Spring Showers Box-set

by Avell Kro

  “Let him reach out to his contacts. This is too messy a mysterious witch killing wealthy society

  types with an ongoing police investigation, sounds like a tar pit to stay away from," Weng shook his

  head and looked at her sternly.

  “I don’t understand Weng all I need is your help locating her after, that I’ll deal with the Priestess.

  You won’t be connected.”

  “You look outside that door at what I have going on. Do you think the police don’t know there is a

  gambling hall underneath the noodle shop? We have an understanding. I need not get mixed up in

  this, too many big names, too much newspaper and that's not good for trade.” Weng said while he

  walked over to the couch to sit by Rose.

  “She has gold,” declared Rose.

  “My dear Sister you barter with the possessions of others that is not particularly Christian,” Weng rose from the lounge.

  “I have made my decision Rose Caldwell. Did you have other matters to discuss?”

  “No” Rose returned, She had gone too far.

  “Then we are done.” Weng went back to his desk and spoke in mandarin after completing his

  sentence in English.

  She heard the office door open and shifted to see Weng’s bodyguard waiting for her to depart

  while he held the door.

  Rose stood, looked back at Weng who had already gone back to reading his book. She pondered

  pushing further but appreciated that Weng’s decisions were definite when in front of lower

  ranking members.

  She stepped out and was again escorted by Jimmy Lin. Jimmy smiled, as he ushered her through

  the gambling hall. An elderly man at one table turned and wailed at her as she walked by “he says

  you are bad luck and you should go away” translated Jimmy.

  "He would

  pair exited through the metal door that the hid the illegal hall from the eyes of the public.

  Rose climbed the dirty old staircase up to street level and the alley entrance of the club. The

  rhythmic shuffling of her and Jimmy’s footfall up the wooden steps were broken when Jimmy

  stopped and asked a question. “How much gold does this woman have?”

  She smiled to herself but wiped the smirk off her face before she turned to him. “I have it on

  excel ent authority she took over twenty-thousand pounds’ sterling of gold from the Chilton

  House.”

  “Who is this excellent authority, Witch Lady?”

  “The detective on the case shared with me about the thief,” she explained.

  “If I help you find this person how will you help me?”

  “She thought quickly. I can provide wards to protect you from her powers.”

  “Yes, you can do that, and you can be a diversion to her if she is there when we grab the gold. If I

  can find her, and I can secure this gold, I will tell you where she is,” responded Jimmy.

  Rose thought now I will become part of Jimmy's heist. “Jimmy, Weng said no,”

  “He said no to you, I am not you. What can you tell me of this woman?”

  “I can show you what she looks like if you come by my flat.” said Rose.

  “What else?”

  “The culprit left a note at the crime scene. That makes me think she has completed her business in

  London. I expect she will attempt to leave the city. She has over four hundred pounds of gold, that

  won’t be simple to tote around, and she’s black so even in this cesspool called London she will

  stand out in a crowd. The woman will go someplace where she can fit in and have flexibility so I would say she will travel to the continent or if to America it will be the Northern States or the West

  Indies.”

  “That is helpful, I will get a search started. Don’t seek me or talk to anyone about this matter. If I

  have something I will find you." Jimmy shook her hand. "Weng’s chauffeur is in the alley he will

  take you back to Bethnal Green.” Jimmy finished as he checked his cuffs and made sure his coat

  was buttoned a sure sign he was done with business. “Good Evening, Witch Lady.”

  Friday the 17th of June

  9:15 AM Pelton’s Book Store

  The bell sounded when Jimmy Lin and Allen Chen walked into Pelton’s bookstore, a shabby little-

  used bookshop, in Hay Market. The store was devoid of customers.

  Jimmy fol owed Allen as walked he around the cashier counter. Next to the register Jimmy noticed

  a racing form for the weekend and an empty teacup. Chen shoved aside the ratty curtain

  stretching across the doorway that served as a privacy screen from the store to the rear rooms.

  “Trevor, it’s Friday,” Allen Chen called out melodically.

  Collecting weekly interest payments was grunt work but Jimmy’s occasional unplanned

  involvement made certain his underlings were not skimming. So, every so often like today, he

  would escort his men on the weekly shakedown of debtors. He also needed to be on the streets to

  ferret out leads on the gold. The owner of Pelton’s was one of a dozen or so blokes he thought

  might have a lead on the thieves. Trevor was a degenerate gambler that owed money to all the

  bookies and to loan sharks like Jimmy. The gambler didn’t make money from his crappy bookstore

  or his horse handicapping, he earned a living as a document forger and he was one of the better

  ones that Lin knew. Trevor could know who was looking to fake some paper for stolen gold.

  Around the corner, Trevor Conroy poked his head and peeped over his glasses. “Friday already, oh,

  what a surprise Jimmy. Did you come along today? No problems I hope.”

  “Don’t act surprised its fucking Friday Trevor. I am like the racing form, I turn up every Friday,"

  said Allen.

  Trevor got up from his desk and scurried to meet Allen.

