Much Ado About Murder

“Aye, m’lud, he came in now and again,” said Kate. “Nice gentleman, he was. Never had but one drink, an’ off to home. ‘A touch o’ grog,’ he called it. Poor man, to be murdered like that! What a terrible thing!”

“They stayed late that night, did they?” Shakespeare asked. “I mean, his servants?”

“Aye, they did,” replied Kate. “I remember because they drank so much and got all tipply.” She giggled again. “That old Budge! Who’d have thought it, the way he carried on with them two women! A man his age! And them laughing and encouraging him! Aye, they had a right grand old time, they did. An’ they kept right at it, til I said ‘twas time for them to leave.”

“You said ‘twas time for them to leave?” asked Smythe. “Were they so drunk and rowdy, then?”

“Oh, ‘twasn’t like that at all,” she replied. “Old Budge asked me to tell him when it got near nine o’the clock, for ‘twas when the mistress come back home in her carriage and they had to be back by then. He promised me a farthing if I would remind him. I mean, they was all tipply, but not no trouble, mind. Not like them roaring boys what come by being all mean an’ horrible.”

“Roaring boys?” said Shakespeare.

“Aye, all loud and full o’themselves,” she said. “Puttin’ on airs like they was young lords instead o’ ‘prentices. I didn’t like them. Made fun o’ me, they did. Not nice at all, like you good gentlemen.”

“How many of these boys were there, Kate?” asked Dickens, casually, though Smythe noticed that his eyes had narrowed slightly as he watched her reply.

“Four or five, methinks. Nay, ‘twas five. I remember now. One o’ them tripped me an’ made me fall an’ drop two jugs! He had a mean laugh, he did, an’ a cruel way o’mockin’ me lip, makin’ a face like a cony…” She demonstrated, twitching her lip like a rabbit. “An’ him with his pockmarked face and his own lip all droopy and twisted like. Nasty, evil bugger.”

Smythe and Dickens exchanged glances. “Bruce McEnery,” said Smythe.

“Aye! ‘Twas his name, all right! One o’ the others called ‘im Bruce!” In her agitation as she lisped the name, she doused both Smythe and Shakespeare with a spray of spittle.

“What was his name again?” asked Dickens, innocently.

“Bruce! Bruce!” She repeated, even more wetly and emphatically, making Smythe and Shakespeare recoil from the shower.

“Methinks the roof is leaking,” Shakespeare said, wryly, wiping his face with his handkerchief.

Smythe leaned forward, took hold of Ben’s hand, fixed him with a glare, and squeezed hard enough to make Dickens catch his breath. “We got the name, all right?” he said.

“Right,” said Dickens, gritting his teeth against the pain. When Smythe released him, he took a deep breath and flexed his fingers experimentally, to see if any of them were broken.

“Ooh, you don’t mean to tell me them horrible boys was friends o’ yours!” said Kate, alarmed at possibly having said the wrong thing.

“Not by a long shot, Kate,” Smythe replied. He removed his cap and touched the bandage on his head. “I have them to thank for this. I have a score to settle with that lot.”

“Ooh, they did that?” Kate said, wide-eyed. “I knew they was no good!”

“And was one of them a handsome looking sort,” asked Smythe, “tall, lean, with black hair and dark eyes, with a scar and a sort of smug, amused expression?”

“Aye, I remember him. I thought the others looked to him as if he was the leader,” Kate said.

“Jack Darnley,” Shakespeare said. “Stoats travel in pairs.”

“And rats travel in packs,” said Smythe, with a grimace of distaste. “It seems the Steady Boys were here that night.”

“Let’s have us another jug, my dear,” said Dickens, bouncing her on his knee. “And hurry back, mind, so we can have more of your pleasant company!”

When she left to get another jug of ale, Dickens turned to Smythe and said, “Faith, Tuck, you have the strength of an ox! You damn near broke my hand!”

“You get her saying ‘Bruce’ again, and I shall,” replied Smythe.

“Oh, I was just having a bit o’ fun,” said Dickens, with a grin.

“The same sort of fun those Steady Boys were having at her expense, no doubt,” Smythe replied. “And if you ask me, ‘tisn’t very kind of you to lead her on so.”

“Perhaps not,” said Dickens, “but it did get us what we wanted, did it not?”

“Indeed,” said Shakespeare. “And thanks to Ben’s winsome ways, we now know not only that Budge and the two women never saw Corwin leave the house, but that they were gone for several hours, during which time a great deal could have happened.”

“Aye,” said Dickens, “and what I was thinking is that this tavern is a bit off the beaten track for the Steady Boys. Not their stalking ground at all. You shall find them on any given night down at the Broom and Garter, where the mood tends to be a bit more boistrous. This here is not their sort of place at all. Tis much too tame and quiet.”

“So then what brought them here?” asked Smythe.