Fair and Tender Ladies by Chris Nickson

‘Enjoy that, did you?’
    â€˜It’ll see me through.’ He finished his ale and stood. ‘Right, I’ll go and drag our friend back to the jail.’
    â€˜Just be sure to take two of the others with you.’
    King looked less comfortable this time. He tried to stretch out his legs but the Constable had deliberately placed the chair too close to the desk, forcing him to sit upright. Sedgwick stood by the door, a brooding presence behind the man’s shoulder, and Nottingham waited, sorting through papers for a few minutes. Let the man wait, he thought, and let him feel wary and hunted.
    Eventually he pushed the pile aside and stared at Davy. There was no smirk on the man’s face this time, no air of brash confidence.
    â€˜Thank you for coming, Mr King,’ he said.
    King tried to shrug, but it came across as a nervous gesture. ‘What do you want, any road?’ he said. ‘I’m losing pay being hauled off here, and he wouldn’t say nowt.’ He gestured over his shoulder at the deputy.
    â€˜Just a few more questions, that’s all.’ He brushed the hair out of his eyes. ‘Tell me, where were you Tuesday night?’
    â€˜Tuesday?’ The question was unexpected, Nottingham could see that, and it took King aback. ‘I don’t remember.’
    â€˜In the dramshops, maybe?’
    â€˜Mebbe,’ he agreed cautiously. ‘Why?’
    The Constable smiled. ‘We know you were, Mr King.’
    â€˜Then what’s tha’ asking me for? And what if I were?’
    â€˜You talked to someone while you were drinking.’
    â€˜â€™Appen. I talk to plenty of folk.’ He shifted on the chair, trying to make himself more comfortable.
    â€˜Someone called Jem Carter, maybe?’
    â€˜Who?’ Davy blinked at the name.
    â€˜Jem Carter,’ Nottingham repeated. ‘Big, fair hair, from the country.’
    King shook his head. ‘Never heard of him.’ His expression brightened. ‘I saw Peter Cross. He’s blond.’
    The Constable glanced at Sedgwick. The deputy nodded and slipped out.
    â€˜What did you and Mr Cross do?’
    â€˜I saw him out on Kirkgate and we went to Sam Hart’s. Had a drop of gin, then we went on to a few other places.’
    â€˜Who else did you meet?’ Nottingham knew he was simply filling time now, asking questions until the deputy returned. But he felt sure that King was telling him the truth. The man hadn’t had time to prepare a lie, and he wouldn’t have given a name they could check otherwise.
    â€˜A few, here and there.’
    â€˜Who, Mr King?’ he pressed.
    Davy concentrated, trying to remember. ‘There were Tom Harper and Will Thompson.’ He opened his eyes wide and started to grin. ‘And we saw that lad who works for you, too. What’s his name?’
    â€˜Mr Lister?’
    â€˜Aye, that’s the one. We were having a bit of a song and he told us not to be so loud. That do you, Constable?’
    â€˜Very good, Mr King.’ It was over, he knew that. The man realized he was on safe ground. ‘You may go, and I thank you for your help.’
    King stood, smirking now. ‘Any time you want. All you have to do is ask.’
    The afternoon felt more like August than the beginning of June. The sky was a soft, pale blue, not a breath of wind stirring, the sun so warm that the deputy took off his coat and unbuttoned the long waistcoat as he walked out along the riverbank.
    He’d found Peter Cross easily enough, working up at the Shambles, hefting sides of beef, the stink of old blood making Sedgwick stand well away. Cross had unwashed pale hair and an accent that wasn’t local; it would be easy to mistake him for a country lad if you didn’t know him. But he remembered being out with King Davy, each place they’d gone and who they’d seen. The King was innocent. No matter; sooner or later he’d find a way