The Amorous Nightingale (25 page)

    'Mary
Hibbert!' he gasped.

    'Are
you sure?' said Chiffinch.

    'No
doubt about it, poor girl.' He bent anxiously over the body. 'What did they do
to her?'

    'Her
neck was broken,' explained the other, not daring to look down. 'That's why the
head is at such an unnatural angle and why… those other features present
themselves.' He twitched the shroud back over the girl and wiped his hand on
his thigh. 'It's a small consolation, I know, but the physician who examined
her assured me that she would have died almost instantly. There'd have been
little suffering.'

    Jonathan
was roused. 'Mary Hibbert ends up on a slab and you tell me there was little
suffering?' he said with vehemence. 'Look at her, Mr Chiffinch. The girl was
murdered. Did you see a smile on her face?'

    'Perhaps
we should discuss this outside,' suggested Christopher.

    'I
was about to say the same thing,' said Chiffinch gratefully, taking them back
into the anteroom before shutting the door behind him. 'I didn't mean to offend
you by my remark, Mr Bale. I merely passed on what the physician told me. I was
as stunned as you when I first saw the unfortunate creature. It was an
appalling sight.'

    'She
was such a lovely girl,' said Jonathan.

    'Maidservant
to Mrs Gow,' explained his companion to Chiffinch. 'We had some indication that
she might have been abducted yesterday from her house but we never anticipated
this.'

    Jonathan
shook his head. 'How could anyone do such a thing?'

    'It's
one more crime to add to their account.'

    'A harmless
child like that.'

    'Did
you know her well?' asked Chiffinch.

    Christopher
took over again. 'The Hibbert family used to live in Constable Bale's ward.
They were neighbours of his. He'd seen Mary and her brother, Peter, grow up.
They were friends. I met the boy myself. He was proud of his sister. She'd done
extremely well for herself to secure a position with Mrs Gow.'

    'Too
well,' said Jonathan, bitterly. 'Look where it got her.'

    'It's
a tragedy,' agreed Christopher.

    'Peter
will have to be told.'

    'That's
out of the question,' said Chiffinch.

    'You
can't keep this from them, sir. Not from her relatives. They've a right to know
what happened to Mary.'

    'In
time, perhaps.'

    'No,
at the earliest opportunity.'

    'Discretion
must be our watchword, Mr Bale. If we voice this abroad, we only endanger the
whole investigation. The ransom note insisted on total secrecy. This
regrettable event stresses that point.'

    'Regrettable
event!' said Jonathan, rounding on him. 'Mary Hibbert has been brutally
murdered, sir. That fact may not trouble your mind overmuch but her brother
will be shattered.

    So
will her uncle and aunt. They'll see it as more than a cause for regret, I can
tell you.'

    'Calm
down, Mr Bale, I pray you.'

    'Then
show some more respect for the dead.'

    'We
must temper respect with expediency.'

    'I
agree with Mr Bale,' said Christopher. 'The girl's family deserve to know the
worst. It's a cruelty to keep it from them.'

    'A
necessary one.'

    'No, Mr
Chiffinch. The body should be released.'

    'It
must be,' affirmed Jonathan. 'I see your objection, sir, but it can be
answered. The true facts must not be leaked out. Nor need they be. Peter can be
told that his sister met with an unlucky accident. I'll pass on the same
tidings to Mary's uncle and aunt. It will spare them some of the anguish but it
will also enable the girl to have a decent burial.'

    'I
support Mr Bale to the hilt,' said Christopher.

    'We
won't be denied.'

    Chiffinch
was nonplussed for once. He had not expected to meet such united opposition.
Skilled in the issue of orders, he was used to obedience. He was less adept at
coping with blank refusal. He eyed Jonathan with an amalgam of irritation and
interest.

    'Could
you really persuade them that the girl died by accident?' he said. 'Can you
soften the truth so effectively?'

    'Yes,
sir,' replied Jonathan. 'My work has often required me to break bad news to
relatives. I'll find the right words.'

    'Trust
him, Mr Chiffinch,' urged Christopher.

    'It
looks as if I may have to,' said the other with slight asperity. He reached a
decision. 'Very well, Mr Bale. Take charge of the arrangements. Tell me where
the body is to be sent and it will be released.'

    'Thank
you, sir.'

    Chiffinch
saw an advantage. 'It will at least solve the problem of what we should do with
it,' he said with relief. 'We could hardly keep it here indefinitely. Exercise
prudence, that's all I ask, Mr Bale. Be politic in what you say.'

    A
brief nod. 'May I spend a little time with Mary, sir?'

    'You
want to go in there
again?'
asked a shocked Chiffinch.

    'Please,
sir. Alone.'

    'That
is more than I would care to do.'

    'Mary
Hibbert was a friend, Mr Chiffinch. I'd like to pay my respects. I'd also like
to take a closer look at her injuries. You may be repelled by death but I've
looked upon it many times in my walk of life. There may be signs I can pick up,
little clues that could have eluded your physician.' He moved towards the door.
'May I have your permission?'

    But
he did not wait for it to be granted. Letting himself into the morgue, he
closed the door silently behind him. Chiffinch gave a slight grimace and looked
across at Christopher.

    'Mr
Bale is a strange man,' he remarked.

    'You
won't find a more honest or reliable fellow.'

    'A
touch of deference might improve his character.'

