The Untold Tales of Dolly Williamson by JM Bannon

Author:JM Bannon [Bannon, JM]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Claymore Ulfberht & Xiphos LLC
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

* * *

Keane studied the poster bill. It showed a hand sketch of an African woman’s face, including the title:

Wanted for questioning at Scotland Yard

Ms. Angelica Du Haiti

Aged 28-34

Notify a constable immediately

* * *

Keane looked at Dolly with a peculiar look of shock and apprehension. “How did you come to know this name?”

“I’m a detective, Keane. It’s my business is to identify criminals. I’m certain that’s my girl.”

“How did you come to know her name, her likeness?”

Dolly’s buoyant mood washed away at Keane’s strange interest in his case. “I obtained intelligence from sources, multiple confidential sources.”

“It was that witch, wasn’t it?”

“Oh, it is a legitimate corroborated lead, I assure you.”

“I am asking you, who? If corroborated, who are the two sources? Tell me,” demanded Keane.

Dolly had never seen Keane act like this and was reticent in sharing too much. “By the Foreign Office. What is up with you Keane?”

Keane continued to deliver a cold stare, remaining silent as if he was pondering about what to do next.

Dolly ripped the bill from Keane's grip. “Don’t you mind who I work with. Rose’s methods are as reliable as yours.”

Annoyed, Dolly stalked over to the side street, where a row of steam-powered paddy wagons lined up to transport prisoners and one of the new command wagons, the latest in mobile communication technology. It was grander than a paddy wagon about the size of a mover’s truck with a wire type and tape clacker. The wagon was capable of splicing into the telegraph wire system and providing up-to-the-minute communication. Two police clerks were in the back sending messages back to Scotland Yard and to the other muster points.

The detective strode up the wooden steps to take a glance at the latest in police communication machinery. “Hey, gents,” he said to the two young constables that were clerking the wire-types.

“Good morning, Detective Sergeant,” replied the youthful clerk holding the clacker tape.

“Do you mind not smoking in the van sergeant? It’s a little stuffy in here, and this is all sensitive gear."

“No worries, mate."

As Dolly turned to step down, Keane was right on his heels, glaring at him. “What the fuck, Keane? You’re on me like a case of the crabs," barked Dolly.

Keane just glared at him.

“Are you alright? You look like you need a lie down.” said Dolly.

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