The Scream of Sins by Chris Nickson

The Scream of Sins by Chris Nickson

Author:Chris Nickson [Chris Nickson]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2023-11-12T16:00:00+00:00


TWENTY-ONE

‘Carpenter?’ George Mudie frowned as he worked, fixing type into the blocks. His fingers moved quickly and confidently. Simon watched, transfixed by his assurance. ‘No,’ he said eventually, ‘I don’t know anyone with that name. What’s he done?’

‘You’re better off if I don’t say, George.’ When Mudie gave him a curious look, Simon continued, ‘I’m not making light of it. Some things shouldn’t be said in good company.’

‘All right,’ he agreed reluctantly. He thrived on news and the gossip.

‘You’ll learn it all later. Everyone will.’

No luck there. No luck anywhere, it seemed. Finally, standing in the coaching office, one of the clerks raised his head.

‘Did you say Carpenter, sir?’

‘Yes.’ Simon felt a surge of hope. ‘Do you know him?’

‘There’s a gentleman called Carpenter who sometimes sends a package on the coach to London.’ He blinked behind his spectacles. His right hand was curled like a claw from holding a pen each day and his shirt cuff stained blue with ink. Middle-aged, with hair beginning to pull back from his forehead and turn grey, he looked like a sober, honest man.

‘A gentleman?’ That was a jolt. He’d expected someone dark and furtive.

‘He’s always mounted. A good animal, too.’ More blinking. ‘I grew up on a farm, sir. I know a little about horses.’

A horse … They needed space. The countryside.

‘Can you tell me anything else about him?’ Simon produced a shilling. ‘Where does he live?’

The clerk’s face flushed. His fingers fidgeted together as he eyed the money and considered his reply.

‘I don’t know. I never had any need to ask. He’s definitely not a rich man, I can tell you that. Always wears the same clothes when he comes and they’re a bit worn. But his face has the look of spending a lot of time in the weather.’

‘A farmer?’

The man shook his head. ‘No, I don’t believe so.’ He blinked again. ‘I’m not sure why, sir. He doesn’t seem like one, that’s all.’

‘How old is he? What does he look like?’

When the clerk hesitated, Simon added another sixpence.

‘Probably close to forty, sir. Around my age. A long face, and a large nose. Fair hair, but there’s not too much of it left. He’s short, probably not much more than a few inches over five feet.’ A hurried, nervous smile. ‘You learn to judge height in this job, sir. How many people can squeeze inside a coach.’

‘Very good. You’re observant.’ He handed over the money. ‘When was he last here?’

The clerk pursed his lips and thought for a long time. ‘It’s been a while, sir. Early autumn, I think.’

‘Thank you.’

Sheer luck. If the clerk hadn’t overheard, he’d still be groping around. But sometimes luck smiled. He felt sure this was the right man. Not what he’d expected, but it worked with what they knew. Now they had to find this place.

Jane bought two pies from Kate and strode over to Sally’s room. The girl unlocked the door and sat silently as she ate.

‘How’s your hip?’

Sally shrugged. ‘A little better. Still hurts.’

‘Any regrets about last night?’

She lifted her head, astonished by the question.



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