    'Try
telling him that,' suggested Christopher with a smile.

    'He
seems to think he's a law unto himself.'

    'Oh,
he is. Without question.'

    'Be
that as it may,' said Chiffinch sternly, 'I am glad of a moment alone with you.
Unlike the constable, you appreciate His Majesty's deep personal interest in
this matter. He's displeased, Mr Redmayne. Progress in such a short time was
too much to expect, but he did want a report from you. Yet we heard not a
word.'

    'I
was too preoccupied with the search.'

    'A
maidservant abducted, a brother attacked. These are not minor matters. We
should have been informed of them. What else have you been keeping from us?'

    'Nothing
of note.'

    'Where
has your investigation led you?'

    Christopher
gave him a brief account of progress so far, omitting any reference to
Jonathan's earlier refusal to help and instead praising the constable for his readiness.
He listed the names that Henry had collected during his researches at the
theatre and mentioned the curious fact Jonathan had unearthed in the Red Lion.
William Chiffinch was intrigued.

    'Bartholomew
Gow?' 'Apparently he lives somewhere in the lane.'

    'Why
should his wife be going to see him?' asked the other. 'The two of them have
parted. It's against nature. Ladies like Harriet Gow do not have assignations
with discarded husbands.'

    'We
have no proof that she did on this occasion.'

    'But
it's a worrying coincidence.'

    'That's
why we mean to look into it.'

    'Her
coach is ambushed close to Mr Gow's house? That can surely be no accident, Mr
Redmayne. Find the man.'

    'We
mean to, sir.'

    'And
send a report to me when you do.'

    Christopher
nodded. Jonathan Bale came out of the room, face ashen and head lowered.
Whatever he had learned during his vigil, he was keeping to himself. Chiffinch
did not press him. Escorting the two men out, he handed them over to the
waiting servants whose torches lit their way back to the coach. It was only
when the vehicle was well clear of the Palace that Jonathan broke his silence.

    'I'm
ashamed of myself, Mr Redmayne,' he admitted.

    'Ashamed?'

    'Of
those suspicions I had. Mrs Gow is a true victim, I concede that now. An
unscrupulous woman might try to trick money out of the men in her life but she
would never go to these lengths.' A deep sigh escaped him. 'Mary Hibbert loved
working for Mrs Gow. It shone out of her. And it was obvious that her mistress
treated her well. She would never be party to what happened to the girl.'

    'The
same fate may befall Harriet Gow if we don't find her soon.'

    'We'll
find her,' vowed Jonathan,
'and
the men who killed Mary Hibbert. I've a
word or two to say to them on her behalf.'

    'So
have I,' said Christopher, gritting his teeth. 'They're the same villains who
attacked my brother, remember.'

    'Callous
rogues, sir. Far too fond of those cudgels.'

    'What
do you mean?'

    'You
didn't see Mary's body, sir,' said Jonathan quietly. 'I did. I felt dreadful,
having to look at her lying naked on that slab. But it had to be done. The
physician was lying, Mr Redmayne.'

    'What
do you mean?'

    'Mary
suffered a great deal. Her whole body was covered in bruises where she'd been
cudgelled unmercifully. I think she was beaten to death. My guess is that they
only broke her neck afterwards. These men are animals,' he said with rancour.
'They didn't just murder the girl. They
enjoyed
it.'

    After
a long and largely sleepless night, Harriet Gow dozed off in the chair, still
agonising over her decision to condone her maidservant's bold escape bid. Her slumbers
were soon interrupted. The door was unlocked and unbolted then flung open to
allow the man and the woman to come bustling in. They wasted no time on a
greeting. Harriet was grabbed and lifted bodily from her chair before being
dragged out. As they hustled her up the steps, she found her voice again.

    'Where
are you taking me?' she bleated.

    'Be
quiet!' grunted the man.

    'Who
are you?'

    'Never
you mind.'

    'You're
hurting my arm.'

    'Be
glad that I don't do worse.'

    'What's
going on?' she cried.

    'You'll
be told in time.'

    'Where's
Mary?'

    'Forget
about her.'

    'Tell
me!'

    The
man ignored her. Harriet tried hard to assert herself.

    'You
can't do this to me!' she protested with as much dignity as she could muster.
'Do you know who I am? What I am?'

    'Oh,
yes,' said the man with a throaty chuckle. 'We know.'

    The
dialogue took her up the staircase and along the landing. They were marching her
back to her room. The change of accommodation was welcome but her relief was
tinged with apprehension. Mary Hibbert's fate took precedence over her own
immediate comfort. Harriet continued to ask about her until the door of the
bedchamber was opened and she was pushed into it. Turning to continue her
pleas, she found the door shut firmly in her face. At least she had been
rescued from the cellar. What had prompted that? She could not believe that her
captors had taken pity on her. Both of them - the man
and
the woman -
had been consistently brusque with her. They spoke only to give her commands
and they had no compunction about laying violent hands on her.

    Evidently,
they were acting on orders - but who was giving them? Was there someone else in
the house, supervising her imprisonment and controlling any punishment she
needed to suffer? Her two captors wore masks to avoid being recognised. Did
that mean she had seen them before, or were they merely concealing their
identity as a precaution against being picked out by her at a later date? And
what of their master? Why did he not put in an appearance, if only to taunt
her? What made him keep so carefully out of the way?