Authors: Gwendoline Butler

Dread Murder (10 page)

BOOK: Dread Murder

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She looked towards Charlie and smiled.

âShe likes me,' he thought. âThat was a real smile.' He was learning more about himself and how others saw him with every day in this town. But soon he would have to go home, but which home? Certainly not the blacking factory. But he knew he would have to meet his parents because without that meeting the wound in him would not heal, nor life go on. And life was his job; he would laugh about it, write about it, invent it. He could feel it bubbling up inside him.

The Major had a stick with him, which was not only strong and thick, but pointed. He walked around the bloodstain, poking.

It did not go in.

âNothing buried here,' Charlie decided.

âIt's all solid stone there,' volunteered Miss Fairface, who was also watching.

âThe dead woman didn't bleed,' put in Beau, who was, Charlie decided, always going to be someone who stated the obvious.

âThis blood came from someone else,' said the Major. âOr some animal.'

âMice or rats. Plenty of both round here.'

Mearns looked around. âNo bones.'

âThe cats round here are hungry,' said Miss Fairface.

She was a hard woman, Charlie decided; nice, but
hard â¦ Perhaps actresses had to be like that. It was something he might aim at himself.

Outside the yard was an area of rough grass where a carter kept his old horse. The Major looked towards it, then walked out. Charlie followed him and did the same, but at a distance.

âYour stick is going in more easily there, Sir,' he said to the Major who had begun to prod the grass. âGround must be softer.'

âAye,' said Mearns. âOr dug over.'

âA hole, Sir?'

âLikely, likely.'

He looked around for something to dig with.

âThere's a spade behind the stage,' volunteered Charlie. He was a sharp observer of the world around him. âIt's not very big, but it might do. I don't know what they use it for.'

âIt's a prop,' said Miss Fairface, âfor a play about Adam and Eve; it was used in the Garden of Eden.' She saw their faces. âIt's all right, it was a comedy. You didn't have to believe it.'

âNor do you have to believe her,' put in Beau. âIt goes with a bucket of sand in case we have a conflagration.'

Charlie looked at him with intensity, fascinated that someone really used words like that which he would only have used as a joke.

âGo and bring me the spade,' ordered the Major, giving Charlie a nod. When he came back with it, Mearns said: âYou can dig.'

Charlie thought for a minute, then held out his hand. âHow much?'

âI'll see what the job's worth when you've done it.'

Charlie grinned and got down to it. He was a good bargainer.

He shovelled away; the earth was soft and damp. After a bit, he raised his head.

âI'm getting there.'

The Major turned towards Miss Fairface and Beau. âYou two still here?'

They didn't answer.

Charlie stopped digging and looked down into the hole from which a smell began to rise. Then he quietly said to the Major: âI can see a dog's head.'

Miss Fairface gave a little scream. But she did not move away. No scream from Beau; already he seemed to have melted away.

âIf you're going to stay, then keep quiet,' ordered the Major.

Mearns came up to where Charlie was digging. He bent over the hole, then straightened himself: âIt's Traddles' dog,' he said briefly. âThe rest of it is there, buried.'

âSure?' asked Charlie.

âI recognise it. He loved it. The only thing he loved.'

âAt least it got buried,' Charlie thought, ânot like Traddles,' realising that whoever had owned the dead dog was also likely to have owned the body parts he had carried.

âShovel the earth back, cover him up,' ordered the Major.

Charlie bent to his job.

âWhat sort of dog was he?'

âJust a tyke Traddles picked up from the gutter as a puppy, but it was a decent dog.'

But Miss Fairface â with the sharp eyes of the performer (actresses, she had once said, have to see everything: which man will protect them, and which will seduce them and run; and is that a real diamond or paste?) â had seen something.

âStop! Underneath the dog â I can see clothes. No, perhaps not clothes, but red stuff â¦silk maybe.'

âRed silk?' Charlie looked. Yes! There was a hint, a flash of redness beneath the shaggy fur.

The Major pushed him aside to look. âYes, I see something red. But silk? How can you tell?'

âI can't of course,' she said, âI'm just guessing.'

Using his stick, the Major gently moved the dog's head to get a better look at the red. Delicately, he dragged at the cloth, catching a glimpse of what was beneath. A small piece of the material stuck to his stick as he drew it out.

âIt
is
silk. And red â or was once. Stained now.'

The torn triangle that the Major had on the end of his stick was marked with brown. He put it back in the hole. âCover it up,' he ordered Charlie.

âIf you say so.'

âI do.'

Charlie finished up his work, then held out his hand. The Major was not ungenerous.

âCome to my dressing room,' Miss Fairface said to
Charlie as she left.

âPut the spade back where you found it first,' the Major ordered, as he also departed.

Charlie nodded. As he took it back, he found himself wondering what thoughts had crossed the Major's mind as he plucked out the stained red silk.

Whatever those thoughts had been, he decided, they had not been welcome ones.

Sergeant Denny was asleep in the big leather chair by the window as Mearns came in.

âYes, my darling,' muttered Denny.

The Major pinched his arm. âWho are you calling “darling”?'

Denny opened his eyes slowly. âWell, not you.'

âI hope not.'

âI was dreaming,' said Denny with dignity. He got up.

