The Connicle Curse Page 17

  There was little I could do but give Varcoe a shrug. The fact that his normal pallor had shifted to something closer to cherry was not lost on me.

  CHAPTER 26

  Edmond Connicle’s face, neck, and shoulders were horribly swollen and discolored in angry shades of purple, blue, magenta, and black. If the rest of his body was equally assaulted I feared he might not live through the night. Miss Porter had already been by to positively identify him, which was good, given that I could easily have been convinced that he was one of a thousand other brown-haired men, and even Varcoe wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice.

  Edmond was slender and of modest proportions, but other than the color and fullness of his hair I could draw no conclusions. His eyes were mere slits, pinched shut and oozing from within the confines of eye sockets so inflamed that they rose well above his brow. His nose seemed to stretch from one cheek to the next and I could tell that it was broken just above the bridge. I suspected his right cheekbone had also been fractured, given the peculiar angle at which it disappeared under his hairline, but we would not know until the swelling had at least partially receded. The worst of it, however, was his labored breathing, rattling from deep within his chest. Edmond Connicle, a man thought to have been already dead, was now perilously close.

  “Was he conscious when your men found him?” Colin asked Varcoe as he leaned in close.

  “He was muttering some at first, but nothing anyone could make out.”

  “And what of the man who did this? Could they describe him?”

  Varcoe gave a foul expression as he shook his head. “Average height. Solid build. Not much else. They said it was too dark and he ran off down the quay as soon as my men saw what was going on. They had no idea the victim was Mr. Connicle until they got him down here and went through his pockets. That’s when they sent for me,” he added with a note of pride.

  “Does Mrs. Connicle know?” I asked, anxious for her to know that she was right even as much as I did not want her to see her husband’s present state.

  “Nah. Just that Porter woman. I’m hoping they keep that balmy wife of his sedated until he recovers.”

  “That seems a bit harsh, given that she was the first to insist her husband was still alive,” I scolded.

  He shrugged dismissively and folded his arms across his chest. “Then you and Pendragon can tend to her when she gets here.” He pulled some papers out of his pocket and handed them over to Colin. “They found these in his pockets. They’re receipts.”

  Colin thumbed through them quickly before passing them over to me. “They’re all dated in the future. . . .”

  I glanced down and found four hotel receipts covering a week’s stay each. One for a hotel in Paris, one from Lyon, one from Lausanne, and one from Geneva. And true to Colin’s word, all of them were dated with consecutively running future dates, starting with the hotel in Paris and ending with the one in Lausanne. “How can that be?” I looked at the both of them. “Receipts for dates that haven’t even happened yet?”

  Varcoe curled his lips and shook his head. “We found ’em; you figure the damn things out. Now I’m going to finish up with my men. I won’t be but a minute. If Connicle here wakes up you’d better not ask him one single question until I get back.” He glared at us from the doorway. “And I’m not bloody well kidding.”

  “He is infuriating,” Colin exhaled the moment the door slid shut.

  “Never mind that. Just get what you need from him and solve this case. That’s all that matters.”

  “Always so optimistic,” he grumbled.

  “I try.”

  “It can be annoying, you know.”

  I chose to ignore him and return to keener matters. “What did you tell Paul when we stopped in Holland Park at the Guitnus’?”

  “I told him to see if he can ferret out any information on this attack. Edmond Connicle didn’t disappear into the East End only to suffer some random beating. This was premeditated. Which means that someone down there knows something.”

  “But he’s just a boy! You can’t send him snooping about with that rabble. Besides, who’ll keep an eye on Sunny Guitnu? Make sure she doesn’t run off with that Cillian lad?”

  Colin waved me off. “She’s not going anywhere. And do you really think that boy is going to abandon his mother?” He shook his head. “They’ll be fine for one night. He can head out there again tomorrow morning. Tonight our clever lad should see what he can drum up. He said he lives near Saint Paul’s. That means he’ll be familiar with the area and the locals.”

  “Colin, he’s too young. I’ll go. You know I spent a fair many years amongst that sort of crowd and—”

  He held up a single hand. “Stop.”

  Whatever else he was about to say was abruptly interrupted when the door swung wide and Annabelle Connicle came bursting in with Miss Porter, Wynn Tessler, and Dr. Renholme on her heels.

