Midnight Capers

by Rebecca King

  “We will escort you off the property and onto the main road. Once you get onto it, Bert, don’t stop for anything,” Hamish warned.

  Dean stepped around them and hurried into the barn to saddle his horse. He took a moment to glance back at the woman he knew had changed his life. He wasn’t at all certain that her leaving was the right thing to do but he didn’t have the time to spend with her. The investigation had to come first because the shop keepers who were being defrauded by Morton were having their lives and their fortunes taken off them daily. People’s lives were being ruined because of it. In contrast, Pheony was safe, alive, but in more harm by staying than she would be in even at Augusta’s house. It was time for her to go.

  “Damn, I am going to miss her,” Dean whispered, suddenly struck by a feeling of almost grief.

  “Then go and speak to her before it is too late.”

  Dean cursed because he hadn’t realised that he was no longer alone. As he watched, Bert led the carriage up to where Pheony was standing and she climbed board. The urge to go and have one final word was strong but Dean knew there was nothing to say. “I can’t give her false hope, false promises, that I don’t know if I have any intention of keeping. It isn’t fair on her.”

  “Then stay here. I can escort her to the border. You keep yourself occupied. At least she knows where to contact you if there is any issue.” Peregrine lifted his brows and glared meaningfully at Dean, which made him feel worse than ever because he had no idea if she was taking his child with him.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Pheony was crying by the time the last of the men from the Star Elite lifted their hands in farewell. She recognised Dean as he raced across the open countryside toward the safehouse with his colleagues scattered around the field behind him.

  “They are a nice group, aren’t they? Eh? The Star Elite, I ask you. Now that’s something to tell the others at the tavern, isn’t it?” Bert glanced at her when she didn’t answer, and promptly turned solemn. “I am sorry. Do you want to go back?”

  Pheony glanced at the retreating horsemen. Even in the moonlit night, she could see one of the riders stop, turn sideways, and look behind him. She knew instinctively that it was Dean, but he didn’t lift a hand in farewell. Once his colleagues had joined him, they all resumed their journey. Pheony watched them until they were swallowed up by the trees, and only then huddled down into the large cloak Bert had offered her. She stared blankly at the road ahead and wondered what lay at the end of it. Now that she had the choice to decide when she wanted to stop travelling, she wasn’t sure if she wanted it to. She rather felt it would be a good idea to keep going.

  “I think you should know, my dear, that I didn’t give them the right address for my aunt’s house,” Bert announced, a mile or so later. He lifted his brows at her and grinned when Pheony turned to stare at him with wide eyes.

  “You didn’t?” She started to feel queasy. “Is there no aunt?”

  “Well, there is a family friend, but she isn’t an official aunt. She has agreed to let you stay in her cottage for a while because she needs to visit her sister. It isn’t permanent, but it will give you some time to think about what you want.”

  “How can I ever thank you?” Pheony whispered. “What you did back there was incredibly brave.”

  “We have been through a lot together, you and I, eh?” Bert grinned. “We have stood against Augusta and her troupe. We deserve a medal.”

  “Indeed,” Pheony replied dryly. “However, you shouldn’t have lied to the Star Elite.”

  “They have no reason to arrest you and can’t if they can’t find you. I am not going to tell Augusta where I am moving to. It isn’t any of her business, so she can’t tell them anything. Besides, there is no reason why they would want to find us, is there? It is more important that we can find each other, you know, just to catch up and see how we are both getting on,” Bert asked hopefully.

  “I think that would be wonderful,” Pheony whispered tearfully. “Although you make it sound as if we are parting company.”

  “Nah, I am only just going a few miles down the road. We are, however, going to be living on the opposite side of the same village, so life will be different. While we haven’t left the country, or moved to Scotland, or Wales, we can start again, even if it is on our own doorstep,” Bert suggested.

  “I have no idea what I am going to do. I have few skills to offer anybody, I don’t know what I should like to do,” Pheony sighed.

  “I think you need to do what that man said and go and speak to the solicitor about getting Augusta’s guardianship overturned. I mean, now that she has a criminal record, she is hardly a reputable character, is she? You can’t be morally guided onto higher ground by a criminal,” Bert snorted.

  “But I have no funds to pay a solicitor,” Pheony argued.

  “Maybe the solicitor will work for free on the basis that if he can remove your guardianship, you will have access to your inheritance and will be able to pay him, eh? It won’t hurt to try. If one solicitor won’t help you, another will,” Bert offered. “It won’t hurt to use the time you have to yourself to at least try. If a solicitor knows that he cannot free up your money by removing your guardianship he won’t agree to help you and you won’t owe him anything, will you?”

  “I suppose not,” Pheony replied. “Why are you doing this?”

  A mile or so passed before Bert answered her. “Because I have worked for your family for as long as I can remember but have never seen you as miserable as you were up to the point that you met that man in the tavern. I overheard one of the maids telling one of the stable hands that one of the young women with Augusta was planning to run away. I knew the second I heard her that it was you. I couldn’t live with my conscience if I just sat back and did nothing to help you. When I started to work for your father, nobody would employ me. Did you know that? I had no skills, and nothing to offer anybody. I was starving and barely clothed, and didn’t have a penny to my name, but your father gave me a chance. I was amazed that Augusta agreed to let me move to her house and work for her once your father had passed on. I have tried to turn a blind eye to what that woman does, but I just can’t do it anymore. As soon as I realised that you were ready to leave, I knew it was my chance to go too. I think I have known you have been ready to leave her for a long while, and that is what prompted me to contact my cousin. He has a job for me, so you needn’t worry.”

