‘Yes, notice which she did not even take. Just left the same day.’ Boleyn shook his head. ‘They could not find her nine years ago; she may be dead by now.’ Then he looked at me with sudden sharpness. ‘Do you think something might have happened to her as well?’
‘It is well worth exploring. Her disappearance just a little before Edith’s was strange.’
‘I always thought she was just another who had had enough of Edith, even though they had seemed close.’ He sighed. ‘Well, the twins could not have been responsible for that. They were nine at the time.’ He fell silent.
I said, ‘I shall see you again tomorrow, or at worst the next day.’
He smiled wanly. ‘And then at the trial.’
I REJOINED NICHOLAS and Toby outside. I said, ‘I still think he is lying, that he went somewhere on the night of Edith’s death, perhaps to meet someone, and has some important reason for hiding it.’
‘Or used the time to kill her,’ Toby said flatly.
Nicholas said, ‘For once, I agree with you. Remember, we are here to investigate the circumstances, not represent Boleyn. He is not our client.’
I thought a moment. ‘No, he is not. You are right. But there are matters we have discovered that need investigation. The locksmith especially.’
‘Witherington seemed to think Boleyn a weak fellow,’ Toby said. ‘Someone whose lands might be occupied with impunity. Yet he fought back, and hard. And a weak man would not have brought Isabella into his house in defiance of local opinion. And all who know him say he has a temper.’
Nicholas asked, ‘How did he react to what Michael Vowell told you?’
‘He denied ever trying to force himself on Edith. He thinks she probably lied to her father. Said she was mad. What I do not understand is that, if he still cares so deeply about Isabella – who, as Flowerdew was keen to point out this morning, will be put out on the street if he’s hanged – that, surely, would move him to tell the truth about his alibi, if he is lying. Could the truth be something damaging to Isabella?’ Then I burst out, ‘God’s death, every question only leads to another question.’
MASTER THEOBALD AT the Maid’s Head was keen to help as usual, and after some brief enquiries among the staff he was able to tell us that Snockstobe’s shop was in a little lane running between Tombland and Elm Hill.
We found the shop, which had a sign showing a pair of crossed keys over the narrow door. Inside, it was gloomy, with the sharp tang of metal in the air. Nobody was at the counter, but I could hear tapping from a little room at the back, and called out. A tall, thin lad of about sixteen in the blue smock and cap of an apprentice hurried out.
‘Good morrow, lad,’ I said civilly. ‘We seek Master Snockstobe.’
‘He’s out delivering some keys; he should be back soon.’
‘We will wait.’
He looked at the robes Nicholas and I wore. ‘Do you need a key or lock made? Or – is it legal business?’
I did not answer, instead asking, ‘I understand your master has been employed for some years by Master John Boleyn, of Brikewell.’
He looked at us apprehensively. ‘I believe so,’ he answered cautiously. ‘Don’t he be in the castle gaol, awaiting trial at the Assizes?’
‘Yes. We are looking into the case, trying to talk to everyone who knew him. I am Serjeant Shardlake. What is your name?’
‘Walter, sir. But you must talk to my master about all that.’ The boy looked distinctly nervous now.
‘Of course. I understand his sons, Gerald and Barnabas, may have brought you some work recently,’ I added non-committally.
The boy shook his head. ‘Please, sir, you must speak to Master Snockstobe. It’s not fair to threap me with questions. Master’ll pash me if I talk about his business.’
‘He means beat him,’ Toby explained.
Walter shifted anxiously from foot to foot, clearly afraid of Snockstobe.
‘All right,’ I said. The boy scuttled back to the workshop and we waited a few moments. Behind the counter were rows of keys on rings, hundreds of them. I was studying them when the outer door opened and a skinny little man in an apron, with long greasy hair and the bulbous red nose of a drinker, bustled in. Like Walter, he drew up short at the sight of us.
‘Can I help you?’ he asked warily.
‘Master Snockstobe?’
‘Who wants to know?’ The response down the ages of a man with something to hide. I repeated what I had told Walter. Snockstobe crossed his arms aggressively. ‘Why should I tell you about my customers?’
I decided on a direct approach. ‘Because if you don’t answer my questions, I will have a subpoena served on you to attend Master Boleyn’s trial on Thursday, and you can answer the judge.’
That shook Snockstobe visibly. He said, ‘I’ve worked for John Boleyn for years. Been to Brikewell many times. You know what a farm’s like, animals always breaking out, smashing locks.’
‘Did you make keys for the stables where he kept his horse, Midnight?’
Snockstobe laughed. ‘That creature. Kick you a hefty culp soon as look at you. Ay, I did a lock for the stable a few years back.’
‘And other work since, I hear.’
His eyes narrowed. ‘Who from?’
‘People tell us things,’ Toby answered with a smile.
I said, ‘I hear you got on well with Master Boleyn’s sons. Few do, by all accounts.’
‘They’re not so bad. They can be a laugh. I go to the bear-baiting when there is one, I’ve often seen them there, and at the cockfights.’
I remembered them hunting the small boy at their father’s house in London. I asked, ‘Did they bring you a key to copy, last month perhaps?’
‘No, they didn’t,’ Snockstobe answered flatly. ‘Walter!’ he shouted. The apprentice scuttled back in. Snockstobe glared at him. ‘On your oath, boy, have either of the Boleyn boys been in the shop this last year?’
Walter looked relieved. ‘No, sir, I can swear to that. On a Testament, if you wish.’
Snockstobe inclined his head at the apprentice. ‘There you are. And Walter’s a Bible lad; if he’s not on his knees praying, he’s off to Preacher Watson’s church to hear his endless sermons.’
I looked at him. I felt certain both he and the boy were hiding something. I said, ‘We will have the full truth of this, sir. We shall go now, but will be back later. With a subpoena. Perhaps two.’ Walter’s mouth fell open, while Snockstobe’s set in a hard line. I added, ‘Though, of course, it would go easier for you if you volunteered any information you have now.’
Snockstobe folded his arms again. ‘Nothing to say.’
‘Very well. We shall see you later.’ I motioned Nicholas and Toby to follow me out.
Outside, Toby said, ‘Couldn’t you have pressed them further? They’re hiding something, even if the twins didn’t visit themselves.’
‘I know. But under what authority? No, I need a subpoena. Nicholas, go now to the Assize offices, find Barak, and arrange it. A subpoena for Snockstobe to attend the trial, and to provide money to guarantee his attendance. This could be crucial. Toby, would you start looking for Grace Bone’s family?’
‘I will.’ He bowed quickly and walked away. As Nicholas took the road back to the castle, I stood in the middle of Tombland, conscious that we were clutching at frail reeds. But they were something, and one way or the other I would have the full story of the keys.
Chapter Twenty-one
Standing there, I saw that one of the stone gates to the cathedral precinct was open, and I walked towards it. Perhaps if I sat and reflected inside, some new inspiration would come. And all morning the dead beggar had kept coming into my mind, tweaking at my conscience. His body, I saw, had been removed.