The Bellingham Bloodbath by Harris Gregory

Author:Harris, Gregory [Harris, Gregory]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: dpgroup.org, Fluffer Nutter
ISBN: 9780758292704
Amazon: B00IUPCKNM
Publisher: Kensington Books
Published: 2014-08-06T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 19

As I headed back to our flat to deliver Lady Priscilla’s keepsake, the sun slid into a steely black layer of clouds, hastening the end of the day and further stirring my dread around the intrepid passage of time. I wrapped myself deeper into my cloak as the smell of rain, fresh and slightly metallic, hung in the air.

I bounded up the steps to our flat and let myself in. Immediately the scent of roasting chicken mixed with the pungent aroma of garlic struck me and I had to stop by the kitchen to shake off the low-slung moodiness of the late afternoon sky. Mrs. Behmoth was washing and chopping crowns of broccoli and feeding them into a boiling pot. She glanced at me with a curious expression as I rid myself of my cloak. “It smells like heaven,” I said.

She grunted. “You’ll find it less like ’eaven upstairs.”

“Why?”

She nodded toward the ceiling. “ ’E’s in a right foul mood. ’Ad a visitor. Put ’im all outta sorts.”

“Who?”

She tossed me a look of annoyance. “Some young bloke. Stop pesterin’ me like a bleedin’ owl and go ask ’im.”

“Of course—” I hurried back out with Lady Priscilla’s little blanket tucked under an arm, hoping I would be able to put him right when he saw what I had achieved. I wondered which of the young guardsmen had stopped by and what he had said to have so sullied Colin’s mood.

When I reached the landing upstairs I found Colin standing by the fireplace curling two heavily laden dumbbells over his head. His mood was palpably sour and, as he allowed the dumbbells to slam to the floor, I knew he meant to be both imposing and confrontational. It brought me to a halt as I caught the animosity firing behind his eyes. Somehow, someway, it seemed I was responsible for his mood.

“What’s happened?”

“We’ve had a visitor.” He spoke slowly, sourly, as though the words were bitter on his tongue. “An urchin from Whitechapel.”

“Whitechapel?”

“Whitechapel!” He punched the word, freezing my gut as I instantly realized what this was about. “And who do you suppose was sending us a message from Whitechapel?”

I knew who it was. I had been careless to think I wouldn’t hear from her again. “Maw Heikens.” I tried to say it with nonchalance even as it threatened to stick in my throat.

“Dammit!” He pounded his fist on the mantel. “Why in the hell would you go back to see that drug-addled dreadful old slag? It’s an insult. It flies in the face of everything we have built together.”

My pulse thundered and my heart felt like it had leapt into my throat. “I went to try and get information about the Life Guard like you asked. She’s the one who told me about the brawl they had with the Irish Guard at McPhee’s,” I stabbed back defensively. “She knows that world down there. She always has. And given the shortage of time I thought she could be of help.”

“She’s a lecherous pariah who would sell her own child for a farthing.

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