The Mangle Street Murders Part 12

*Her feet and the bottom of her dress.'

*You are sure about that?'

*Yes. Why?'

Sidney Grice flicked back a page of his notebook and circled a line of shorthand.

*Her dress had not risen up her legs?'

William Ashby stopped turning the mug.

*No,' he said. *Her dress was not disarrayed.'

He put the mug down very carefully.

*How was the room lit?'

*By the gas lamp turned low, and I suppose there would have been light coming from the door to the kitchen. Oh, and the door to the shop was open.'

*You are sure?'

*As certain as I am here.'

*And where was she lying?'

*On the floor.' William Ashby paused and coughed. *Between the table and the wall.'

*What colour were her boots?' Sidney Grice asked, and William Ashby ran his fingers through his hair.

*I don't remember. Black, I expect. The light isn't very good and I wasn't paying attention.'

*But you saw her boots?'

William Ashby looked at me and I returned his gaze.

*Yes.' He looked away. *I think so.'

*You think so?' Sidney Grice said. *You have just told us you saw her feet. Did you see her boots?'

*I must have but I did not notice the colour. Why would I?'

*How many pairs of boots did your wife have?'

*Two. One black and one brown. Why is this so important?'

Sidney Grice was very still. He was fixed on the suspect as I have seen a python with a monkey. Very quietly, he said, *Did anybody take your wife's boots off after she was found?'

William Ashby blinked. *What? No. Why would they?'

*Because she had none on when she was taken away.'

William Ashby looked baffled. *Maybe they were stolen,' he said. *Good boots cost money.'

Sidney Grice touched his eye. *Both pairs are still under the bed.'

William Ashby swallowed and pushed his fringe back. *Maybe I was wrong. Maybe she had none on. It was dark and-'

Sidney Grice broke in. *So how can you be so certain that her dress was not disarrayed?'

*I don't know.'

*Your wife would not man the shop barefooted.'

*No, I suppose not.'

*Then why was she barefooted?'

*I don't know. I can't think straight.'

Sidney Grice was scribbling furiously.

*Let us leave the matter of the boots for a moment,' Inspector Pound said. *What happened next?'

*I went over to her.' William Ashby's voice died in his throat and he closed his eyes. *I thought she must have fainted.'

*Was she p.r.o.ne to fainting?' I asked, and the inspector shot me a glance but said nothing.

*No.' He opened his eyes and whispered, *But then she was not p.r.o.ne to being murdered.' He stared at us and at nothing. He sucked the air and blew it out, looked up and then down and said, *I saw her and it was horrible. My beautiful Sarah lay there on the floor and I hardly knew her. She had become a thing, a disgusting waxwork. It oozed and stank of blood. The eyes like a dead animal and the mouth was open, stupid and revolting. She had been taken from me and some... thing flung on to the floor in her place. I ran into the shop, hoping to see her there, to scoop her in my arms and carry her to safety... But the shop was empty. No Sarah. Nothing. I must have dreamed it or somehow got it all wrong. But when I ran back into the sitting room, sweet Jesus, she was still there, and I kneeled at her side and picked her up and I thought I heard a sigh and I thought She is still alive. She has just had some accident and fallen over. I will call Tilly to fetch a doctor. And then I saw the opening in her throat and her open mouth full of blackness, and I knew.'

I reached out and put my hand on his, white with clutching the mug, and he looked at me, his eyes burning with pain, and he swallowed and licked his lips and said, *G.o.d bless you, miss.' I knew then, as certainly as I have ever known anything, that William Ashby was innocent of the murder of his wife.

*Do you want to have time to compose yourself?' Inspector Pound asked gently, but William Ashby shook his head and said, *It will not get any easier.'

*Go on.' Sidney Grice lifted my hand away and dropped it on the table.

*I laid her back.'

*Did you move her body away from where you had found it?'

*No. I just held her and laid her back.'

*She was still warm?'

A spasm of disgust welled up in William Ashby's throat.

*Yes.'

*And not stiff?'

*For heaven's sake,' Inspector Pound said.

