Free Bloody Winter: A Pyke Mystery by Andrew Pepper Page A

just the daughter of a friend of my uncle.’
    ‘Indeed, sir. But who knows what passes for thought inside a woman’s head. Perhaps she saw you as her knight in shining armour.’
    The old man smiled. Pyke took the opportunity to change the subject. ‘I believe a sum of a thousand pounds was mentioned if I ensure your grandson’s safe return?’
    ‘We men are always far happier to discuss money than women, aren’t we?’ Zephaniah tried to sit up straighter. ‘Still, it wouldn’t come as a surprise to you, I suspect, if I were to proffer the opinion that my daughter-in-law has always carried a torch for you, sir.’ He held up his hand to stop Pyke from interrupting. ‘Be that as it may, when your name was mentioned in the context of our difficulties, I took the liberty of asking about you. I found out that you’ve received two prison sentences, one for the non-payment of debts and one for murder.’
    ‘I received a full pardon for the latter.’
    ‘You miss my meaning, sir. I am always impressed when a man has risen above adversity. The fact that you are an inspector at Scotland Yard’s Detective Branch suggests an impressive guile and determination, a survivor’s instinct. I hope you won’t think meexcessively melodramatic if I were to suggest that the future of the house of Hancock lies in your capable hands.’
    Pyke was tired from the journey but he knew he couldn’t let down his guard. Zephaniah had gone out of his way to seem welcoming but Sir Clancy Smyth’s warning was still ringing in his ears. Eventually he managed a thin smile. ‘We’ll get your grandson back, don’t worry.’
    ‘I don’t doubt it, Detective-inspector,’ Zephaniah said. ‘I have every faith in your abilities.’

SIX
FRIDAY, 8 JANUARY 1847
Tipperary Town, Co. Tipperary
    K nox had set off for Tipperary Town at first light, forgoing his breakfast because he hadn’t wanted to wake the baby. He had walked the first couple of miles but just before the town of Golden, a dray had pulled over and the driver had offered him a place next to him. A mile or so beyond Golden they had passed a dead body lying at the side of the track. They hadn’t stopped. The driver, a shoemaker from Cashel, had looked at Knox but neither of them had spoken. What was there to say? Eventually the body would be claimed by nature or the authorities. Knox had known it was wrong to leave the body lying there but it was someone else’s responsibility. The driver had dropped him in the centre of the town and Knox had spent the next hour or two trudging around the various lodging houses, hoping that someone might recognise the man in his copperplate. He had described the man as an outsider, possibly from England, but by lunchtime, when he had had no success and was famished, he wondered whether his initial assumption – that the dead man had been a well-to-do traveller – was correct. No one in Cashel had remembered him and there was just one place left in Dundrum to check. After that, he would have to extend his search farther afield. Clonmel, perhaps even Thurles.
    The wind was blowing from the north, and in spite of his great-coat, Knox could feel the chill in his bones. The ground was frozen and the cold air stung his cheeks. Dispirited and exhausted, and with no food in his stomach, Knox thought about the inn in Dundrum and decided to call in on his family, perhaps even scrounge a little food from his mother. He set off at a brisk pace, enlivened by the prospect of a meal, but started to flag after a mile or two. The windpicked up and fat drops of rain slapped against his face. Eventually a horse and cart drew up next to him and Knox hopped up next to the driver. The man was making a delivery to the old hall. After a few initial pleasantries, they didn’t exchange another word.
    After about an hour the delivery man dropped him by the gates to Dundrum House but when he asked for his mother in the kitchens he was told that she was at home. No other