Pentecost Alley - Anne Perry [9]
“You don’t know if you’ve seen him before,” he challenged.
“In the dark all cats are gray.” She made a gesture of disdain. “I’nt you never ’eard that before? I don’t look at men’s faces, only the money. But ’e don’t jog me mem’ry none. I don’t think as I’ve seen ’im. Sure as ’ell’s on fire, I don’t know ’is name, or I’d tell yer.”
“Hell’s on fire.” He repeated the words carefully. “What makes you say that?”
“ ’Cos it’s abaht the one thing as I’m sure of,” she retorted, looking him up and down. “Wot jer spec’ me to say? Sure as ’eaven’s sweet? I wouldn’t know.” She looked away from him at the tawdry, overfamiliar room. “Don’t believe in it. In’t fer me, fer Ada, if it was. Ask the preachers. They’ll soon tell yer, women like me is gonna burn in ’ell fer corruptin’ an’ leadin’ astray the likes o’ gentlemen!” She gave an oath so coarse even Pitt was jolted by hearing it from her still-beautiful mouth.
“Have you ever heard of the Hellfire Club?” he asked.
Amusement flashed across her face. “No, wot’s that? Them as is gonner burn—or them as is gonner stoke? Believe me, that sod’s gonner burn, if I ’ave ter carry the coals meself—gentleman or no.”
“Was he a gentleman?” he asked after a moment’s hesitation.
Her eyes met his squarely. “Looked like it. ’E weren’t ’ard up. An’ as sure as ’ell’s on fire, mister, ’e come just about the time poor Ada were croaked. I were along the Whitechapel Road fer ’alf an hour, an’ I didn’t see no one else go past, till I got another gent meself an’ come in again.”
“You didn’t see the other end,” Pitt pointed out.
“In’t my pitch,” she said reasonably. “Ask Nan about that.”
“You said Ada was greedy,” Pitt prompted. “Did she take from you?”
“I never said she stole.” Rose was annoyed again. Her eyes were sharp and bright. “I said she were greedy. Always wanted more. Always thinkin’ o’ ways to get a bigger cut, not jus’ for ’erself, but for us too. I never knew nobody so angry. Ate ’er up at times.”
“Did she say who with?”
She shrugged and her lip curled.
“Lousy butler wot took ’er character, I s’pose. Then lied abaht it. Dunno what she expected! Bit green, she were.” Her face pinched and the sorrow returned. “Poor little cow.”
There was a bang outside and a clatter of hooves. Someone shouted. There were footsteps in the corridor and a door slammed somewhere upstairs, the vibrations shivering through the room.
“Did she ever mention this butler’s name?” Pitt asked.
Her eyes widened. “You reckon it was ’im as did ’er? Why would ’e? She couldn’t do nuffink to ’im. Safe as Big Ben ’e were. Still is.”
“No, I didn’t think so,” he conceded. “What time did you see this man?”
“Dunno. Ten p’raps.”
“Then what?”
She was uninterested.
“I got another couple o’ jobs, nuffin’ special. ’Alf hour each, mebbe. The next were Skeggs, sorry little bastard that ’e is. Takes ’im an hour to get ’isself goin’. Likes ter look at other people.” Her voice was thick with disgust. “ ’E left me and went snoopin’ on Ada ter see if ’e could catch some other stupid sod wif ’is pants orff makin’ a fool of ’isself, and maybe doin’ it good.” She put her hands on her hips. “ ’Oo knows? Anyway the little swine got more’n ’e bargained for. Saw Ada dead, an’ damn near wet ’isself!”
“Time?”
“I know that ’cos this time I looked. I were ’ungry, and reckoned as I’d done well enough as I could get summink decent ter eat. I were goin’ down ter the pie stand on the corner o’ Chicksand Street, till the rozzer come back and all the row started. ’Ad ter stay ’ome, and I’m fair starvin’ now.”
Pitt said nothing.
She stared at him with sudden anger.
“Think I’m an ’eartless bitch, don’cher?” she demanded, her voice hard, full of resentment. “Well, I felt sick as you at first, but that’s two hours ago, or like, an’ I ain’t eaten proper since yest’day. Death comes often ’ere, not like up west w’ere it’s all soft an’ folk die easy. An’ that doc were real fair. ’E told me as she probably din’t feel much fer long. Made Nan put on a