Lies and Misdemeanours

She knew deep inside that Charlie was innocent, and the presence of the gun inside the drawer just seemed to prove it.

“Let’s search this place properly,” Wally growled. “We are going to have to take that with us too,” he added as he nodded to the gun.

When Hetty merely stared the gun blankly, Wally reached around her and placed it carefully into the bag in front of them. Once the room had been searched once more, they made their way downstairs.

“We will take his horse with us,” Wally told the innkeeper, who nodded somewhat solemnly.

“Aye, that’s fine with me. Given your brother is his friend, I am sure you will know what to do with it. I’ll show you where it is,” the innkeeper said, and led Wally to the stables around the back.

“Let’s go home,” Wally growled. He climbed aboard, having tied Charlie’s horse to the back. His shoulders were stooped with worry, and his frown was deep as he took a seat beside her on the bench. He nodded toward the rather sympathetic innkeeper, who nodded solemnly at them as they left, but nobody spoke.

“Why are we not going to Derby?” Hetty said firmly as Wally turned the cart toward home. “We need to go to the jail to explain that this has all been a terrible misunderstanding.”

Wally looked at her. “We need to leave this gun at home, along with Charlie’s horse. We can’t take them with us to the jail. We can go to Derby from there, and see what we can find out about them,” he replied calmly. “I just hope to God the man he was caught with wasn’t Simon.”

“He isn’t here,” Hetty replied tearfully when the mill house and outbuildings had been searched, but found to be disappointingly empty.

Wally sighed, and threw Hetty a dour look. “We have to go and find them then.”

Hetty nodded. They both knew what he meant. Meldrew had struck again. The consequences to Simon, and the family, if their brother was being held captive in jail this morning didn’t bear thinking about.

At that moment, she was too afraid to speak. Too afraid to think or even feel anything because she knew that when the realisation did sink in that Simon was at the mercy of one of the county’s most ruthless men, hysteria would not be far behind.

The dark, almost macabre walls of Derby jail sat amongst assorted buildings in the town centre like a panther waiting for its prey. Its dark and dingy stonework was interrupted only by the narrow slits of heavily barred windows which let only the minimal sliver of daylight in to the helpless individuals inside.

Hetty turned her gaze away from the dirty faces pressed against some of the windows, and shuddered as her fear and trepidation grew. There was a heady stench of unwashed body in the air, even outside, and they hadn’t even ventured into the main building of the jail yet.

It was a stark reminder of what they were going into, and made her stomach churn alarmingly.

“Let’s go,” Wally growled when he had pulled the cart to a stop outside the jail and clambered down.

Hetty climbed down by herself while Wally pounded heavily on the gates.

They both stood back to wait.

The jailer who slid the viewing panel back on the door frowned out at them in a less than welcoming manner.

“What?”

“We are here to see Gembleby. You have someone of ours who was arrested last night.”

“Who?”

“Simon Jones and Charlie Framson.” Wally mentally winced as he gave the man a made up surname for Charlie.

It was only then that he realised he didn’t even know Charlie’s last name, and that bothered him, especially given that Simon was with him.

When the jailer didn’t immediately reply and continued to stare blankly out at them, Hetty took a hesitant step forward.

“They were arrested last night for the murder of Mr Blagmire,” she said quickly. She wanted to add ‘unjustly’, but daren’t antagonise the man before they got inside.

The jailer suddenly snapped to attention, and stared at them for several long moments. Suddenly, he seemed to come to a decision, and slid the panel shut with a loud snap.

Seconds later, the chains on the door rattled and the huge black doors squeaked eerily open.

“It’s like walking into Hell,” Hetty whispered as they walked across the yard toward the entrance door of the jail with fear in their eyes, and worry in their hearts.

She wished she could turn around and leave. It was only the thought of Simon and Charlie being confined in such a place that forced her to keep herself together, and follow the jailer into the building.