Death at Apothecaries' Hall (26 page)

The only discordant note in this domestically blissful world was struck by the couple's niece, Mary Ann Whittingham, who was currently passing through a particularly tiresome phase that all adolescent girls have in common.

The young woman, for thus the little beauty had become, stood up as John and Samuel entered the Fieldings' salon, shown upstairs by a servant.

‘Why Mr Rawlings – and Mr Swann is it not? – how delightful to see you again.'

The Apothecary shot her an acerbic look. ‘Mary Ann, I'm glad to find you well.'

‘Oh, never better, Sir.'

She fluttered lashes which concealed eyes of a piercing gentian shade and John was horrified to see Samuel make the kind of bow he would to an adult female.

The Blind Beak spoke from his chair by the fire. ‘You've come on business, I take it, Mr Rawlings?'

‘Business indeed, Sir. May we speak privately?'

‘By all means. Let us go into my study.'

Mr Fielding got to his feet, tall, large framed and agile, and led the way from the room, using a switch which he carried before him to help him avoid any obstacles in his path.

John was fascinated to find himself in a part of the house he had never seen before. Downstairs, leading off the Public Office, the Magistrate had a study full of legal papers and law books, a domain that the Apothecary always associated with Joe Jago, who masterminded the reading and writing of all official documents and letters for his sightless master. But climbing up one flight from the salon, John and Samuel found themselves in a snug little room, warmed by a fire of coal and wood, containing only a desk and two chairs for furniture. Here, books written by the Magistrate's half brother, Henry Fielding, crammed the shelves, along with works by Defoe, Swift and Richardson. This was clearly the place to which the Fieldings escaped when they wanted to read privately.

The Magistrate rang a bell and ordered the responding servant to fetch another chair, then, when all three of them were seated, he turned his head in the direction of John. ‘So what has been happening, my friend?'

In as concise a manner as he could, the Apothecary spoke of everything that had taken place since their last meeting in the court at Bow Street. When he had finished, the Blind Beak sat in silence for a moment, then turned the black bandage that hid his eyes in John's direction. ‘There's something else, isn't there?'

It was uncanny, for the Apothecary had omitted all mention of the attack on Francis Cruttenden, feeling it hardly relevant to the case they were discussing.

‘Yes, there is, Sir. There's a Liveryman called Francis Cruttenden …'

‘So I believe. Joe has spoken to me about him. You asked him to make some enquiries into the man's background, I believe.'

‘Yes I did.'

‘May I ask why that was?'

‘No reason really.'

The Magistrate's eyebrows rose and a small smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.

Without knowing quite why, John felt obliged to explain. ‘Well, that isn't quite true. I met the man when I called on Master Alleyn to check his progress. Alas, he had died that morning, and even the Liveryman was unable to save him. Be that as it may, I took an immediate dislike to Cruttenden. And now I dislike him more than ever.'

‘Oh?'

Shooting Samuel a look that defied him to elaborate, John said, ‘He's obsessed by young women. I believe him to be a seducer on a grand scale.'

‘And you don't approve?'

‘Call me prudish if you wish, Sir, but no, I don't.'

Mr Fielding cleared his throat. ‘Neither do I, come to that. However, Joe's enquiries revealed that his current young creature is none other than Clariana Gill, daughter of the murdered man, but then you would know that fact.'

‘I certainly do. Yet there is something even more interesting.' And John explained in detail exactly what had taken place at the Assembly on the previous evening.

The Magistrate sat silently for a moment or two, then said, ‘You are telling me that he was attacked by someone in the pay of the Marquis of Kensington?'

‘That I don't know. The witness simply said that he saw the assailant get into a coach bearing the Marquis's coat of arms.'

‘Then deep enquiries must be made. I shall call on Kensington myself, and you must accompany me, Mr Rawlings.'

‘It would be a pleasure, Sir.'

Samuel spoke for the first time. ‘Is there any sign of the missing watchman, Griggs?'

The Blind Beak shook his head. ‘None at all. He has vanished from the face of the earth, or so it would seem.'

