Death in the West Wind (18 page)

A door opened and closed again quietly and Joe Jago’s voice said, “Mr. Northmore, I do not consider it wise of you to take that attitude. I am empowered, when I am on Mr. Fielding’s business, to arrest if necessary. But if you do not deem that suitable then the local constable also has such powers. Surely it would be better to avoid unpleasantness and talk to us here in the privacy of this room, out of the earshot of your family, rather than drag your good name through the dirt.”

“But I am innocent. I have nothing to fear.” With a coolness that left John without breath, Joe Jago suddenly changed tack. “Sir, I must ask you why you put such obstacles in the way when we wanted to board the
Constantia
t’other morning. Was it because you knew the body of Richard van Guylder was aboard? And was that because you yourself had murdered him and faked the evidence to look like suicide?”

The quay master looked aghast. “How dare you accuse me of such a thing?”

“I dare because it may very well be true,” Joe answered calmly, and walked into the room.

“How could it be? I was as shocked as the next man when you discovered Richard’s body.”

Joe sat down on the edge of the bed. “I have often observed in my career how well rogues and villains assume guises when it comes to protecting their hides.”

“How dare you,” Thomas Northmore blustered once more, and then relapsed into silence, perhaps realising that it was not easy to look masterful without teeth.

“These will take some fixing,” John said cheerfully, picking up the broken dentures as if to emphasise the point.

Joe came in again. “Now, Sir, do you want to tell me about your relationship with the van Guylders? Or would you prefer to speak to someone local?”

“I would prefer to speak to neither of you.”

“That will not be possible. Juliana van Guylder was expecting a child when she died. I have the physician’s report here.” He tapped his pocket. “Therefore anyone who had any relationship with her in the past will be asked to account for himself. Now, Mr. Northmore, was that child yours?”

The quay master’s face went from mottled to pale and back again, clearly shocked. “A child, you say! Did her father know?”

“He guessed at it, yes. Now, Sir, don’t beat about the bush with me. Was the baby yours?”

“Of course not. I was an uncle figure to her.”

“That’s not what Tobias Wills thinks. He told me that you seduced the girl, that you, a man old enough to be her father, robbed her of her innocence. Now, Sir, how do you answer?”

The quay master was silent, clearly thinking through his best course of action. Then after a while, during which the other three men regarded him stony-faced, he adopted a man-of-the-world expression and an almost jovial look came into his eye.

“Gentlemen, I shall be totally honest with you. All of you look as if you know life in its various aspects, so I am sure you will understand the tale that I am about to unfold, indeed even sympathise with it. Juliana developed a wild girlhood passion for me, disregarding the fact that I was a married man with children. She offered me anything, even a chance to see the funeral cortege of

Lord Dalrymple, an event many wished to attend, if I would but run away with her. She offered herself to me, begged me to take her in fact … “ The quay master attempted a man-to-man smile, an effect ruined by his naked gums. “ … but I refused because of her youth. But a man’s a man, God knows. One day I weakened and she became my mistress.”

“And remained so until her death?”

Mr. Northmore looked affronted. “Certainly not. I was constantly persuading her to find a man of her own age and leave me be … “

Like the devil you were, thought John.

“ … and one day she did.”

“Was that man Gerald Fitz?”

“I don’t know, Sir. Once our association was at an end, that was the finish of all conversation between us.”

Joe steepled his fingers, looking at the quay master over the top of them. “I presume you can answer for yourself at the time that Juliana and her brother went missing.”

Thomas went purple with fury. “Answer for myself? Why should I? I’ve told you the truth and there’s an end to it.”

“Supposing I said that I don’t believe you; that it is far more likely that Juliana abandoned you when she suddenly looked at you one day and saw that you were old. And supposing I were to think that you were furious and killed her because of it? Because your self-love had been deeply wounded?”

“Then you’d be a damnable fool.”

“That,” said Joe Jago in a most sinister voice, “remains to be seen.”

They sent him home like that, in his small clothes and with his teeth wrapped in a packet tied with string. As the Flying Runners drove him away in their coach, John Rawlings and Joe Jago turned to look at one another.

“I think, my friend,” said the older man, “that we have just done poor Mrs. Northmore the biggest favour of her life. If she has two tuppeny wits about her she’ll make this the turning point and never let him forget what a pitiable sight he presented to the world.”

“Do you think she knows about Juliana?”

“Of course. Wives have a nose for that kind of thing.”

“Did he kill the girl?”

“It’s perfectly possible, though who would conspire with him I have no idea. He seems to me to be the sort who would have no friends.”

“Maybe she was disliked so much that enemies bonded against her.”

Joe turned to the Apothecary. “Find out about her, Mr. Rawlings. Only in that way can we approach the truth.”

“Then let’s get down to Jan van Guylder’s. Perhaps when he recovers he’ll be ready to talk.”made, must be made.”

“Did he do this deliberately?” John asked as he drew the bottle from his bag.

The doctor looked at him mournfully. “That we’ll never know unless he himself tells us. I prescribed him some poppy juice so that he could sleep, for the poor devil has hardly had a wink since the death of Juliana, let alone the double tragedy. Perhaps I shouldn’t have done it but I have known Jan for years and he was truly run ragged.”

“Was Juliana a little bitch?” John asked suddenly, not quite sure why he had been so forthright.

The physician turned a look of astonishment on him. “What makes you say that?”

“All the evidence is pointing to it.”

The other man stood up and stared the Apothecary in the eye. Then he nodded. “Yes, a terror,” he said. “Both the children went wild after the death of the mother. But though Richard seemed to settle down a bit after he went to school, Juliana never did. She was sent to Mrs. Simmons” Academy in Exeter, a place with a good reputation, but she was actually asked to leave. After that she had governesses at home. But, damme, Mr. Rawlings, she rode roughshod over the poor women. One of them even had a severe nervous disorder which I had to treat.”

