Death in the West Wind (33 page)

Sarah hesitated, then said, “Yes, Sir, there was one thing, though I certainly did not see his features.”

“What?” asked John eagerly. “What was it?”

“It was a mark of some kind, like a tattoo. It was in a strange shape and it was on the inside of his wrist where it would never normally show.”

“What did it depict? Can you remember?”

“Oh yes, I can remember all right. It was an angel’s wing, just one, furled up as if prior to flight.”

The Apothecary stood up. “It must be their insignia. By God, they must be stopped, and stopped fast. They’ve done too much damage to too many people to be allowed to continue any longer.” His voice changed. “Now, would you like my wife to sit with you for a while? She’ll keep you company while I go next door to Dmitri.”

“How is he?” whispered Sarah.

“Improving every day,” John answered, just hoping that what he was saying was correct.

As it turned out, he told the truth. Indeed Dmitri, tough sailor that he was, was actually sitting up in the truckle that Old Saul used for a bed. Before the Apothecary had gone up to him, he had woken jolly Dick Ham, the Runner whom Joe had left on duty, and sent him next door to protect the two women, then he and the medicine man had climbed the narrow stairs to the floor above. With Old Saul acting as interpreter, John, after asking a few general questions about the Russian’s health, came to the most vital part of the interview.

“Dmitri, what happened that day aboard the
Constantia
? Can you remember what took place?”

The Russian spoke rapidly to Old Saul.

“He says, Sir, that it was very hot and that there was no wind. They were virtually becalmed. There were six crew in all and they were all up on deck waiting for a breeze.” Dmitri said something else and Old Saul added, “He said even though there was no wind it was a relief to get some fine weather because they’d hit a terrific storm in the Channel and both the vessel and the men had been thoroughly soaked.”

“What happened next?” John asked.

Once more there was an exchange in Russian, then Old Saul said, “He’s going on about how lovely it was at sea, what a wonderful aroma there was in the air. Then, he said, he saw an angel float out of the sky and land on deck.”

“What?” John exclaimed, flabbergasted, remembering all too vividly the man who had died in his arms with the words, “Angels come.”

“That’s what he said, my friend.”

“Can you ask him to explain.”

Old Saul rattled off in Russian once more. “He says he can’t. But he saw angels, more than one. They all did. They went flying with them, right over the side of the ship.”

“Oh “zounds,” answered John wearily. “Ask him how these angels were dressed.”

More Russian was spoken, then Saul said, “They had long white robes and huge white wings, that is all except the ones that came last. They had white coats and hats and carried in their arms the most beautiful angel of all.”

“Dear God, was this all an hallucination or were they seeing Juliana and her killers?”

“Perhaps a little of both,” Old Saul replied. He stopped speaking, deep in thought. “It almost sounds as if they had been smoking opium.”

“Ask him if they had.”

But Dmitri knew enough English to answer this. “Opium no smoke. Not good.”

“Then what is the explanation?” said the

Apothecary, and relapsed into a baffled silence.

It was Old Saul who asked the key question. “What cargo was the ship carrying?”

“Hemp. It was sold to a ropemaker in Exeter.”

“I see. Well, that doesn’t get us much further.”

But John wasn’t listening to him, instead repeating the words, “Hemp for making rope and canvas. Cannavis, cannabis. By God, Saul, that’s it!”

“What?”

“It was the cargo. If it was badly retted in the first place, which I suspect, then soaked in a storm, it would emit fumes as it dried out. And cannabis is an hallucinatory plant. The whole crew would have been affected. It’s a wonder they didn’t see the entire heavenly host with the power of those vapours. Small surprise that they jumped into the sea. The poor bastards could quite easily have believed they could fly.”

“So the attack was all for nothing. Dmitri was too far gone to identify those who brought the dead girl aboard.”

“Absolutely. He wouldn’t have known what was going on. But whoever assaulted him doesn’t realise that, does he.”

“Obviously not.”