  “It’s true!” She swooned as she raced to the bed. “Edmond. Edmond!” She collapsed at the side of the bed, her hands clinging to his nearer arm as though receiving sustenance from it. “What have they done to you?” Her voice broke and she began to sob as Miss Porter, ashen and shaking, knelt beside her.

  “It really is true. . . .” Mr. Tessler muttered as he sidled next to us. “I couldn’t believe Miss Porter’s words when she came back to the house. I simply had to come and see for myself.”

  “You can be sure there will be no further errors or presumptions on this case,” Colin answered peevishly. I touched his elbow in an effort to encourage him to withhold his annoyance, but he only took a half step away from me. “How is it that you happened to be at the Connicle house when Miss Porter returned with her news?”

  “What?” He shifted his eyes from Mrs. Connicle’s prostrate form, Miss Porter crumpled on one side of her and Dr. Renholme on the other, and looked at Colin. “I was having her sign some documents,” he said absently. “I . . .” He glanced down at his briefcase and shook his head, his eyes filled with confusion. “I guess there’ll be no need now. . . .”

  Colin released a labored sigh and turned his back to the women and Dr. Renholme. “I’m afraid his condition is very grave. You might just keep what you have prepared.”

  “Oh.” He sagged slightly, his expression a mirror of the astonishment we were all feeling. “Of course.”

  “Where was he found, Mr. Pendragon?” Mrs. Connicle startled us as she turned from her husband.

  Colin’s lips drew tight and I could see his discomfort at the unsettling answer. “Along the Thames near Tower Bridge.”

  “Tower Bridge?” she repeated, clearly trying to fathom what he might have been doing in such a place, just as we were.

  “A couple men from the Yard were on their rounds when they spotted your husband having been set upon. They haven’t made an arrest yet, but we remain ever hopeful.” He gave a tight grin that I was certain could not have soothed her. “It’s fair to say that Inspector Varcoe’s men surely saved your husband’s life.”

  “Oh, thank god,” she gasped.

  “Are they looking for anyone?” Mr. Tessler’s face came alive with his question. “Do they have a suspect?”

  Colin shook his head as he glanced at Mrs. Connicle, seeing that she had turned her attentions back to her husband. “They do not,” he answered quietly. “But they can be resourceful. And Mr. Pruitt and I are well into this now.”

  “Of course,” Mr. Tessler said, but his voice was tainted with doubt.

  “We will be on our way then,” Colin said with what bravado he could muster. “Mrs. Connicle . . .” He stepped toward her, but she remained rigidly turned away, so he gave a quick and perfunctory shake of Mr. Tessler’s hand.

  “Please let me know as soon as you learn anything,” Mr. Tessler said. “I shall stay with Mrs. Connicle awhile.”

  Colin gave an aggrieved sort of smile and nodded his head, and before I could properly bid farewell myself he pivoted backwards and barreled out of the room. />
  CHAPTER 27

  The sonorous thundering slithered into my dream and spurred my body to jolt even before my brain could register the source of the disturbance. Colin’s legs were intertwined with mine so that when I jerked awake he was forced to do the same, though with a hair’s-breadth delay. As I struggled to achieve full consciousness the thundering quickly morphed into something more akin to pounding. I sat up and rubbed at my eyes with the heels of my hands and then blinked at the waxing light of the gray dawn streaming in through the windows.

  “Get yer lazy arses up!” Mrs. Behmoth bellowed from the other side of the door. “It’s near quarter past seven and ya got yerselves a visitor. Not that the scruffy little moppet is a proper visitor.”

  “All right then . . .” Colin called back as he climbed from the bed and stretched languorously. “Give the lad some tea and we’ll be right out.” He padded over to the armoire and began yanking out undergarments for us. “And be nice to him,” he added, though no response was forthcoming.

  I sat up and yawned like someone who had suffered a grievous lack of sleep, which was precisely the truth of it. We’d only gotten back to our flat just before two. Sleepless nights were becoming a habit on this case.

