Page 20 of Murder in Blackfriars

“He was an orphan, as far as I knew.” Mrs. Duggan frowned, then shrugged. “Never spoke of any family, anyway. Glad to know he had someone, at least. He was a quiet gent, never caused me no trouble.”

“He had friends, though, surely,” I pressed. “I hate to think of him alone.”

“One or two,” Mrs. Duggan answered. “A mate would come around from time to time, and Mr. Banks got on well with the other boarders. Now, up you go, loves. Here’s the key—bring it back when you’re done. I have supper to get on the boards.”

So saying, she dropped the key into Hannah’s hand and marched away, returning to the business of running her house.

Mr. Banks had let a single room in the back of the house, on a higher floor, its location indicating it was cheap. Hannah unlocked the door, and we went inside.

The chamber was quite dark. The one window, which would give on to the gasworks, was shuttered, making the little room gloomy indeed.

Hannah took up a candlestick from a table by the door and found matches in a match safe hanging on the wall. With a scratch and small burst of flame, we had a bit of light to see by.

There wasn’t muchtosee. A narrow bed crouched under the eaves, with a plain table next to it. A table and two wooden chairs reposed across the room from it, next to the chimney, and a small wardrobe stood near the window. A shabby coat hung from a hook near the door, and there was the tiny table where Hannah had found the candlestick beneath that.

Mr. Banks must have been in straightened means, which explained why he’d been eager to touch Daniel for money. More evidence that he might have been roping in Daniel with lies and knew nothing of value.

Why had Mr. Banks been killed, though? Was I right that he’d encountered the wrong footpad, who’d decided to stick a knife into him?

However, Mr. Grimes believed that his pockets hadn’t been emptied. Either the killer hadn’t had time to go through them, or Mr. Banks had been murdered for another reason.

In any case, Mr. Banks had been heading to meet Daniel, certain of obtaining another crown or even more. Why then should he wander among the warehouses instead of going directly to the pub where we waited?

Too many things did not add up.

While I ruminated, Hannah had begun a swift but thorough search through Mr. Banks’s meager belongings.

I’d brought her along not only because I’d not wanted to venture into Southwark alone as the day waned, but also because Hannah was a master of turning over a room. Her younger days thieving had given her knowledge of where a person would most likely hide their treasured belongings.

She’d opened the wardrobe and was now bent deep into it, so I wandered to the bed and lifted the pillow, finding a nightshirt folded neatly under it.

How very sad. Mr. Banks had slid this here in the morning, not realizing that he wouldn’t return to use it tonight.

I gently replaced the pillow, then ran my hands beneath the tick mattress. I found nothing there and crouched to look under the bed. The floor there was well dusted, indicating Mrs. Duggan’s diligence as a housekeeper, but revealed nothing else.

“Here’s something.” Hannah straightened up from the wardrobe with a small box in her hands, which she opened and turned around to show me. “He ain’t had much, but he kept this nice.”

Inside lay a round silver disk attached to a faded blue ribbon. The disk was stamped with a face in profile of a very young Queen Victoria and the dates1854–1855. The medal had only a tiny bit of tarnish on it, as though Mr. Banks had polished it often.

One clasp on the ribbon readBalaklava, the otherSebastopol.

“He was in Crimea,” I said softly. “Poor bloke was a soldier.”

“Unless he pinched this,” Hannah countered. “Medals are worth something to the right purchaser.”

I took the disk from her and carefully turned it over in my gloved hand. The reverse side depicted what looked like a Roman soldier with a winged woman holding a crown of leaves over his head. This side was indeed stampedCrimea.

“I don’t think he stole it,” I observed. “As you say, he kept it nice. He could have sold this for more than the crown Daniel gave him, and you can see he needed the cash.”

Hannah shrugged. “Can’t eat a good meal on sentiment, can ya?”

“A good meal is soon gone, but this had meaning to him.” I studied the medal again, noting how the ribbon was barelyfrayed, though it was thirty years old. “Reminded him he survived, at the very least. From what I have heard of Crimea, the battles were very hard, with so many dying, both of wounds and disease.”

“It’s why I’m glad I’m not a man,” Hannah declared. “And why me Sean is staying far away from the army. They’d send him to the ends of the earth to fight people we’ve never heard of who were minding their own business in the first place.”

“How was a war veteran surprised in a back lane in London?” I wondered. “And couldn’t beat off his attacker?”

“He were a soldier thirty years ago,” Hannah pointed out. “He might have grown hard of hearing and creaky in his joints, especially if he were a builder, like you said. All that hammering. Or he knew who attacked him and didn’t fight back out of surprise.”