Page 82 of The Time for Love
Curtin sighed and settled to reassure Vince that there was no reason to fear any repercussions if he told them the man’s name. “We’ll have him in the cells quick as a wink. You just need to tell us who he is.”
Vince laughed hollowly. “See?” He appealed to Martin and Oliver. “That’s it—the thing you don’t understand about this geezer. He’s well known, he is, even to the likes of us up here, and the stories about what happens to anyone who goes against him…” Vince shuddered, and there was no question that he was genuinely terrified.
After a second, his expression hardened. “I can’t say my piece against him if I’m dead—dead in some horrible way—and there’s no use you telling me that you and the boys here”—with his shackled hands, Vince gestured around them—“will keep me safe. Not from the likes of him. The law’s never been able to catch him for anything, not even in London and with Bow Street on the case.”
Vince paused to draw breath, then slowly, stubbornly, shook his head. “No. I can’t do it. I can’t tell you who he is.”
From that position, he wouldn’t be swayed.
Eventually, Curtin sat back, studied Vince, then sighed in resignation. “In that case, I’ll have to invite your brother in and see what he has to say.”
The suggestion galvanized Vince. “No, no!” Then he swallowed and lowered his panicked voice. “This wasn’t a job I did for Walter. He doesn’t know anything about me taking it.”
Curtin stared at Vince, then said, “Pull the other one, Vince. There’s no way a villainous cove from London came up to Sheffield looking to hire muscle and came straight to you. The only person our villain would have known to ask for is Walter.”
Vince deflated and hung his head. “He did, all right? He came up and talked to Walter, and Walter decided the job wasn’t for us. Going soft, Walter is. I mean, at that point, all the man was asking for was a little help setting up a few accidents at the works. Nothing me and the boys couldn’t handle, but Walter said to leave it. He wasn’t interested, so…I decided to strike out on my own. I followed the man, and he came back to my office and heard me out and gave me the job.” His head hanging even lower, Vince mumbled, “I should’ve listened to Walter.”
Puzzled, Curtin asked, “What did Walter say? What reason did he give for turning down the job?”
Vince gave a half-hearted shrug. “He told the geezer that he was shorthanded at the moment and couldn’t accommodate him with anyone suitable, meaning men up to the task. All polite and respectful-like. The geezer didn’t like being turned down—anyone could see that—but he accepted it and left. Once he had, I asked Walter what he was up to, and he said he wasn’t comfortable dealing with villains of that sort. Too risky, he said.” Vince grimaced. “I should’ve listened to him.”
Unable to do anything other than agree, Martin rose, as did Curtin and Oliver, and the three of them left the room. Once in the corridor, Curtin waved them toward the stairs, leaving the two constables to escort Vince to the cell they had waiting for him.
Halting at the foot of the stairs, Curtin turned to Martin. “I have to say, I don’t like this. For Vince to refuse to save his own hide out of fear of this man is worrying enough, but for Walter to refuse to deal with the man at all is another thing altogether.”
Oliver slid his hands into his pockets. “I take it Murchison Senior is the sort whose opinion of a villain is likely to be sound.”
Curtin nodded. “Walter’s been the king of the Sheffield underworld for decades.”
“So,” Martin said, “an experienced villain.”
“Indeed.” Grimly, Curtin shook his head. “Whoever this man is, he’s not the sort we want around here.”
Martin exchanged a glance with Oliver, then ventured, “The most important fact we need to learn is the name of this not-a-gentleman villain. It seems the only clear path left to us is to have a chat with Murchison Senior regarding the man he declined to deal with and hope he’ll divulge the name.”
“Hmm.” Curtin narrowed his eyes in thought. “Perhaps if we dangle the carrot that if Walter cooperates, we’ll drop the kidnapping charge against his brother.” He angled a questioning glance at Martin.
Martin nodded decisively. “The charges relating to the steelworks’ accidents are more than enough to send Vince and his boys off to the colonies. The kidnapping? In the end, it didn’t cause any lasting harm so…” He shrugged. “Yes. In return for the name of the man behind the many threats against the steelworks—the reason for which we still don’t know—I’ll agree to withdraw the kidnapping charge.”
“Good.” Curtin turned and led the way up the stairs. “Walter and Vince have always been close. Playing on Walter’s protectiveness is definitely worth the attempt. Aside from all else, he can’t be relishing the notion of having a bigger shark swimming in what, until now, has been his pond.”
They reached the ground floor, and Curtin paused to say, “If you’ll wait in my office and keep her ladyship company, I’ll organize to have a couple of the lads bring Walter in for a quiet chat.”
Martin and Oliver agreed and continued up the stairs.
* * *
Apparently, the Murchison abode was somewhere close. Martin and Oliver had only just finished describing all that had transpired downstairs to a hugely curious Lady Bracknell when Curtin strode up and paused in the open doorway to his office.
“Sorry,” he said with an apologetic smile. “I got waylaid. But we’re in luck. Walter was at home, and when my men told him Vince was in the cells, he agreed to come in without fuss.”
Curtin stepped back, and Martin and Oliver, after making half bows to her ladyship and being impatiently waved off, joined him in the corridor.
As they strode once more for the stairs, Curtin volunteered, “The men who fetched Walter told me he seemed puzzled. He asked them what Vince had been taken up for, not that they told him, of course.”
“That fits with Vince’s story that Walter didn’t know about Vince taking the job,” Oliver said.
“Hmm. I’m just not sure how Walter not knowing is going to play out,” Curtin replied.
