Edward Kane, Advocate in The Hanged Man. Chapter 12: ‘I thought it was a rag’

Edward Kane, Advocate in The Hanged Man. Chapter 12: ‘I thought it was a rag’ (Illustration: Lesley-Anne Barnes Macfarlane)

(For the record – this last attempt at humour was not appreciated)

The White Hart Inn

On one side of the table, a detective. On the other, a public hangman.

Edward Kane, Advocate

‘…and then…and then…

The hangman George Gibney was well in his cups now: ‘I get outside and what do you think? Eh? Some joker – probably one of those stuck-up varsity clowns – some joker has taken the hessian cloth off the top of the cart and it’s pouring with rain by this time and my ropes…my ropes. Do you know how much a good rope costs?’

****

It could not be said that Manny the haberdasher was entirely pleased to see Horse and The Monkey on time. After all, had they been a mere minute over the agreed hour, then Manny would have been able to keep the entire sixpence. But a deal was a deal, and the collar and dog lead looked none the worse for wear, so the deposit was returned. But…no jacket. Then – back to the tenement to return the counterfeit pet (and a return to the back court where Mr Horse had found relief) – but no jacket. That left The Beehive Inn, then. As the last possible place.

****

Mackintosh tapped his notebook on his lips: ‘You didn’t let him hang for long.’

George Gibney sat back in his chair, nursing his tumbler of rum: ‘The crowd. You get a feeling about these things, Mackintosh. They were not happy about this one. Something about the shame of it. An educated man – hanged in front of his own house and his friends. And then a couple of the younger folk got a bit rowdy and started to throw the stones – at me, would you credit it! Didn’t want it to turn ugly, so took him down. That, and that infernal brother of his. The one with the bright red mark on his chin. Would you believe it – always up on that scaffold – buzzing about like a wasp on jam.’

Mackintosh frowned: ‘What was his part in the proceedings?’

The hangman thought for a moment. ‘Don’t know. “Moral support”? Is that what they call it?’ He chuckled. ‘How do you give ‘moral support’ to a murderer, eh?’

They sat in silence for a time. Gibney finished his drink and stared into the empty glass. ‘Once the hood was on, the wee brother asked if he could give the older brother a hug and whisper a prayer into his ear before I pulled the lever. I let him. It was the Christian thing to do.’

‘And afterwards?’

‘The usual. Took the body down. The brother jumped up and helped me do that so, ye ken, I gave it that extra bit of respect. There was a cart waiting so that the body could get taken up the university and get cut up. We loaded the body onto the cart and another fella jumped up on that – he was a physician of some sort – and I left them to it. They started lifting and dropping the arms and that – I’ve seen that at some other hangings – checking for a pulse.’

‘And?’

Gibney sat back in his chair: ‘What do you think yerself, Mackintosh? The doctor on the cart looked at the wee brother and shook his head. Game over. And then…and then…’

The hangman covered his mouth at this point as if to hide a laugh: ‘…and then the wee brother just started greetin’ like a bairn. You could probably hear the howls in Stockbridge Village. I shouldnae laugh – but it was like a pantomime.’

Gibney held up his glass: ‘One for the road?’

****

‘I’ve just come on my shift, Horse. I think it was the new girl, Evie at that time. Maybe ask her?’

Molly, the barmaid at The Beehive Inn was drying a jug as she spoke. Horse was getting increasingly agitated: ‘Did she p’raps mention, my dear, that she had found a jacket.’

The barmaid pursed her lips: ‘Horse, me and Evie don’t really see eye to eye, so I haven’t spoken to her.’ She looked over and nodded towards a door at the side of the bar: ‘In fact, here she is now – you can ask her yourself.’

Emerging from the storeroom was a woman in her late thirties. Her face a mask of unhappiness and resentment. Horse adopted a smile: ‘“Evie” is it?’

The lady glowered: ‘Who’s asking?’

The manservant gave a little bow: ‘I think you’re new here. We have not had the pleasure of a formal introduction, my dear, my name is “Horse”.’

The woman gave him a withering look: ‘Stupid name. Right enough, I think I saw you in here earlier with that fella – what do they cry him – “The Monkey”’.

‘Yes, my dear, a trusted associate of mine. We were here earlier. And I might have left something here.’

‘Nothing to do with me. Speak to the owner.’

Horse tried applying a little charm (to no effect): ‘Now, lovely Evie, we don’t need to bother no owner. I think I might have left my jacket here. And my little friend over there,’ he nodded towards Molly, the other barmaid (who was having nothing to do with it, polishing a glass and looking the other way) ‘my little friend over there said that you was working here earlier…’

The lady knotted her eyebrows: ‘A jacket?’

Horse smiled and nodded.

The woman continued her process: ‘A jacket? Ah. Is that what it was?’ She gave a hollow smile: ‘It was light brown and kind of raggedy?’

‘I admit, it was not my best jacket, my dear – so you have seen it?’

She nodded: ‘Oh aye. I remember now. Lying on the floor behind one of the chairs like an old rag.’

Horse smiled: ‘Must have fallen off the back of the chair when I got up…’

The lady nodded her head as if realising something: ‘So – it was a jacket, then. Aye – I picked it up when I was cleaning up.’

Relief flooded through Horse that the jacket – more importantly, the jacket containing the precious pawn ticket for that precious, precious gold watch – had been located. He smiled: ‘So where is it, lovely Evie?’

The lady gave a mirthless little chuckle and nodded to a spot behind Horse. He looked around for a coat hook on the wall and found none. He turned back to the barmaid, a quizzical look in his face. She rolled her eyes, and this time she pointed. To the fireplace and the blazing fire behind Horse. He looked at her. Incredulous. She shrugged: ‘It was lying on the floor. Messing up the place. I thought it was a rag. So, I put it in the fire...’

TOMORROW: ‘Let me tell you what the hangman told me’