Free Fatal Enquiry by Will Thomas

the injured constables?”
    “All three of them were admitted to Charing Cross Hospital. As I understand, two have been released, while the third will remain with a broken knee.”
    “Is it true that his assistant is with him?”
    “Yes, it is. Initially, he was not charged, but now we have reason to believe he is also a fugitive of the law. Mr. Thomas Llewelyn is considered dangerous and was the one responsible for breaking PC Raife’s knee. He was imprisoned three years ago, I understand, for attacking a nobleman with the intent of robbery.”
    So much for British justice, I thought bitterly. Though I had paid my debt to society, my past would be brought up repeatedly throughout my life. There are events in our lives that define us. Mine was lifting a single coin from a stack on the mantelpiece of an upperclassman at Oxford at the precise moment he walked in. The coin meant life or death for my young wife, lying ill in a garret on the other side of town. As it turned out, ’twas death for her, and eight months in Oxford Prison for me on a charge of theft. When I claim Life is a cruel taskmaster, believe me that I know whereof I speak.
    “How long will the bridges be cordoned off?” one of the reporters asked.
    “Until noon tomorrow, at Commissioner Warren’s discretion.”
    “What makes you sure Barker done it?” the Guv called out. “Were there witnesses?”
    “No,” Abberline answered. “But he left behind one of his calling cards. I cannot comment further.”
    Barker turned away and walked to the river’s edge, raising his lantern to light it. I backed away from the crowd casually and followed. The sun was starting to set and the Thames looked as black and thin as india ink. Barker scratched under his chin, which I knew to be a sign he was thinking fiercely while the crowds behind us continued to pelt Abberline with increasingly inane questions. My employer turned and headed south along the embankment.
    So, I thought, the victim had one of Barker’s business cards on his person . That did not sound so damning. They were readily available in a pewter stand in our outer office for anyone to take, and he handed them out whenever he had the opportunity, believing that advertisement resulted in clients. It took me a minute or two to realize that it wasn’t those cards to which he referred. The victim must have been found with one of Barker’s sharpened pence buried in a hand or leg. I couldn’t think of a single thing that would point more strongly in Barker’s direction than one of his sharpened coins, a novelty that to my knowledge the Guv alone employed, and which he’d just used that very day in Threadneedle Street, thereby damaging his case further.
    “Let’s separate, lad,” my employer ordered, as he helped me light my lantern. “Stay just in view of my light.”
    “Do you have a destination in mind, sir?”
    “I do.”
    “Might I hope there is food there, and that it isn’t far?” I asked, dwelling on the fact that we hadn’t had lunch or dinner.
    “Aye,” he said, turning around and marching along the embankment. “You’re entitled to hope as much as you like.”
    With that less than encouraging news, I followed behind. At first, I was forced to push my way through the crowd, lantern held high, but as we headed south most of them dispersed over Westminster Bridge or into Whitehall. In ten minutes’ walk we were the only two men that I could see following the Thames, but I still hung back, because if I understood him at all, he needed to think.
    Perhaps there will come a time someday when there will be a paved path along the Thames in London, a promenade that will go on for miles, but for now it was rough going. I was constantly stepping up and down, barking my toes on something or backtracking and going round. A couple of times I lost sight of the lantern for several minutes. Free though I was, I did not enjoy my solitary walk along the river. Normally at that time, I’d have