Inspector Raft Mystery 2 - Rag And Bone by J.S. Cook

Author:J.S. Cook [Cook, J.S.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

“Hm. Geraint Trask.” Freddie still didn’t understand why the architect had kidnapped him that day. If he’d wanted to alert someone to the plight of the poor, he could have found other means.

“Yes, but snatching a copper and bottling him up is sure to get results.” Raft got up from the table. “Yes, you were thinking out loud again, my love.” He checked his watch. “Come on. If we’re going to muse about such things we might as well get paid for it.” Something occurred to him. “You know what we ought to do?”

Freddie was instantly wary. “What?”

“We ought to ask Mr. Piggott about his barrels.” Raft brightened. “Care for a trip?”

“Sometimes,” Freddie said, “I really do despise you.”

–— “He’s down the cellar.” The girl was perhaps eighteen, plump and blowsy, with large breasts which she saw fit to contain in a dress with hardly any bodice. “Can I get something for you gents while you wait?” She leant on the bar and simpered. “Anything you gents want, I can get for you.”

Freddie raised one eyebrow. “I always wanted a pony.” The girl’s expression changed in an instant. “Down them stairs there. Don’t break your legs or bump your head.” Raft and Freddie found Piggott in a narrow, stifling space lit by a single lantern. There were no windows and scarcely enough room for a grown man to turn round in. “Oh, it’s you again.” The landlord didn’t seem overly glad to see them. “What have I done now? Have I killed someone?”

“Mr. Piggott, further details have come to light in our investigation of your former colleagues.” Raft flashed his warrant card. “I wonder if you would mind clearing something up for me.”

Piggott peered at Freddie, hovering just behind Raft. “You’ve brought that wee lass again.”

“I am not a girl.” Freddie clenched his fists and started for Piggott. “I don’t even look like a girl.”

“Constable, there isn’t much room.” Raft gestured towards the stairs. “Perhaps you’d best wait for me above.” Freddie mounted the stairs, emerging again in the pub. He found a table near a window and sat down to wait. It was early enough that the pub was empty save for one bewhiskered old codger who slouched at the bar with his head in his hands, nodding into a pint of bitter. The barmaid had vanished somewhere—Freddie could hear the clink of glassware coming from the back—and whatever conversation Raft was having with Piggott, it was completely inaudible at this distance. Perhaps a little nap might be in order.

“We really ought not to meet like this. Sooner or later, people are going to talk.” The voice was familiar and Freddie turned his head. Sergeant Hugh Lamphrey, J Division, looked crisp and tidy, like something pressed out of a book. “Good God.”

“My friends mostly call me Hugh.” He sat down opposite Freddie. “Bit early for you to be about, isn’t it? Where’s His Nibs?”

“Inspector Raft is below, talking to Mr. Piggott.” Freddie was inordinately pleased to see a familiar face.

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