The Last Confession of Thomas Hawkins - [78]

Sam Fleet, with his mother’s curls, his father’s black-eyed stare, and his uncle’s name. Sam Fleet, who crept into Burden’s house in the middle of the night. Practising.

Sam had grown up looking into his mother’s scarred face every day. He must have heard her screaming at night, when the dreams came. I had rejected him as the killer because he had no reason for it and because of the ferocity of the attack. In fact he had the strongest motive to kill Joseph Burden. Beneath that still surface he must have been in turmoil for weeks.

I must accept the truth, much as it pained me. Sam was Burden’s killer. Hadn’t I asked the boy that night, when we stood over the butchered, bloody corpse?

Did you do this, Sam?

And he had answered with his own question.

Why would I kill him?

Gabriela’s story had woven a spell upon me, while the snow storm blew through the town. Or perhaps it was just that I was exhausted, and sickened to my soul. I understood why she and James would seek revenge upon Burden. I could almost applaud them for the way they had extracted that revenge over the past twenty years, as long as I did not think upon Burden’s children and the dismal effect it had had on their own, blameless lives. But to send Sam to live next door… they must have known what would happen.

‘Did you order your son to kill Burden?’

Gabriela untucked her feet and stretched. ‘I think he is too young. But James say, “He cannot be apprentice all his life”, and I understand. It is a mother’s wish to keep her children always young, and safe. But Sam is fourteen. He is not a boy.’

So it was as I had feared. Sam had been sent to live at the Cocked Pistol in order to murder Joseph Burden. James Fleet had never wanted a gentleman for a son – he’d wanted a killer. It was, after all, a family business.

We both fell silent. Downstairs, Fleet’s men were still caught in a rowdy game of cards. Someone was playing a tune on a penny whistle, shrill and jaunty. My head was throbbing from the wine, and the heat of the fire. I should leave. Fleet would return home soon. If he knew that I suspected Sam, I was sure he would kill me. I had begun to wonder about Gabriela, too. Had she kept me here all this time, waiting for her husband to arrive?

‘You wonder how to leave,’ Gabriela said, toying with the gold brooch at her chest. ‘You are afraid.’

‘Foolish not to be.’

‘Foolish.’ A half-smile. ‘You are clever in your own world. A gentleman’s world. But here… Ahh, sir. How I wish you had not come here. I wished it from the first moment you walked into this room. I am thinking, thinking…’ She tapped her forehead. ‘How to save you. I should like to save you, Mr Hawkins. A shame for you to die.’

I shifted slowly in my seat, thinking of the dagger tucked in my coat. I could reach for it in a heartbeat. And, what? Stab her? Could I really do such a thing?

‘I must protect Sam,’ she said. ‘And you are fond of him too, I think.’

‘Yes.’

Her smile deepened. ‘You are a good man.’

‘Sometimes.’And what splendid rewards it brought me. ‘You shouldn’t have sent him to me. I thought I was helping him. I knew he was the thief, that night. In my heart I knew it. I should have stopped him.’

‘You cannot stop a tiger, Mr Hawkins.’

I stared at her, speechless. Is that how she saw her son? As a tiger? He was not a predator, for God’s sake. He was a boy. And between her pride and my neglect, we had lost him.

‘I have a suggestion, Mr Hawkins. Kitty tells me this morning about Alice. About her dress. Covered in blood…’ She raised an eyebrow.

I nodded, struggling to keep an even expression. I understood her meaning. If I was willing to accuse Alice of Burden’s death and use the dress as evidence, I would be free to leave. Otherwise – I would not escape St Giles with my life. I pretended to consider the proposition. Rubbed my face wearily. ‘Yes. Very well.’

I rose to my feet, turning to the window. It was still dark, but the roofs were covered in snow that glowed in the moonlight. Gabriela rose too. She was very beautiful in this strange half-light. I had been watching her for so long that I hardly noticed the scar any more, though it cut so deep through her brow, and down to her jaw. She leaned closer, and for a strange, fluttering moment I thought she meant to kiss me. But no, no – I caught the tightening around her eyes. The sudden set to her mouth. I leaped back just as she sprang forward, pulling the brooch from her chest. Not a brooch but the hidden top of a dagger, slid between her breasts.

I was a good man. And she had not believed me.

She swiped again with the blade, and I threw myself back, stumbling towards the balcony. The dagger sliced along my arm. I felt a sharp sting and then warmth as the blood began to flow. She was shouting now too, calling for aid.

I barrelled through the door out onto the balcony, groping desperately for the ladder. And now the household was in uproar – I could hear cries from below as Fleet’s men responded. The first footsteps upon the stairs. A moment later Eva ran into the room.