by Ash, C. B.
Hunter shook his friend’s hand again. “Quite. Here’s luck to that. Just send word to the Griffin if you hear of anything.”
“Naturally.” Hiram said with a relieved smile.
With a final wave, Captain Hunter turned on his heel and strolled out the shipwright’s door. He strolled along the narrow avenue that led between the crates and the small cluster of offices. Once past the corner of the buildings, he turned his back on the docks and walked out to the edge of Commerce Place, the road adjacent to the docks. He was about to hail a cab when a woman’s shout cut over the crowd.
“Cap’n! Cap’n Hunter!” Moira shouted and waved from where she stood several yards away.
Hunter jumped slightly, then looked over and returned Moira’s wave. Moira trotted up the road to join him.
“Cap’n!” She panted while she caught her breath. “I’m glad I caught ya. Somethin’s happened.”
“Easy Moira, catch your breath. While you do, let's step over here away from the road.” Hunter guided Moira closer to a fence that ran between the docks and the road. Moira nodded, then leaned against the fence to catch her breath. Beside her, Hunter glanced subtly over his shoulder towards the main entrance to the docks, as if expecting someone.
Moira noticed the captain’s motion. “Ya expectin’ something?”
Hunter glanced back at her. “Hm, what?”
“Yer lookin’ back over yer shoulder. Like yer expectin’ someone. Constables runnin’ after ya?” She asked quickly while she looked in the direction Hunter had been.
“No, not constables. Sadly, our old friend Hiram.” Hunter replied.
Moira looked confused. “Hiram? Why’re we layin’ in wait fer him?”
“I just spoke with him about Allison. I thought of anyone, he would have dealt with her as he runs most of the shipwright work here on the docks. Most all parts merchants have done business with him at one time or another.” Hunter explained, glancing over his shoulder again. “He claimed not to have heard of her, but … he seemed uneasy when I mentioned meeting her, and quite uneasy when I mentioned her cart was at the cattle market.”
Moira looked stunned. “Not Hiram! He couldna have anything to do with this.”
“I’m not so certain Moira,” Hunter said sadly. “He knows something, and for the first time ever that I’ve known him, Hiram’s frightened. Something about Allison, her cart or her vanishing has unsettled him greatly. I’ve a suspicion that he was in a hurry to have me leave. I think I’d like to know why.”
“Why not just come out and ask ‘im?” Moira said curiously. “We’ve known him for quite a bit. Ya’ve known him longest.”
“I nearly did.” Hunter admitted. “However, in front of his journeymen? Bad form, that. In addition, what little I first told him rattled him quite a bit for Hiram. He might have just lied more to save face, thinking he could deal with whatever he’s gotten himself involved in. So, we follow, watch and learn. Then we come back and speak with him privately, once we know how to breach the topic with him.”
Moira nodded. “I understand. Oh, I came ta warn ya. Be careful. I was in Tinker’s Close and stumbled across that detective and his constable.” She held up a hand before Hunter could interrupt her. “They’re right suspicious over all this, as they’re out askin’ questions. But they’re most suspicious over you, Cap’n.”
“Me?” Hunter looked surprised. “Whatever for?”
“Seems they’d been over that cattle market a time or two before. Only then, they’d not found any cart, nor flowers, nor gears.” Moira explained quickly. “Not till you showed up and pointed it out for ’em.”
Hunter frowned. “So they suspect I’m at fault. Understandable. I’m an easy, simple solution. A quick one as well.” He sighed heavily. “Finding Allison may have just become much more difficult.”
“And a sight more dangerous.” Moira added. Suddenly, she grabbed the captain’s arm. “Cap’n, it’s Hiram!”
Hunter turned in time to see the shipwright, already out of the docks, walking briskly down the road. The captain swore under his breath.
“Come along, Moira, we must not lose sight of him.” Anthony quickly walked after the shipwright, not quick enough to overtake him, but just fast enough to hopefully keep him in sight.
Their quarry darted between the crowds and wagons, giving them a merry chase until Hiram reached where Regent Street ended at Commerce Place. There he ducked among a set of horse-drawn cabs and out of sight of Hunter and Moira. The pair came to a stop and looked around.
