Page 33 of Molly Boys

“A witness?” The pen stopped scratching once again and the coroner peered over his glasses, while the table of reporters went into a frenzy of scribbled notes and eyes firmly cast toward Archie.

“Yes, sir.”

“And where is this witness?”

“We are working to find him again, sir,” Archie said carefully, hoping the man wouldn’t ask for the boy’s name. He couldn’t lie during an official inquest but, noting the ravenous looks on the faces of the assembled reporters, there was no way Archie wanted them to discover Jack’s identity. If they started snooping around and throwing his name about there was a good chance the boy would go even further to ground. Then, not only would he have no chance of finding him, but any chance of retrieving the watch the boy had stolen from him would be lost too.

Fortunately, the coroner seemed to accept his answer and grunted in response.

“Your conclusion, Inspector?”

“Charles Wakefield was murdered.”

“Very well, you are excused. Next witness.”

Archie stepped down for Richard Lowcroft to take his place.

“Name and occupation?”

“Ricard Lowcroft. Medical student and assistant to Dr Shaw.”

“You knew the victim?”

“Yes, sir.” Richard nodded.

“Can you confirm beyond a shadow of a doubt that the corpse in the mortuary is absolutely that of Charles Wakefield?”

“I can, sir,” Richard confirmed.

The coroner asked him a few more questions and then he too was excused. He scratched a few more sentences on his notes, which would become the official coroner’s report, before lifting his face to the assembled jury.

“You have had the opportunity to view the corpse?” he asked.

The man who’d obviously been elected as their spokesperson stood.

“We have, sir.”

“And do you agree the evidence heard today matches the condition of the victim?” the bespectacled man asked.

“We do, sir.”

“And your verdict?”

“Death caused by foul means, sir,” the jury member stated.

The coroner nodded. “Very well. In the matter of Charles Wakefield, death is recorded as unnatural. The case is now passed into the hands of the constabulary and I am releasing Mr Wakefield’s remains for burial. You are all dismissed.”

The room once again erupted with noise and chatter, with several of the reporters standing to swarm toward Archie, Dr Shaw, and Richard, but Archie was already looking over their heads, searching for the blonde-haired man as the crowd filed out of the room.

He climbed to his feet and saw a familiar man dressed in a black cassock consoling a jury member. Archie vaguely recalled seeing the blonde man enter with the Reverend Edwin from St Mary’s. He turned toward the good reverend, hoping he’d be able to tell Archie who the stranger was.

9

Everett slipped through the press of bodies exiting the inquest and into the corridor, then paused when he realised he’d lost sight of Francis, who was no longer beside him.

The tiny hairs on the back of his neck rose and an unpleasant feeling trickled down his spine. He turned to look behind him, but Ev could detect nothing of note. There were still too many people filing past—jurors, spectators and reporters—but none were paying Everett any mind. The feeling continued to unsettle him though. He did his best to brush it aside while he resumed his search for Francis when his gaze caught on a rather strange-looking man tucked into the corner at the end of the corridor. It was as if he was trying to make himself as unobtrusive as possible.

The man was almost painfully thin. The clothes he wore were clean and, although worn, in good repair. His spine curved slightly and his shoulders hunched forward, as if he spent too much time over a desk. Limp and greasy-looking hair the colour of mud hung to his collar. His pockmarked face was sickly pale, and Everett shuddered when the man’s watery eyes found his and held his gaze.