Farriers' Lane - Anne Perry [169]
Joe left and went to a barrow on the next street to get himself an eel pie. Gracie followed him, and bought herself one as well. It was hot and tasted delicious.
“There in’t no use yer followin’ me,” Joe said when he saw her. “I in’t tellin yer nuffink! Nor I certainly in’t goin’ ter no rozzers.” He sighed, licking the juice off his lips. “Listen, yer stupid lump! The rozzers swear they got the right geezer. They ’ad ’im arrested and tried! The toffs were ’appy wif it! They argued ’round an’ ’round, like they always do. They said ’e were guilty, they’d done right ter nab ’im, and they ’anged the poor swine.” He took another bite of his pie and went on with his mouth full. “If yer think they’re goin’ ter say now as they was wrong, on the word o’ some nobody orf the street, then yer daft enough fer Bedlam, an that’s a fact.” He swallowed. “Yer mistress is dreamin’ an she’ll only ’urt ’erself, an’ you too, if you’ve got no more sense than to listen to ’er.”
“It weren’t ’im wot done it,” Gracie began.
“ ’Oo cares?” he cut across her angrily. “Listen, you idjut! It don’t matter ’oo done it. Wot matters now is ’oo’s made ter look bad cos they ’anged the wrong bloke. They in’t goin’ ter say as they did that—no matter wot.” He jerked his hand in the air with his pie in it. “Think abaht it, if yer’ve got anyfink in yer ’ead at all besides sawdust. Which o’ them toffs is goin’ ter say as they ’anged the wrong bloke? None o’ them—and yer can lay money on that.”
“They won’t ’ave no choice,” she said fiercely, biting into her own pie. “The p’lice already knows as it weren’t the man they ’anged. They’ve got proof. An’ they know ’oo it were—they just can’t get proof o’ that neither.”
“I don’t believe yer.”
“I don’t tell lies,” Gracie said furiously, filled with indignation because this was not a lie but the absolute truth. “An’ yer got no right to say as I do. Yer just ’aven’t got the guts ter stand up to ’em and say wot yer know.” She tried to fill her expression with utmost contempt, but having her mouth half full got in her way.
“Yer damn’ right I in’t,” he agreed. “An’ fer why? Because it won’t do no good. Now you go back ter yer mistress and tell ’er ter ferget it. Garn!”
“I in’t goin’ nowhere till yer come an’ look at this geezer wot really done it.” She took another huge bite of her pie. “An’ then yer say as if it were ’im wot spoke to yer outside the thee-ayter. An’ we should find them geezers wot was ’anging ’round the end o’ Farriers’ Lane that night, an’ find out wot they really saw, not wot the rozzers told ’em they saw.”
“Wotcher mean ‘we’?” His voice rose to a squeak. “I in’t goin’ anywhere. I ’ad more’n enough o’ the rozzers w’en the murder ’appened—I don’t need ter go lookin’ fer ’em now.”
“O’ course you as well,” Gracie said exasperatedly, swallowing the bite of pie. “In’t no point me goin’ by meself. I weren’t there. I din’t see ’im.”
“Well, I in’t goin’.”
“Please.”
“No.”
“The geezer wot really done it is still out there,” she protested.
“Don’t matter ter me. Now go away an’ leave me alone, won’t yer?”
“No. I in’t goin’ ter leave yer till yer come wif me an’ ’ave a real look at this geezer, an’ say if ’e were the one or not.”
“Yer can’t foller me ’round!”
“I can.”
“Look.” He was exasperated. “I can’t do nuffink fer yer. An’ I go places as it in’t right for yer to come. Nah go away!”
“I in’t goin’ till yer comes an’ ’as a look at this geezer.”
“Well, yer goin’ ter wait a long time.” And with that he turned his back and began talking to a potential customer, making a considerable show of ignoring Gracie.
Gracie followed him back to his stall, and then stood clasping her coat closer around her and waited, watching. It was cold and her feet were so chilled she had lost feeling in them. But she was certainly not going to give up, if she had to follow him until he went to bed.
Late in the afternoon Joe tidied his stall and locked his few goods away for the night, then left. Gracie came to attention and followed