“Where’d he go?” Moira asked, looking around.
“I’m not certain,” Hunter replied. Suddenly a horse-drawn hansom cab trundled out from among the other cabs along the roadside and wheeled quickly by. It passed in front of Anthony and Moira, then turned down Regent Street to join with the flow of people and carriages. Inside, Hiram Jones sat, white faced and nervous.
Hunter touched Moira on her arm and gestured to the departing cab. “There!”
The pair darted across the street and dove into a cab. Before they could point out which cab for the driver to follow, the one with Hiram was lost among the river of traffic that moved through Commerce Place and down along Regent Street. Hunter stepped up on the edge of the cab a moment to look both directions along the road, then down the side tributary of Regent Street.
“Bloody hell,” Hunter cursed bitterly while he stepped down from the edge of the cab. He climbed inside to join Moira on one of the leather seats. Once settled, he leaned out the window a moment.
“To Grassmarket,” Hunter said to the driver, then settled back into the seat.
“Roit, Guv’nor.” The driver replied, urging the horse into a slow trot.
“We lost him?” Moira said with a disgruntled look at Hunter.
“I’m afraid so. My fault entirely. I took my eyes off his cab for only a moment. I should have been more careful in tracking that cab.” Hunter said apologetically. “At least we know Hiram is, for whatever odd reason, involved in this. Hopefully, William will have found something that helps shed light as to why.” The captain glanced at Moira, “Speaking of which, what did you find? Aside from the constables thinking I’m a killer?”
Moira grinned, “Wait till ya hear this Cap’n. His name’s Rodney.”
“Indeed,” Hunter said, curiosity peaked. “Please, go on.”
Chapter 10
During the trip from the Leith Docks in the horse-drawn cab, Moira launched into her explanation of what the constable and the detective had said to one another. Specifically, their suspicions that Captain Hunter might be to blame for Allison Newt's disappearance. Meanwhile, much to the south of the Leith Docks, William had navigated the slow-moving river of people along the Grassmarket. As the day was well past noon, the crowds had thinned some, but the number was still congested enough that William was glad he was not in a terrible hurry.
Eventually he stepped out from the crowds, merchants, clockwork messenger owls and other activities into the shallow entrance of the White Hart Tavern. William looked behind him and gave a sigh of relief to be free of the close press of bodies before opening the door and walking inside.
Past the threshold, William hesitated a moment as the odor of heath blooms reached his nose. It was not that the smell was strong and powerful, the scent was actually rather subtle and seemed to fade rather quickly. By comparison against the scent of unwashed bodies, unearthed vegetables and animal refuse that permeated the Grassmarket it was an almost pleasant change. Some part of his mind thought back and could not recall smelling this scent in the White Hart yesterday evening.
Besides the scent, the tavern was much the same as it had been that morning. Only the light flowery smell, and a handful more patrons were different. The small sitting space was not packed with people. William knew that would come late in the afternoon. He looked around for Brian, the owner, and found him near the bar cleaning a set of glasses.
William remembered the big man’s ferocious temper
from the other night. He did not want to upset him, but he needed to ask about the flowers. The young man took a deep breath to steady his nerves, then walked over.
“Sirrah? Have ya got a moment?” William asked carefully.
“Ah’ve got at least one ta spare.” Brian replied in a casual, off-handed way. “What can Ah be doin’ for ye?”
“I noticed a nice scent when I came in. Did ya put up flowers somewhere?” The young man asked carefully.
“That Ah did.” Brian admitted proudly. “Ah got a bit tired o’ the stale smell that never seemed ta come loose when scrubbed. This old wood just be hangin’ on ta past smells like a dog to an old soup bone. So Ah be getting’ the idea ta give it a new smell ta hang on to. Doesn’t seem ta last long, but Ah be hopin’ it’ll cut some o’ the sour smell out. Thank ye for noticin’.”
“Yer welcome. It smells nice.” William admitted. “Was caught off balance a bit when I walked in. What with a pub smellin’ of heath blossoms.”
The owner’s thick brows furrowed in a slight frown. “An what be wrong with that?”
