We Shall Not Sleep_ A Novel - Anne Perry [56]
Joseph’s mind was suddenly clear. “About the only way I can prove he didn’t do it is to find out who did.”
“Haven’t you been troying?” Barshey asked with a frown.
“Not hard enough,” Joseph answered grimly. “I left it to the police, and they’ve made a complete mess of it.”
“What’d you loike me to do, sir?” Barshey offered.
Joseph was not even sure what he was going to do himself, let alone how anyone else could help, but he was loath to refuse even the slightest assistance. There was no one else he could turn to, apart from Judith. Even Barshey’s trust was a kind of strength. “I have a pretty good idea about who couldn’t have done it because they were all accounted for during the hour or so when it must have happened—” he started.
Barshey’s eyes widened. “You know when it happened?”
“Only roughly. She was seen alive at three o’clock that morning, and the state of her body when she was found at about seven means it has to have been no later than around four.” He did not need to explain how a dead person changes in the first few hours; they were all far too familiar with it.
“But they weren’t all accounted for, were they?” Barshey observed. “Want me to work on that, sir?”
Joseph hesitated, torn. Barshey was loyal and willing. He knew she was dead; did he know how brutally and intimately she had been destroyed as well?
“I need to know more about Sarah Price,” he said finally. “Maybe she was chosen at random, but maybe not. She might have had some liaison that was at least the start of this. I thought I knew most of the men, but it seems I don’t. I half expected the violence toward the German prisoners, but nothing like this.”
“Nobody wants to think that sort o’ thing about anyone they know, Chaplain,” Barshey said grimly. “And with respect, sir, most of us want to show a man loike you the best soide of ourselves. Men that’d swear a blue streak usually koind of keep a close lip when you’re there.”
“You’re saying I don’t see the real man?” Joseph shrugged. “I know that, Barshey. I make allowances.”
Barshey did not look convinced, but he was too gentle to say so.
Joseph saw it in his eyes and understood. “All right, I’ll tell you what you can do to help. Give me a more honest picture of the men you think I’ve judged too softly. Help me to see them as they are. Somebody killed that girl pretty obscenely. I saw her body. It was worse than you think.”
Barshey was startled, then overwhelmingly disgusted.
“I’m not as otherworldly as you think,” Joseph told him quietly. “I’ve heard some confessions that would surprise you, especially from men who knew they were dying. I just didn’t think of anyone I know doing something like this. There was a hatred in it I hadn’t imagined.”
“Oi hope it’s not someone from St. Giles.” Barshey’s face pinched as if he expected a blow. “Oi’ll think about it, an’ Oi’ll ask.”
“Don’t think long, Barshey. It’s going to be too late pretty quickly.” It hurt even to say it aloud.
“Oi know that.” Barshey did not offer any words of comfort. The belief in everything working out for good had long ago been swept away. You believed in honor, courage, and friendship, but not in any certainty of justice.
Joseph found Judith helping with nursing shifts in the tent for the walking wounded. It had been a quieter night than usual. The front line having moved farther east, the injured men were being taken to a clearing station closer by. There were half a dozen patients, two standing, and four sitting in various degrees of discomfort. Others had obviously received no more than first aid—a bandage to stop the worst of the bleeding, a sling for a broken bone. More were already treated and waiting to be told where to go next, their uniform sleeves cut away, bandages clean and white. There were two nurses in attendance, an orderly, and a young surgeon.
Judith looked at Joseph’s face and excused herself from the man she was helping, leaving the job for the orderly to finish. She crossed the space between them in a few strides. “What is it?” she asked anxiously. “What’s happened?”
Using as few words as possible,