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.‘You were at the Town Hall when they brought the replacements in last night.’‘Aye,’ James agreed warily.‘What about it?’‘You were standing on the steps, by the lions?’‘Well, I’d not be down in the mob, would I?’ He smiled at his own wit.‘How many others were around you?’‘Others? What do you mean?’‘The officers said there were a few of you standing there, waiting,’ Reed said.‘How many?’‘I don’t know,’ James answered, taken aback by the question, thinking.‘Ten, maybe.I didn’t count.Why, what’s this about?’‘One of the men who came in was stabbed,’ Harper told him.‘He’s dead.’For a moment the man said nothing as the colour left his face.Then he retched twice, pulling out a handkerchief and trying to spit away the news of death.‘I …’ he began, shaking his head.‘You mean someone in the crowd killed him?’‘It happened up by the lions,’ Reed said.‘That’s why we need to know who was there.’‘Of course.’ He frowned, trying to recall.‘There was Simpson, he’s one of the managers over at the York Street works.’‘Go on,’ Harper prodded.‘Tattersall.He’s a clerk to the gas committee.And Dawkins.’‘Dawkins?’ the inspector asked.‘I’m not sure what he does,’ James admitted, embarrassed at not knowing.‘He’s often with the members of the gas committee when they visit.’‘What about the men on the committee? Were they with you?’‘They were inside.’ He looked at the two detectives.‘Can you imagine what it would have been like if that crowd had seen them? I was scared for my life as it was.’‘You’ve given us three names,’ Reed said.‘What about the others who were there?’The man shook his head.‘Didn’t know them.’ He paused.‘He really died?’‘Yes, Mr James, he did,’ Harper said.‘Poor sod.’‘What do you think?’They’d slipped back out through the gate, the constable saluting promptly this time.Before Harper could answer, a cheer went up from the pickets.‘What’s happened?’ the inspector called out to them.‘Half the bloody blacklegs have walked out of Meadow Road,’ a man answered with a broad grin.‘Said they’d been conned and they’re going home.That’ll teach the bastards.’ He spat on the ground and turned away, rubbing his hands in glee.‘Sixpence says the rest of them are gone by tomorrow,’ Harper offered as they began the walk back into town.‘I’d be on a hiding to nothing if I took that.’ Reed looked up again as they approached the bridge.‘Do you know what this reminds me of?’‘What?’ Harper wondered.The sergeant’s face had taken on a strange, distant look.‘Afghanistan.’ He pushed the bowler hat further down on to his head, as if it could protect him.‘You’d go out on patrol and you’d know the tribesmen were waiting.You might not see them, but you knew they’d be shooting soon enough.’‘So what did you do?’He shrugged.‘Nothing.You went out and did your job and you prayed you’d be one of those who made it back.’ Reed stayed silent for a while, filled with memories, then said, ‘What do you want to do now?’‘You take the ones with the gas committee.They should be at the town hall.I’ll go out to York Street a bit later.’‘Going to look for Martha Parkinson?’Harper nodded.‘Someone has to.The chief doesn’t care.’‘That brings us back to Henry Bell,’ Reed reminded him.‘His body’s still in his office.’The inspector shrugged.‘His wife will report him missing soon enough.Let someone else find his body.Henry’s no loss.It’ll all end up on our desks, anyway.If you find anything, send a note over to the station.’They parted at the bottom of East Parade.He watched as Reed strode purposefully up the street.The buildings rose high around him, smooth, sheer stone reaching up to the heavens.Banks, insurance offices, all of them filled with the calm, quiet power of money that brooked no challenge.Tattersall and Dawkins could almost have been copies of each other, the sergeant decided.They were both in their thirties, with thinning fair hair and offices along the same high corridor in the Town Hall.And both were filled with the gospel of the gas committee’s work.He saw Dawkins then Tattersall, but he needn’t have bothered; from the way they echoed each other, one would have been enough.Not that either had much to say.They’d been terrified by the crowd, more concerned with making sure the replacements arrived properly than anything else.By the time he’d finished with them he knew little more than when he’d begun.They offered a name or two more.It was as if they’d been there but hadn’t noticed a thing.Still, that was par for the course.Some witnesses gave you gold, most only had lead.He’d go back to the station, write up his notes and wait for the inspector.For now, though, he was thirsty.He wanted a drink.Just one to wet his whistle, and a sandwich to fill his belly.The Bull and Mouth on Briggate was on his way back to Millgarth.It was an old hotel, always full of men in Leeds on business, commercial travellers who hawked their wares the length and breadth of Britain.The bar was open but empty.There was only one man serving, checking the taps and trying to look busy.He glanced up as he heard the sharp footsteps on the tile floor, smiling to see the policeman.‘Morning, Mr Reed.What can I get you?’‘A sandwich and a glass of beer, please, Peter.’ He looked around.‘Quiet in here.’The barman shrugged.‘Early yet.Be more in by dinner.But everywhere’s dead with this strike.’ He poured a glass of beer and placed it in front of the sergeant.‘I’ll bring the sandwich over to you.’‘Thank you.’ He reached into his pocket and asked, ‘How much do I owe you?’ but the man waved him away.It was the same every time, a play, a show; he’d once caught a pickpocket in the pub yard and since then they’d made sure his money was no good here.The food appeared in less than a minute, the bread cut into neat triangles, generously filled with cold roast beef sliced thick enough to keep him going for the rest of the day.He started to eat, washing each bite down with a sip of the beer.He wiped away the final crumbs and drained the dregs from the glass.He wanted more to drink, another and then another.Instead he clenched his fists and breathed deeply.Tonight.He’d be fine until then.Instead of returning to Millgarth he’d go and ask some more questions [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]

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