The Death Collector: A Victorian Murder Mystery by Toni Mount

Author:Toni Mount [Mount, Toni]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: MadeGlobal Publishing
Published: 2018-06-27T22:00:00+00:00

Eventually, Nell came back downstairs, red-eyed. Without a word, Albert poured her some tea: a peace offering.

‘I’ve been looking out the bedroom window,’ Nell said, ‘There’s an old woman outside in the street. I have seen her three or four times, going up and down.’

‘Is she committing a crime?’ Albert was wary of getting involved, seeing his circumstances at present, preferring the safer occupation of reading his newspaper – yet again.

‘No, but I think it seems sus – ’

‘Then she is of no account to us, Nell. Best leave well alone.’

‘She looks... I don’t know... furtive, somehow.’

‘Why don’t you find something useful to do, besides questioning everybody else’s business?’ Albert said, flinging aside the newspaper, so pages were spread across the floor, all out of order.

The sudden banging at the front door made them both jump. Nell looked at Albert with a puzzled frown.

‘If it’s Maudie Cooper, we can sort this out once and for...’

‘It won’t be, whoever she is,’ Albert said, straightening his waistcoat as he went along the hall. ‘And if it’s that woman you saw from the window, she can damn well clear off too. We don’t have money to spare for charity, any longer.’

No sooner had he opened the door than a large hobnail boot was planted on the threshold to prevent any chance of closure.

‘Mr Albert Sutton?’ A heavy set fellow with the misshapen nose and cauliflower ears of a bare-knuckle boxer touched his forelock. Yet it was hardly a gesture of subservience, more an act of defiance. Another equally intimidating man stood on the steps behind him.

‘Yes. I’m Albert Sutton. Who are you? What business do you have, coming to my door all unexpectedly?’

‘The name’s ’Obbs, George ’Obbs: court-appointed bailiff. So’s ‘Arry Martin.’ He gestured over his shoulder. We’ve come t’ collect yer rent wots late bein’ paid.’

‘But the rent isn’t late. It’s not due until the first of the month. Now get off my doorstep.’ Albert tried to close the door, but Hobbs now had both feet firmly over the doorsill, standing on the ‘welcome’ mat in the hall. Martin was close behind and Albert saw with dismay the knuckle-duster on the second man’s fist as he polished it on his lapel.

‘Landlord don’t agree. Nor does the beak.’

‘The case has gone before a magistrate already? That’s ridiculous. The courts just don’t work that fast. Besides, there is no case to answer.’

‘We’re to collect four pounds, eighteen shillings and four pence. It’s last month’s overdues and next month’s in advance. Payment in full, landlord wants, or yer owt!’

‘You can get out; both of you. You made a mistake; got the wrong address.’

‘We never make mistakes, do we ’Arry? It’s defaulters like you wot make the mistake. Court says you owe, so we come t’ collect.’

‘But the rent is only seventeen shillings and sixpence.’

‘Landlord says it’s gawn up, plus court fees, plus interest fer ev’ry day it’s late.’

‘This is monstrous!’ Albert cried, verging on despair.

Across the street, an elderly lady was watching, laughing behind the veil of her widow’s bonnet.

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