Secret Night (24 page)

"Aye."

Glancing up at the sculpture of the Recording Angel held up by Fortitude and Truth above the Bailey entrance, Patrick settled his shoulders and turned the other way to Newgate, where the scaffolds conveniently sat outside Debtor's Door. Today, the street was uncrowded, probably due to the rain. On a good day, he'd seen it fill within minutes with a rioting, surging mob eager to watch a hanging. Eighty thousand riffraff, the papers had estimated the last time, which made one wonder if England were half so civilized as its government would have it.

Above, in the windows of houses, were printed signs offering "a fine breakfast and a good view of the gallows, ten pounds." It cost more to properly see a hanging than a good play in Drury Lane, Patrick reflected, well aware of die irony of that.

Going round to the keeper's gate, he asked for permission to visit Rand.

" 'E's been moved agin, sir—to the keeper's apartments." A knowing grin split the jailer's face. "Fer 'is pertection 'til 'e's 'anged."

"At a cost, no doubt," Patrick observed dryly.

"Thirty guineas a week," the fellow acknowledged, "and extra fer 'is board."

"He can afford it."

"Aye—and oo'd begrudge 'im a bit o' ease ere 'is neck is stretched, eh?"

"Precisely."

The jailer motioned to a man standing against the wall. "Show 'im ter Bat Rand, eh?"

"Aye."

Rand's cell proved to be a single, well-appointed room, complete with a featherbed, a chest for his clothing, a small table with chairs for meals, and a writing desk. Not to mention a window with a view of the street.

"I see you have come up in the world," Patrick murmured from the doorway.

"Eh? Oh, collect you was meaning the room. Aye, 'tis better, ain't it?"

"Considerably."

"It ought to be—I'm paying dearly for it."

"Thirty guineas."

"Fellow told you that, eh?"

"Yes."

"Well, it ain't home, but it suffices, I suppose." Rand eyed him shrewdly. "Came back, did you?"

"Yes."

"I thought mebbe as Ellie could persuade you."

A surge of anger rose within him, but Patrick managed to control the urge to hit the old man. His jaw working, he managed to say tightly, "She spoke to me, if that is what you mean."

"Aye. Taking little thing, ain't she?"

"You, sir, are offensive," Patrick snapped.

"I got money, sirrah—so I don't have to be nice unless I was wanting to." Rand shrugged. "But it don't matter, does it? You are back, and that was what I was wanting."

"On condition."

One heavy brow rose. "Condition? What's that supposed to mean?"

"You are going to have to tell me everything, Mr. Rand. I don't intend to go into court playing hood-man blind with Peale."

"Aye."

"You are entitled to the best defense I can mount— whether you are innocent or guilty."

"Glad to hear it," Rand acknowledged.

"But I have to know whether you did in fact murder Annie Adams."

The old man looked up suspiciously. "I ain't a fool, Hamilton—no sirrah, not at all. I wasn't born under no three-penny planet."

"Mr. Rand—"

"Well, I ain't about to say I was guilty, sir—how the devil was that to sound, eh?"

"It would be privileged information totally inadmissible as evidence."

"Still, I ain't going to say I did it."

"Without your promise of complete candor between us, I shall simply walk out that door." When Rand did not respond, Patrick could not entirely control the exasperation he felt. "And given that you have managed to insult both Mr. Parker and myself, you will have whistled two of the best criminal barristers in London down the wind," he added irritably.

Rand peered intently into Patrick's face, then seemed to relent "You are a man as knows how to lay the cards down, ain't you?"

"Yes."

"You got to understand, Hamilton. I didn't make m'money by being loose with the chatter, and I ain't used to letting anybody tell me how to go on."

"Your life is in my hands, sir."

"Aye. Then you'd best sit down, eh? It ain't going to be no easy thing to tell you all of it."

"All right."

As Rand sat down on one side of the table, Patrick took the opposite chair. "Now—tell me everything that you know, everything that has happened, beginning with Peg Parker."

"Parker!" Rand yelped. "Now I ain't charged with that!" He hesitated a moment. "Am I?"

"You might be. Did you know her?"

"Course not," the old man muttered testily. "Never laid eyes on the woman."

"You never frequented Maddie Coates's establishment? Before you answer, I might point out that the answer is easy enough to prove."

