The Connicle Curse (17 page)

T
he 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.”

“They're working,” Varcoe muttered, waving them off without a thought. “There's been another killing. Actually three more.”

I choked on the sip of tea I'd been taking even as Colin bolted to his feet. “What? Who?”

“Not who.” Again Varcoe ran a hand through his hair before grabbing for a scone. “It's the Astons' dogs. Three giant beasts of one sort or another.”

“Irish wolfhounds,” Colin said as he paced over to the windows.

The inspector flicked a disinterested gaze at Colin before taking a bite of the scone. “All three had their throats cut,” Varcoe relayed mechanically, “but I'm betting they were drugged first. You don't just walk up to three brutes like that and hash their necks. Denton Ross is doing the autopsy now. There's certain to be tainted meat in their stomachs.”

“Of course,” Colin mumbled as he stopped and fixed his gaze at some distant place outside. Even so, I could tell his thoughts were a world away. “But why? There's no sense in it. What makes you think they're connected to the other murders?”

“Each of the dogs had a small fabric sack stuffed in its mouth with those blasted witchcraft items. So you tell me.”

“Voodoo,” Colin corrected while nudging a coin from his pocket and deftly coaxing it between his fingers. “It's a religion. It has nothing to do with demonic claptrap.”

“I don't really give a bloody fig.” Varcoe set his tea down and watched Colin pace across the front of the windows. “All I know is that African witch has got to be hooked up in this somehow.”

Colin stopped and scowled at him. “I thought you've had her under surveillance since you released her?”

“Well, of course we do!” he snapped. “But just because she never left the Connicle house last night doesn't mean she isn't ruddy well up to her bodice in it.”

“And what do you suppose is her motive?”

“I don't bloody well know!”
He jumped from his chair and stepped directly in Colin's path, his face careening toward fuchsia. “You're supposed to be assisting me here, Pendragon, but so far you're about as helpful as the pox.”

“Are you severing our trysts, Emmett?”

“What?!”

Colin waved him off and resumed his pacing. “Has Edmond Connicle regained consciousness?”

“No. The ruddy doctor just keeps shaking his head. Pompous bastard. They had to commit his wife, you know. She's on the floor below him now, sedated and lashed to the bed. Sixpence short of a shilling, if you ask me.”

Colin stopped and glared at Varcoe before shifting his eyes to me. “I'd suggest we start with a visit to the Astons,” he said, his voice tight.

“We've already been out there. You'll learn nothing more until we get the report back from the autopsy.”

“I doubt we'll learn anything from that, either,” he clipped, shooting me another look, which brought me to my feet.

“We'll go see for ourselves.” I gave Varcoe a conspiratorial smile as though I agreed with him. “We'll meet you afterwards.”

Varcoe's mouth curled as his forehead creased with displeasure. “If you must. Meet me at the morgue then. We'll see what Denton Ross has learned. Maybe then you'll have a clue about what the hell we should do next.” He glowered at Colin, but Colin was paying him no mind, and after what was clearly an unsatisfying minute Varcoe turned and bolted from the room, his men dutifully on his heels.