  Wel , of course, I realize I have a debt to repay and …"

  Jimmy pushed by Trevor to discover what he was working on. Trevor’s office space was cramped

  but neat. Trevor was an artist what he couldn’t create by hand he had several types of printing

  machines from clacker printers to variable stampautotrons to replicate government documents,

  and it appeared he was in full operation with multiple machines whirring and clicking. His

  specialty was documentation for smugglers and fences to get illegal goods into the Continental

  markets.

  “Looks like you have a job?” asked Jimmy.

  “Yes, I’ve got some work. Just came in, a rush job” answered the forger.

  “You better have not spent the down payment. That’s money you owe Mr. Lo.” Allen was playing

  extra tough with his boss around. “How about you save your stories for your mates at the paddock

  and bring me my cash?” Allen finished.

  “So, the interest for this week is eight shillings,” calculated Trevor.

  “Chen, rip this place apart and uncover my money,” said Jimmy as he tightened his ascot. Trevor’s

  interest calculation was correct but Jimmy needed to learn how much the forger had been paid. He

  couldn’t leave Trevor with too much money as it would just go to betting on horses.

  “Mr. Chen, no need to get physical. These are delicate apparatus. Let me get the payment," Trevor

  went over to his coat to get his pocketbook.

  Jimmy stared at the document descending from the stampautotron as it slowly lurched out of the

  rol ers. The machine selected the correct letter template, inked them and pressed the page with

  the stamp. He cocked his head to read the upside-down type. The document was a bill of sale for

  1450 one hundre
d gram bars of bullion purchased in Amsterdam in 1842 from a metals dealer to a

  Venetian Banker.

  Chin grabbed the billfold from Trevor. The intimidating goon brought the wallet to Jimmy who

  looked inside and pulled out thirty-three pounds. Jimmy exclaimed, “holy fuck Trevor this job was

  a big payday.” The thirty pounds would take care of Trever Owens gambling obligations. “Trevor,

  you are having a lucky streak”

  “I’l have you know I have plum picks for the courses, There is this trifecta that is an absolute lock,"

  Jimmy interrupted, he didn’t give a shit about horses. “Trevor, tell me about this assignment you’re

  working on.” Jimmy looked at the sheets on the line drying, a waybill for a steamer line moving the

  gold from Venice to Liverpool. A bill of sale from a Venetian Merchant Bank to a trust in the United

  States.

  Lin did the math in his head converting grams to pounds figuring the loses in paying for smelting,

  recasting, and paying a document forger; this looked like just the right sum of gold to be left over

  after losses and costs and lined up with the witch’s gold.

  He held out the wallet to Trevor. “This is how lucky you are, you tell me about who employed you

  and when they are returning to pick up the paper and you might get me to cover this week’s

  interest myself, and leave you with all of these banknotes for that trifecta,”

  “Jimmy, honor among thieves, mate. If it were to get out about town, that Trevor Owens spills the

  beans I would never get work.”

  Lin put the billfold into the inner breast pocket of his coat. “No worries, Gov. I understand. Looks

  like I found the last honest criminal in London. Good luck at the track tomorrow.”

  “Aah. Mister Lin how about leaving a bloke with a fiver to see him through the week?”

  Jimmy made his way out of the back room. “Come on Chen, we got a schedule to keep”

  “Let’s say I was to provide this information. You and I would be good for let’s say two weeks of

  interest,I could get that deposit back and be sure that my name would never come up."

  Jimmy stopped short with his back to Trevor. He had to admit that was a ballsy move on the

  forger’s part to up the ante. This certainly was Jimmy’s lucky day it had been less than twenty-four

  hours and he had a solid line on thousands in gold this could save him days of running around

  town listening to the stuttering shitbirds that provided underworld information. Al this would cost

  is a few weeks interest and Trevor was a degenerate who would lose the thirty pounds in the wallet

  and then come to him for another loan.

  Jimmy plucked out the wallet and held it up for Trevor to grab. “You tell me everything about what

  you're putting together, who and how they are getting the paper from you and we can keep this

  lucky streak going for you.”

  * * *

  Friday, June 17th 8:00 PM Canterbury Music Hall

  The meeting place was Canterbury Music hall. Keane had a table where he could keep an eye on

  Nelson Bruce and his associate Allister “Red” McKenney, the nickname was from his hair color, not

  his political affiliation. Both parties had a stake in the meet up and making certain the encounter

  took place without witnesses.

  The Canterbury was brightly illuminated with sodium arc lamps ensconced in the walls and the

  most magnificent chandeliers. Each fixture had over one hundred arc reflectors that cut through

  the haze of soot and smoke that hung in the theater from countless cigars, pipes, and cigarettes.

  The house band played an interlude between acts, many of the patrons sang along while a charming

  girl held up cue cards with the lyrics to the ditty.

  Dol y approached the table with two whiskeys. He was singing along, reveling in the atmosphere of

  the hall. setting one glass down in front of Keane, he held his up for a toast as he sat down. “To a

  night out on her Majesty,” said Dolly. In an acknowledgment that the Metropolitan Police Service

  would be picking up the tab.

