Down a Dark River by Karen Odden

Author:Karen Odden
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: CROOKED LANE BOOKS

* * *

One of the oldest hospitals in London, Denmark Street was a cluster of buildings with mismatched bricks cobbled together into a rectangle. The first cab departed as mine drew up.

I headed for the entrance, but at the sound of another cab racing up behind, I halted with a sense of foreboding. There were two newspaper offices near Wapping, and we’d been lucky to avoid them as long as we had. Of the newspapermen I knew, many had a way of looking out from under their hats, stooping as if they wanted to avoid notice—or felt ashamed of themselves. Possibly both. But some were decent blokes who’d helped me on occasion.

A sturdy figure in a shapeless hat emerged from the cab, and I blew out my breath in relief.

Tom Flynn of the Falcon.

Though he wasn’t quite the “very good friend” I’d told Mr. Harper, Tom was more than an acquaintance, and the Falcon wasn’t like the scandal-mongering Beacon or Reynolds’s News, which gleefully made the police look like bumbling bounders. Tom was a good writer, bold as brass, smarter than most, hard to shake. He’d check his facts twice, wouldn’t betray his informants, and—unlike Fishel—would hold back on publishing something if I told him why. We’d first met when I was in the River Police, and he was asking imprudent questions about dockworkers and unions. He ended up with some broken ribs and a lost phalanx on one finger, so I’d offered some guidance about people to avoid, and he’d reciprocated with information.

But how had he known to come here? Was it the constable’s whistle? Or had Tom been on the river? He was up and about early. That much I knew.

Tom started toward me, his hands jammed in his coat pockets. He was a full head shorter than I but broad of shoulder and sturdy. He had a round face, bright green eyes that could look hard as stones, a small nose, and a bald spot that was hidden by his hat.

“Tom.”

“Corravan.” He gave me his twisted smile, wry and yet easy as a nudge, as if we understood each other. As I suppose we did. We both were after the same thing—assembling an orderly series of events—though for different reasons.

“What brought you?” I asked.

He squinted up. “Saw the boat making for the dock and watched them lift her out. This is the closest hospital.”

Fair guess, I thought and headed for the door.

“Who is she?” he asked, keeping pace with me.

“We don’t know.”

“Where’d you find her?”

I dragged the door open. “Downriver by the docks.”

He eyed me askance. “What were you doing at Wapping?”

I gave him a look.

“Blair here?” He tipped his head toward the corridor.

I nodded, and his nose wrinkled. Tom didn’t like Blair.

“I know you have to write something,” I said. “But for now, can you omit that she’s alive? And I’ll share what I can.” I paused. “With you first.”

His mouth pursed. “Don’t wait too long, Corravan.”

“I won’t.”

He settled his hat more firmly on his head and went back outside, while I headed in to find Blair in the foyer.

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