Who Watches the Watch

Chapter 3

As Vimes drew nearer to the Watch House, he could see the crowd still hanging around outside. He groaned. They would want a statement of some sort. He wasn't in the mood for this. What in the hells was he going to tell them anyway, that he was working on a hunch?

But before he could say anything, Carrot was stepping forward. "Don't worry, sir," he said. "I'll handle this. I'll soon have them settled down."

"I'm relying on it, Carrot," said Vimes, breathing a sigh of relief. He branched off and headed towards the Watch House door. He weaved his way through the crowd, listening to the questions being fired at Carrot.

"Well, have you found the watchman yet?" asked a woman.

"No, not yet," said Carrot. "Our search is continuing."

"I suppose you are looking?" asked a man.

"Of course we are," said Carrot smoothly. "But the city is a big place, it may be some time before we locate him."

"I heard the victim was ravished by that watchman!" said another woman.

"No, madam, that's completely untrue," said Carrot reassuringly. "The victim's clothing was undisturbed."

"Well, that proves it, then..." said a sly voice.

"Um, proves what?" asked Carrot, turning to face the speaker.

"That it was your watchman," said Walby Birkett. "We all know which way he leans."

"Oh, good gods..." Vimes muttered, as he entered the Watch House and slammed the door.

Sergeant Colon was missing from his desk.

"Where's Fred?" Vimes snapped.

"Waiting in your office, sir..." said Nobby. "With a Mr. Fletcher."

"Mr. Fletcher?"

"That's right, sir. He came in earlier to identify his wife."

Vimes stared. "His wife? Oh gods... and you've left Fred with him?"

"Well, Angua hasn't arrived yet—" But Vimes was already halfway up the stairs.

Vimes took a deep breath and tapped gently on his door. Colon appeared, and Vimes motioned him out.

"How is he?" he asked Colon quietly. "Has anyone told him what's happened?"

"We didn't need to tell him anything, sir," said Colon. "He heard word on the street. Oddly enough, he doesn't seem that upset about it. Said it didn't really surprise him."

"It didn't?"

Colon shook his head. "Said they were at odds with each other, sir. Apparently she often 'went off on one' and walked out; and at all hours too. Had a bit of a temper, he said, sir. Some nights she didn't even come home." Colon lowered his voice to a whisper. "Sounds a bit mental, if you ask me, sir..."

"Yes, Fred, thank you. But if you don't mind, I'll speak to him now."

"He's all yours, sir."

Vimes entered and lowered himself into his chair.

"It's all right, you can sit down again, Mr. Fletcher..."

"Thank you," said the man quietly. "And it's Harold, please."

"All right, Harold," said Vimes gently. "What can you tell me about your wife?"

"Well, that depends on what you want to know?"

"Well, anything you think might be able to help us? Anything you think is relevant?"

Harold sighed. "What's to tell? We moved to the city just over a year ago. That was Celia's idea. She wasn't happy in Scrote. It was far too quiet for her."

"Celia, that was your wife?"

"Yes. She liked attention, you see. Always enjoyed having lots of people around her."

"And you didn't?"

"No, I liked the quiet life. But Celia was happier here. I know she'd made lots of friends."

"What about enemies?"

"Oh no, quite the opposite. She was... well liked. You know."

Vimes nodded. "And where were you last night, Harold?" he asked smoothly.

"You don't suspect me, surely?"

Vimes smiled. "It's a routine question."

"Well, I was at home. Celia had another of her... episodes. She walked out again. I didn't follow her."

"Did she say where she was going?"

"No, and I never asked. She could... get angry, commander. I assumed she went for a walk to calm down."

Vimes clasped his hands together and leaned on his desk. "Harold, I'm sorry to have to ask you this, but do you think your wife was having an affair?"

Fletcher shrugged. "It's possible, I suppose."

"Do you know who the other man might have been?"

Fletcher gave him a sharp look. "I said it was possible, commander. I didn't say she was."

"No," said Vimes. "No, you didn't. I'm sorry."

There was an awkward silence.

Fletcher's gaze fell to his lap. "They say a watchman murdered my wife?" he asked quietly.

"That's what they say. Yes."

"But you don't believe it?"

"I find it... improbable."

"But not impossible?"

