Hammersmith produced a small pad of paper and a pencil from his breast pocket. “Names, please,” he said.
“Ah, yes, well, the vicar’s Mr Brothwood. He’s the older gentleman, right over there. Miss Jessica’s our schoolteacher. She’s got two of the Price children here with her. The boy is Peter. The girl Anna’s a year or two younger than he is.”
“It’s their brother that’s missing?”
“That’s right. Little Oliver.”
“Isn’t there a fourth child in the family?” Day said.
“There is,” Rose said. “I haven’t a clue where Virginia is today, but I’d imagine she’s probably back home with the housekeeper.”
“What about your daughter? The girl who found the eyeball? Is she here?”
“That’d be Hilde. She’s my youngest. She’s in our rooms upstairs, tendin’ to her mother.”
“We’d like to talk to her,” Hammersmith said.
“You might wanna put your bags away first and get somethin’ warm in your bellies. I’ll have some of that roast sent up to your rooms. Or I’ve got some groaty dick back in the kitchen, still pipin’ hot from the oven. Hilde’s not goin’ nowhere.”
“Thank you,” Day said. “Something to drink would be nice.”
“Of course,” Rose said. “What kind of host am I, not offerin’ it already?” He pulled three mugs out from under his side of the bar and set them on the long counter. He walked to the other end of the counter and came back with a tall thin glass, as big around as a stout rope and at least three feet tall. He filled it with beer from a keg on the wall behind him and handed it across to Constable Grimes. “Run that out to Freddy, would you? Must be freezin’ his knickers off out there in the carriage.”
Grimes took the glass and carried it across the room and out the door into the snow.
“That has to be the tallest glass I’ve ever seen,” Day said.
“Gotta be that tall if you’re to hand it up to a carriage driver, don’t it?” Rose said. “Otherwise, the poor gents’d allus have to be clamberin’ down and back up just to get a bit of refreshment.”
“Ingenious,” Day said.
Rose filled the three normal-size mugs with beer from the keg. He handed two of them to the men from London and set the third mug at the end of the counter in anticipation of Grimes’s return.
Day raised his mug in a silent toast to the innkeeper and gulped half of the beer at once. He set the mug on the counter and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “Your daughter Hilde,” he said. “Doesn’t she have friends?”
“Course.”
“But she likes to play by herself outdoors.”
“What’re you gettin’ at, Mr Day?”
“The report we have says that she was playing alone, climbing a tree, when she found the evidence. It might help us to know more about her habits.”
The innkeeper suddenly leaned across the bar and grabbed Day’s wrist. An excited murmur passed through the people watching from the other end of the room. Hammersmith’s hand went immediately to the nightstick at his waist, but Day shook his head. Hammersmith left his hand there, hovering above his belt, waiting.
Rose’s voice was low and hoarse, barely above a whisper. “Let’s talk honest, while Mr Grimes is outten earshot. You can see my Hilde when I says you can see her. That might be never. Folks round here know what’s happened, and we’ll deal with it ourselves. Not a one here wanted Grimes to send for you lot, but here you are and you’re under my roof and that makes you my responsibility. But that don’t make me your friend. And it don’t give you free rein here.”
Day nodded. Rose let go of his arm and took a step back.
“What did happen?” Day said. He sounded unfazed. It was as if Rose’s outburst hadn’t occurred. Hammersmith knew that the inspector could be infinitely patient when he was asking questions.
“I’m sorry?”
“You said you know what’s happened to the missing family. What was it, then?”
“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”
“Try me.”
“We can take care of our own, and we can bury ’em, too.”
“Then you think they’re dead?”
The innkeeper blinked. “Hilde found an eye. Said so yerself.”
“That doesn’t mean they’re all dead.”
“Just ain’t found the bodies yet.”
“Where have you looked for them?”
“Dunno. Ain’t looked very hard since everybody knows what we’ll find when we find them.”
“Pretend we don’t live in this godforsaken hellhole and give us a fact we can use,” Hammersmith said. Day looked at him, eyes wide, but there was a small smile on his lips.
