“Well, of course it wasn’t. It was a prank. Pranks aren’t meant to be nice.”
“I don’t like pranks.”
“You’re not clever enough to think of any or you would like them.”
“I don’t think I would.”
“Have you ever seen a pig bleed?” the girl said.
Henry ignored her. He left his boots untied and stood.
“I have. Seen a pig bleed, I mean,” Virginia said. “Its eyes get very big when it gets cut. They bulge out. It’s quite funny. That’s what you looked like when you fell down.”
Henry said nothing. He stooped and lifted the pew, turned and moved across the aisle. The girl skipped ahead of him and put out her tiny foot to trip him, but he was ready for more pranks and stepped easily over her leg, moved her gently out of the way with his elbow. The girl backed up and pouted at him.
“You’re no fun at all, you know.”
Henry ignored her. He carried the pew across the sanctuary and set it down. He looked carefully around for the girl and saw her running down the aisle toward two other children. She had lost interest in him. He breathed a big sigh of relief. There were more pews that needed to be moved, but he decided to sit, to rest for a minute and relace his boots.
When he was ready to get back to work, he checked to see where the cruel little girl was. He didn’t want any more pranks.
It seemed to him that it was better to be nice than to be clever.
48
Day didn’t understand how it was possible for a dead body to bleed, and he didn’t stop to ponder it. His Colt Navy had cleared his jacket and was aimed at Bennett Rose before the innkeeper could move his own weapon. Sutton Price stood numb by the bed, staring at his son. There was no immediate danger from that side of the room. First things first.
“Give me your rifle, Mr Rose,” Day said.
“I have to shoot him, Inspector,” Rose said. “I have to. He killed his own boy.”
Calvin Campbell had been standing, dazed, next to Hester Price, but now he took a step toward Sutton, his massive fist raised above the miner’s head. Hammersmith grabbed Campbell’s fist and appeared to be trying to force it to one side, but Campbell didn’t budge. Even so, Day trusted his sergeant to handle that situation for at least the next few seconds. The rifle was still the biggest threat in the room.
“We don’t know that he did anything yet,” Day said.
“We do. The boy’s bleedin’. Show a murderer his victim, bring him near enough to the body, and if it bleeds. . well, then, that’s your man.”
“One of your superstitions?”
“How else would you explain that, Mr Day?” Rose pointed to Oliver. “Is that somethin’ you’ve seen before?”
“No,” Day said. “But I don’t pretend to know what it means.”
“I do know.”
“Be that as it may, give me your rifle. You people called us here, asked us to investigate this. Give us a chance to do that. If you shoot Sutton Price, I’ll have to arrest you for murder. Is that what you want?”
“Do it,” Rose said. “The people here are different. This isn’t London. We follow the old ways.”
“But it’s London you’d be going to.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, the instant I arrest you, you’ll be on a train to London, where you’ll face proper justice.”
“That ain’t how it works.”
“It works however I say it works.” Day glared down the barrel of his Colt at the innkeeper. He saw the rifle begin to waver as Bennett Rose lost his resolve, but Day was careful to hide the relief he felt. He kept his expression stern and his eyes steely and he tried not to shiver with cold. He hoped he looked the part of the London lawman, despite his ragged clothing and his disheveled hair.
Finally, Bennett Rose nodded and handed over the rifle. “This isn’t the time, is all. I can wait. Justice will be served the Black Country way.” He pointed at Sutton Price and sneered. “You hear me?”
Day didn’t wait to find out whether Sutton Price had heard the innkeeper. With his right hand, he slipped his revolver back into his jacket as he took the rifle from Rose with his left hand. He gripped the rifle by its barrel and shoved it back hard at Bennett Rose’s ample midsection. The innkeeper toppled over backward with a grunt and fell against the wall behind him. He slid down the wall, holding his abdomen.
“Stay there,” Day said. “Stay on the floor.” He swung the rifle around and pointed it at Calvin Campbell. “Drop your arm, sir, and be careful of my sergeant when you do it.”
Campbell sized Day up and gave him a slight smile. “You’re someone to reckon with, aren’t you, Inspector?”
“I’ve had a rough day.”
Campbell lowered his fist and clapped Hammersmith on the shoulder. He pulled Hester Price away from her husband, turned her toward him, and gathered her in his arms. She collapsed against him, her face buried against his broad chest, her arms wrapped around his waist. Day could hear her muffled weeping. Campbell closed his eyes, one hand stroking Hester’s hair.
“Will you take Sutton Price back to London, then?” Campbell said. He kept his eyes closed when he spoke.
Day looked at Oliver’s father. The miner stood like a statue by the bed, still staring at his son’s body. He hadn’t moved when Hester had beat her fists against him or when Rose had shot at the ceiling, hadn’t seemed to notice any of the drama happening around him. He simply stood. Day imagined he might stand there until he died.
There was much about police work that Day didn’t feel he was particularly good at, but understanding people, even criminals, knowing their motives and behavior, that was something he felt confident about. None of the people in the little room with Oliver Price’s body acted like a murderer. They had found the missing people they’d been sent to Blackhampton for, but there was still much that Day didn’t understand about it all.
“Not yet,” he said. “Mr Campbell, I need my doctor and I don’t think I can spare Sergeant Hammersmith. Would you do me the great favor of bringing Dr Kingsley here just as quickly as possible?”
“I would rather not leave Hester right now.”
“I understand, but Hester needs to know what’s happened to her child, and Dr Kingsley is best qualified to tell us.”
“Send Rose.”
“Mr Rose’s behavior is. . unpredictable. He’s already caused a great deal of trouble and I would prefer to keep an eye on him here.”
“Surely I’m a suspect. What’s to keep me from leaving Blackhampton?”
“I don’t think you’ll leave her.”
Campbell looked down at Hester, at the top of her head. “No,” he said. “You’re right about that.”
Hester pulled away from him and looked up at his face. The room was dark, and lamplight from the corner table caused silver hairs among her yellow tresses to sparkle. The corners of her mouth were lined with hard experience and her eyes were rimmed with red. Day looked past the evidence of the years and saw how beautiful she once was. And he looked past the traces of her grief to see how lovely she still was. She reminded him, in some small and indefinite way, of Claire, and he understood Campbell’s devotion. He felt something well up in his own chest, but he swallowed his empathy. He was careful not to look at the little boy lying on the bed.
“Go, Calvin,” Hester said. “Bring the doctor and come back fast.”
Campbell nodded. “You won’t have time to miss me.”
“I’m finished with Blackhampton now,” Hester said. “Do you understand? There’s nothing for me here.”
Campbell nodded again. Without another word, he turned and left the room. Day heard his footsteps on the stairs and then heard the inn’s front door open, heard the wind raging through, and then heard the door close. Suddenly the room was very quiet.
49
The American had not lost his way (he never lost his way), but the journey from the woods to the train depot, while a straight line, was difficult. He wore a good pair of brogans, but they were old and worn and the seams leaked. His woolen socks were soaked through, and he couldn’t feel his toes. He had known too many soldiers, in the old days, who had lost their feet to frostbite. He didn’t want the same for himself. But there was nowhere to rest. The few outbuildings he saw along the outskirts of the road had lights on in their windows. People were inside, cozy and dry by their fires. He knew from hard experience that if he went to their doors they wouldn’t let him come inside. One look at his face would be enough to ensure that. But he simply didn’t have the heart to kill a family just so he could enjoy the warmth of their home for an hour.