Read Online William Monk 18 - A Sunless Sea by Anne Perry - Free Book Online
Authors: Anne Perry
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coldly. “Don’t really know nothing about it, sir. Sorry to be a bit formal, like, but may I see summink as proves to me ’oo you are? Can’t go talking about people without knowing.” He did not bother to hide his hostility.
Puzzled, Monk produced his warrant card as proof of who he was.
“Thank you, sir.” The chill remained. “What is it you think we may be able to ’elp you with, Mr. Monk?” Deliberately he omitted the courtesy of rank.
“Do you know Mr. Lambourn?”
“Dr. Lambourn, sir,” the sergeant corrected him smartly. “Yes, I did know ’im to speak to.”
“You did? You don’t any longer?” Monk was puzzled.
“Seein’ as ’e’s dead, may God rest ’im, no I don’t,” the sergeant snapped.
“I’m sorry.” Monk felt clumsy. He could not have known, but perhaps he should have guessed. “Would that have been about two months ago?”
The sergeant winced. “Are you tellin’ me as you didn’t know?” Clearly that was incredible to him.
“No, I didn’t,” Monk answered. “I’m inquiring into the murder of a woman whose body was found on Limehouse Pier, five days ago. It was likely that Dr. Lambourn knew her. I was hoping he might be able to tell us something more about her.”
The sergeant looked startled. “That poor soul what was cut up by some bleedin’ butcher? Beggin’ your pardon, sir, but you got that wrong. Dr. Lambourn was a quiet, very respectable gentleman. Wouldn’t ’urt anyone. An’ ’e wouldn’t know any woman in that way o’ business.”
Monk wished to point out that many people appeared different in public from the way they might be in private, in the darkness of a backstreet far from where they lived. However, he could see in the man’s face that he was not open to any such suggestion about Lambourn.
“What kind of a doctor was he?” he asked instead. “I mean, what sort of patients did he treat?”
“ ’E din’t treat patients,” the sergeant replied. “ ’E studied, learned things about sickness an’ medicines an’ such.”
“Do you know what kind of illnesses?” Monk persisted. It might not matter at all, but so far Dr. Lambourn was the only person who seemed to have known Zenia Gadney as more than just a casual neighbor. So he would take any details he could get.
“No,” the sergeant replied. “But he asked a lot of questions about medicines, especially opium and laudanum, and stuff like that. Why? What’s that got to do with this poor creature you got in Limehouse?”
“I really don’t know, except that she took opium sometimes, for headaches and things.”
“So does ’alf England,” the sergeant said derisively. “ ’Eadaches, stomachaches, can’t sleep, baby’s crying, cutting its teeth, old folks got rheumatics …”
“Yes, I suppose so,” Monk conceded. “What was Dr. Lambourn studying that he asked about opium and the medicines containing it? What sort of questions did he ask, do you know?”
“No, I don’t. He was always a very quiet gentleman, with a good word for everyone. Not meaning any disrespect, Mr. Monk, but you must ’ave been misinformed some’ow. Dr. Lambourn was as decent a man as you’ll find anywhere.”
Until he had further information on the subject, he would gain nothing by arguing. He thanked the sergeant and walked outside into the street. Lambourn may well have paid Zenia Gadney sufficient money to live on, but he could tell them nothing now, and he could not possibly be responsible for her death, since he himself had apparently died two months earlier. Still, Monk would like to know more about him, even if only for the light it would throw on Zenia Gadney’s life.
“Sir!” the sergeant said abruptly from the doorway.
Monk turned back. “Yes?”
“Don’t go botherin’ Mrs. Lambourn, sir. It was all ’ard enough at the time. Leave the poor lady alone.”
So there was a Mrs. Lambourn. Monk wanted to ask more about her, but something in the sergeant’s
Puzzled, Monk produced his warrant card as proof of who he was.
“Thank you, sir.” The chill remained. “What is it you think we may be able to ’elp you with, Mr. Monk?” Deliberately he omitted the courtesy of rank.
“Do you know Mr. Lambourn?”
“Dr. Lambourn, sir,” the sergeant corrected him smartly. “Yes, I did know ’im to speak to.”
“You did? You don’t any longer?” Monk was puzzled.
“Seein’ as ’e’s dead, may God rest ’im, no I don’t,” the sergeant snapped.
“I’m sorry.” Monk felt clumsy. He could not have known, but perhaps he should have guessed. “Would that have been about two months ago?”
The sergeant winced. “Are you tellin’ me as you didn’t know?” Clearly that was incredible to him.
“No, I didn’t,” Monk answered. “I’m inquiring into the murder of a woman whose body was found on Limehouse Pier, five days ago. It was likely that Dr. Lambourn knew her. I was hoping he might be able to tell us something more about her.”
The sergeant looked startled. “That poor soul what was cut up by some bleedin’ butcher? Beggin’ your pardon, sir, but you got that wrong. Dr. Lambourn was a quiet, very respectable gentleman. Wouldn’t ’urt anyone. An’ ’e wouldn’t know any woman in that way o’ business.”
Monk wished to point out that many people appeared different in public from the way they might be in private, in the darkness of a backstreet far from where they lived. However, he could see in the man’s face that he was not open to any such suggestion about Lambourn.
“What kind of a doctor was he?” he asked instead. “I mean, what sort of patients did he treat?”
“ ’E din’t treat patients,” the sergeant replied. “ ’E studied, learned things about sickness an’ medicines an’ such.”
“Do you know what kind of illnesses?” Monk persisted. It might not matter at all, but so far Dr. Lambourn was the only person who seemed to have known Zenia Gadney as more than just a casual neighbor. So he would take any details he could get.
“No,” the sergeant replied. “But he asked a lot of questions about medicines, especially opium and laudanum, and stuff like that. Why? What’s that got to do with this poor creature you got in Limehouse?”
“I really don’t know, except that she took opium sometimes, for headaches and things.”
“So does ’alf England,” the sergeant said derisively. “ ’Eadaches, stomachaches, can’t sleep, baby’s crying, cutting its teeth, old folks got rheumatics …”
“Yes, I suppose so,” Monk conceded. “What was Dr. Lambourn studying that he asked about opium and the medicines containing it? What sort of questions did he ask, do you know?”
“No, I don’t. He was always a very quiet gentleman, with a good word for everyone. Not meaning any disrespect, Mr. Monk, but you must ’ave been misinformed some’ow. Dr. Lambourn was as decent a man as you’ll find anywhere.”
Until he had further information on the subject, he would gain nothing by arguing. He thanked the sergeant and walked outside into the street. Lambourn may well have paid Zenia Gadney sufficient money to live on, but he could tell them nothing now, and he could not possibly be responsible for her death, since he himself had apparently died two months earlier. Still, Monk would like to know more about him, even if only for the light it would throw on Zenia Gadney’s life.
“Sir!” the sergeant said abruptly from the doorway.
Monk turned back. “Yes?”
“Don’t go botherin’ Mrs. Lambourn, sir. It was all ’ard enough at the time. Leave the poor lady alone.”
So there was a Mrs. Lambourn. Monk wanted to ask more about her, but something in the sergeant’s
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