Page 48 of The Shifting Tide (William Monk 14)

Gould’s face

showed no added fear, no sudden change at the mention of what he must know was murder. Monk felt a stab of regret that it meant nothing to him; all he thought of was the money. Monk kept his back to the door, his ear straining to hear anything human among the rat feet, the dripping wood, and the slow subsidence of the fabric of the building into the mud of Jacob’s Island.

“ ’Ow d’yer know it’s from the Maude Idris?” Gould asked, his face puckered with suspicion.

“Get out!” Monk said again to Crow, hoping that now he would go and bring the nearest police, river or land.

“ ’Oo are yer tellin’ ter get out?” Gould said angrily. “Yer got money ter buy all this then, eh? An’ don’ think yer can rob me, ’cos yer can’t. I in’t alone ’ere. I in’t that daft!”

“Nor am I,” Monk said with a slight laugh he hoped was believable. “And I don’t want more than one tusk, and only that if the price is right.”

“Oh, yeah? An’ what price would that be, then?” Gould still had confidence.

“Twenty pounds,” Monk said rashly.

“Fifty!” Gould retorted with undisguised derision.

Monk pushed his hands into his pockets and stared at the pile of tusks thoughtfully, as if considering.

“Forty-five is the lowest I’ll go,” Gould offered.

Monk was disgusted, but he dared not show it. He thought of Hodge lying on the step above the hold, his head broken, his brain crushed.

“Twenty-five,” he said.

They argued back and forth, up a pound, down a pound. Monk realized that Crow had gone-please God to fetch help, though he owed Monk nothing, no friendship, no loyalty. But he prayed that Scuff had managed to get Louvain. Durban would not need to be asked more than once.

“It’s worth more than that!” Gould said angrily when Monk refused to go any higher, afraid of agreement and the end of the conversation. “I worked bleedin’ ’ard fer it!” Gould went on. “You any idea ’ow ’eavy them things are?”

“Too heavy for one man,” Monk responded. “Someone helped you. Where is he? Behind me? Or are you planning to cut him out of the deal?”

There was a faint movement in the passage ten or fifteen feet beyond the doorway. Now he wished Crow had not gone-although there was no guarantee of which side he would have been on. Perhaps a thieves’ quarrel was his best chance. “Were you the one that went into the hold of the Maude Idris?” he asked, his voice louder than he meant, and unsteady. He wanted to know who had killed Hodge then he would have no guilt in killing him in return, if he had to in order to escape with his own life. Where the hell was Louvain? He had had time to get there by now.

“Why d’you care?” Gould’s eyes narrowed.

“Were you?” Monk demanded, taking a step forward.

“Yeah! So wot of it?” Gould challenged.

“Then it was you who murdered Hodge!” Monk accused. “Perhaps your partner won’t be so happy to share the rope that’s waiting for you, along with the price of your tusks?”

Gould froze. “ ’Odge? I never murdered no one! ’Oo’s ’Odge?” He sounded honestly confused.

“The night watchman whose head you beat in,” Monk said bitterly. “Did that slip your mind?”

“Geez! I din’t bash ’is ’ead in!” Gould’s voice rose to a screech. “There weren’t nothin’ wrong wi’ ’is ’ead!” He looked gray-white, even in the gloom, his eyes wide with horror. Had he not seen Hodge’s body himself, Monk would have sworn it was genuine.

“Rubbish!” he barked, rage welling up inside him for the lie as much as the violence. It was twisting his own emotions because he wanted to believe him, and it was impossible.

“So ’elp me Gawd, it’s the truth!” Gould ignored the ivory and stepped forward towards Monk, but there was no threat in him, only urgency, even pleading. “ ’e were lyin’ there on the step. I thought ’e were dead drunk. He must a fell from the top.”

Monk hesitated. “Did you look at the back of his head?” he asked.

“There weren’t nothin’ wrong wi’ it!” Gould insisted. “ ’e might a banged it bad, I dunno, but it weren’t bashed so’s I could see. ’Ow’d you know, anyway?”

“I’m looking for the ivory because I’m paid to,” Monk said bitterly. “But I’m looking for whoever killed Hodge because I want him to answer for it.”

“Well, it in’t me!” Gould said desperately.

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