Acceptable Loss - Anne Perry [113]
Scuff watched him, fascinated.
“Does ’e ’ave it all there, in them little squiggles o’ writing?” Scuff whispered to her.
“Yes. Marvelous, isn’t it?” she replied.
Scuff gave her a sideways look. She had not yet persuaded him of the necessity of learning to read. He could count. He considered that to be enough.
Squeaky read out who was resident and who had arrived that morning and at what time. He also listed what duties they had performed, and if, in his opinion, they had been requisitely appreciated for their efforts.
Hester made a couple of notes on a piece of paper, borrowing his pencil for the task, then set out to question each person in turn.
To begin with the people were defensive, imagining their work was under attack, and frightened of losing the safety of food and a place to sleep.
Scuff followed Hester most of the time, as if he were protecting her, although he had no idea from what.
“She’s lyin’,” he said casually as they left one young woman in the laundry, her sleeves rolled up, her hands red from hot water and the caustic soap necessary to clean sheets that had been soiled by body waste from the sick and injured.
“We’ll check with Claudine,” Hester replied. “Mrs. Burroughs to you. She’ll know if Kitty was there or not.”
“She weren’t,” Scuff told her. “I’ll bet she were at the back door, doin’ summink as she shouldn’t. Are yer gonna throw ’er out?”
“No,” Hester said immediately. “Not unless she did something to Hattie.”
“Oh.”
She glanced at him and saw the smile on his face.
She questioned two more women—patients not well enough to leave yet but able to be of assistance in cooking and cleaning. Their accounts contradicted Kitty’s, and one of the other women’s.
They found Claudine in the pantry checking rations. There seemed to be plenty of the staples such as flour and beans of several sorts, barley, oatmeal, and salt. Other things such as prunes and brown sugar were in considerably shorter supply.
Claudine smiled when she saw Hester’s eye on the half-empty pot of plum jam, and then Scuff’s, wide with amazement at what to him was a lifetime’s supply of luxury.
“I’ll give you a slice of toast and jam later, if you’re good,” she told him.
Hester nudged him.
“Thank yer,” he said quickly.
“Unless you would rather have a piece of cake?” Claudine added. Her eyes were bright, as if she were laughing inside.
“Yes,” he said instantly. Then he glanced at Hester. “Yes, I would—please.”
Hester told Claudine of the discrepancy between the accounts of who was working where on the morning Hattie disappeared.
Claudine had already judged that it was important.
“That can’t be right,” she agreed. She turned to Scuff. “If you go to the kitchen, you’ll find Bessie there. Tell her that I said you could have a piece of the plum cake in the third jar along. Don’t forget, the third jar. Then she’ll know that you are telling the truth. No one else knows it is there.”
Scuff drew in his breath, and then let it out again. “I’ll ’ave it later,” he replied, taking a step closer to Hester. “Ye’re gonna tell ’er who opened the door an’ let ’Attie out ter get killed. I gotta be ’ere. Thank yer.”
Claudine looked at him, then at Hester. “Is he right?”
Hester nodded. “Yes, I’m afraid so. She had strict instructions not to go out for any reason at all, not even to go into the main rooms where other people come and go. She knew she was in danger, and she was scared stiff that they would kill her.”
Claudine’s face filled with misery. “And did they?”
“Yes. Claudine, I have to know who persuaded her to go out.”
“What good will it do now?” Claudine asked. “The poor girl is beyond help.”
“It seems it was just a piece of stupid behavior. But if she was lured out on purpose, then I need to tie it together. The trial is going badly. It looks as if nothing will be proved, and Ballinger will get off on reasonable doubt. We will be back where we started.” She did not add that the trade in pornography would begin again exactly as before, as soon as the man behind it had replaced Mickey Parfitt. Although, she feared