‘Into the river in my view.'

‘But not yet out again.'

John changed the topic. ‘How do we proceed now?'

‘As soon as you have gone, Mr Rawlings, I shall despatch the two Brave Fellows to fetch the body and take it to the mortuary. Then tomorrow, when it is light, I would like you, if it is convenient …'

‘I shall make it so.'

‘… to search Tobias Gill's house and shop from top to bottom. Who knows what might be revealed in the way of a clue to this ghastly crime? Then, Mr Rawlings, I think you should talk to Harriet Clarke. From what you have said of her she sounds an intriguing woman, possibly with something to hide. That done, I suggest we call on the Marquis. I shall dissemble and pretend that I am looking for a property in Kensington. I shall then drop Cruttenden's name into the conversation and proceed from there.'

Samuel spoke again. ‘Sir, do you think the murder of Master Alleyn and that of Tobias Gill are connected in any way?'

‘Very probably, yes. I warned you, Mr Rawlings, that this killer is dangerous. Maybe both Gill and Cruttenden discovered more about Alleyn's death than we know. Perhaps that is why both were attacked, one fatally.'

‘But what could the Marquis of Kensington have to do with a modest Liveryman living in Chelsea?'

‘That is what we must find out, for there is a connection in all this. I feel it in my gut.'

‘I wonder what the link could possibly be?'

‘When we know that, we know the truth,' said Mr Fielding. He got to his feet. ‘Gentlemen, we can achieve nothing further tonight. Go and break the sad news to Clariana Gill, and while you are doing so, see if there is anything further you can discover about her relationship with her elderly beau.'

‘She is clearly fascinated by him.'

‘Power and money are potent aphrodisiacs.'

John shook his head. ‘Just why is he so high and so mighty? Liveryman is a worthy position indeed, but not sufficiently exalted to sustain the style in which Francis Cruttenden lives.'

‘I'll instruct Jago to enquire further.'

‘I think perhaps Harriet Clarke might hold the key. She and her mother once worked for him as servants.'

‘Was she seduced by him?' Mr Fielding asked out of the blue.

John stared. ‘By God, Sir, I hadn't thought of that. But do you know, you might be right.'

‘Then you'll have to find out, won't you?'

‘Tread carefully,' warned Samuel. ‘Remember what women are like.'

But his friend did not answer, already starting to put an earlier idea together with this latest thought and coming up with the most extraordinary answer.

In the house of death, something moved. John, on his hands and knees in the compounding room where Tobias Gill had been hanged by the neck and left to die, heard the sound distinctly and jumped with fright. Above his head, in the apartments where the dead man had lived with his daughter, someone had just walked across the floor. Quite alone, for the two Brave Fellows had departed with Tobias's body during the previous night, the Apothecary felt panic rise within him, and had to breathe deeply in order to bring himself under control.

The place had been empty when he had arrived, there was no doubt about that. Before he had begun his painstaking search of the premises, looking for anything that might throw light on Tobias's murder, John had walked through both the shop and the residence over it. All had been quiet, filled with that eerie silence associated with violent death. But now someone was moving about. Feeling for the pistol in his coat pocket, the Apothecary made his way to the bottom of the stairs.

As he put his foot on the first step it cracked like a bullet, sending waves of sound throughout the house. John froze, listening for a response. None came. Nothing stirred in the apartment above. With extreme caution he continued his journey upwards, till at last he stood in the room where only a few nights previously he had dined with a grateful Tobias and petulant Clariana. It seemed a long time ago now, so much had happened in the interim, yet something of that occasion still hung in the air, adding a touch of sadness to the uncanny atmosphere.

And then John shouted with terror as something wrapped itself around his ankles. For no reason ridiculous visions of a serpent came into his mind, but when the Apothecary looked down it was to see a large red cat stropping round him. A great believer in the theory that owners and their pets grow to look alike, John knew at once that it was Clariana's.

