. Might it be possible that you know her?”
William shot Henry a look, but he appeared not to notice.
“Tessie Wells; let’s see.” He surveyed the mother’s appearance quickly. “Medium height, light brown hair, snub nose, rather pretty?”
“That’s her!” exclaimed the woman. “You know her?”
“I think I know her slightly.” Henry nodded vaguely. “I believe I saw her with some friends of mine at a very nice restaurant not long ago. I’ll make sure to send my regards when we return.”
“Oh my word, to think that you live in Milarky and know my Tessie. Please come in. So Milarky is a lovely city, is it? Tessie writes me that she’s happy there. She even found a man who goes to work every day.”
“Yes, it’s quite common in the city for the men to work,” noted Henry.
“We wonder if we can ask you some questions regarding the death of Polly Nichols,” interrupted William, feeling that Henry had perhaps gone too far in the direction of extolling a city he had never visited and of expressing knowledge of someone whom he had never met. “We’re told that you knew the girl and might share information with us that you were unwilling to give the police.”
“The police be damned!” asserted the woman. “They took away my Tommy. He’s no angel, but they could at least charge him with something he actually done.”
“Quite true,” said Henry. “One would want to be accused correctly.”
“They said he stole a china plate, can you imagine?” continued the woman in an incensed tone. “Tommy has no use for a china plate! A horse, maybe, a barrel of ale, I could understand. But a china plate? It’s as false an accusation as you could ever lay on a man.”
“We’ll do our best to look into it,” said Henry, as William gave him another warning glance.
“If you would, I’d be indebted to you,” said the woman, casting her eyes up at Henry with a look of adoration that William found particularly annoying.
“Polly Nichols,” repeated William, “we’re told you have some thoughts about her activities that might have bearing on her death.”
“Well,” said the woman doubtfully, “I can’t say if it means anything.”
“Let us be the judge of that, ma’am,” said Henry in his most ingratiating tone.
“Well…it’s just that I know Polly went somewhere a few evenings a week, and wherever it was, she got paid for going there.”