Long Spoon Lane - Anne Perry [63]
Another shower drifted past. Momentarily, hailstones rattling against the windows of the shop behind them. Then Jones appeared, striding along the pavement, coat flapping, black hat jammed on his head. He went into the public house, and emerged ten minutes later, wiping the back of his hand across his mouth, and set out across the cobbles to the far side of the street.
“Come on!” Tellman said sharply. “He’s the one we want.”
“What for?” Stubbs asked, obeying with alacrity. He stepped into a puddle and swore under his breath. “Who is he?”
“Passer of forged money,” Tellman replied.
“ ’Ow do yer know?” Stubbs caught up with him as, ahead of them, Jones ducked into an alley to take a shortcut towards his next stop.
“It’s my job,” Tellman replied, crossing after Jones and going straight into the alley. He was reluctant to follow into a place he did not know, and where he could easily be ambushed, but he dared not lose Jones. Out of his sight for more than a moment or two, he could pass the money on and the whole arrest would fall through. The police corruption ate at Tellman like an ulcer in his flesh, and to fail in the battle against it for what amounted to cowardice would be unbearable. And he would have let Pitt down. That was almost as bad.
The alley was dark, the rain clouds graying the sky and making the shadows heavy between the high walls. Jones was ahead of him, rapidly approaching another man, who was thickset with a massive chest and short, slightly bowed legs. He had a powerful, hatchet-shaped face with deep-set eyes. He stood in the center of the alley, right across Jones’s path, but Jones did not hesitate, and certainly made no move as if to turn or back away from him.
Tellman had no choice. Once the money passed hands he would have no excuse to hold Jones.
“We’ve got to take him,” Tellman said quietly. This would put to the test beyond doubt which side Stubbs was on. Tellman’s stomach knotted and his throat constricted so tightly for a moment he could barely breathe. He strode forward and lunged at Jones, grasping him from the back, twisting his arm around while keeping his body as a shield between himself and the other man. If he had a weapon of any sort it would be temporarily useless. He could hear Stubbs’s feet on the cobbles behind him.
“Police, Mr. Jones,” Tellman said very clearly. “I’m arresting you on suspicion of passing forged money.”
Jones yelped, partly in surprise, but mostly in pain as he tried to wriggle away; Tellman’s grip on his arm tightened. “You won’t find nothin’ on me!” he said in outrage.
“You’re Bow Street,” the hatchet-faced man said softly. His voice was quite light and his diction unusually clear. It did not match his image at all. “What are you doin’ ’ere? My name’s Grover,” he went on. “From Cannon Street. Sergeant Grover.”
“Sergeant Tellman. And I followed the money from the Bow Street area,” Tellman replied.
“Liar!” Jones said indignantly. “I never bin nowhere near Bow Street.”
“Are you sure o’ that, Sergeant Tellman?” Grover asked, taking a step towards them. He was now only about three yards away.
Tellman stepped back, pulling Jones with him away from Grover and closer to Stubbs. “Yes, Sergeant, I am sure,” he said. “Easy enough to see if he’s got forged money on him. Let’s take a look. Constable Stubbs!” He did not ask Stubbs to hold Jones. If he let him go, intentionally or not, it could then be three against one, and Tellman would have no chance. “Look in his pockets,” he commanded.
For a long, aching moment no one moved, then Stubbs came forward.
Jones let out a snarl. “You’ll find nothing forged on me!” he said angrily. “Sergeant Grover! You know me. This is your patch. What are you letting this Bow Street man get away with?”
“If you’ve nothing, I’ll apologize,” Tellman replied, tightening his grip even more and making Jones wince. “I’ll even buy you dinner. Get on with it, Stubbs! What’s the matter with you?” He was finding it harder to hold Jones, and he was aware of someone else at the far end of the alley, coming towards them from behind