Anne Perry - A Christmas Promise

He did not point out any of that. Turning over the toast to brown the other side, he asked her how Bertha sounded, what she looked like.

“And so you went looking for Minnie Maude?” he said when she had finished. “Where?”

“I thought as she must ’ave remembered summink,” she replied, breathing in the smell of the crisp toast. “Or understood summink wot didn’t make no sense two days ago.”

“I see.” He took the toast off and spread a little butter on it, then jam with big black fruit in it. He put it on a plate, cut it in half, and passed it to her.

“Is that all for me?” Then she could have kicked herself for her bad manners. She wanted to push the plate away again, but that would have been rude too, and the toast was making her mouth water.

“Of course it is,” he replied. “I shall be hurt if you don’t eat it. The tea will be ready in a minute. What did she realize, Gracie?”

“Well, we knew Alf went the wrong way,” she said, picking up a piece of the toast and biting into it. It was wonderful, crisp, and the jam was sweet. She couldn’t help herself from swallowing it and taking another bite.

“The wrong way?” he prompted.

She answered with her mouth full. “Jimmy Quick always goes round ’is streets in one way. Uncle Alf went the other way. ’e started at the end, an’ did it backward, so ’e were always everywhere at the wrong time.” She leaned forward eagerly. “That were when ’e picked up the casket, nobody were expectin’ ’im even ter be there. It were put fer someone else!”

“I see.” The kettle started to whistle with steam, and Balthasar stood up and made the tea. “Do you know why he did that?”

“No.” Now she wondered why she didn’t know, and she felt stupid for not thinking of it.

“I shall inquire,” he replied. “If something caused him to, such as a carriage accident blocking a road, or a dray spilling its load so he could not get past, that might be different from his deliberately choosing the other way around. Presumably this man, the toff, went to collect the casket, and found that it was gone. How did he know that the rag and bone man had taken it?” He put up his hand. “No, no need to answer that—because all the stuff for the rag and bone collection was gone. But he caught up with poor Alf—so if Alf was going the wrong way round, how did the toff know that?” He brought the teapot to the table and poured a large mug full for her. He passed the mug across, his black eyes studying her face.

“I dunno,” she said unhappily. “D’yer think as ’e worked it out? I mean that Alf ’ad gone the wrong way round?”

“How did he know it was Alf, and not Jimmy Quick, as usual?” Balthasar asked. “No, I rather think he was waiting and watching, and he saw what happened.”

“Then why di’n’t ’e go after ’im straigh’away?” Gracie asked reasonably. “In fact, if the casket were left there for ’im, why di’n’t ’e take it before Alf even got there? That don’t make no sense.”

Balthasar frowned, biting his lip. “It would if he did not wish to be seen. Whoever left it there for him would know what was in it, and that it was both valuable and dangerous. It might be that the toff could not afford to have anyone see him with it.”

Gracie gulped. “Wot were in it?”

“I don’t know, but I imagine something like opium.”

“Wozzat?” she asked.

“A powder that gives people insane dreams of pleasure,” he replied. “And when they wake up, it is all gone, and so they have to have more, to get the dreams back again. Sometimes they will pay a great price, even kill other people, to get it. But it is not something to be proud of, in fact very much the opposite. If the toff is an addict, which means that he can no longer do without it, then he will do anything to come by it—but he will take great care that none of his friends know.”

For a moment she forgot the toast and jam.

“Someone put it there for him, in the casket,” Balthasar went on. “And he waited out of sight, to dart out and pick it up when they were gone. Only this time Alf came by before he could do that. Continue with your tea, Gracie. We have business to do when we are finished.”

“We ’ave?” But she obeyed and reached for the mug.

“We have a little more thinking to do first.” He smiled bleakly. “I would tell you to go home, because I believe this will be dangerous, but I do not trust that you would obey. I would rather have you with me, where I can see you, than following after me and I don’t know where you are and cannot protect you. But you must promise to do as I say, or we may both be in great danger, and Minnie Maude even more so.”

“I promise,” she agreed instantly, her heart pounding, her mouth dry.

“Good. Now let us consider what else we know, or may deduce.”

“Wot?”

He half-concealed a smile. “I apologize—what we may work out as being true, because of what we already know. Would you like another piece of toast? There is sufficient time. Before we do anything, we must be certain that we have considered it all, and weighed every possibility. Do you not agree?”

“Yeah. An’…an’ I’d like another piece o’ toast, if you please.”

“Certainly.” He stood up quite solemnly and cut two more slices of bread and placed them before the open door of the oven. “Now, let us consider what else has happened, and what it means. Alf had the casket at the time he spoke to the chestnut man—Cob, I believe you called him? If we know the route that Mr. Quick normally took, then we know what the reverse of it would be, with some amendments for traffic. Hence we know where Alf is most likely to have gone next. And we know where his body was found.”

“Yeah, but it don’t fit in, cos ’oo’s blood is it on the stable floor? An’ ’oo fought there an’ bashed up the wall? An’ why’d ’e take Charlie an’ the cart as well?” She drew in her breath. “An’ if ’e killed Alf an’ took the casket, wot’s ’e still looking for? That’s stupid. If I done summink wrong, I don’t go makin’ a noise all over the place. I keep me ’ead down.” She colored with shame as she said it, but right then the truth was more important than pride.

“You have several good points, Gracie,” Mr. Balthasar agreed. “All of which we need to address.” He turned the toast over and filled her mug with fresh, hot tea.

“Thank you,” she acknowledged. The heat was spreading through her now, and she looked forward to more toast and jam. She began to realize just how cold she had been.

“I think it is clear,” he continued, sitting down again, “that the toff does not have the casket, or at the very least, he does not have whatever was inside it. If he did, he would not only, as you say, keep his head down, he would be enjoying the illicit pleasures of his purchase.”

She did not know what “illicit” meant, but she could guess.

“So where is it, then? ’oo’s got it?” she asked.

“I think we must assume that Alf did something with it between speaking to Cob and meeting whoever killed him presumably the toff. Unless, of course, it was not the toff who killed him but someone else. Although to me that seems rather to be complicating things. We already have one unknown person …”

“We ’ave? ’oo?”

“Whoever passed that way just before Alf, and left the casket,” he replied. “Have you any idea who that could be?”

She felt his eyes on her, as if he could will her to come up with an answer. She wished she could be what he expected of her, and even now she wished she could think of something that really would help Minnie Maude.

“Is it someone ’oo knew where Charlie’s stable is?” she asked, wondering if it was silly even as she said it. “Cos somebody ’ad a fight there. We saw the marks, an’ the blood on the floor.”