Wanted (Flick Carter Book 1) (21 page)

He pushed open the door, and a shaft of light shone down, making the place seem a bit brighter. When he came back down, he pushed a bundle through between the bars.

‘These are some of Maggie’s things. She’s about the same size as you. But it looks like Joe has already lent you some clothes…’

Flick laughed grimly. ‘He probably doesn’t even know. It wasn’t like I asked if I could borrow them.’

‘Take these anyway, just in case,’ Fred said.

‘Thank you Fred. Tell Maggie, thank you. I don’t know how I’ll repay you.’ She wiped a tear from her eye. ‘I suppose you’ll get them back after they hang me. They
are
going to hang me, aren’t they?’

She looked up at him plaintively.

‘We don’t…’ Fred couldn’t get the words out. ‘Look, none of us believes you did it, you couldn’t have.’

‘Thank you Fred. I don’t even know what I’m supposed to have done.’

‘Nor do we. I expect the mayor’s making it up as we speak…’ He knelt and rummaged in a wicker basket that was by his feet. ‘I’ll be forgetting me own head next,’ he said. ‘The missus cooked up a bowl of gruel, just like she used to make at the…’ His voice trailed off. ‘It’s not much, but it’ll keep you going and warm the cockles, if you know my meaning.’

He pushed the bowl and a wooden spoon under the bars.

‘Thank you Fred, I feel better already,’ Flick said as she tucked in.

When she’d finished, Fred took the bowl back.

‘Gotta go now,’ he said. ‘I’m on duty, but someone’ll be round later. If there’s anything I can do, just let us know…’

‘You couldn’t let me out, I suppose?’

‘Sorry Flick. If I had a key I would, but the only key, well… the mayor’s got it. Not that these bars are much more than show, to be honest.’

‘Oh well, it was worth a try. Still, you’ll know where to find me; it’s not like I’m going anywhere!’

‘That’s it, keep your spirits up. We’ll think of something.’ He reached through the bars, rattling them slightly in the process, and squeezed her hand.

Then he banged on the door, and whoever was on guard outside let him out.

Flick opened the bundle and found a blue long-sleeved soft linen dress. She remembered Maggie wearing it the summer before, when they’d all gone up to the river for a picnic–her and Maggie, Fred and Joe–and they’d caught a fish, and Fred had fallen in the river, and Joe had jumped in after him. She smiled, a happy time.

Then there was a pair of leather sandals, and a knitted shawl, and a thin, grey woollen blanket that would help protect her from the cold stone.

She draped the blanket over herself. That was much better, she felt nearly human again.

Flick was left inside the cell all that day and the next. Twice each day Maggie was allowed in to bring food and swap over the bucket, but she had no other visitors, and the only light was whatever filtered in though the tiny windows.

On the third morning, Sergeant Taylor entered the jail, carrying a large black curtain. He said nothing, but hung the curtain against the bars of the cell. Now she couldn’t see out, and nobody outside the cell could see in. Not long after, she heard the sound of boots as a number of people entered the building and went up the stairs. They chattered on the way in, but stopped talking as they went past. She could hear their voices again in the upper room, but couldn’t make out quite who they were.

Flick heard the rattle of the key in the lock. She looked up as Sergeant Taylor and Corporal Ross came into the cell. The two men were quite a bit older than she was and she didn’t hold them as friends, so she went back to staring at the ground and thinking about Rosie.
Poor Rosie
.

‘Stand up, Miss, and hold your arms out,’ the sergeant instructed. He was completely business-like, no smiles or friendly gestures.
 

Flick stood, wobbling slightly, her mind back in the cell, heart pounding, and eyes darting from one to the other. Corporal Ross took some handcuffs and locked them around her wrists. He looked embarrassed as he did it.

‘Sorry Miss,’ he muttered. ‘We don’t like it any more than you do.’

The narrow staircase the two men led her up doubled back on itself, emerging through a door into a corner of the upper room. As Flick entered, the room hushed into silence. She blinked in the brightness of the light streaming in through the large windows that dominated three of the four walls. The two Watchmen walked her firmly the three paces to the dock, unlocked the handcuff from one hand and locked it to a metal railing. They then stood at attention either side of her.