"Aye, I suppose so." Rand looked suddenly glum. "All right—I been there," he admitted grudgingly.

"When?"

'How the devil should I remember that? I been to lots of 'em."

"No doubt," Patrick muttered. "I would that you are precise in every detail, sir."

"I said I'd been there."

"When?"

"I dunno. Two or three times last year maybe," came the sullen reply.

"Did you see Peg Parker there?"

"Might've. Whores all look alike in the dark, don't they?"

"Did you ever purchase her services?"

"I told you—I might have. Between you and me, I ain't been one to look much at 'em. All I was wanting was someplace to put it."

"Then you could have bought Miss Parker?"

"There you go—a-callin' 'em misses like they was proper females," Rand protested. "I already said I might've had her."

"But you do not recall precisely?"

"No."

"Did you know Maddie Coates?" "The old whore as took m'money? Aye."

"What about Thomas Truckle?"

"Who? Oh—collect you mean the butler as was in the papers."

"Yes."

"Well, if I was there, I must've seen him."

"Probably. Now, to be specific, how well did you know Maddie Coates?"

"I answered that."

"You were not a regular customer?"

"Damme if I ain't answered that also!"

"If Mr. Peale brings girls from the Coates establishment into court to testify, can they say you were there frequently?"

"I already told you—" Rand saw the impatience in Patrick's eyes. "Aye, I suppose they could," he decided finally.

"Maddie indicated that there was an old gent who preferred Peg, but due to his misusing her, he was no longer admitted. Mr. Rand, were you that man?"

"I ain't never been turned away nowhere."

"All right. I suppose the females of the establishment would know that also."

Rand flashed him a look that bordered on dislike. "They might say it," he conceded. 'They wasn't always wanting to do what I was wanting."

"Which was?"

"Now they ain't going to tell that in court, I'll be bound!"

"They will be under oath, Mr. Rand."

"Well, I was wantin' her to let me bite her so's she'd squeal a bit." The old man looked up. "At my age, it ain't so easy anymore to keep going, if you was to know my meaning."

"Did you bite her?"

"Aye."

"That scarcely seems sufficient to get you turned out, sir."

"Well, sometimes I drew blood and they howled as I was killing 'em. And I kinda liked it like that."

"There were bite marks on Annie Adams's breasts," Patrick reminded him.

"I said I was with her, didn't I?" Rand countered. "I ain't being tried for that, anyways."

"I expect Peale will examine the coroner's records for Peg Parker and Fanny Shawe also, as well as those for every other female found in the river during the past several years, so if there is anything you wish me to know, you'd best tell me now."

"Bitin' ain't exactly one man's vice," the old man retorted.

"You did not know Fanny Shawe?"

"How many times I got to say it? I might have, and I might not. Surely I ain't expected to remember every whore I put it to, eh?"

"No, if their numbers are legion, I suppose not," Patrick murmured dryly.

"You ain't meaning to tell me you ain't never visited no whores, Hamilton? Well, I'm not believing it."

"Mr. Rand, I am not on trial. Now—let us consider Maddie Coates herself," Patrick went on. "You knew her—you have admitted that already."

"Not in the biblical sense."

Rand chuckled as though he'd made a jest, but Patrick didn't crack a smile. "She would have recognized you, wouldn't she? If she had encountered you anywhere, she would have recognized you?" he persisted.

"Aye, she might, I expect."

"Have you ever frequented the Red Dragon?"

"Where is it?"

"A blind alley in the rookery."

"Then I expect I been to it, and if they got whores, I've probably been in it."

Patrick's expression grew pained. "It is an opium den, sir—the one where it is believed Mrs. Coates died."

"If I got any addiction, 'tis the females, not eating opium!" Rand snorted.

Duly noting he'd said eating rather than smoking, Patrick leaned forward to look directly into Bartholomew Rand's face. "Were you there when she died? Do you know anything about how it happened?"

"I thought you was my attorney, sirrah!" Rand fumed indignantly. "Besides, she wasn't killed, as far as
I know it. The papers was saying as how—"

"Did you know she used opium?" Patrick asked, interrupting him.

"I told you I did not—the other day, I told you."

"And at the time you were lying to me about knowing
her, so why should I believe you now?"