  Colin dunked his head under the faucet, sending an explosion of water up and over the sink. “There,” he said after a moment as he turned around with a self-satisfied smile, his wet hair pointing in a hundred different directions like an ill-tended wheat field. “Well, come on,” he coaxed. “Our young liege may have something important to report. I must admit I’m heartened by his early arrival.”

  “Yes, yes,” I muttered without a whisper of enthusiasm as I forced myself to stand up. “It’s all terribly heartening.”

  Colin stared at me a second, an eyebrow arched toward the ceiling, and then promptly burst out laughing. “What a sight you are,” he said with a dimpled grin as he pulled on his underthings. “Rouse yourself, love. I’m eager to hear what young Paul has to say but won’t let him begin until you get there.” He slid on a pair of pants and freshly pressed shirt, all the while continuing to chuckle as he forced his feet into his shoes and pulled a comb through his hair. “Five minutes then?” he said as he pulled on his coat. He gave me a quick peck and was out the door.

  Though I had the best of intentions, it took me nearly fifteen minutes before I was ready to join the two of them. What I found truly heartening when I finally shuffled into the room was that the fireplace was already roaring and Mrs. Behmoth had brought up tea and fresh currant scones.

  “At last,” Colin enthused as I crossed to my chair. “The dead have arisen to greet the new day.” The little pisser seemed to find that quite funny. Colin snickered as well while he quickly poured my tea with just a touch of milk. “Paul’s been quite beside himself with news. You’ve kept him waiting an absolute lifetime for a boy of twelve.”

  “Horrors!” I groused.

  “I found the man wot beat the other bloke last night,” Paul burst out in a single breath. “ ’Ow’s at fer somethin’ ta tell ya?!”

  “It’ll be quite something if it proves to be true.” Colin nodded, taking his cup and wandering over to the fireplace. “And how did you find this man?”

  “I got me places.”

  “I’m sure you do.” Colin eyed him with a smirk. “But if you expect me to pay you for your cunning, you had best start convincing me that you’ve done something worth paying for.”

  Paul scowled as he snatched up a scone and took a bite. “There’s a bunch a pubs east a Tower ’Ill that I do a bit a business at now and then,” he said, a waterfall of crumbs dusting his lap with every word. “I went ta all of ’em and asked a few mates if anybody ’eard ’bout a beatin’ near the bridge.” He laughed. “Course they did. ’Alf them bastards knew it ’ad ’appened, but none a them knew shite about it.” His smile widened. “So I went east a there to the docks out at Wappin’.”

  “You walked all the way from Tower Bridge to the Wapping docks in the middle of the wretched night by yourself?” I blurted, certain he was making up stories for an extra coin.

  “And why not?” He pointed his thin, hairless chin at me defiantly. “Mr. P. said I’d get an extra crown er two if I found somethin’ out.”

  “Something verifiable,” Colin corrected.

  Paul stared at him blankly. “Wot?”

  “True,” I cut in impatiently. “It has to be true.”

  “This is true like the Queen ’erself spoke it.”

  “No doubt.” Colin smiled as he shot a look my direction that I decided was meant to keep me quiet. “And what exactly did you hear at the docks?”

  “Two men told me they ’eard a scuffle and saw a fight broken up by a pair a bobbies. Said the bloke that went down was ruddy well dead as alive ’cause the bugger that did it ’ad a length a pipe in ’is ’and. I asked who it was that done it and they said ’e were a foreigner. ’At’s wot they said. Said ’e run off toward Stepney.” His prideful smile widened as he snatched up another scone. “So ’at’s where I went.”

  My stomach curdled at the thought of this boy running about the Wapping docks and Stepney Green in the middle of the night. But just as quickly I realized the soundness in Colin’s decision to send Paul in the first place. These were his streets. He could scamper out of harm’s way like a mouse because no one gave a second look at a mischievous imp. My own youth spent on those same streets bore out the truth in that.

  “I ’ad ta go to a bunch a places, but I found the knave. A short bloke with ’uge shoulders and a scrabbler’s chest like Mr. P. ’as. It’d take three a me ta be as wide as ’im. ’E were talkin’ and throwin’ money round and braggin’ ’bout a job ’e got and ’ow much money ’e’s makin’. ’E talked funny. Not like you two, but like ’e’s got somethin’ stuck in ’is throat that ’e can’t ’ack up.”