Once she was seated, Flick took in her surroundings. On her right, in front of two large windows was an ornate wooden desk, with an equally ornate chair behind it. On her left, in front of the other big windows were two rows of benches, on which sat about a dozen people. Maggie was there, and Mary, the mayor’s wife, and Joe. This was the first time that she’d seen him since she’d screamed at him that day just after the fire. He glanced at her, a fixed expression on his face, showing no emotion or even recognition. The others were all strangers to her.

Two large men wearing the new Griffin uniform came up the stairs, followed by Mayor Griffin himself, in full regalia and carrying a bundle of papers. He was in turn followed by two more thugs. Everyone in the room stood, and the sergeant pulled Flick to her feet. There was silence, and all eyes followed him as he crossed to the desk, without even glancing in Flick’s direction. The thugs positioned themselves one on either side of the desk, and the other two against the wall opposite Flick. One cracked his knuckles noisily.

The mayor sat, and everyone else followed suit. Flick started to sit, but the sergeant stopped her.

‘Not you,’ he growled.

Mayor Griffin looked around the room. Nobody spoke. He banged his gavel. ‘This court is now in session. First case: Felicity Carter. You are hereby charged with the murder of Nicholas Carter and the murder of Rosemary Carter, and of the wanton destruction by fire of the Crown Inn.’ He looked her straight in the face. ‘How do you plead?’

Flick blanched.
Now I know
. There was no doubt in her mind that they intended to find her guilty and kill her, no matter what she said.

‘Not guilty.’ Her voice was little more than a whisper.

‘I’m sorry, we didn’t catch that,’ said the mayor, theatrically.

Flick raised her head. Her face was tear stained, bruised and filthy, her borrowed clothes looked a mess, her arms covered with dirt and blood and bruises. But her eyes were defiant, as she looked straight at the two thugs standing opposite her. ‘Not guilty!’ Her voice was clear.

The room erupted into a mess of shouting and baying.
 

The mayor banged his gavel, ‘I will have silence!’ he shouted.

Gradually the room quieted down, and the mayor turned to Flick. ‘Sit down, Miss Carter,’ he said.

Flick sank down onto her chair and waited.

‘Let’s get this over with quickly,’ the mayor announced. ‘I’ve got more important things to be getting on with. Now, this court intends to prove beyond reasonable doubt that Felicity Carter did in fact deliberately burn down the Crown Inn, in full knowledge of the presence of her father and sister, and did thereby commit two acts of murder, for which the penalty is death by hanging.’

There was more noise from the crowd, but rather more subdued this time. The mayor banged his gavel again and called for silence. The banging continued even after he’d put down the gavel and there was a moment of confusion, until Flick realised it was coming from downstairs. People were shouting outside.
 

Mayor Griffin pointed at the two thugs standing opposite Flick. ‘You: go and see what’s happening.’

The pair reached for their persuaders and went down the stairs. Flick heard the door open and the voice of one of the thugs.

‘Wot the ‘ell…’

There were two thumps, like the sound of wood hitting leather, followed by two thuds, like the sounds of bodies hitting the ground, and then silence.

The mayor smiled. ‘Perhaps now we can continue,’ he said. ‘Now, the first witness…’ He consulted one of the papers on his desk. ‘Ah. I appear to have just sent him downstairs to sort out that little fracas. Well, I suppose he will re-join us shortly. So let us go on to the next witness…’

There was the sound of the door opening below, and several pairs of boots coming up the stairs.

‘Never mind; here he comes now. The court will recognise… Who the hell are you?’

‘Nobody move!’

Three Kingsmen, big men in black body armour and helmets, had rushed into the room. They each held a large handgun, clearly visible. Two moved to cover the mayor and his remaining henchmen, who were already halfway around the table and pulling out their persuaders. They looked at the guns, now pointed at them and decided the odds were not in their favour. They dropped their sticks and backed up against the wall. The third Kingsman covered the spectators on the benches, who just sat and stared in stunned silence. None of them paid any attention to Flick, chained to the dock.

The mayor jumped to his feet. ‘This is preposterous…’ he blustered, his face turning red. ‘This is a legally appointed court of law, governed by the king, no less, and…’

‘I said, nobody move! Now sit down and shut up,’ the first Kingsman growled, waving his gun at the mayor.

He sat, still fuming.

