Requiem (The Penny Dreadfuls Book 1) (3 page)

As Locke spoke, Chastity began drawing on her pad, starting with a basic woman’s face and filling in details as she queried Mr. Locke. After two hours of drawings, she was satisfied with the sketch and she showed it to Locke. On the page was a gorgeous young woman, in her early twenties with light hair, almond-shaped eyes and full lips. A small scar pulled her lips into a pout, making her face radiate a cherub-like innocence.

“Is this her, Mr. Locke?” Chastity asked. “The woman you found?”

Locke picked up the page and nodded, his fingers rubbing the paper with care.

“Aye, that’s the woman under the wharf. Ye can see why I say she didn’t deserve what happened to her. The lass had the face of an angel, so help me she did.”

Chastity took the page back with a soft smile and nodded.

“I do, Mr. Locke, and I will do all I can to make sure she gets a proper burial and her family is notified.”

Locke nodded, seeming to find some solace in Chastity’s words.

“Thank ye, Miss Macleod. I’ll rest better knowin’ she’s is bein’ looked after. Is there anything else I can do?”

Chastity stood and offered her hand. “No, Mr. Locke, I have taken enough of your time. Thank you so very much for your assistance.”

Locke stood as well, wincing at the pain in his knee. He shook Chastity’s hand and ushered her toward the door. He limped more than he had before the session began and Chastity let him lean on her. He opened the door and she stepped through, not looking back.

On the street, Chastity found her coachman, waiting as he had promised. He was reading the news and chewing on a piece of paper-wrapped fried fish, likely procured from the pub against which he leaned. He smiled when he saw Chastity exit the building and stuck the newspaper under his arm.

“Was it everything you hoped for, luv?” he asked with a laugh. “I nearly left, you were gone so long.”

Chastity counted three more shillings from her purse and handed them to him. “Mr. Locke was quite helpful, yes. I need to visit Steampacket Wharf, if you don’t mind.”

Becoming all business, the coachman opened the door and helped Chastity inside before hopping into the driver’s seat and urging his team into the road.

The ride across the city wasn’t long, and Chastity passed the time studying her drawing. The girl was indeed quite beautiful and appeared very young. Surely someone in the city would recognize such a face; with any luck someone was already looking for the girl and Chastity need but find them to connect those threads of the puzzle and identify her.

Lost in thought, Chastity didn’t notice when the coach had stopped and the driver leaned down to bang on the side to get her attention.

“Oi!” he called. “The wharf is just ahead, but the Blue-Bottles ‘ave the road blocked off, y’ell have to get out and walk the rest of the way, Miss.”

Chastity opened the door and stepped down onto the muddy street. The driver had stopped at the end of Fish Street near Billingsgate Market, one of the largest fish markets in London. Even this far away, the smell of fish and fish oil was almost overpowering.

Chastity blocked the stench with one hand and looked at the battered wooden barricades that had been erected to block the street. Beyond and toward the wharf, she could see uniformed police picking through the trash that had collected in the gutters that lined the street and carried waste to the river. She thanked the driver, handed him a few more coins and strode purposefully down the lane toward the barricades.

“Miss? You want me to wait again?” the driver called.

Chastity ignored the driver, her attention on the street ahead. There were unmanned barricades ahead as well as a dozen uniformed officers and she was far more interested in what they were doing than in her ride home. She walked around the wooden posts, picking her way through the debris the police had tossed aside in their random search of the gutters. None of the police noticed her at first as she made her way down the lane toward the wharf. As she reached the end of the lane and turned toward the market, however, one of the police looked up in surprise. She smiled at him and continued walking.

After a moment he found his voice and called out, “Miss? Miss this area has been cordoned by order of Inspector Price, you shouldn’t be here!”

Chastity turned to look at the young officer who was covered from the knees down in mud. She smiled again and strode toward him, notepad held in front of her like a shield.

“Yes, I was told I would find Inspector Price on the wharf. Could you direct me to him, please?”