"No. It's not impossible."

"And if a watchman did murder her?" said Fletcher, "What happens then?"

"He'll hang," said Vimes.

-o0o-

Carrot waited patiently at the bottom of the stairs. Suddenly Mr. Fletcher came out. He was still talking to Vimes, promising to contact him if he thought of anything else. Carrot waited until he had left, and then entered Vimes' office and closed the door firmly behind him.

"They're not happy, sir..." Carrot muttered.

"Who aren't?" said Vimes.

"The citizens, sir."

"Oh? And why not?"

"They think you're dragging your feet over this case, sir. On account of Noakes being a watchman."

"What? I'm doing all I can, for heaven's sake!"

"That's not what they think, sir," said Carrot, moving to the window. "They seem to think you're concentrating on looking for a killer who doesn't exist when you ought to be trying to find Noakes. They're angry and confused, sir. Understandably," Carrot added.

"Understand—! Carrot, I can't find a man who doesn't want to be found!"

"Nevertheless, sir. The citizens see Noakes as a danger."

"That's ridiculous, Carrot. And anyway, I am trying to find him. He's the key to this whole damn thing! But I want to question him; not hang him. And if anyone thinks I'm going to stop looking for further evidence just because of what one woman said, then they're wrong! Because, yes, I do think there's another killer out there, and I'm going to solve this my way."

Carrot frowned. "I'm not sure that's what they want to hear, sir..."

Vimes glanced towards the window. "It's that Walby Birkett, isn't it?" he growled. "He's out there, stirring them up?"

"Well, he's out there, sir. But he isn't actually doing anything."

"Oh no. He wouldn't."

"He's just speaking the truth, sir."

Vimes clenched his jaw and dragged his notebook in front of him. "All right. If it's the truth they want, let's see exactly what we have, shall we?" He looked at the list, and read out:

Itym: A woman is dead.

Itym: One witness said she saw Noakes do it.

Itym: Said witness has now disappeared.

Itym: Noakes is neither here to confirm nor deny it.

"Which means..." said Vimes, slapping the notebook on the desk, "that either I'm supposed to believe that Noakes is a murderer, or the witness is lying. And of the two, I know who I trust."

"But supposing she isn't lying, sir?"

"Then someone is trying to stitch Noakes up."

"No, I meant... supposing Noakes did murder her?"

Vimes snorted. "I can't believe that, Carrot."

"We've had bad watchmen before, sir?"

"We've had watchmen who've taken bribes, Carrot. We've never had a murderer."

"There's always a first time, sir?"

Vimes thumped his desk. "Damnit, Carrot! As far as I'm concerned Noakes has always been a good watchman, and I refuse to pass judgement on him until I have more evidence!"

"But we don't have more evidence, sir."

"Then it all boils down to the same thing, Carrot! We need to find him!"

-o0o-

Nobby had taken up his position by the Watch House window again.

"Why's the commander all upset about this case, Fred?"

"Dunno. I imagine it's because he thinks someone's trying to frame Noakes."

"Do you think they are?"

"Job to tell, Nobby. Vimes has got to investigate this properly, obviously, but just because Noakes is one of us don't mean he's not a killer. See, Nobby, you never find out a person's true nature until the chips are down."

"Chips, right..." Nobby puzzled this for a moment and then peered out the window again. "So you think he's capable of killing, then?"

"Who knows? Besides, this whole thing is starting to look bad for us, innit? What, a killer watchman and a commander who appears to be protecting him? How does that look to that lot outside?"

Nobby was looking. The crowd appeared bigger than it had earlier, and somehow more restless. In fact, it didn't look like your average crowd at all. It was beginning to look menacing. It had started to resemble... a mob.

"I'm telling you, Nobby," Colon went on. "Things don't look good for the Watch right now."

"No, Fred..." said Nobby, eyeing the crowd nervously, "Things don't look good for us, at all..."

-o0o-

Down in the sewers, a lone watchman stumbled ankle-deep through murky water. He stopped and looked around, as if searching out sounds other than his own, laboured breathing. Apparently hearing nothing, he waded to the wall, reaching for the slimy brickwork with a steadying hand. Clearly exhausted and shivering from the cold, he managed a few more steps, before falling to his knees, retching violently.

-o0o-