Page 45 of Cain His Brother (William Monk 6)

“So you go and ask Angus for it and he pays? Why, when Caleb despises him so much?”

Her jaw tightened again. “Caleb don’ tell me. In’t my business. Jus’ wan’ed ter see ’is bruvver. They’s twins, yer know. That in’t like ordinary bruvvers. ’Is wife won’t never stop that, not if she tries till ’er dyin’ day. Caleb in’t got no love for Angus, like Angus ’as for Caleb. Come if Caleb snaps ’is fingers, ’e does.” She said it with a kind of pride, and something towards Angus which could almost have been pity, were her loyalties not so plainly defined.

“And Angus came this time?”

“Yeah. Why? I tol’ yer, she won’t stop ’im!”

“Did you see him that day?”

“Yeah!”

“I don’t mean in the office, I mean here in the Isle of Dogs.”

“Not ’ere. I saw ’im in Lime’ouse, but ’e were comin’ this way. I s’pose ’e went over the West India Docks t’wards Blackwall an’ the river again.” She bent and put a piece of rotten wood into the stove and closed the door with a clatter.

“But you saw him?” he persisted.

“I jus’ said I saw ’im. Don’t yer ’ear good?”

“Did you see him with Caleb?”

She tipped some water out of a pail into a kettle and set it on the stove to boil.

“I tol’ jer, I saw ’im goin’ inter the Docks t’wards Blackwall, an’ that’s w’ere Caleb said ’e were goin’ ter be. In’t that enough for yer?”

“Is that where Caleb said to meet him?” he asked. “What instructions did you give Angus? Or did they always meet in the same place?”

“Down by the Cattle Wharf at Cold’arbour, often as not,” she replied. “Any’ow, that’s wot ’e said that time, why?” She looked back at him. “ ’Oo cares? ’E in’t there now! Why yer askin’ me all these things? Ask ’im! ’E knows w’ere ’e went!”

“Maybe he is still there,” Monk said, raising his eyebrows.

She drew breath to mock him, then saw the seriousness beneath his tone, and suddenly doubt entered her.

“Wot jer mean? Yer talkin’ daft!” She put her hands on her hips. “Look, wot jer come ’ere fer anyway? Wot jer want? If yer want Caleb, the more fool you! Go look fer ’im! If Angus sent yer, then tell me wot fer, an’ I’ll tell Caleb. ’E’ll come if ’e wants ter, and not if ’e don’t.”

There was no point in trying to trick her.

“No one has seen Angus since you did.” He looked her straight in the eyes—large, dark eyes with long lashes. “He never returned home.”

“ ’E never went …” Her face paled under its dirt and paint. “Wotcher sayin’? ’E never ran orff! ’E’s got everyfink ’ere. ’As ’e done summink? Is ’e on the run from the rozzers, then?” A flicker of both amusement and pity touched her mouth.

“I think it very unlikely,” he replied with an answering gleam of black laughter. Although even as he did so, he realized it was not a total impossibility, though it had never occurred to him before. “Far more probable that he is dead.”

“Dead!” Her face blanched. “Why would ’e be dead?”

“Ask Caleb!”

“Caleb?” Her eyes widened and she gulped hard. “That’s wot yer ’ere fer!” Her voice rose shrilly. “You fink as Caleb murdered ’im! ’E never! Why? Why’d ’e kill ’im arter all these years? It don’t make no sense.” But her mouth was dry and there was terror in her eyes. She stared at him, searching for some argument to convince him, but even as she did so, the hope faded and disappeared. She knew from his face that he had seen the knowledge in her. Caleb could very easily have killed his brother, and they both knew it—she from knowing Caleb, he from her eyes.

The kettle started to jiggle from the heat of the stove.

“Yer’ll never get ’im!” she said desperately, fear and protection equal in her now. “Yer’ll never take Caleb Stone.”

“Perhaps not. I’m more interested in proving Angus is dead.”

“Why?” she demanded. “That won’t prove it were Caleb, an’ it sure as ’ellfire won’t catch ’im … or ’ang ’im.” Her face was stricken and her voice had a thickness of emotion in it.

“So his wife can be treated like a widow,” he replied. “And his children be fed.”

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