“And therein lies our strength, my friend. For that is how we will find him, by laying a trap into which he is going to blunder well and truly.”

“I hope I will be able to play my part,” said Old Saul stoutly.

“You, my friend, may well prove to be the lynch-pin.”

*
 
*
 
*

The light thrown by the fire which blazed cheerfully in the snug known as The Tyger, turned Joe Jago’s hair into a burnished halo as he nodded enthusiatically to the plan that the Apothecary had just proposed to him.

“Yes, Mr. Rawlings, it is indeed a masterly idea. But are the two wounded people up to such an ordeal — or should I say ordeals?”

“Fortunately they were both fine physical specimens before they were attacked, and this strength has stood them in good stead. If we treat them carefully I am quite sure that they will be able to cope with the situation.”

“But the first plan necessitates them leaving home and coming to Topsham.”

“I will send Irish Tom to drive them and Old Saul and I will be with them if they should feel at all ill.”

“But the fact that the man was hallucinating? That he couldn’t, in reality, give reliable evidence?”

“As he speaks very little English, Old Saul will translate. He can hold our audience in suspense, mark my words. But, Joe, don’t forget the woman. The tattoo she saw may hold the key to the identity of Juliana’s murderer.”

“Then, Mr. Rawlings,” said Joe Jago, “I suggest we put both schemes into action as soon as possible. Tomorrow, in my official capacity, I shall invite Jan van Guylder, Tobias Wills, Thomas Northmore and Sir Bartholomew Digby-Duckworth to attend us here at The Salutation, on the evening following.”

“I think you should add Sir Clovelly Lovell to that list. He can look after poor old Barty, as he calls him, and will add weight to the occasion.”

“In every way.”

John smiled. “Yes, in every way.”

“And the other plan?”

“We must be more subtle about that and set it up with care.”

“Indeed we must, for that night we should catch a murderer.”

“No more talk of murder,” said Emilia, coming into The Tyger, looking very lovely in her dining gown. “Tonight we must celebrate my clever husband’s ingenuity in solving the riddle of the
Constantia
.”

“Well said, Mrs. Rawlings,” answered Joe. “I think we can indeed safely forget why we are here and devote ourselves to having a thoroughly good evening.”

“Did they really believe they saw angels?” asked Emilia as the three of them went in to dine.

“Who knows?” answered John. “It is even possible that they actually did.”

18

I
t was bizarre, considered John. Seated side by side, neither ever having cast eyes upon the other, were two men both of whom laid claim to being the affianced husband of Juliana van Guylder. Further, the man who thought himself to be the father of her child was sitting on the other side of the old chap who confidently believed that he himself had sired it. What a tangle of manners — or rather lack of them — the Apothecary thought. As convoluted and corrupt as those of any London belle of fashion. For what a promiscuous little bitch the dead girl had been. It was only tragic that this night her father would be subjected to the ordeal of hearing just how unsavoury her behaviour had become in the time leading up to her murder. Yet, despite that, Jan van Guylder was himself one of the suspects and therefore could not be excluded from the meeting.

Somewhat to Joe Jago’s surprise, everyone he had requested to attend the gathering had done so, even old Sir Bartholomew braving the night vapours and setting forth. And now the gentlemen in question were all seated in

The Tyger, looking somewhat bemused, clearly wondering what was going to happen next.

In another room, being nourished and cherished, were Dmitri and Sarah, Old Saul, wearing an extraordinary ensemble which John concluded must be the medicine man’s idea of good dressing, at their side. The two Runners, wearing their court uniforms to give them an air of authority, hovered close at hand, ready to deal with trouble at whoever’s instigation it might occur. All it needed now was for Joe Jago to start the proceedings off.

This evening Mr. Fielding’s clerk was clad in sombre black, a colour he often adopted for formal occasions. His hair shone in the light of the many candles that lit The Tyger as he stood up and cleared his throat.

