Michael Oberlin glanced at his pocket watch under the pretense of checking the time, but in truth he was investigating his reflection. He was still examining his blonde eyebrows as Sweeney Todd was pushed through the door.
Oberlin's first impressions of Mr. Todd were that of a handsome man whose vitality had been drained away. Well tended dark hair, high cheek bones with thick lips that emphasized an omnipresent sneer, while his pale face and the unnatural dark circles around his eyes made him seem wan and corpse-like. However, his eyes themselves were actually more disturbing: a pale, feral blue, full of wolflike curiosity and hiding a smouldering killer instinct.
Sandy haired, brown eyed, and dandily dressed Oberlin suppressed a gulp. A presence had walked in with this man, one he had never known in all his years of defending crooked clients.
Todd's first impressions of Oberlin were immediate and easily identified: he wanted to kill him. Something about his weak jaw, his fine cream silk suit and his dainty hands made Todd want to hang the solicitor up by his ankles, slit him groin to belly and watch him bleed out like a slaughtered pig.
Quietly, he smiled, and calmly took a seat at the scrubbed wooden table. Oberlin remained standing and finally pocketed his watch.
"You're late, Mr. Todd," he said crisply, his posh accent polished and practiced.
"This is a prison, Counsellor," Todd rasped, tilting his head. "Prisoners don't make their own time. But you know that, don't you?"
"Yes, well. I suppose you're right," Oberlin said, rattling the change in his pockets. "Though I hardly think it matters, don't you agree, Mr. Todd?"
Todd arched a brow. Something was quite right here.
"Explain," he ordered softly, eyes boring into Oberlin's.
"Oh, Mr. Todd," the solicitor laughed a silky, insincere laugh. "Surely you don't expect anything but a death sentence?"
"Not from my solicitor," Todd replied, growing more irked by the moment.
"Let's not waste any more time than necessary with naivety, Mr. Todd. My name is Michael Oberlin," Oberlin began, his voice full of lacklustre rigamarole. He continued, his tone becoming more condescending. "It's my responsibility to make sure your trial is swift. And swift it will certainly be. I suggest you cooperate, if you want your remaining weeks to be comfortable."
The expression on his face was an ugly one. Pompous. Todd hated pompous in a man. Slowly, he stood up.
"Since you are then determined to send me to the gallows, allow me to be equally frank," he said mildly, tilting his head. Oberlin withered slightly: Todd dwarfed him by several inches. "If they are to hang me, I will be certain to demand an appeal. And, of course," he paused, adding the slightest stress- "a private consultation with you, my good solicitor."
--
"Mrs. Lovett-" Norwood began timidly. Deftly, Mrs. Lovett interrupted him.
"No, no. Call me Eleanor." She fluttered her eyelashes.
"Eleanor," Norwood repeated, blushing slightly. "The police have authorized me to make a deal with you. They want you to testify against Mr. Todd in exchange for your freedom. After the trial, that is."
Mrs. Lovett considered this. On one hand, she would be free, and alive. On another, despite his recent attempts on her life, she wasn't quite certain she wanted to help them send Sweeney Todd to the noose. Despite herself, she still had vague designs on him. Though, he certainly deserved death for his malice towards her. Better to weigh her options before she decided on anything.
"Oh, Mr. Norwood, that is ever so kind," she said, her voice feminine and flowery. "I am dreadfully frightened of him."
"Oh, my dear woman," Norwood took her hands in his. "I'll petition to have him removed from your cell immediately!"
"But wait," she said quickly. "If you do that, he'll know that I was set to turn against him. Leave me with him and he'll think I'm going to be tried with him. It would be much easier to get him to say something, something you can use..."
"It must be something damning! You must be careful, Mrs. Lovett! I mean, Eleanor." Norwood loosened his collar with one hand before returning it to hers. "Are you certain you can keep his confidence?"
Biting her lip to keep herself from smiling broadly, Mrs. Lovett nodded slowly.
"Then you are a brave and noble woman indeed."
--
Tobias had enjoyed the jostles and jolts of the carriage right for the first hour, but it had begun to grow dull. He wish he had a bit of string to play with or perhaps some paper to draw on. Had he been able to read, he would've wished for a book.
You're going to learn how to read, he reminded himself, a small bubble of excitement rising through him. Men who could read dressed smartly and made plenty of money. And Toby loved words. He loved to learn new ones and repeat them over and over again. He would like nothing better than to learn to write them, over and over again.
On the other side of the cab, Constable Mallory was snoring gently, his bowler hat tipped over his eyes. Toby sighed, and propped his arm against the cab window. It became mistier the farther away they got from the city, but Toby didn't mind the damp. It was soft and dark over the clean green grass. Moss covered wooden fences lined the fields, charming barriers between neighbours who surely could not be as vile as the residents of Fleet Street and its environs.
