Pentecost Alley - Anne Perry [91]
“We don’t both know it!” Charlotte said. “All we really know is that Tallulah says she was there, and she says she saw him!”
“Well, I believe her! And without an identification it’s the only piece of evidence that connects him with Whitechapel at all. Anyone could have stolen it, or found it years ago, and used it to revenge themselves on Augustus. After all, why on earth would Finlay kill a woman like Ada McKinley? Or anybody else, for that matter?”
“Somebody did,” Charlotte said pointedly.
“Far more probably someone who knew her,” Emily argued, leaning forward a trifle. “A rival, or someone she stole from or someone she hurt. She may have quarreled with someone, one of the other women, or some man she made fun of, maybe someone who was once in love with her, and she betrayed him by doing what she did.” She took a deep breath. “Charlotte …”
Charlotte stared at her, waiting.
“Charlotte … please don’t tell Thomas about the badge. He’d never forgive me. And he might not understand why I did it. I really do believe that Finlay is innocent.”
“I know you do,” Charlotte said gravely. “You wouldn’t do anything so absolutely idiotic otherwise.”
“Are you going to tell Thomas?” Emily asked in a very small voice.
“No,” Charlotte answered, more out of pity than good sense. “At least, not unless I have to. He … he may discover whatever he needs to know before there’s any need.”
“Thank you.”
Indeed, Pitt did discover at least part of it when he and Ewart went back to Pentecost Alley late in the afternoon. Nan Sullivan was as indecisive as on the previous time Pitt had seen her, but he still had every confidence in Rose Burke. The change in her stunned him.
“I dunno,” she said, looking first at Pitt, then away. They were sitting in the kitchen, a large, chipped enamel pot of tea on the table, odd pottery cups around. The cooking range made the place hot and airless. No one wanted to open the window onto the stinking yard below with the fumes from the midden and the pigsty next door.
“What don’t you know?” Pitt demanded. “You were quite sure when you saw him from the hansom in Devonshire Street. You were certain enough then you were ready to hang him yourself.”
“I were ready to ’ang whoever done ’er,” Rose corrected stubbornly. “That in’t ter say it were ’im. I only saw ’im fer a minute, an’ the light weren’t good.”
“Are you afraid, Rose?” Pitt tried to keep the anger out of his voice, or the stinging contempt he wanted to put into it.
“No!” She glared at him, ignoring Ewart completely. “No, I in’t afraid. Wot’s ter be afraid of?”
“Threats from someone,” he replied. “The man you identified belongs to a very powerful family.”
“ ’E may do, but ’e in’t spoken ter me,” she said with a curl of her lip. “If that’s wot yer think, yer wrong … dead wrong. I jus’ want yer ter get the right man, the man wot really done ’er, poor little cow.” She fiddled with her spoon, slicking it against the cup. “An’ I think as it could be the butler wot got ’er into trouble in the first place. ’E done it again, an’ this time ’is mistress might not be so quick ter believe ’im. ’E got reason ter wanner get rid o’ Ada. Geezers like the one wot yer showed me in Devonshire Street don’ come down ter Whitechapel. They get their bits o’ pleasure up the ’Aymarket way, an’ Windmill Street.”
“That’s true,” Ewart conceded.
“You said Ada sometimes went up there,” Pitt pointed out.
“Sure. But I never said as she brought ’em ’ome ’ere!” she said with derision. “She in’t that daft. If she ’ad ’a’, like as not that Costigan’d ’a’ took more’n ’alf ’er money. An’ why would one o’ them gents foller ’er ’ere? Wot for? She weren’t that good. There are plenty more w’ere she come from, an’ ter them, one tart’s as good as another.”
“Are you now saying it was this butler you saw?” Ewart interrupted quickly, leaning forward over the table. “Describe him!”
“No I in’t sayin’ it were ’im,” she said cautiously. “I’m sayin’ as it might ’a’ bin. Geez! Don’t yer care ’oo yer top, long as it’s someone?”
“I care very much,” Pitt replied between his