Free Constant Lovers by Chris Nickson Page A

right the first time, the next time I will.’
    The Constable pursed his lips. On the surface everything about Lister was wrong for this job. He didn’t know what it was to be poor. He’d lived a sheltered life, away from turmoil and crime. He’d have none of the instincts that men who scrabbled for pennies every day developed as part of their nature.
    For all that, he had a feeling about the lad. He couldn’t put it into words, but it was something he hadn’t experienced with any of the others he’d talked to. There was a spark about him, he was smart. He could learn – if he really wanted to. And that was the question. How serious was Lister about all this?
    â€˜If I take you on you won’t be able to talk to your father about your work. If I find anything in the Mercury you’ll be gone.’
    Lister nodded. ‘I understand that. So does he.’
    Nottingham waited, trying to gauge if his decision was the right one. Finally he said, ‘Be here at six tomorrow morning. I’ll try you out for a month.’
    Lister stood up, beaming broadly, the expression the image of his father.
    â€˜Thank you, Mr Nottingham.’ He extended his hand and the Constable shook it. ‘I’ll do my best for you.’
    â€˜You’ll be working with Mr Sedgwick – he’s the man who left when you came in. He’s my deputy. Watch him, learn from him. He’s very good at his job.’
    â€˜I will, I promise.’
    â€˜Do you go by Robert or Rob?’
    Lister smiled. ‘I don’t mind, whatever you prefer. My father calls me Robert.’
    â€˜Then we’ll call you Rob.’
    â€˜Yes, sir.’
    â€˜A word of advice to you.’
    Lister cocked his head.
    â€˜Wear some older clothes. Don’t worry if your breeches are mended or there are holes in your hose. You won’t stay clean in this job. Boots if you have them, too.’
    â€˜I’ll do that, sir.’
    â€˜And Rob?’
    â€˜Yes, sir?
    â€˜In private you can call me boss. Sir is for when there are others around.’
    Lister smiled. ‘Yes, boss.’
    Alone, Nottingham wondered at what he’d just done. Everything in his reason shouted out against it. He gazed out of the window, barely paying attention to the people who passed or the yelling of carters as they navigated the street with their loads.
    The deputy wouldn’t thank him; he was the one who’d have the hard job of turning him into a Constable’s man. It would be like teaching a baby to walk, with all the tentative steps and the falls, picking him up, brushing away the tears and pushing him back on to his feet.
    But inside, he knew with an iron certainty that Rob Lister was the right person. It was the same feeling he’d experienced with Josh, and with Sedgwick himself. And he was going to follow that instinct.
    He sighed.
    So where did they go next with Sarah Godlove’s murder? That was what he had wondered before Lister had arrived. In truth he had no idea. There seemed to be no path forward at present.
    They knew a little more now, but so much of it was speculation, and none of it any real use. Somewhere, though, he was certain there was a key to unlock this, and it was probably in those mysterious weekly outings.
    She was meeting someone, he had a feeling about that. People didn’t go off so regularly for any other reason. Who that someone might be was another matter altogether. Anne Taylor would know, but her disappearance was convenient for keeping the truth hidden. They had to assume she was dead, too; if the girl had still been alive she’d have run to find people and places where she felt safe.
    He was sure as he could be that Anne hadn’t murdered her mistress; there could be no reason for it. And he didn’t see Godlove as the killer. The man was a genuine grieving widower. Beyond those names there was no one to suspect.
    Nottingham was astonished that the mayor