Such thoughts soon led him back to Mrs. Lovett. Just the thought of her left a bitter taste in his mouth. He could ignore the bodies, the blood, and the meat. But he couldn't ignore what had been said.
"You planned this," Todd accused, his eyes full of hellfire as they alighted on Mrs. Lovett. Her eyes danced over to the meat cleaver sitting beside the grinder. Todd dropped the beggar woman's dead body as Mrs. Lovett lunged for the cleaver. Quick as a flash, he caught her around the waist, pulling her tightly against his body as he encircled her with thick, muscular arms. His entire demeanour had changed from mournful agony to feral viciousness.
"Now, Mrs. Lovett," he scolded. "You weren't planning on going anywhere, were you?"
"N-no..."
"Thinking of taking my head?" Todd hissed, dipping his head down to look directly into her eyes. "Hmmm?"
"I wasn't!" Lovett protested weakly.
"Shhh..." Todd kissed her lips gently, slowly manoeuvring her in the direction of the hot oven. "I forgive you. Live and let live, right?"
"R-right..."
"My pragmatic little vixen," his voice switched from sickly affection to a dire hiss- "I'll remember you...fondly."
Her eyes widened as he made to shove her in the oven. She grappled with him, grabbing hold of the front of his shirt and stamping sharply onto his foot. Eventually they wrestled each other to the floor, snarling and struggling, each trying to deliver the death blow to the other.
Toby had witnessed this all through a crack in the trapdoor. When the police came, he remained beneath, trembling uncontrollably and did not emerge until hours later when Inspector James had returned to inspect the premises with his constables.
"Tobias, lad."
Toby looked up and realized Constable Mallory hadn't been sleeping at all.
"Yes, sir?" he asked, voice full of apprehension. He was afraid they would take this opportunity from him.
"You're sure you don't remember anything else...?" Mallory's calm brown eyes were reassuring as he lifted his hat away from them.
"Begging your pardon, sir, but all I remember is what I told you."
Mallory set his hat down on the cab's seat and leaned forward, folding his hands.
"What about earlier. When did you begin to suspect something had gone amiss?"
Toby scratched behind his ear for a moment, and then glanced out into the misty moor.
"Well, sir, I began wondering some time after Mrs. Lovett hired me to help with the customers and cleaning up and the like. Before that I worked for Signor Pirelli."
"Who is Signor Pirelli, Tobias?"
"Oh, he was a barber. I don't know where he is now."
"What happened to him?"
Toby squirmed a little in his seat, chewing on his thumbnail. His gaze was still fixedly pointed outside.
"I'm not perfectly sure, sir. I saw him go up to talk to..to talk to...him...he had beat the Signor y'see, at a shaving contest. Governor wanted to go see about getting the bet money back. And then..." Toby trailed off, frowning deeply.
"Yes?"
"I remembered...he had an appointment with his tailor. I went up to tell him, but he," he shuddered, working visibly to make himself say the name. "Mr. Todd told me he had gone on urgent business. But I hadn't seen him leave and I told him that I ought to have stayed until the Signor came back for me."
"And then?"
"And then...he...Mr. Todd...he told me I could have another pie. And...a big tot of gin."
Mallory's eyebrows shot up. "Gin?"
"Yes, sir."
"Do you remember what happened after that?" he urged. Toby scratched his head.
"No..can't remember after that. Slept some in Mrs. Lovett's parlour."
"I see..."
"But, but," Toby hurried his words, as if he were afraid he might forget. "...I do know...that I had felt wrongly about him after I saw customers go into his shop and never come out again. I feared for Mrs. Lovett. I tried to tell her, but she wouldn't listen to me. And then I saw she had it."
"Had what, lad?"
"Signor Pirelli's purse. She had it and she said..that...he had given it to her."
"Mr. Todd had given it to her?"
"Yes," Toby confirmed. "Yes. Said he'd bought it at a pawn shop, but I know, sir, the Signor would never have sold it."
"And it was in Mr. Todd's shop that Pirelli had disappeared?"
"Yes, sir. Is that...is that good, sir? You're not going to send me back, are you, sir?" Toby asked, his voice rather higher than usual.
"No, lad," Mallory laughed. "That merits the reward we've promised you. All you have to do is sign a statement to that effect, and you'll be free."
"I won't have to speak in front of people?"
"No, lad. We've decided to keep you out of it. And we'll keep your location a secret, too."
"They say...they...them..they're going to hang Mr. Todd no matter what."
"Well, that's almost certain. But not completely."
"Oh," Toby's face fell.
"But don't worry, Tobias," Mallory said, taking Toby's hands. "I have orders to keep you safe, and there's no way Mr. Todd could find you. After all, he's in prison, with no contact in the outside world. He's completely in the dark. Don't let him trouble you any longer, lad."
Toby couldn't look at him as he murmured the words: "Thank you kindly, sir, but I think Mr. Todd is going to trouble me until the day I die."