The Vanishing Thief (A Victorian Bookshop Mystery) by Parker Kate

Author:Parker, Kate [Parker, Kate]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Penguin Group US
Published: 2013-12-02T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

IT wasn’t until the next morning that I had time to follow up on the information Edith, or Anne as I’d learned she was, had told me. Truthfully, I didn’t expect to learn anything, and Hounslow felt nearly as far away as Northumberland.

I walked to the Embankment station on the Metropolitan District Railway, preparing for a long, smoky trip out to Hounslow. I entered by the wide, concrete stairs to the platform and was immediately reminded why I seldom rode on the railways beneath London. The platform was dimly lit due to the thick air and I expected the train cars to be crowded and dingy with coal exhaust from the engines.

At least I didn’t have long to wait before the train arrived. I was fortunate to find a seat, wedged between a woman with a holdall on her lap and a man trying to read a newspaper. The windows were closed. With luck, no one would open them until we were aboveground and in the countryside. The white smoke from the engine hid the tunnels in a fog that broke apart as we sped along the tracks, but we couldn’t escape the stench of sulfur seeping in from the train’s boiler.

Once aboveground, passengers opened the windows and fresh air replaced the stale. The Heston and Hounslow station wasn’t far from London, but it still retained its soot-free village skies along with its village appearance. I walked along Hounslow’s main street searching for a hansom cab. When I didn’t have any luck by the time I reached the Hanworth Road, I turned in at a stable.

“Hello?” I called out, walking forward. The stable seemed to be empty except for two horses.

“Looking fer someone?”

I turned around and found my retreat blocked by a short man holding a pitchfork. His clothes were battered and dirty from his cap to his boots, except for a clean, light blue woolen scarf wrapped around his neck.

I backed up a step, keeping my gaze on the scarf rather than the menacing pitchfork. I hoped someone else was nearby. “I’m looking for a conveyance to take me to Nicholas Drake’s house about a mile and a half to the south.”

“You want a conveyance?” He cackled with mirth. “What’s wrong with your feet?”

“Nothing, but I don’t wish to show up muddy at my brother’s house.” Until that moment, I hadn’t decided who I was going to be and how far from the truth I planned to travel.

“Drake’s your brother?”

“Yes.”

“If it’s Drake you want, you’d best go down the street to the police station.”

What was this odd little man up to? “Has Nicholas been locked up? What’s the charge?”

“You might say that. And it’s a charge we all have to face.” Chuckling to himself, the man shoved the pitchfork into the hay in an empty stall.

I hurried outside, afraid I’d feel the tines in my back at any moment. The police station was two blocks back up the road I had followed from the railway platform. I walked at a quick pace to the redbrick building and entered the lobby.

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