“Now, Miss, the Inspector is a busy man,” the young officer said with a smile. “I’m Officer Clark, is there something I can do to assist you?” 

Chastity extended a hand. “I am Chastity, from the Dispatch. I was hoping to ask the Inspector a few questions about the body you found…”

“Oh, no no no,” Officer Clark said, cutting her off. “No body was found, we’re still looking for the rest of her. No, all anyone has turned up so far is a human head and some discarded fish bones from the market.”

Chastity let her eyes tear up. “Oh, then I must have been misinformed. I was under the impression a body had been found and I was hoping to do a story for the morning edition. I do apologize, it’s just I thought this could be my chance!”

Clark smiled and patted her hand. “Nothing to apologize for, Miss. Perhaps the Inspector can assist you with the…part that we found and you can do your story on that. He is just at the end of the lane.”

Chastity made a show of dabbing her eyes. “Thank you. I will let him know how helpful you have been.”

She gave a small smile and continued toward the tall figure that stood at the end of the lane near the water. He was watching the river as if he could make it give up the girl’s remains by sheer force of will. He turned when he heard Chastity approach.

“How did you get down here, Miss?” he drawled. “This area is under investigation by the police. You can enter the market by the side door; accommodations have already been made with the proprietor.”

Chastity paused, somewhat surprised by Inspector Price. Unlike the usual Scotland Yard Inspectors she had encountered, who tended to be small men with large egos, Price was tall with wide shoulders that tapered into a broad chest and narrow hips; blond hair peeked out from beneath an American style hat and his stormy-eyed gaze made Chastity pant beneath her corset.

Trying to ignore the melting sensation in her belly, Chastity smiled and stepped closer to him.

“Inspector Price, I presume? My name is Chastity Macleod. I was hoping to get some information on the remains found in the river yesterday, and Officer Clark thought perhaps you could help me.”

Price glanced at the officer up the hill then returned his gaze to Chastity. “Yes ma’am, I’m inspector Price. I’m not certain what a lady like you has to do with this case, though. I’m sure Clark can help you with whatever you need.”

“Oh! Well, I am with the London Dispatch and was hoping to do a story on you and your investigation,” Chastity lied. “May I ask what you are doing down here by the water?”

“I was watching the currents,” Inspector Price said. “I'm not interested in any press at this time. We’re still looking for the rest of the poor woman’s body. Once we have uncovered more, the Yard will release what information we can. Our first priority is finding the body and informing the girl’s family of her death.”

“I see,” Chastity said, pursing her lips. “And the currents have something to do with this?”

Price glanced at the river behind him and said, “Perhaps. I have to ask you to leave, Miss MacLeod, I've got a lot of work to do.”

Chastity favored Price with her best pout and asked, “Are you certain I cannot stay and observe? I’m sure my readers would love to hear about an American Scotland Yard Inspector.”

Price looked down at her with hard eyes.
“I'm certain, Miss MacLeod. Do not let me detain you further.”

The threat in Price’s words was clear. He had no problem arresting her if she didn’t leave his crime scene. Chastity returned the inspector’s smile and turned to leave, walking slowly back up the hill, chewing over what she’d learned. It was obvious the inspector didn’t believe the officers rummaging through the trash would find anything; rather he was examining the river’s flow at the edge of the wharf in an effort to determine where the bag had come from. This put Inspector Price firmly in the ‘interesting’ column as far as she was concerned. It was an unfortunate truth that many of the Yard’s so-called finest were in their positions due to who they knew, and not what. An intelligent Inspector was a valuable commodity. The fact he had an American accent and dressed like something from what they called their Wild West made him that much more intriguing. And exciting.

Smiling to herself and looking forward to her next meeting with Inspector Price, Chastity waited at the curb for a coach to arrive. When one did, she directed the driver toward St. Michael’s Alley, where she hoped to pick up another clue. By the time the coach dropped her off at the end of the short street the sky had clouded over as was typical of the time of year.

