Farriers' Lane - Anne Perry [130]
His body stiffened and he shook himself a little. “They think Christ was a blasphemer, and they crucified ’im. I guess some of ’em anyway still ’ate us. An’ Godman was one of ’em. And when ’e found out what ’ad ’appened to ’is sister ’e just went mad.” He shivered and let out his breath sharply, staring at Pitt.
Pitt could feel the emotion in the room, the air still charged with it. Suddenly he perceived, as he had not before, what it had been like in the original investigation, the horror that had soaked everything, the fear of violence and madness, and then the anger. It reached out and touched him now like a sick coldness. He had been trying to understand with his mind. He should have used his imagination, his instinct.
“Why are you so sure it was Godman?” he asked as calmly as he could, but he heard his own voice shake. “Apart from the motive.”
“ ’E were seen,” Paterson answered immediately, his shoulders square, his chin up. “Positively. No shadows, no doubt. ’E stopped to buy flowers, the arrogant bastard! Sort of a celebration o’ what ’e’d done!” His voice was thick with fury. “ ’E stood right under the light. Anyway, the woman knew ’im. Seen ’is face on a poster and recognized ’im straightaway. In So’o Square, less than half a mile from Farriers’ Lane, and a few minutes after it ’appened. ’E lied. Said it were thirty minutes earlier.”
“I see. Yes, you found the flower seller, didn’t you? Good piece of work.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“What was O’Neil doing at the time of the murder?”
“Gambling at a club about a mile and a half away.”
“Witnesses?”
Paterson lifted one shoulder. “More or less. ’E could ’ave stepped out, but ’e’d ’ave been seen when ’e got back. There must ’ave been blood all over the place after a killing like that.” Again his face mirrored his horror and the outrage he still felt even now.
“And Fielding?”
“Went ’ome. No proof, o’ course.” Paterson shrugged. “But no reason to suspect ’im, since Godman was definitely alone. The men at the end o’ Farriers’ Lane swore to that. Fielding may’ve known about it, or guessed afterwards, but ’e definitely weren’t there at the time.”
“Thank you. That’s all very clear.”
“Is that all, sir?”
“I think so.”
Paterson stood up.
“Ah—just one more thing,” Pitt added quickly.
“Yes sir?”
“When Godman came to court he was badly bruised, as if someone had beaten him. Who was that?”
Paterson flushed a hot, dull red. “I—er—well, ’e weren’t an easy prisoner.”
Pitt raised his eyebrows very high. “He resisted?”
Paterson stammered and then fell silent.
“Yes?” Pitt asked again.
Paterson’s face set hard. “If you’d seen what ’e did to Blaine, sir, you wouldn’t ask, cos you’d feel the same.”
“I see. Thank you, Paterson. That’s all.”
“Yes sir.” Paterson stood to attention sharply, then turned on his heel and went out.
Over the next two days Pitt patiently followed Paterson’s footsteps. He found Primrose Walker, Tamar Macaulay’s dresser, very easily. She was still in the company, and still working at the same task. She repeated what she had said originally, that Kingsley Blaine had visited Miss Macaulay frequently, and on that night he had given her a gift of an expensive necklace. She described it quite closely: a diamond scroll set with turquoise. She said Miss Macaulay had accepted it reluctantly, and only to wear that evening, then to return it. Had Miss Walker seen her return it? No, of course not. She did not attend the champagne supper. She could add nothing more.
It was only a formality that Pitt had asked her. It was a foregone conclusion in his mind that she would repeat what she had said before, and it would support Tamar Macaulay, and thus Aaron Godman. The only thing that slightly surprised Pitt was that when speaking of Kingsley Blaine her face had softened and it was obvious her memory of him was gentle. Even now there was no dislike in her, no sense that he had betrayed her mistress.
And Wimbush, the theater doorman,