The King's Evil (23 page)

The
body was floating in mid-stream. It had lain beneath the water for some time
before bobbing back to the surface in so bloated a condition that it was
hideous to behold. The passengers in the boat turned away in disgust but the
watermen were used to such sights. One of them shipped his oars and uncoiled
the rope which lay at his feet. When he and the others resumed their journey
across the Thames, the boat was towing the dead man by his ankle.

An
hour later, the corpse was lifted on to a slab at the morgue to be examined by
a surgeon. It was a gruesome task. Even though the chamber was sweetened by
herbs, the stink was nauseating. The man's face was swollen to twice its
original size and so distorted that his closest friends would never recognise
him. Birds had started to peck at his face, rendering it even more repulsive.
The trunk and limbs were also grotesquely inflated, splitting open his apparel
in several places. Spewed up by the River Thames, he was one huge ball of
putrefaction.

The
surgeon turned to his assistant with a sigh.

'Cut
off his clothes and we will make a start.'

'Do
not prevaricate!' warned Christopher. 'Tell me where he is.'

'I
do not know, sir. That is the truth.'

'You
must know. You are Mr Creech's clerk.'

'He
simply told me that he was going away for a few days.'

'To
hide from me.'

'Your
name was not mentioned, Mr Redmayne.'

'What
of the name of Sir Ambrose Northcott?'

'That
was at the forefront of his mind,' admitted the other. 'The last thing he said
was that he would have to go aboard Sir Ambrose's ship to transact some
business with the captain.'

'What
was the nature of that business?'

'I
can but guess.'

Christopher
saw that no purpose would be served by haranguing the clerk. Geoffrey Anger was
a harmless individual, loyal to his employer but quite unable to lie
convincingly on his behalf. He cowered before the interrogation which his
visitor inflicted on him and Christopher felt a twinge of guilt. He adopted a
softer tone.

'I
am sorry to make demands which you cannot meet, Mr Anger,' he said quietly,
'but you must understand my position. Mr Creech is in possession of certain
facts which will help me track down the man who killed Sir Ambrose.

That
is why I must speak to him. Urgently.'

'I
would value some urgent conference with him myself,' bleated the other. 'I need
his approval on a dozen matters.'

'How
long have you been his clerk?'

'Seven
and a half years, sir.'

'Do
you like the work?'

Geoffrey
Anger was cautious. 'I find it very rewarding, sir.'

'Mr
Creech has a high reputation.'

'He
has more than earned it.'

'You
must have made some contribution towards it.'

'I,
sir?'

'Come,
Mr Anger. I have dealt with many lawyers. They are only as good as the clerks
who toil at their elbow. If you have been here so long, you must have a good
insight into Mr Creech's business.'

'I
like to think so.'

'Then
answer me this,' said Christopher. 'Does the name of Marie Louise Oilier strike
a chord in your mind?'

'I
am not at liberty to discuss our clients, sir.'

'Then
the lady is a client?'

'I
did not say that, Mr Redmayne.'

'Then
what are you saying?' pressed Christopher, reverting to a more combative
approach. 'Are you telling me that you do not wish the man who murdered Sir
Ambrose to be caught? Are you deliberately holding back crucial facts from me?
I can see from your expression that you recognised the name. You
knew
that Mademoiselle Oilier was linked to the new house which was being built.
Well? Did you not?'

'Yes,
sir,' came the faint reply.

'And
you also knew that Sir Ambrose's ship bears her name.'

'That
is true.'

'Then
it follows that you were privy to the relationship between this lady and your
client. I have seen the letters which she wrote to him and they leave no room
for doubt. The lady was his mistress.'

The
clerk was shocked. 'No, sir!'

'Those
missives were not penned by a nun, Mr Anger.'

'I
have not seen them,' said the other. 'Nor do I wish to, sir. The fact that a
lady's name is conjoined to a particular property does not of itself mean that
there is some liaison between her and Sir Ambrose. He owned another house
occupied by a lady yet I have heard no suggestion of impropriety between them.'

'Another
house?' Christopher was intrigued. 'Do you refer to the residence in
Westminster?'

'No,
sir. In Lincoln's Inn Fields.'

'Sir
Ambrose owned a property there? Why did he need to build a third house when he
already owned two? Surely, he could have installed Mademoiselle Oilier in
Lincoln's Inn Fields?'

'It
was leased out to someone else.'

'Who
is it?'

'Mrs
Mandrake.'

'Molly
Mandrake?'

'That
is the lady, sir.'

Christopher
needed a moment to take in the information and to remind himself that he was
dealing with a man of remarkable naivety. The name of Molly Mandrake had passed
across the desk of Geoffrey Anger on many occasions but he had no idea who she
was or what sort of a house she kept. His blinkered life protected him from the
darker pleasures of the city. The fact that someone was a client of Mr Creech
was enough for him. Their character was never suspect.

Christopher
marvelled at his innocence and treated him gently.

'How
many other properties did Sir Ambrose own?' he said.

'Just
these two, sir.'

'One
in Westminster, one in Lincoln's Inn Fields.'

'And
a third that was never built.'

'As
I know to my cost, Mr Anger!' said Christopher ruefully. 'Did Mademoiselle Oilier
ever visit this office?' 'No, sir.'

'Was
Sir Ambrose a frequent caller?'

'Mr
Creech always met him away from here.'

'Why
was that?'

'You
will have to ask him yourself, sir.'

'I
intend to. What do you know of the
Marie Louise!’

'Little
beyond the fact that it was owned by a client of ours.'

'All
of his commercial transactions must have gone through his lawyer. Were you not
handling contracts for him all the time?'

'Mr
Creech took care of those himself,' explained the other. 'I had no direct
contact with Sir Ambrose's business affairs.'

'Was
Mr Creech in the habit of keeping things from you?'

'No,
sir.'

'So
why was he so secretive about Sir Ambrose Northcott?'

'It
is not my place to say.'

'You
must have had some idea.'

'I
assure you, sir, I did not.'

'Where
does Mr Creech keep his papers?'

'Locked
up in his office, sir.'

'Do
you have a key to it?'

'No,'
said the clerk. 'And even if I did, I would permit nobody to go in there
without Mr Creech's express permission.'

'But
there are important documents in there which I need to see,' said Christopher
with irritation. 'What is to stop me breaking in now and looking for them?'

'Oh,
sir! You would never do that.'

'Why
not?'

Geoffrey
Anger's quiet reply had a devastating power.

'You
are a
gentleman,
sir.'

When
he cut open the stomach with his scalpel, the surgeon turned away as the
noisome contents poured out.

The
dead man had eaten a hearty meal before he drowned and its remains were now
scattered all over the stone slab on which he now lay. When the surgeon and his
assistant looked back at the glutinous mess, they saw something which glinted
in the light of the candles. The surgeon reached down to pick it up. After
dipping it into the basin of water, he held it up to examine it.

'What
was a gold ring doing in there?' he wondered.