‘Now do correct me if I’m wrong…’ This was a new voice, a fourth Kingsman had entered the room, a woman judging by the voice, and an officer, judging by the bits of uniform Flick could see under the body armour. She took off her helmet to reveal a head of shoulder length auburn-red hair. She placed her helmet on the desk, and peeled off her black gloves before she continued.

‘In a court governed by the king, the king has the right to have a representative present to see that the justice dispensed is indeed the
king’s
justice.’

‘Yes, but the king never…’

‘Silence! I did not give you leave to speak. Now, I am Lieutenant Dixon, and I represent the king. Here is my warrant.’ She produced a large scroll of parchment with an ornate seal on it, which she casually tossed onto the desk.

The mayor reached for the parchment and broke open the seal. He then unrolled and read the document, visibly blanching at what he saw there.

‘Very well,’ he said, eventually.

‘Now, I will have this chair,’ she said, pointing to the chair the mayor was sitting in. ‘You may sit beside me.’ Then she called out ‘Someone get a chair for the mayor!’

No one moved. ‘Well, get on with it, we haven’t got all day!’ She glanced around the room then pointed at the corporal guarding Flick. ‘You. Go!’ she barked.

‘Yes ma’am,’ Corporal Ross saluted and rushed off.

The room remained silent while he was away. The Kingsmen stood alert, weapons drawn, watching for the slightest hint of dissent. Flick glanced at the lieutenant, sitting in the chair the mayor had so recently vacated, and saw that she was studying her intently, with a scowl on her face, her bright blue eyes, cold and humourless. There was no ray of hope there; the Kingsmen were not noted for their leniency.
 

A few minutes later Corporal Ross came back with a three-legged stool. Flick recognised it as the one from her cell and knew intimately the filth and dirt that must still be on it. The corporal winked at her as he went past, and she caught a hint of the aroma wafting by. She cracked the merest hint of a smile, the first in goodness knew how many days. If she wasn’t so deep in the shit, she thought, this would be funny.

‘This was all we could find, ma'am’ he said.

The mayor caught sight of the stool, or possibly his nose caught the smell of it. ‘I’m not sitting on that,’ he bellowed.

Three guns rapidly pointed in the mayor’s direction.

‘I think,’ Lieutenant Dixon said in measured, even tones, ‘that if your prisoner could sit on that for the past three days, it shouldn’t be too big an imposition for you to sit on it for an hour or two.’

Dixon looked at her, and Flick thought she saw something in those eyes, almost a sparkle.

Maybe, just maybe…

The mayor grumbled something under his breath and sat down.

‘Now,’ Dixon said, ‘let’s get on with it, shall we?’

The mayor turned and whispered something to her.

‘Oh, that’s most… unfortunate. Well, I believe he will recover in time, but too late I fear to be of any use to these proceedings. I suggest you go on to the next witness.’

The mayor consulted the papers on the desk. ‘Ashley Stevens. Do we have an Ashley Stevens here?’

One of the two remaining henchmen cautiously raised a hand. ‘That’s me,’ he said slowly, ‘but I calls myself Ash.’

‘Very well.
Ash
. Please relate what you saw or heard.’

‘Well, me and some mates was drinking in the Crown that night, before it burnt down, and we heard the accused–that’s her in the dock,’ he pointed at Flick. ‘She was serving the beer. Anyhow, we hears her talking to this other villain, saying they was going to burn the place down and run away together.’

Flick jumped up. ‘I did no such thing!’ she protested.

The mayor banged his gavel. ‘Sit down and be quiet!’

Flick sat, scowling.

He turned back to the henchman. ‘Did you get a name for this other… person?’

‘Yeah. She called him Shea. Shea O’Connell.’

‘I see, thank you. Anything more you wish to add?’

‘Yeah, we was outside later, after closing, and we saw her through the window. She was torching the place.’

‘Did you try to stop her?’

‘Of course. We banged on the door and shouted, but it was locked.’

‘That’s a lie!’ protested Flick, jumping up again, ‘I couldn’t possibly have started the fire. I was asleep in bed.’

Mayor Griffin banged the gavel once more, ‘Miss Carter, I do not want to tell you again!’

Flick sat, and grumbled. ‘I’m just saying. If he saw someone, it couldn’t have been me. Might have been him for all I know.’
 

The mayor scowled and pointed his gavel at Flick, before consulting the papers again. ‘Now it says here that your occupation is “Henchman” and it lists Mayor Griffin–me–as your employer. Tell me what that entails.’