An Air That Kills by Andrew Taylor Page B

Trials series? It’s in there. I’ll find you the reference before you go.’
    Thornhill felt sorry for Amelia, sorrier for her children. He wondered whether Ferrano had pulled the strings. And talking of strings: ‘What happened to her?’
    â€˜Oh, she was hanged, of course. Last thing she said on the scaffold was that Ferrano had nothing to do with it. Ferrano was a witness for the prosecution, would you believe. Even so, there she was, ready to meet her Maker, and she was still so besotted with the man that she wanted to do her best by him. Extraordinary, isn’t it?’
    â€˜It is extraordinary.’
    Thornhill scribbled in his notebook. Major Harcutt cleared his throat so vigorously that the phlegm rattled in his chest. Absently he uncorked the bottle and refreshed his glass. His method of imparting information had been idiosyncratic, but he’d provided plenty of material. Presumably, too, he would not have had time to look up the case because Mrs Wemyss-Brown had only just told him about the bones found at the Rose in Hand.
    â€˜You’ve got an impressive memory, sir.’
    â€˜Eh? Oh, I looked into the case a few months ago for my book. Did I tell you I’m writing a book? The history of Lydmouth in the nineteenth century. Fascinating. Let me see if I can get you the reference.’
    Harcutt put down his glass, opened a drawer and pulled out a file. He flicked through its contents, grunting impatiently as he failed to find what he wanted.
    Thornhill thought about the nature of Amelia Rushwick’s relationship with Ferrano. If Harcutt’s version of the facts was accurate, she must have loved him with an intensity that most people only read about – either that or she had been mad. How had Ferrano felt about being the object of such overwhelming devotion? Thornhill wondered whether the twins had felt pain and whether death was in fact preferable to life for children in their situation in the slums of Victorian London. Superintendent Williamson was going to be very unhappy about the CID wasting their time on a possible victim of a Victorian murderer.
    â€˜Here we are, Inspector. Notable British Trials , volume 49, edited by Harry Hodge and published in London. They’ve got a copy in the library in town. Not on the open shelves, of course. You have to ask for it.’
    Thornhill took down the details. He shut his notebook and stood up. ‘This has been very useful, sir. I don’t think I need take up any more of your time.’
    â€˜It might not have been Amelia’s baby,’ Harcutt went on, the muscles in his cheeks making chewing motions as he spoke. ‘Mustn’t jump to conclusions. In those days there were an awful lot of unmarried mothers in the working classes. Barely better than animals, some of them. I imagine a lot of them disposed of their young in what we would consider a rather unorthodox way.’
    â€˜Yes, sir.’ Thornhill put the notebook in his overcoat and picked up his hat from the sofa.
    â€˜The Rose in Hand is just the place you’d expect them to do it, too. Lot of people coming and going. Sort of place where I imagine you didn’t ask too many questions. Still, it is tempting to think of it as Amelia’s. There’s a certain neatness to it.’
    â€˜Quite.’
    â€˜Might be a footnote for my book in this. Tell me, was anything else found with – ah – the bones? Something that might help identify where they came from? Or when, of course. If you could pin it down to the late eighties, for example, you’d strengthen the theory.’
    Thornhill took his first tentative step towards the door. ‘I should have made clear from the start that we’re not even absolutely sure that they are human bones. We should have a laboratory report within a day or two. But Dr Bayswater thinks it very possible that they are.’
    â€˜Ah, Bayswater.’ The major sniffed. ‘He’s