Anne Perry - A Christmas Promise

She did so, and opened her eyes. She must have known from his voice that he was not whoever had beaten her. He had a slight foreign accent, as if he came from somewhere very far away.

“Rose,” he said gently. “Who did this to you, and why?”

She shook her head a little, then winced at the pain. “I dunno,” she whispered.

“It is too late for lies,” he insisted. “Why?”

“I dunno.” Tears slid down her cheeks. “Some geezer just went mad an’ …”

Gracie bent down in front of her, anger and fear welling up inside her. “Course yer know, yer stupid mare!” she said furiously. “If yer don’t tell us about the casket, an’ ’oo took it, Minnie Maude’s going ter be killed too, jus’ like Alf, an’ it’ll be on yer ’ead. An’ nobody’s never gonna fer-give yer! Now spit it out, before I twist yer nose off.”

Balthasar opened his mouth, and then changed his mind and closed it again.

Rose stared in horror at Gracie.

Gracie put her hand out toward Rose’s face, and Rose flinched.

“A’ right!” she squawked. “It were a toff with mad eyes, like a bleedin’ lunatic. Proper gent, spoke like ’e ’ad a mouth full of ’ot pertaters. ’e wanted the gold box wot Alf gave me, and when I couldn’t give it to ’im, ’e beat the ’ell out o’ me.” She started to cry.

Gracie was overcome with pity. Rose looked awful, and must have been full of pain in just about every part of her. Balthasar had wound the end of a sheet around the worst bleeding, but even the sight of so much scarlet was frightening. But if the toff had Minnie Maude, then obviously he could just as easily do the same to her, or worse. And Alf was already dead.

“Why di’n’t yer give ’im the box?” Gracie demanded, her voice sharp, not with anger but with fear. “Wot’s in it worth bein’ killed fer?”

“Cos I don’t ’ave it, eedjit!” Rose snapped back at her. “Don’t yer think I’d ’ave given ’im the bleedin’ crown jools, if I’d ’ave ’ad them?”

Gracie was dismayed. “Then ’oo ’as?” she said hollowly.

“Stan. Cos them Chinamen came to ’is place and beat the bejesus out of ’im for the money. ’e came ’ere jus’ before. I reckon the bastard knew that lunatic were be’ind ’im, an’ ’e went out the back. Then a few minutes after, this other geezer came in the front an’ started in on me as soon as I din’ give ’im the box.”

“That is not the complete truth,” Balthasar said quietly. “It makes almost perfect sense. Clearly Alf gave you the box, just before he was killed. At the time, no one else knew that, but Stan worked it out. I daresay he knew Alf well enough to be aware of his association with you, so it was only a matter of time before he came here. We may assume that the toff was aware of this also, but not where you were, and therefore he followed Stan.”

“‘ Ow’d ’e know about Stan?” Rose looked at him awkwardly. Her cheek where she had been struck was swelling up, and one eye was rapidly closing. In a day or two the bruises would look much worse.

Balthasar glanced at Gracie, then back to Rose. “I think we can deduce that Stan was the one who placed the casket and its contents on the road near where the toff was waiting for the opportunity to pick it up. He hid in order that whoever dropped off the box would not see him. His addiction is not something he would care to have widely known, or his association with such people. When his addiction is under control, I daresay he is a man of some substance, and possibly of repute, and would then look much like anyone else. We are seeing him when he has been deprived of his drug and is half-insane for the need of it.”

Gracie shivered involuntarily. It was a thing of such destructive force that the evil of it permeated the room. “If ’e were followin’ Stan, Minnie Maude weren’t wif ’im, were she?” She swung around and stared accusingly at Rose. “Well, were she?”

“No! ’e were by ’isself!”

Gracie looked at Balthasar, desperation swelling into panic inside her. “If the toff’s got ’er, why’d ’e chase after Stan? Where is she now? Is she … dead?”

Balthasar did not lie to her. “I don’t think so. All the toff wants is the casket. He needs what is inside it as a drowning man needs air. Minnie Maude is the one bargaining piece he has. He will return to get her before he goes to where he expects to find Stan, then he will offer a trade—Minnie Maude for the casket.”

Gracie gulped. “And Stan’ll give it to ’im, an’ Minnie Maude’ll be all right?”

“I hope so. But we must be there to make sure that he does, just in case he has it in mind to do otherwise.” He looked at Rose. “We will send for a doctor for you.” He took a coin out of his pocket. “Where would Stan go, Rose?”

She hesitated.

“Do you want this ended, or shall we all come back here again?” he asked.

“Oriental Street, down off Pennyfields, near Lime’ouse Station,” she said, her eyes wide with fear. “There’s a stable there … it’s—”

“I know.” Balthasar cut her off. He put the shiny coin into her hand. “Pay the doctor with this. If you choose to spend it other than on your well-being, or lack of it, it is your own fault. Take care!” He stood up and went to the door. “Come on, Gracie. We have no time to waste.”

At the entrance he told the snaggletoothed man to send for a doctor, or he would risk losing good merchandise. Then, outside in the alley, Balthasar marched toward the larger road, swung to the right, and continued on at such a pace that Gracie had to run to keep up with him. At Commercial Road East he hailed a cab, climbed up into it, pulling her behind him, and ordered the driver to go toward Pennyfields, off the West India Dock Road, as fast as he could.

“’ow can we catch up wif ’im?” Gracie asked breathlessly as she was being thrown around uncomfortably while the cab lurched over icy cobbles, veered around corners, and jolted forward again. She was pitched from one side to the other with nothing to hang on to. “’e must be ages ahead of us.”

“Not necessarily,” Balthasar insisted. “Stan will be ahead of us, certainly, but he does not know anyone is following him.”

“But the toff’ll catch up wif ’im long before we do!” She was almost pitched into his lap, and scrambled awkwardly to get back straight on her own seat again. If this was what hansoms were like usually, then she was very glad she didn’t ride in them often. “’e could kill ’im too, ter get the casket. Then wot’ll ’appen ter Minnie Maude?”

“I don’t think Stan will be so easy to kill,” Balthasar answered grimly. “He must know what is in the casket, and be used to dealing with the kind of men who trade in opium, and who buy it. The toff will know that, which is why he will take Minnie Maude with him. Stan will have to see her alive before he passes over anything.” He touched her arm gently. “At least until then, Minnie Maude will be safe. But that is why we must hurry. Stan is a very frightened man, and the toff is a very desperate one.”

Gracie turned and looked out the window. The houses were strange to her. Long windows had cracks of bright yellow light behind them, curtains drawn against the moonlit sky. She could see nothing beyond, as if the windows were blind, closed up within themselves. Maybe everyone inside the houses was all together, drinking tea by the fire, and eating toast and jam.

“Where are we?” she asked a few minutes later.

“We are still on Commercial Road.” He rapped on the front wall of the cab with his fist. “Turn left into Pennyfields, just before you get to the West India Docks Station. Halfway along it is Oriental Street. Now hurry!”