  “Probably Prussian or Slavic . . .” Colin muttered. “Dark hair? Beard?”

  “Yep. Like a monkey, ’e were so ruddy ’airy.”

  “And what makes you so certain he’s the same chap those men at the docks spotted?”

  Paul’s face blossomed with a beatific grin. “I ’ad one a me girls with me. She pumped ’im for a sovereign an’ a right lump a information.”

  “One of your girls . . . ?” Colin repeated, his voice betraying his surprise.

  “ ’Ell yeah. I’m one a them enterpeders.”

  “Entrepreneurs,” I said with a roll of my eyes.

  “You are not running whores.” Colin glowered. “No self-respecting slag is working for a cheeky little twelve-year-old.”

  Paul’s smile wilted as he snatched up another scone. “So I ain’t exactly runnin’ ’em, but I look out for ’em. And when I ask ’em ta do somethin’ for me, they do it. Like talkin’ to yer bastard wot ain’t from round ’ere.”

  “Fine, fine.” Colin returned to his chair and shoved his teacup onto the table. “So what did this girl of yours find out?”

  Paul glanced over at Colin as he took a bite. “’Ow much ya payin’ me for all this?” he asked in a shower of crumbs. “I gotta cut ’er in, ya know.”

  “Enough to buy yourself three decent meals a day for a week. Now what the hell did she tell you?”

  “’E were braggin’ ’bout the devil ’e works for. Sends ’im stacks a cash with notes tellin’ ’im wot ’is next job is. Last night ’e were told ta take a man down. Just like that.” Paul beamed like the boy he was with no understanding of what it means to murder. “But ’e said a couple a bobbies interrupted ’im and ’e ’ad ta get outta there. ’E said ’is boss were gonna be mad ’bout that.”

  “And this boss . . .” Colin started to say before a pounding erupted at our door downstairs. He stood up and hurried over to the landing even as I heard Mrs. Behmoth heading down the hallway toward the door. Colin turned back to Paul and me. “Did he say anything specific about this boss of his?”

  “Nah. ’E weren’t really there ta talk ta me girl, ya know.” He
sniffed as though he were the most worldly of men. “But she did say ’e weren’t worth the shillin’s ’e gave ’er.” Paul brayed a laugh as Colin stepped back into the room, followed closely behind by Inspector Varcoe and two of his men. “Hey!” Paul bolted off the settee and ran behind my chair, making me wonder what exactly he’d done to be so guilty.

  “Did she get a name?” Colin asked as he waved Paul over and filled his hands with coins.

  “No,” the boy mumbled, his eyes glued to his scruffy boots, refusing to even look in the direction of Varcoe and his men. “But gimme another night. I’ll find what yer after.”

  “You’ve done more than enough,” Colin said as he walked Paul out onto the landing. “This man is not to be trifled with. Best you leave him to us.”

  Paul gazed at Colin, his face a mask of incomprehension. “Wot?”

  “I’ve got it. You go keep an eye on the Guitnu house again, okay? Stay out of trouble.”

  “Wot trouble?” He glanced at Varcoe and then back at Colin. “I ain’t in no trouble.”

  Colin patted the boy’s shoulder. “See that you keep it that way.” He gave him a wink and a smile as Paul charged down the stairs, followed by the immediate slamming of the door. “An outstanding lad,” Colin announced as he came back into the study.

  “Employing children now, Pendragon?” Varcoe scoffed, parking himself on the settee the boy had just vacated. His two bobbies remained just inside the room, serving no better purpose than bookends for the inspector. “Surely the whole of Scotland Yard can do better for you than that?”

  “Don’t get me started on what the Yard can do.” Colin gave a warm smile that seemed to allow his words to glide past the inspector. “But I would assume you’re here for some keener reason.”

  “Ach . . .” Varcoe muttered under his breath as he swiped a hand through his mane of white hair. “This blasted case is going to undo me.”

  “Now, now.” Colin reached forward and poured himself more tea. “I don’t think you’ll ever be unseated. Tea?” He held up the cup Paul had failed to use and Varcoe grabbed it gruffly. “If your men would like some I’ll have Mrs. Behmoth bring up more cups.”