Page 50 of Murder in Blackfriars

“It were a long time ago.” Mr. Patterson cleared his throat. “I don’t remember nothing.”

“Sit over there.” Mr. Fielding pointed at a chair, sounding like a man who was quickly losing patience. “The ladies don’t stand on ceremony, but be civil to them.”

Mr. Patterson removed his hat, shot a glance at Lady Cynthia, and sidled shakily to the seat Mr. Fielding indicated.

As the others seated themselves or chose a place to stand, I fetched the plate of scones.

“Let us be calm and discuss things, shall we?” I said, pushing the plate at Mr. Patterson.

“Don’t mind if I do.” He stripped off his gloves and took a scone between stubby fingers.

I offered to Mr. Grimes next, who happily snatched one up. Mr. Fielding did not refuse, though Daniel shook his head when I approached him. He was tense, angry.

“So this is the man we found in the records?” Lady Cynthia asked when no one else spoke. “I presume you’ve brought him because he indeed was the friend of Mrs. Kerr from long ago.”

“He claims to be,” Mr. Fielding said, licking his fingertips. “I decided it would be safer if Grimes kept watch on him thisweek, and then we accompanied him through the streets rather than hoping he reached the meeting spot on his own.”

“You knew Mr. Banks, then?” I asked Mr. Patterson outright. “Howard Banks?”

“Yeah, I knew ’im.” Mr. Patterson took another generous bite of scone. I had to wait until his mouth was clear before he went on. “Quiet enough young fellow. Went off to war. Jess liked him, worried for him.”

According to Mr. Fielding’s letter, Mrs. Kerr’s name had been Jessica. “And the others?” I asked. “Who were the other children Mrs. Kerr took in?”

Mr. Patterson stared at me. “I’m not likely to remember after all this time, am I?”

“Don’t be rude,” Mr. Fielding said severely. “Tell us what you do remember.”

“I went over all this with you,” Mr. Patterson stated.

Mr. Grimes wiped crumbs from his mouth. “You did. Tell Mrs. Holloway now, and Danny.”

He didn’t have to sound threatening or glare or even send Mr. Patterson a warning look. Mr. Grimes simply went back to his scone, but Mr. Patterson sat up straight and answered meekly.

“I knew Jess Kerr, and better than most. She were a good woman, and there weren’t many of them in our parts, I can tell you.”

“Your parts meaning Bethnal Green?” I asked.

“There, Stepney, other places. She were one of Lady Golden’s lasses…” He trailed off with a glance at Cynthia. “Er, I mean…”

“She lived in a bawdy house,” Cynthia said comfortably. “McAdam has told me about it. I am not going to swoon, if you are worried.”

Mr. Patterson flushed. “Your pardon,” he mumbled again. “It weren’t pretty, where she came from, but Jess had a good soul. She let kiddies what would be stuck in bad houses live with her. Most were horrible brats and ungrateful, but she didn’t mind. There were one or two good ones, like Howie Banks. He went off to the army not long before Jess died.” His eyes grew moist. “Not fair, someone like Jess being taken off, when more evil people get to live and prosper.”

“It is the way of the world, unfortunately,” I said with sympathy. “If you can just tell us the names you do remember.”

I retrieved my notebook from my coat pocket and a pencil, ready to write.

Mr. Patterson glanced at the stony face of Mr. Fielding and the congenial one of Mr. Grimes. Daniel he avoided looking at altogether.

“Lot of Janes and Marys for the lasses,” Mr. Patterson said. “I don’t know their surnames, and those might not be their names at all. For the lads, lots of Toms, Johns, and the like. Don’t recall any called Daniel, as the vicar here keeps pressing me for.”

“What about one called Robbie?” I asked, my pencil scratching. “The woman who lived next door mentioned him.”

Mr. Patterson studied the floor as he finished off his scone. “Don’t remember, missus. Sorry.”

“Any others?” I asked impatiently. “Those you recall perfectly, as you did Mr. Banks?”

Mr. Patterson wiped his mouth with his hand. “Maybe one or two.”