*I've seen men die,' William Ashby said. *She was just gone when I first went into the room. It was only that I could not let myself believe it.'

*You said she sighed,' Inspector Pound reminded him.

*I thought she did.' William Ashby plunged his hands into his hair. *It may be I was wrong.'

*I have seen men die too,' I said, *when I used to a.s.sist my father in surgery. They would sometimes groan as we lifted them from the table. He told me it is the air being forced from their lungs.'

*What did you do then?' Sidney Grice asked.

*I stood up and I cried out Help! Murder! Murder! And I went into the shop and cried it out again, and I ran into the street and I saw Tilly running round the corner and a drunk staggering after her.'

Sidney Grice leaned suddenly towards him.

*What did the drunk look like?' The words snapped out.

*I don't know.'

*Man or woman?'

*Man.'

*Well or badly dressed?'

*Badly. Very badly, I think. What does it matter?'

*Perhaps it was the murderer pretending to be drunk,' Inspector Pound said. *Would you recognize him again?'

*No. It was dark. The nearest gas lamp is on Hopper Street. We live in its shadows... We lived... ' His voice wandered away and he looked lost.

The constable straightened his back.

*What happened next?'

*I cried out again and people came. Then a peeler, who sent a boy running to get help. Mr Brown who owns the donkeys and sleeps above them came. We have had many arguments about the noise they make, but he put a blanket over my shoulders and gave me a gin.'

William Ashby put the mug down heavily and covered his face and blew between his hands, while Sidney Grice sat back and looked at him. He might have been regarding a creature in a menagerie rather than a man so recently and so cruelly made a widower. He leafed through his notes and added a few more.

*Rivincita,' he said, as though to himself. William Ashby's face was blank. Sidney Grice looked at him. *What does Rivincita mean, Mr Ashby?'

*I don't know.'

Sidney Grice scratched his forehead and fell silent. He was not looking at the prisoner or anyone else. He seemed to be inspecting his fingernails.

*Is that it?' Inspector Pound asked.

*Very nearly,' Sidney Grice said, *but I should like the prisoner to look at this.'

Sidney Grice delved down and brought out the white cloth bag, tipping its content on to the table.

*Do you recognize this?' he asked, and William Ashby reached out and his hand trembled.

*Leave it,' the constable said, and the hand hovered before it fell away.

*It is very like one of the knives I had in my shop.'

*One?' Sidney Grice queried.

*I had two,' William Ashby said. *They were made for me about three months ago by Philby's Cutlers on Midden Street. I drew the design myself from my memory of an Arab dagger I saw once in barracks. I thought they might sell well as a novelty, but I only sold one of them and that was a week ago.'

*To whom?'

*I don't know his name, but I would know him again anywhere,' William Ashby replied. *He was a foreigner, Italian, I should say from the way he stuck A's to the end of his words.'

*Describe him,' Sidney Grice said.

*A strange man.' William Ashby blinked rapidly. *About normal height but that was all that was normal about him. He had an enormous head and a huge shock of curly red hair and long drooping moustaches.'

*Red also?'

*Yes, and a big hooked nose, and a long flapping cloak and a canary waistcoat, and he carried a stick with an ivory top in the shape of a monkey.'

Sidney Grice perked up.

*Canary?'

*Yes. Yellow.'

My guardian tugged his earlobe and asked, *Do you or did your wife own any yellow clothes?'

*No. None.'

I opened my mouth, but Sidney Grice put his finger to his lips and said, *Continue.'

*He came into the shop, striding about like he was on a stage. He took a quick look about him and pointed at the knife. Showa me that. He had a quick look at it and said Thata will serve me nicely. And he paid and walked straight out of the shop with it clasped in his hand. He didn't even want it wrapped. Sarah was there too. We laughed about him.'

*Did he say anything else?'

*No.'

*Did you tell anybody else about him?'

*Mrs Dillinger,' William Ashby said, *and a few customers, just for the joke.'

*So this is the knife you did not sell?'

*It looks like it,' William Ashby said, *and, if you took it from my cabinet, it must be.'