He stooped to stroke it and felt a lump in the fur by its ear. Bending lower, the Apothecary saw that it had been wounded in some way and had bled profusely before the flow had congealed.

‘Now what happened to you?' he asked, but the cat made no reply. Finding some water in a ewer, John cleaned the injury, while the cat stood in reasonable patience, hissing occasionally under its breath. The wound was consistent with a blow and the Apothecary wondered whether the cat had got in the murderer's way and had earned a well-aimed kick for its pains. Assured now that the recent intruder had been merely feline, John went back to the compounding room, the cat following behind.

The job of searching for clues was not a pleasant one. So far the Apothecary had painstakingly swept the entire downstairs floor area, looking for anything, however minute, that Tobias's killer might have dropped as he crept up on Gill from behind. That the assailant had pinioned his victim tightly, then probably half strangled the frail fellow before hoisting him into the noose that would finish him off, John was reasonably certain, for the signs of struggle were negligible.

‘It points to him knowing his killer,' the Apothecary said to the cat, which was gingerly washing its ear with a paw.

Much as John had thought, the shop itself had revealed little more than an abandoned suppository, not as skilfully made as those produced by his brand new machine, several pills squashed into the floor by a careless foot, and a few dropped coins. Of the compounding room itself he had higher hopes. Taking up a small hand brush and pan which he had brought with him, John sank to his knees once more and started to sweep gently.

Behind him, the cat started to play with something, patting a mouse substitute along the floor then hooking it with its claws.

‘What have you got?' John asked, and looked over his shoulder.

The cat scudded its toy towards him, and the Apothecary stretched out his hand to pick it up. A gleaming diamond button lay in his palm, twinkling in the pale sunshine coming through the window.

‘How very interesting,' he said, turning it over. ‘Not at all the sort of thing one would expect to find in a workplace. I think, Sir Puss, you have been of great help to me.' So saying, John stowed the button in an inner pocket before continuing his meticulous task.

Five hours later, with dusk beginning to fall, it was done. The entire house had been searched, inch by inch. Exhausted by his quest, John, having first fed the cat with some meat obtained from the butcher, headed straight for an alehouse and downed several draughts before leaving the City behind him and heading for Samuel's establishment, where he cajoled his friend into joining him for dinner at Truby's in St Paul's Churchyard.

‘Well?' said Samuel, once they had ordered their fare.

‘My prize exhibit,' answered John, and produced the button.

‘Where was it?'

‘On the compounding room floor, no less.'

The Goldsmith let out a whistle. ‘Dropped by the murderer?'

‘Quite possibly. It certainly isn't the sort of button Tobias would wear and no apprentice worth the name would own so fine a thing as this.'

‘What about a customer?'

‘Customers don't go into compounding rooms. They remain in the shop.'

Samuel looked thoughtful. ‘This is almost certainly a vital clue. Does it belong to a man or a woman, do you think?'

John turned the button over in his hand. ‘It could be either. Come on, you know about these things. Is the diamond real or paste?'

Rather surprisingly, his friend produced a jeweller's glass which he put to his eye. ‘I'm a goldsmith not a gemster, but I'd say it was real.'

‘Then it comes from a very expensive garment indeed.'

‘Almost royally so. What will you do with it?'

‘Keep it for the time being. I want to show it to a few people and gauge their reaction.'

Samuel rubbed his hands together. ‘This is most exciting. I do believe we have reached a turning point.'

‘If Mr Fielding is right and the two murders are connected, then we have.'

‘Unless the button is Clariana's.'

‘Even then,' said John darkly, ‘there could be a path to follow.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘She is besotted with Cruttenden but Tobias disapproved of the match and threatened to stand in her way. Perhaps in a moment of blind fury …'

‘She killed her own father? Oh, surely not. The very idea is unthinkable.' Samuel's hearty countenance looked aghast.

‘It would not be the first time in our investigations that we would have come across such a thing.'

‘Not involving a woman, though John. A female could never do anything so vile.'

To have argued would have been to have upset his friend, so the Apothecary remained silent.