The young man raised his hands in mock surrender. “Oh nothin’, nothin’. Just sayin’ I wasn’t expectin’ it, not that anythin’ was wrong.” When Brian grunted in response and returned to polishing a glass, William pressed on. “How long have ya been at your idea here?”
“The flowers?” Brian asked. William nodded in reply.
“Och, I’d say onto more’n a week, even if the smell don't seem ta be lastin' long. Ah stop by Sandra Givens’ booth up along Victoria Street. Ya know Mrs. Givens?” Brian asked curiously.
William nodded. “Ah cut along there on my way here an met her.”
Brian smiled and nodded. “Right grand lady, she is. And make no mistake, a true lady she be.” The tavern owner sat forward with a conspiratorial air. “Y’know, some say she even be high born.”
“Really?” William said in surprise.
“Aye, really. Noble blood an all. Word told by Jimmy Quick, who heard it from Dubney Parker, who himself heard it straight from Maggie Campbell, who herself said it was told by Eli Marner that old gossip, is that her people held deed to some o’ the land well north of a’ High Street. Somewhere along Silvermills Lane.” Brian explained in detail.
The young man felt his head spin a bit with the conversion. He was almost lost among the names. “Why doesn’t she own it now?”
“Some fallin’ out that caused the city ta annex her people’s land. Though, as Ah heard it told, it might na been done proper, so the deeds might still be valid.” The owner leaned back then, set down the glass he had been slowly polishing and lifted another one. “Mrs. Givens, bless her soul, she be na that kinda person ta cause a foul reek over it. Bein’ the salt o’ the earth like she be.”
William blinked and nodded in agreement. He almost followed all of what Brian had told him in that flow of conversation … almost. The young man did recognize a name or two, and something in the back of his mind screamed that it was important. However, both the name and its significance got washed aside in the current of explanation. He resolved to sit down and think through it all later to try and remember.
“About Mrs. Givens,” William said in a desperate attempt to bring the conversation back to more solid footing, “Ya bought heath from her, ya must’ve seen Allison Newt a time or two.”
Brian glanced at William. “Och, that be right, ye be one o’ them helpin’ that Miss Olivander over her friend. True enough, Ah did see her buyin’ flowers from Ms Givens time and again. Why ye askin’?”
William considered digging out the heath blossom from his shoulder bag, but decided against it. He shrugged. “Some flowers were found next ta her cart. They seemed pretty fresh an all, even though she was supposed ta be missin’ for a few days. They looked like what Mrs. Givens sells down the street. She mentioned that ya come by every so often and I was thinkin’ that maybe ya saw Miss Newt, or even spoke with her.”
The owner shook his head. “Sorry fer ya lad, but no. Ah’d seen her a time or two, but na spoke with her.”
William frowned, then sighed. “Thanks then fer takin’ the time ta talk.”
Brian smiled slightly. “Na trouble. Despite how ye Cap’n and meself got along … or not got along as it be … Ah’m hopin’ there’s somethin’ that can be turned up. Most along here be getting’ more nervous than usual, scared ta go out.”
The young man nodded once in agreement with Brian’s sentiment. “I’m hopin’ we’ll find somethin’ too.”
William left Brian to his glasses and slowly walked across the common room of the pub towards the front door. Just before he could leave, the barmaid, a lovely woman with long dark hair that cascaded in curls on her shoulders touched him on the arm.
“Ah couldna help but hear what ye be saying. Ah mighta heard a bit. But ye gotta be givin’ ye word that it’ll na get back Ah told ye.” The woman said in a quiet, Scottish accented voice.
Suspicious, William hesitated a moment. He was hungry for anything that might help, but he wanted to be careful, too. Like Captain Hunter had told him, if the constables got wind of what they were doing, it might not be taken as ‘help’.
“Ya’ve my word.” The young man finally replied.
“Right then.” The barmaid said, as if to close their bargain. “Night ‘afore last, or maybe even a day more, Ah be hearin’ a couple o’ men talk about seein’ a young lady like yer Allison. Somethin’ about her and the graveyard at Greyfriars Kirk. Ah’d have heard more but it was a usual night. Crowded, ya know.”
