“Roaring boys?” said Shakespeare.
“Aye, all loud and full o’themselves,” she said. “Puttin’ on airs like they was young lords instead o’ ‘prentices. I didn’t like them. Made fun o’ me, they did. Not nice at all, like you good gentlemen.”
“How many of these boys were there, Kate?” asked Dickens, casually, though Smythe noticed that his eyes had narrowed slightly as he watched her reply.
“Four or five, methinks. Nay, ‘twas five. I remember now. One o’ them tripped me an’ made me fall an’ drop two jugs! He had a mean laugh, he did, an’ a cruel way o’mockin’ me lip, makin’ a face like a cony…” She demonstrated, twitching her lip like a rabbit. “An’ him with his pockmarked face and his own lip all droopy and twisted like. Nasty, evil bugger.”
Smythe and Dickens exchanged glances. “Bruce McEnery,” said Smythe.
“Aye! ‘Twas his name, all right! One o’ the others called ‘im Bruce!” In her agitation as she lisped the name, she doused both Smythe and Shakespeare with a spray of spittle.
“What was his name again?” asked Dickens, innocently.
“Bruce! Bruce!” She repeated, even more wetly and emphatically, making Smythe and Shakespeare recoil from the shower.
“Methinks the roof is leaking,” Shakespeare said, wryly, wiping his face with his handkerchief.
Smythe leaned forward, took hold of Ben’s hand, fixed him with a glare, and squeezed hard enough to make Dickens catch his breath. “We got the name, all right?” he said.
“Right,” said Dickens, gritting his teeth against the pain. When Smythe released him, he took a deep breath and flexed his fingers experimentally, to see if any of them were broken.
“Ooh, you don’t mean to tell me them horrible boys was friends o’ yours!” said Kate, alarmed at possibly having said the wrong thing.
“Not by a long shot, Kate,” Smythe replied. He removed his cap and touched the bandage on his head. “I have them to thank for this. I have a score to settle with that lot.”
“Ooh, they did that?” Kate said, wide-eyed. “I knew they was no good!”
“And was one of them a handsome looking sort,” asked Smythe, “tall, lean, with black hair and dark eyes, with a scar and a sort of smug, amused expression?”
“Aye, I remember him. I thought the others looked to him as if he was the leader,” Kate said.
“Jack Darnley,” Shakespeare said. “Stoats travel in pairs.”
“And rats travel in packs,” said Smythe, with a grimace of distaste. “It seems the Steady Boys were here that night.”
“Let’s have us another jug, my dear,” said Dickens, bouncing her on his knee. “And hurry back, mind, so we can have more of your pleasant company!”
When she left to get another jug of ale, Dickens turned to Smythe and said, “Faith, Tuck, you have the strength of an ox! You damn near broke my hand!”
“You get her saying ‘Bruce’ again, and I shall,” replied Smythe.
“Oh, I was just having a bit o’ fun,” said Dickens, with a grin.
“The same sort of fun those Steady Boys were having at her expense, no doubt,” Smythe replied. “And if you ask me, ‘tisn’t very kind of you to lead her on so.”
“Perhaps not,” said Dickens, “but it did get us what we wanted, did it not?”
“Indeed,” said Shakespeare. “And thanks to Ben’s winsome ways, we now know not only that Budge and the two women never saw Corwin leave the house, but that they were gone for several hours, during which time a great deal could have happened.”
“Aye,” said Dickens, “and what I was thinking is that this tavern is a bit off the beaten track for the Steady Boys. Not their stalking ground at all. You shall find them on any given night down at the Broom and Garter, where the mood tends to be a bit more boistrous. This here is not their sort of place at all. Tis much too tame and quiet.”
“So then what brought them here?” asked Smythe.
“I was thinking about that very thing,” said Shakespeare. “Does it not seem interesting to you that they just happened to be here on the very night of Master Leonardo’s murder?”
“I wonder how long they stayed?” asked Smythe, glancing at him and raising his eyebrows.
“That is, indeed, the question,” Shakespeare replied. “And here comes young Kate, bringing us our jug and, with any luck, our answer.”
“Ah, there we are!” Dickens exclaimed, as she set down the fresh jug of ale. “I am growing ever fonder of this Devil Dog, sweet Kate. Come, sit you down and have a drink with us!” He tapped his knee and she perched on it quite readily. He poured for all of them, then gave her the first sip from his mug.
“So tell us, Kate,” said Shakespeare, “these boys that were so mean to you that night, do you happen to recall how long they stayed?”
“You mean the first time or the second?” she asked, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.
Shakespeare frowned. “The first time or the second? I do not understand. Whatever do you mean?”
“Well now, the first time, they all come in together,” she said, and Smythe noticed that except when she became excited, she had a way of avoiding the “th” and “s” sounds whenever possible, replacing them with “v’s” and “z’s” in order to minimize her lisp, so that the word ‘first’ came out ‘furz’ and ‘together’ came out ‘togevver.’ It was somehow endearing.
“The first time?” Shakespeare repeated. “You mean to say they left and then came back again, the very same night?”
“Aye. Well, all ‘cept two o’ them.”
“You told us there were five of them in all,” said Shakespeare. “Do you mean that three of them left the tavern and two stayed behind?”
“Aye, you got it,” she said, nodding. “An’ then a bit later, the other three come back and they all left together.”
“Were Budge and the two women in here all during that time?” asked Smythe.
“Aye, they was,” she replied, nodding as Dickens offered her another sip of ale. “I remember ‘cause I kept bringing them more beer.”
“So they drank small beer, then, and not ale?” Shakespeare said. Then he nodded to himself. “ ‘Twould make sense, of course. ‘Tis a cheaper brew, and so they could drink more. And it sounds as if they drank rather a lot. So then while they were drinking and having themselves a fine old time, three of the Steady Boys left, while two remained behind.”
“To act as lookouts, perhaps, and keep an eye on the servants?” asked Smythe.
Shakespeare nodded. “It could be. That way, if Budge and the women started back before the other three returned, then one of the two remaining would run to give his comrades warning, while the other lingered to delay them.”
“The devil gnaw their bones!” Dickens exclaimed. “So they killed Leonardo!”
Kate gasped and her hand went to her mouth.
“We cannot yet say for certain,” Shakespeare said, “but methinks something is rotten here.”
The others frowned and sniffed at their clothing.
“I meant something smells fishy,” Shakespeare said.
Smythe, Kate, and Dickens smelled their armpits.
“Oh, for God’s sake! I meant it seems suspicious, too much of a coincidence!” exclaimed Shakespeare, in exasperation. “Odd’s blood! I know that I am speaking English! Why is it so difficult to understand my meaning?”
“Not a word of this, Kate, you understand?” said Smythe. “Especially if you should see any of those boys again, although I rather doubt you will. Methinks they shall go out of their way to avoid this place for a good long while.”
Her eyes were wide with fear as she nodded mutely and clung to Ben’s arm for support, glancing around at all of them with alarm.