"Dash it, sirrah, but I don't—" The old man caught himself. Looking sheepish, he nodded. "Aye, I got to tell m'lawyer, don't I?"

"Yes."

"Where was we?"

"Maddie's opium use," Patrick reminded him dryly.

"Oh, aye. Well, I seen the pipes, but I cannot say as whether 'twas for her or the men as was visitin' her place."

"But you never saw her eating any opium?"

"If I did, I wasn't knowing what she was eating. It ain't like I ever ate any myself, you know. Stuff's too demned bitter by half! Why they's fools as takes it that way—fools!"

"But you know what a hookah is?"

"Aye, 'tis a Turkish pipe, ain't it?"

"Yes." His eyes intent on Rand, Patrick asked flaty, "Is there anything you can think of that Peale might use against you during your trial, Mr. Rand?"

"Nothing you ain't already said."

"No witnesses who can connect you to the deaths of Peg Parker, Fanny Shawe, or Maddie Coates?"

"No," Rand lied. "And you are the only one as wants to try me for them, anyways, ain't you?"

"I dislike surprises, Mr. Rand." Patrick stood up. "Very well, that will be all this time, sir."

"Huh? But you ain't done nothing but beat m'brow, Hamilton! You ain't told me as how you mean to get me off!" the old man complained loudly.

"If I can produce statements from acquaintances of Annie Adams's pimp to the effect that he misused her, I can probably discredit his testimony against you. More than that I am not prepared to discuss just yet. A great deal depends on what the chemist discovers in Maddie's opium."

"Well, I hope you ain't meaning to ask questions as will get me charged with the rest of it," Rand muttered. "Don't know why they are needful of a chemist anyways."

"To see if the seeds and bits of plant found in what was left were from the poppy or if something else was added."

The old man considered Patrick for a long moment, then sighed. "Aye, I suppose. But it don't make no sense to me, none at all. But I got you, so I guess I ain't supposed to worry none over it, eh?"

Patrick smoothed the sleeves of his dark blue superfine coat, then picked a small piece of lint off one of them before he spoke to Rand again. "I want you to be very careful in here. I do not want you to speak familiarly with the guards—and above all, I don't want you to ask them to procure a female for you. I don't want Peale to be able to call a jailer who can testify you have misused anyone in here."

"Eh? Here now—that ain't right!" Rand protested. "I mean, they ain't offered, but if they was to—"

"I doubt that, sir. Girls are to be had here for a tuppence to feed their babes."

"And if I was to get me one, what's the harm to it? A man ain't supposed to live like no demned monk, you know."

"While you are here, you will. Otherwise, you can find yourself another lawyer."

The old man's face darkened. "The hell I will! Now, you listen to me, sirrah! I'll do as I want if I want— ain't nobody as tells Bat Rand he ain't getting laid when he's wanting it."

"Either you do as I say, or you can hang by yourself. Do you not understand plain-speaking, sir? One girl in here, and I will wash my hands of you."

"Aye," Rand muttered. "But I still ain't seeing no harm to it?"

"It will be a great deal easier to persuade the jury that you are the victim if it appears Annie Adams enticed you."

"Well, and she did. Asked if I was wanting to feel her, you know. And when I was squeezing the jugs, she offered the rest of it."

"Later on this afternoon, Mr. Banks will come over to obtain a deposition from you. I would suggest you make yourself look as green and gullible as you can."

"Dash it, but I ain't green!"

"No, but if you persist in appearing belligerent, you may be perceived as threatening. And while you are here—and when you are in sitting in court, you are going to appear as meek and self-effacing as you can. It is your duty to make yourself likable."

"Still don't see any harm," the old man muttered under his breath. "They ain't hangin' a respectable businessman over no whore, are they?"

"Yes. And I would that you did not drink either."

“What?”
Rand fairly howled. "Now, see here, sir!"

"The same jailers that provide your wine can testify to everything you tell them."

"Oh, but they ain't—"

Patrick sighed. "All right, I'll put it in language you can understand, sir—their lips are oft as loose "as the legs of the whores you have frequented."

"But I'm payin' em!"

"And the money stops when you are hanged," Patrick reminded him. "Good day, Mr. Rand."

He was halfway to the door when he heard the old man grumble, "Ain't going to be much good to it, if you was to have your way about it."