William Monk 08 - The Silent Cry

do. ’E’s goin’ ter find Oo’s beatin’ the ’ell out o’ the girls ’round ’ere, so we can put an end ter it.”
    “Oh yeah?” Nellie said derisively. “ ’An ’ow’s ’e gonna do that, eh? W’y should ’e care?”
    “ ’E probably don’t care,” Vida said sharply, impatient withNellie’s stupidity. “But ’e ’as ter eat, same as the rest of us. ’E’ll do wot ’e’s paid ter do. Wot we do with the bastard after ’e finds ’im in’t ’is business.”
    Nellie still hesitated.
    “Look, Nellie”—Vida was fast losing her temper—“you may be one o’ them daft bitches wot likes bein’ beaten ter ’ell and back, Gawd knows!” She put her hands on her ample hips. “But do yer like bein’ too scared to go out in the streets ter earn yerself a little extra, eh? Yer wanna live on wot yer get stitchin’ shirts, do yer? That’s enough for yer, is it?”
    Grudgingly, Nellie saw the point. She turned to Monk, her face puckered with dislike.
    “Tell me what happened, and where,” Monk instructed her. “Start by telling me where you were and what time it was, or as near as you know.”
    “It were three weeks ago but a day,” she answered, sucking her broken tooth. “A Tuesday night. I were in Fetter Lane. I’d just said good-bye ter a gent ’oo’d walked north again. I turned back ter come ’ome, an’ I saw another gent, dressed in a good coat, ’eavy, an’ wif a tall ’at on. ’E looked like money, an’ ’e were ’angin’ around like ’e wanted someone. So I went up ter ’im an’ spoke nice. Thinkin’ like ’e might fancy me.” She stopped, waiting for Monk’s reaction.
    “And did he?” he asked.
    “Yeah. ’E said ’e did. Only w’en ’e started, although I were willin’, ’e gets real rough an’ starts knockin’ me around. Afore I can let out a yell, there’s another geezer there an’ all. An’ ’e lights inter me.” She touched her eye gingerly. “ ’It me, ’e did. ’It me real ’ard. Bloody near knocked me out. Then ’e an’ the first geezer ’olds me an’ takes me, one after the other. Then one o’ them, by now I dunno which one, me ’ead’s fair singin’ an’ I’m ’alf senseless wi’ pain, ’e ’its me again an’ knocks me teef aht. Laughin’, they is, like madmen. I tell yer, I were scared sick.”
    Looking at her face it was only too easy to believe. She was white at the memory.
    “Can you tell me anything about them?” Monk asked. “Anything at all, a smell, a voice, a feel of cloth?”
    “Wot?”
    “Smell,” he repeated. “Can you remember any smell? They were close to you.”
    “Like wot?” She looked puzzled.
    “Anything. Think.” He tried not to sound sharp with her. Was she being intentionally stupid? “Men work in different places,” he prompted. “Some with horses, some with leather, some with fish or wool or bales of hemp. Did you smell salt? Sweat? Whiskey?”
    She was silent.
    “Well?” Vida snapped. “Think back! Wot’s the matter with yer? Don’t yer want these bastards found?”
    “Yeah! I’m thinkin’,” Nellie protested. “They didn’t neither o’ them smell o’ none o’ them things. One o’ them smelled o’ some drink, real strong, but it in’t one I ever drunk. ’Orrible, it were.”
    “Cloth,” Monk went on. “Did you feel the cloth of their clothes? Was it quality or reworked? Thick or thin?”
    “Warm,” she said without hesitation, thinking of the only thing which would have mattered to her. “Wouldn’t mind a coat like that meself. Cost more’n I make in a month, an’ then some.”
    “Clean shaven or bearded?”
    “I din’t look!”
    “Feel! You must have felt their faces. Think!”
    “No beard. Clean shaven … I s’pose. Mebbe side-whiskers.” She gave a grunt of scorn. “Could ’a bin any o’ thousands!” Her voice was harsh with disillusion, as if for a moment she had hoped. “Yer in’t never goin’ ter find ’em. Yer a liar takin’ ’er money, an’ she’s a fool fer givin’ it yer.”
    “You watch yer tongue, Nellie West!” Vida said sharply. “You in’t so smart yer can get along on yer own, an’ don’t yer ferget it! Keep civil, if yer knows wot’s good for yer.”
    “What time of night was it?” Monk asked the last thing he thought would be of any use from her.
    “Why?” she sneered. “Narrers it down, does it? Know ’oo it is then, do yer?”
    “It may help. But if you’d prefer to protect them,