Chastity glanced at the sky, her eyes almost begging the rain to hold off until she could return to Newgate. Not much was worse than a wet silk dress clinging to her legs, it was like being covered in slime.

She said a silent prayer that the weather would hold and moved through the crowds to the Jamaica and Madeira coffeehouse situated within the labyrinth of crooked streets. The red stone building had an odd shape, looking somewhat like a tri-corn hat with a wide open door where the brow would be. Large glass windows opened out onto the street and a passerby could purchase small cups of the dark brew from the openings or enter the establishment to enjoy their beverage at one of the eatery’s tables. Chastity could see several swarthy men lined up inside to savor the rich brew she could smell even on the street. Though she preferred tea, the delicious aroma wafting down the alley made her stomach sit up and beg.

She passed through the entrance and moved across the dim interior to the counter, where she waved for the clerk’s attention. A dark-skinned man toward the head of the queue leaned down and growled, “Wait yer turn, lass, there be enough brew fer everyone.”

Chastity turned and favored the man with a winning smile. “Do excuse me, sir. I’m not here for the coffee, though it smells delicious. I’m looking for the owner, would you be able to point him out?”

The man nodded and waved toward the back of the small dining room.

“You’ll find ‘im back there, countin’ ’is bloody coins like any other day,” the man said. “’is name is Rosee and he’ll be in the corner. Ye can’t miss ‘im, he’s as big as a ’ouse.”

Chastity dug in her purse for a pair of coins. “Thank you, let me pay for your coffee.”

She placed the coins on the counter and left, passing through the crowd toward the back of the dining area. It took only a minute to spot the owner; a tall man with dusky skin and a wide physique was seated in the gloom, fingering coins and sorting them into a tray. He did not look up when Chastity paused near his table; he simply waved her away with one thick hand.

Ignoring his dismissal, Chastity took the seat opposite and extended a hand in greeting.

“Mr. Rosee? May I have a minute of your time?”

Rosee looked up and Chastity could see the annoyance in his face.

“I’m busy, lady,” he growled. “If you want coffee, talk to Lucas or Donovan. If you’ve a complaint, tell it to the gutter outside.”

Chastity pulled her hand back. “You are quite rude, Mr. Rosee. I am here neither for your coffee nor a complaint, I was wondering if any of your burlap sacks had gone missing in the last few weeks.”

Rosee’s dark face clouded even further and he hunched in his chair. “How did you know?”

“It was just a guess, Mr. Rosee,” Chastity replied. “Can you tell me what was taken?”

“A pretty good guess, lady. What’s your interest? Has the Yard done some damn-fool thing and hired women inspectors?”

Ignoring the jibe at her sex, Chastity instead smiled and reached for her notebook.

“No, Mr. Rosee, I am with the London Dispatch. I was going to include a plea for the return of your property in my article about your establishment.”

Rosee paused, then his face split into a wide smile that only a mother could love. His black tombstone teeth and worm-like tongue wouldn’t please anyone else.

“An article in the Dispatch about my coffee house? Why, that might double my business. What else do you need to know? Make it good, now, girl!”

Chastity opened her notebook and made a theatrical show of reviewing her notes before raising her eyes again.

“I have most of what I need already, sir. I just had some further questions about the theft. What was taken, just a bag or two?”

“As I told that flash new inspector, an entire wagon-load of coffee vanished from right under a clerk’s nose three or four weeks ago,” Rosee said. “The Yard hasn’t turned up any hints and it will be months before my next shipment arrives. I’m using leftover stores and that will be gone soon. But don’t put that in your article!”

“An entire wagonload? And the beans were wrapped in burlap bags with the markings J and M on the outside?” Chastity asked.

Rosee nodded and scratched at a scar on his cheek. “Aye, that’s correct. They should be easy enough to spot, I daresay. If the Yard were not so incompetent, they would have found my wagon by now. Probably keeping it for themselves.”