“It’s a good village we got here, mister.”
“I’m sure it is,” Day said.
Rose nodded. His shoulders slumped and the hostility drained from his face. “Oliver, the missing boy, he was a fine boy, too. This whole village is in mournin’. You’ve got no part of that. And this place is dangerous for you.”
“Why is it dangerous?”
“There’s somethin’ at work out there. It’s not here for you, it’s for us. But all the same, don’t be wanderin’ about by yerselves.”
“You have Scotland Yard here to deal with anything you think you have,” Day said. “So let us help you.”
“Why did Grimes bring us here if you don’t need us?” Hammersmith said.
“That’d be a question for Grimes hisself,” Rose said.
“What’s all this?” Constable Grimes said. His cheeks were bright red from the cold outside and he’d left a trail of slush behind him, but the two detectives hadn’t heard him reenter the inn. “You’ve a question for me?”
“How many able-bodied men can you muster for a search tonight?” Day said.
“There’s not much daylight left,” Grimes said.
“Will you not listen to me?” Rose said. “I’ve told you there’s danger. Nobody should be goin’ out there tonight.”
Hammersmith turned on him. “It’s time you listened to us. Right now there are people who need us in London. But we’re here and we’ll be here for the next two days. We’re not leaving until we’ve found that little boy and his parents. If you won’t help us do that, then you’ll at least stay out of our way.”
Rose sniffed. “You think I don’t want the boy found?”
“You’ve made it clear that you don’t.”
“Then I’ve made the wrong thing clear. What I’m tryin’ to tell you is that the boy’s dead as sure as we’re standing here. There’s nothing you can do for him, except find his tiny body out there. But if you’re not careful, you’ll end up dead, too.”
“Is that a threat? Because if it is-”
“Oh, stop this, the lot of you.”
Day turned at the sound of a reedy voice behind his left shoulder. A painfully thin older gentleman stood there, dressed all in black except for a thick woolen oatmeal-colored sweater that had bunched up under his ribs. He extended a hand, and Day shook it. “Mr Rose means well,” the old man said, “but I’m afraid he’s liable to run you off if he can.”
“And why would he do that, Mr. .?”
“Brothwood. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“Of course. The vicar.”
“Indeed.”
“And why would Mr Rose try to run us off?”
“Please, Mr Scotland Yard,” the vicar said, “come and meet the others. I promise we’ll do our best to explain everything that we can.”
Brothwood gestured toward the farthest of the two fireplaces, where the handful of villagers watched them. Day nodded. “Lead the way, Mr Brothwood.”
6
Day and Hammersmith followed Brothwood to the small gathering near the fireplace. Grimes went with them, but hung back, quiet, apparently content to observe. Aside from the vicar, Day counted six other people there. An old woman bobbed her head at him. She wore a simple dress with a subdued floral pattern. Her hair was white, but she had it carefully done up at the top of her head. From the pattern of lines across her face, it seemed to Day that she must have smiled a lot in the ordinary course of things, but as they came near, the old woman’s eyes darted around the common room and she took an involuntary step back, away from the policemen. Day suppressed an urge to reach out and pull her away from the fire, which threatened to lick the hem of her dress. Another woman, much younger and slimmer, stood next to the old woman. Her long hair was copper-colored and shimmered in the firelight. Her eyes twinkled (although that, too, might have been a trick of the light), and she allowed the faintest smile to pass over her lips by way of greeting. Two children stood behind her, close to the fire. The boy was perhaps twelve years old, the girl a bit younger, but just as tall. They were both slightly built, with rounded shoulders, fair hair, and clothing that was a bit too small for them. Neither of them looked directly at the policemen, but the boy took a step in front of the girl, as if to protect her. A young man who stood warming his hands at the fire smiled at them. The man was short and thin, with long floppy brown hair and wire-framed spectacles. He wore a waistcoat but no jacket, and his shirtsleeves were rolled up almost to his elbows.