“Gentlemen, what I have to say to you tonight will, in varying degrees, be painful to each and every one of you. All of you, with the exception of your good self, Sir Clovelly, were closely connected with Juliana van Guylder and for that reason everyone present must answer for himself as regards her murder. Let me make myself quite clear. A woman such as she, capable of arousing great emotion in the hearts of men, might cause even a father to raise a hand to strike against her, or a brother for that matter. So there is not one of you who has not fallen under suspicion.”

Jan van Guylder looked at Joe wearily and it occurred to John that all divine spark had departed from the man and he was now little more than a burned-out shell.

“You think I killed my own child?” he said. “Such things have been known, Sir,” the clerk replied with dignity. He cleared his throat again. “Gentlemen, to publicly list the reasons why all of you have fallen under suspicion would be both embarrassing and unfair. For that reason I will be brief. Mr. van Guylder might have grown angry because of Juliana’s wilful ways. Tobias could have lost all patience on learning that she had many other suitors. Mr. Northmore might well have wished to silence her before the truth became known, Sir Bartholomew could easily have become incensed if he believed she had been unfaithful to him.”

“What do you mean unfaithful?” Tobias asked angrily. “Who is this old gentleman?” Sir Bartholomew raised a wizened hand which shook as he wagged his finger. “I was her betrothed, I’ll have you know.”

“Oh what rubbish! She and I were promised since childhood.”

It was going to get ugly, John felt sure of it. Obviously Joe had come to the same conclusion for he held up a hand.

“Gentlemen, please. This behaviour will get us nowhere. Mr. van Guylder, I had hoped to spare you this but I’m afraid the truth must be told. However, I shall stick to the basic facts. The rest you must fill in for yourselves.”

“It’s the only way,” said Sir Clovelly. “Out with it, man.”

“Very well. I believe that Juliana’s behaviour deteriorated after the death of her mother and she started to run wild. Despite the fact that she was engaged to Tobias Wills, she started a love affair with Thomas Northmore.” The quay master would have protested but John fixed him with such a glare that he closed his mouth again, the whalebone teeth snapping shut as he did so.

“Filthy bastard,” yelled Jan, coming to life again, while Tobias leapt up and took a swing at Northmore which was deflected by Nick Raven who had quietly come into the room.

“Control yourselves,” bellowed Joe, “or I’ll have the lot of you up before the Beak tomorrow morning.” He stared round menacingly. “Tiring of Mr. Northmore … “

“Who wouldn’t?” asked an unidentified voice.

“ … Juliana fell in with a bunch of choice spirits from Exeter whom she met through her brother, who was at school there.

Unfortunately, they led her down unfortunate paths and she became pregnant.”

“I was responsible for that,” announced Sir Bartholomew proudly.

“You dirty old lecher,” screamed Jan, pouncing forward and straight into the arms of Nick Raven, who held him very tightly indeed.

John, thinking that this situation was just the thing the Dutchman needed to put some life back into him, had to restrain himself from laughing at the look on Thomas Northmore’s face, dying to boast of paternity but too terrified of the consequences to do so.

Joe angrily broke into cant. “I’ll flap the lot of you with a fox-tail if you don’t shut this gagarino. Bunch of rum coves,” he added for good measure. Then he scowled round the room until there was eventual silence. “Right,” he said, “you’ve asked for this. As I’ve already said, Mr. van Guylder had the motive of outraged papa; Mr. Wills, the cuckolded fiancé; Mr. Northmore, the rejected elderly admirer; Sir Bartholomew, the even more elderly rejected one.”

There was an indrawing of breath prior to protest but Joe preempted them. “So be careful one and all. New information has come to light from a source close to my colleague, Mr. Rawlings.”

John tensed very slightly as Elizabeth came into his mind.

“This information is that Juliana van Guylder was seen in the company of two men on the very day that she was killed. It was a Tuesday, two weeks ago. I will give you a few moments to collect yourselves, gentlemen, and then I want you to tell me precisely where you were at noon and for two hours thereafter on that occasion.”