“Ya sure they described Allison?” Then a thought occurred to William. “How did ya know it was Allison?”
“Her friend, that Lydia Olivander?” The barmaid explained. “She’s been in here more’n once with her tale. Ah’d heard her describe her friend Allison then.”
“They make a mention, when they’d seen her?” William asked, hungry for more details.
The barmaid, shook her head sadly. “No, Ah’m afraid that be all Ah heard.”
William smiled broadly at her. “Thank’ya ever so much. I can’t tell ya how much that does help. If ya happen to hear any more …”
The woman smiled at William, her eyes sparkled with the grin. “A’course, Ah’ll tell ye.”
Chapter 11
Letting the door to the White Hart Tavern shut behind him, William Falke stepped onto the uneven cobblestones that ran along either side of the Grassmarket. The press of crowds had thinned considerably, since most of the morning patrons had bought what they needed, then returned to their lives elsewhere in Edinburgh. Not that the market area was empty, as the merchants sorted and reorganized the contents of their carts in preparation for the afternoon crowds.
William was only partially aware of his surroundings while he turned to his left and strolled along the cobblestones. His mind was caught in a small struggle with the information he had obtained so far. From what he had been told, the flowers could not have been a day or two old. However, Miss Olivander had said her friend was missing four days prior. And then there were the people that Mrs. Givens had said had asked after Miss Newt. Lydia and Vivian, he knew of. However, this ‘Mary’, bothered him. With no family name, she would be near impossible to find. Why, there must be hundreds of ladies named ‘Mary’ in Edinburgh alone! With a heavy sigh of frustration, he looked up just as he was about to step off the cobblestone sidewalk.
“Here now! Watch’ yeself!” The cab’s horse whinnied sharply as the driver yanked on the reins.
The young man jumped back in surprise, just inches from being run down. He looked around in stunned shock. What with being so preoccupied with his own thoughts, he had walked the stretch of the Grassmarket and almost out into the intersection where Victoria Street began! William managed a flustered smile.
“‘Scuse me, Sirrah.” William replied quickly, a crimson flush of embarrassment on his cheeks. “Just lost in my thoughts. I’ll be watchin’ where I’m headed.”
The drive
r, a thin man with a mustache dressed in a black coat and stovepipe hat, sniffed in exasperation as he shifted the reins to his clockwork right hand. “Well, see ye be doin’ that.” He snapped the reins and the horse obediently moved forward.
William rubbed a hand over his eyes and took a deep breath to steady his nerves. He looked up once the cab had passed by, and much to his surprise, spied Vivian Carpenter - the owner of the boarding house in which Lydia Olivander resided - across the short stretch of road. She was attired in the same green dress as before, but in addition wore a thin gray shawl over it and carried a chestnut wicker basket. The basket was thick with all manner of fresh vegetables.
The young man grinned at his superb luck. Fate had just saved him a long walk down Candlemaker’s Row to talk to Mrs. Carpenter. He looked right, then left before stepping off the cobblestones to stroll towards her.
William was only four paces closer when, from out of a narrow close, two men wearing unremarkable, rough cotton work clothes and black burlap masks hurried out and jerked a startled Vivian Carpenter back into the darkness of the alley! Stunned, William looked around, but no one else either noticed or cared. Astonishment crumbled away to a hot anger that propelled William towards the alley as fast as his feet would carry him.
Just inside the yawning, dark opening of the close, William came to a quick stop. It was too dark to see, and he was not fool enough to find an already lit lantern that would reveal his presence. He knew he would have to find his way along the alley by other means besides sight. So, he turned his head and listened. At first there was nothing. Then, a low whisper of muffled voices reached him. Suddenly, the whisper became a grunt and an ugly string of curses.
“She bit me!” Exclaimed a muffled, angry voice.
“If ya’d whacked her on tha head at first, this’d be easier!” Said another.
William reached into his bag and withdrew a skinning knife. Only a four inch long blade with a handle made from a stag bone, the knife was not the most formidable of weapons, but what it lacked in looks, it made up for in use. William kept the blade sharp enough to shave with. He gave the knife handle a reassuring squeeze and hurried towards the shadowy exit ahead of him.