John nodded. “Let us get this infusion down the patient and then we can talk further.”

They raised the limp and inert form up carefully and while John held him, the doctor spooned the liquid down Jan van Guylder’s throat.

“This may well do no good at this stage.”

“We can but try,” the physician answered, and continued to administer the physick drop by drop.

When the correct dose was fully consumed, the two men drew away from the bed and sat in front of the fire, their heads turned toward the patient so that they could see if there were any change.

The doctor held out his hand. “Shaw is the name. Thank you for your help.”

“Let it be hoped that we have saved the poor man.”

“We should know shortly. Though not perfect, a stimulant like that will have some effect soon.”

Sure enough, ten minutes later Jan van Guylder let out a deep sigh and his eyelids fluttered. Instantly, the doctor went to his patient’s side.

“Jan, can you hear me? It is Luke Shaw. Squeeze my hand if you understand what I am saying.”

From where he was standing John saw the feeble movement of the Dutchman’s fingers and went to the bed, very conscious that he was dealing with another man’s patient yet anxious to see what progress had been made. Looking to Dr. Shaw to see if he approved and being given a nod of the head, the Apothecary pulled up one of Jan’s eyelids. The pupil of the eye, which earlier had been the size of a pinhead, was starting to return to normal.

The two men looked at one another. “I think he’s pulled through,” said Luke Shaw.

“The next few hours will be critical. Will you stay with him?”

“He’s an old friend. I will not leave his side.”

“Can I be of further assistance?”

“No, Mr. Rawlings. You have done splendidly. Return to the hostelry and get a good night’s sleep.”

The Apothecary gave a wry grin. “Would you believe that I am on my honeymoon and that every day something seems to occur that keeps me from my wife’s side?”

“Then you’d better hurry back. There’s nothing worse than a warm bed with a bride in it and no bridegroom at her side.”

“I know that only too well,” John answered ruefully, and made his way downstairs.

Dick Ham awaited him in the hall, dozing a little by the fire.

“We can go,” said the Apothecary. “I think he’s out of danger.”

“Was it attempted suicide, Sir?”

“There’s no way of telling, but somehow I imagine so. He probably feels that there is nothing left to live for with both of his children gone.”

“Poor devil.”

They stepped out into the April midnight to find it cold and clear and brilliantly lit by the moon. At the quay the
Constantia
rode quietly at anchor, bobbing slightly even though the boarding ramp was still in place. The Apothecary and the Runner looked at one another.

“Did you find anything at all during that search?” John asked. “So much was going on that I lost the thread.”

“We came up with very little, I’m afraid. What there was is in Mr. Jago’s safekeeping.”

“Let’s look once more,” John said impulsively, and before Dick could even answer had started to clamber up the gangplank.

It was eerie on that ship of death in the moonlight, even eerier than it had been in the dawning. It was with reluctance that the Apothecary felt his feet turn, almost as if they had a life of their own, in the direction of the figurehead. He had no wish to go and stand there, close to the oversized mermaid, her yellow hair streaming, her breasts very white, her blind eyes staring out over the river. Behind him he could hear Dick Ham, approaching slowly, equally unhappy about being in this terrible and haunted place. John glanced down, horribly aware of the small drops of blood that spotted the mermaid’s back, horribly aware that a girl had probably died in this very spot. And then he saw it. Caught on one of the figurehead’s golden tresses, so small that it could easily have never been noticed at all had the moonlight not been so bright, a tiny piece of white material, probably wrenched from Juliana’s shift. Or possibly torn from the clothing of her murderer.

10

T
hey were unloading the
Constantia.
Standing on the quayside, looking slightly the worse for wear, Thomas Northmore, displaying his second best teeth, a formidable set of white china that glinted in the sun, was overseeing. Close at hand, saying little but watching with an anxious eye, was the purchaser, a rope maker from Exeter. Also present were Joe Jago accompanied by the long-suffering William Haycraft, whose farm by now must be in dire need of attention, John thought.

The Apothecary, having checked that Tobias Wills was still fast asleep in the cellar, apparently not having stirred at all, had wandered down there with Emilia, prior to setting off for Sidmouth where they had decided to eat outdoors, the weather growing warm again, the wind having veered round to the west. Watching with fascination as the hold was opened and the bales of hemp were lifted out, everyone stood in silence as the cargo was taken from that most haunted of ships.

“What exactly is hemp?” Emilia asked, as a
bale was swung aloft and deposited on the quay

“It’s a plant,” John answered, “that is used to make rope. It can also be used in medicine.”

“Oh?”

“The seed is excellent for expelling wind, most vigorously and fully. It is also highly effective for removing worms, both internally and from the ears.”

“I don’t think I want to hear this.”

John grinned. “It is frequently smoked like opium in certain eastern countries with hallucinatory side effects. So really it has triple usage. The inner bark for cordage, its seeds for all kinds of medicinal cures, its leaves and flowers to produce hallucinations. The name of the plant is cannabis satvia and they say that the word canvas, from which sails are made of course, is a bastardised version of the word cannabis.”

“I didn’t know that,” said William, “and I’ve been round these parts all my life. How did the words come to be connected?”

“Because in medieval times the letters b and v were interchangeable, still are today in some instances. So, cannabis, cannavis. Do you see?”

“I certainly do. Not that I’ve heard of it mind. It’s always been hemp to me.”

Joe, who had been listening with interest. shielded his gaze with his hand, his eyes the blue of the river as he squinted at the sun. “Those bales look a bit thrown together.”