Page 52 of Murder in Blackfriars

The room went quiet.

We had no evidence at all, I reminded myself, that little Robbie of the blue eyes and Daniel were the same person. Regardless, the idea of a two- or three-year-old boy living rough on the streets with only slightly older children to protect him was appalling. He’d either have quickly perished or ended up like Daniel had, alone and desperate until rescued by a gang leader of those streets.

Daniel moved from where he’d taken root near Mr. Thanos’s cluttered desk to stare out the long window. The rest of us remained in place, our silence making Mr. Patterson more and more prickly.

“It’s what the workhouses are for, innit?” he snapped. “They should have been there by rights in the first place. Jess never could see sense.”

“Possibly because she wanted the kiddies to have heartsand souls,” Mr. Fielding said mildly. “Instead of being pressed into a mold and then beaten if they were anything but quiet automatons.”

“Well, it were more than thirty year ago.” Mr. Patterson lapsed into mumbling once more. “Ain’t nothing to be done about it now.”

“No, indeed,” Mr. Fielding said. “You’ve lived your entire life with a clear conscience, haven’t you? Probably never gave the lads and lasses another thought.”

“Jess died,” Mr. Patterson flashed. “She were an angel, and I grieved a long time. I didn’t know what I was doing.”

From the broken veins in his large nose and the wateriness of his eyes, I’d suspect he buried that sorrow in drink. It was likely he’d forgotten the existence of the children very quickly.

Mr. Grimes broke in. “No wonder you’re afraid of the two what you mention. These Barlow and Draper fellows. They might be a bit resentful of you for shoving them into a workhouse.”

Mr. Patterson blenched. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you nothing. Now you’re going to drop me in it.”

“They would not do that,” Mr. Thanos said quickly. “Anything you say here is in confidence, sir.”

Mr. Fielding did not appear to agree with this statement, but he did not argue. Daniel, who continued to gaze out the window, said nothing at all.

“Would Barlow or Draper be angry enough about it all to kill Mr. Banks?” Mr. Grimes asked as though merely curious. “Maybe one of them didn’t want Danny knowing about Mrs. Kerr and where they all came from.”

Mr. Patterson shook his head. “Don’t know why they would. But they’re dangerous men. Could have been angry at Banks for another reason, or they might have nothing to do with it. It’sbeen a long time since Jess was alive. Maybe Banks met someone in the army who didn’t like him. Or someone since then.”

While I noted this in my book, I had to admit he had a point. Anyone could have murdered Mr. Banks, for reasons that had nothing to do with Mrs. Kerr. Perhaps someone, knowing that Daniel was dangerous in his own way, had feared Mr. Banks speaking to Daniel at all. They might have worried that Mr. Banks would reveal something to Daniel that person would rather have kept quiet.

Mr. Patterson finished his scone as I wrote and dusted off his fingers on his coat.

“I’ll be off now that I’ve said my piece,” he announced. “Unless you’re going to keep me here. Never trust toffs, I always say.”

“I agree,” Cynthia said before Mr. Thanos could begin an indignant reply. “I grew up with toffs, so I ought to know. You are of course free to leave whenever you wish, Mr. Patterson.”

Mr. Patterson now looked in no hurry to go. “I was promised five shillings.”

“Cor,” Mr. Grimes said, eyes widening. “As much as that?”

“I did tell him so,” Mr. Fielding explained. “Not that I feel he deserves it.”

Daniel swung from the window. “Pay him. He gave us useful information, even if we don’t like what he confessed.”

Mr. Fielding rose, dipping into his pocket with the air of one washing his hands of the matter. “Five shillings, sir.” He held the coins between his fingers and dropped them one by one into Mr. Patterson’s outstretched palm.

I noted that Mr. Patterson sequestered them inside his coat as quickly as possible as he climbed to his feet.

“No need to see me out.” He lumbered to the door, and no one stepped in his way.

“There is need,” Mr. Fielding said wearily. “We need to get you back safely to where we found you. After that, you do as you please. Coming, Grimes?”

Mr. Grimes had taken the opportunity to procure another scone from the plate.

“Thank ye kindly, Mrs. Holloway,” he said. “These scones is heaven. You’re a genius, no doubt.” He nodded at me, he the only person in the room who’d remained sunny-natured. “Your ladyship. Sir.” Mr. Grimes bobbed a bow at Cynthia and Mr. Thanos, then followed Mr. Fielding and Mr. Patterson out the door.

Daniel resumed his stance at the window, while Mr. Thanos and Cynthia sat down and helped themselves to two of the remaining scones.