âThere is some tea in the pot, and porter on the table.'

Mearns drank the tea thirstily, then moved on to the porter. He drained the beaker and set it down with a bang that announced it was now business.

âSo, what have you done today? What is new in the world?'

âNothing from London,' Denny said carefully.

âSo, what else?'

âHis Majesty rose late, as usual. Lady Hertford wanted to see him.'

Lady Hertford had been the object of an obsessive love (although she was said to grant him no favours) for many years. She was not classically beautiful, but she
had a handsome, well-developed figure which always attracted the Prince Regent â as he was when their liaison started. Lady Hertford was the woman for whom he had cast aside Mrs Fitzherbert.

âI thought she was dismissed.'

Denny shrugged. âSo did the King, he hid in his bedchamber until she was gone. Then Lady Coningham arrived.'

âThe “Vice Queen”, as they call her.'

Denny nodded. âSo His Majesty came out â¦ Only Lady Hertford had not quite left so the two ladies met.'

âOnly wanted the Princess of Wales to come,' said Mearns.

âThey got better than that; Queen Caroline appeared with two of the Princesses, Amelia and the little one whose name I always forget. She had dragooned her sisters-in-law (for they do not like her) to come with her. Of course, they hate the Vice Queen even more, even the little one.'

âSophia, that would be.' The one that is as quiet as a mouse. The old King, their father, George III, would not let them leave their mother, or get married. âHe has a lot to answer for,' the Major always thought. A couple of the girls had escaped to make suitable princely German marriages, which were not much to the satisfaction of the present King, who was busy turning himself, as far as he was able, into the civilised English gentleman. âSo what happened?'

âThat's all I know,' admitted Denny with regret. âThe Mistress of the Robes and one of the King's Gentlemen
swept everyone into an inner room.'

âIt'll be all over the Castle tomorrow â today even â so we shall know soon.' And a finely embroidered version it would be, as the Major well knew, but none the worse for that. Denny was only one amongst many in the Castle for enhancing a piece of gossip and sending it on its way.

Sergeant Denny nodded at the prediction, then sat looking at the Major, waiting. He knew this man; there was more to come.

âI visited Felix today.'

âI know,' said Denny. âThen you came back here with that boy.'

âI talked with him â not a man after my own heart, but clever.'

âSo will he keep the peace in Windsor?'

âHe is the sort of man who will be used more and more in policing in the town. All towns; London will get its share. He talked, but not much information was passed on to me. He knows more than he is telling.'

âNot like you then,' thought the cynical Denny.

âBut he told me about the blood at the back of the Theatre.'

Denny nodded.

âI thought it my duty to investigate the blood. I went to see it for myself.'

âI'd have come too if you'd asked me. Find anything?'

âWe found a hole; my stick sank in the soft soil. So Charlie dug it up.'

âDid he now,' thought Denny. He stood up. âCome
on, out with it! I can see there was something â you've been so long-winded about it.'

âI thought I might find the rest of Traddles' body.'

âAnd did you?'

âNo, just his dog.'

âFoxy.' Denny looked sad.

Mearns nodded. Denny could read his face. âAnd something else?'

âYes. Underneath, wrapped in silk, was a baby.'

Charlie had not wasted his time with Miss Fairface. He had eaten well with the Major and Sergeant Denny but, mindful that he did not know where his next meal would come from, he hid food â a good thick wedge of it â from her tray in his pocket. Thanking Miss Fairface, who was about to take a short rest before her performance, Charlie left the Theatre. He was more convinced every day that he liked Theatre people, but was unsure if he himself wished to act.

He passed up the road, then down towards where Felix had his office.

Mr Pickettwick, taking the air, saw him. âWhere is that boy going?' he asked himself out loud. Pickettwick was planning to visit his London home to check that his business was being well run. Although he often claimed that he was retired, and devoting himself to his literary and historical interests, this was not strictly true; he still kept a keen eye and a strong hand on his affairs. Meanwhile, his âliterary and historical pursuits' were assumed by the cynical but uncensorious Major Mearns
to be various young men in the Royal Guard â or any of the young actresses and pretty ladies who caught his eye. Pickettwick was a man of broad tastes. The equally tolerant Denny judged that there was âno harm in the old âun'.

The unknowing Charlie passed on to a point where he could watch Felix's quarters without being too noticeable himself. The house seemed quiet, so he moved closer, still listening and watching.

Then he slid round to the back of the house, to the window through which he had previously seen Spike and Dog. He saw Spike at once, with Dog close behind him, as if they could never be parted, which Charlie reckoned was pretty near the case. They had each other and that was all.

âWell, you've got me now, too,' Charlie thought conclusively.

âSpike?' said Charlie, uttering the name softly.

The lad heard his name and looked up, but said nothing. The dog looked up too, his eyes sharp. He gave his tail one quick flick.

âHe knows me,' Charlie thought with satisfaction. âKnows I'm a good supplier!'

Spike had a wet mop in his hand. It looked as though he was cleaning the back yard. Possibly the house too. He was slave labour.

âYou've been working?'

Spike nodded, words not being his medium.

This was when Charlie noticed a long length of thin rope tied around Spike's ankle with the other end
attached to the big, heavy door.

BOOK: Dread Murder

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