  Keane said nothing.

  “Cal um?”

  Keane turned to Dolly.

  “Sorry Mate, I was daydreaming,” Keane replied.

  “Are you all right Keane?”

  “Brilliant, just have a lot on my mind, casework and such,” Keane replied still a bit distant and

  dissociated.

  “Wel , here’s to the Queen,” Dolly motioned.

  “To the Queen!” replied Keane.

  “What is the latest with the Chilton murders," Asked Keane.

  "Are you going to take another stab at clearing up the case with your alcohol-sodden deductive

  powers?" replied Dolly.

  "I only share my logic to show you how to close cases. If you're ever going to have a career, you need to close a case once and a while.”

  "Thanks for the career guidance." said Dolly “Will you get all shitty when I tell you that Rose

  established what the killer looks like.”

  "How the hell did she manage that?” Keane asked setting down his drink.

  “She built this contraption, it is like a camera but it captures spiritual remnants. I couldn’t believe

  my eyes.”

  “What was the picture of?” asked Keane.

  "I saw two pictures One of a black woman standing over a white man at a writing desk the second

  was the same woman and man but she was gripping a sphere and penetrating his heart with a

  wand while he writhed in torment. Between the orb and the stab wound was a streak like

  lightening going across the night sky," explained Dolly.

  “Rose Caldwell has these pictures?”

  “Who else in London would construct a camera that takes pictures of spirits, but the good Sister?”

  “Anything else I should know?” asked Keane.

  “I have corroboration that the suspect is a negro from Haiti, a runaway slave. Monday I have

  luncheon at the French Embassy to learn more.”

  “Who are you meeting with?” asked Keane.

  Nelson Bruce arose abruptly from his chair and crossed to the side of the auditorium making his

  way to the rear stairs of the hall that served the balcony.

  “Looks like it’s time,” Dolly said before slamming back his glass of whiskey. The detective went to

  the opposite side of the music hall then zig zagged his way through the revelers to the back

  stairwell that led to the balcony. The lighting was poor in the upper balcony and there were no

  tables just rows of seats. These were the cheap seats but the theater chairs were nice with velour

  cushions, compared to wooden benches of lower class halls.

  Upon reaching the balcony Dolly worked his way to where Nelson Bruce sat in the rear row. From

  this spot, they could see anyone approach and were deep in the shadows of the rear balcony.

  There were only a few patrons in the mezzanine on a Thursday night and they were close to the

  railing where the view of the stage was better.

  The two others in the row with Nelson were embracing each other and were too engrossed with

  their affection to hear what transpired between Nelson and Williamson.

  “How you doing, Brucie?” asked Dolly. He had passed the bar and picked up two ales, he handed

  one to Nelson.

  “Thanks, mate. I'm still struggling for the worker.”

  “You called for a meeting. What do you have to share?” asked the Detective.

  “You are correct. There are forces at play to instigate a panic,” responded Nelson. He handed Dol y

  a
pamphlet.

  Dolly unfolded it and read.

  Citizens of London

  Beware

  The Baden Gasworks is building the Royal Fleet at the expense of your children!

  We have it on good authority from prominent doctors and scientists that the construction of

  the plant and the sub-street sewerage is part of a complex system for the Baden Gas Works

  to defuse insidious gases through the city. Its dark purpose is not to fill airships with LQ gas

  but to sterilize the immigrants flooding the cities ghettos.

  Unite! Resist! Revolt!

  "Where did you get this?" Dolly frowned. Now he had two cases about to boil over where he was

  the lead detective.

  “Near the works, some bill posters were gluing them up and there have been a few laborers

  passing them out. When I asked who hired them to pass and post the bills, they had no notion

  where they came from but they had been paid for the work.” Nelson said never taking his eyes off

  the stage.

  "This reads like what you were spouting to rile up your comrades the day I was down at the works;

  I would say verbatim” Dolly put the handbill in his inside coat pocket.

  "Wel , it isn't the Commonwealth Communist Union I made sure of that, mate. I got your message

  clear as glass and told the committee you drew the line and it was my reputation if it was crossed”

  Nelson speech was harried.

  “Then who's the organizer if it's not you?” asked Dolly

  “None of the trade unions, I know, I inquired around, and none claimed the bills.” added Nelson.

  “You pull off the picket line. I don't want one of your guys down there even walking their dog. The PM will call in the fusiliers to clear the crowds if there is any violence.”

  “I moved my lads yesterday, but the crowds have doubled. The migrants are paranoid that the

  aristocracy will poison their children to keep them downtrodden. I’m steering clear of that site

  now Detective, so as far as I am concerned this is the last we need to talk.”

  “If something goes down expect to be carted in for appearances, but I’ll make certain that your aid

  is recognized,” said Dolly.

  “Much appreciated” Nelson looked at him with a sarcastic sneer then went back to watching the

  stage.

  Dol y walked away to return to Keane., On the way back he stopped at the bar again to pick up two