  “My father would be delighted that you have been so helpful to me,” Pheony whispered, aware that this was the longest conversation she had ever had with the man. She hadn’t realised how astutely observant Bert was, but it was evident that he hadn’t missed anything that had happened to her over the years.

  “I am just repaying the favour. Your father gave me a chance at a better life. It is only right that I should give you one in return,” Bert grinned. “Let’s call it evens now, eh?”

  “Let’s call us even indeed,” Pheony whispered. She stared at the road ahead but couldn’t ignore just how dark and cold it was.

  Dawn was just appearing over the horizon when Bert pulled the carriage to a stop outside a small cottage on the outskirts of a small village called Willershaw.

  “Here we are, miss,” Bert whispered.

  “What’s wrong?” Pheony hissed.

  “Nothing, why?”

  “Then why are we whispering?”

  The curtains inside the cottage were open, and no lights were on. The place had an empty feel about it, as if it had been abandoned. “I don’t think your friend is at home.”

  “She might have already left to visit her sister. Come on, let’s check,” Bert suggested.

  Pheony glanced up and down the empty road then followed Bert to the front door. He ducked down, removed a large iron key from beneath a plant pot, and unlocked the door.

  “Mavis? Are you home?” he called quietly. When nobody answered, Bert waved Pheony into the house.

  “Do you want me to go and see if she is upstair
s? She might be less frightened than if you went up there?” Pheony offered.

  “There is note here, see?” Bert picked up a small square piece of paper sitting in the middle of the kitchen table and tipped it toward the window. “It says that she has already gone, and will be back in about a month, maybe longer depending on how long her sister takes to recover. Make yourself at home. Love, Mavis.”

  Pheony lit a candle and studied the tiny cottage’s homely kitchen. The small square space was cluttered with the various bits and bobs people usually accumulated when they had lived in the same house for a long time, but it was neat, tidy, and delightfully quaint.

  “How wonderful,” she breathed because it truly felt like a home. She had never been inside a cottage this small before, but immediately felt as if she wanted to remove her shawl and make herself comfortable.

  “I will get a fire lit, miss, and then be on my way.”

  “Are you going to your cousin’s house then?”

  “Once I have seen Augusta, yes. My cousin’s house is only about half an hour away. If you go out of the front gate, turn to the right, and keep walking but stick to the main roads, it will take you into the centre of the village. My cousin’s house is number thirty-two on the main street. I will be working at his farrier business.”

  “Good for you,” Pheony beamed, truly delighted for the man to whom she owed so much.

  “If you want to explore a little, come into the village. I can’t promise I am going to be at my cousin’s if you call by, but the village is rather nice. It shouldn’t take you too long to get there. You will at least know where to go if you need help.” Bert beamed at her.

  “I should love to do that, thank you,” Pheony whispered, touched that he was going to so much time and effort for her.

  “Well, I shall be off then. See you soon.” Bert tapped his forehead with a forefinger and quietly let himself out of the house leaving a shocked Pheony staring after him.

  It was a little disconcerting to watch him abandon her in the strange house. While the place was homely, it was someone else’s home. Although well furnished, and more spacious than she initially realised, it was full of someone else’s ornaments and possessions.

  “Still, beggars can’t be choosers. I may as well make myself at home.” But with nothing to unpack, Pheony remembered that she had forgotten to ask Bert one particularly important question – if he would fetch her some clothes.

  Dean kicked the door beneath the latch with all his might and cursed when it didn’t succumb to his heavy pounding.

  “Ahem.” Hamish yanked Dean backward, away from the door, and shook his head chidingly at him before lifting the latch on the door. Without saying a word, he pushed the door open. Together, they stood on the threshold of Boulton’s home and stared into the empty entrance hall.

  “Come on.” Roger knew that Dean had been surly since Pheony had left but he had never seen his colleague pound something so angrily before. “Later,” he warned Dean with a dark glare. “Control yourself.”

  Dean curled his lip and followed Roger into the house. A scurry of movement in one of the side rooms warned him that Boulton was at home, but by the time Dean entered the room, Boulton had already climbed out of the window. He grinned toothily through the glass before slamming the window closed and disappearing into the hedgerow beside it.

  “Damn it,” Dean growled, charging out of the house after him.

  He blanked all thoughts out while he focused on catching his target. There was nothing he could do about the misery he was feeling right now, or the guilt, but he could do something about capturing the man who could tell the Star Elite where to find Morton.

  “He is over there,” Joshua called before ploughing into the hedgerow after him.

  Minutes later, Boulton burst out of the hedges bordering the garden and began to run down the street and through the village. Dean lengthened his stride and pounded the pavement until his lungs felt about to burst. He swore fluidly when he had to hurdle over a grocer’s cart and dodge around several pedestrians but watched the gap between him and Boulton widen anyway. Dean continued to chase his quarry because he knew that his colleagues would try to intercept Boulton further down the road. Unfortunately, the man knew the village well, and after dodging into an alley, managed to put even more distance between himself and Dean.

  Dean suspected the man would have gotten away had it not been for Boulton’s poor judgement. Boulton was increasing his speed with the intention of crossing the intersection, but as he ran out into the road, he ran straight into the path of a farmer’s cart that was unable to stop. The panicking horse reared when Boulton appeared before him. The horse’s flailing hooves kicked Boulton in the head and slammed him onto his back. Winded, Boulton lay dazedly on the ground, and didn’t have the time to roll out of the way when the panicking horse fled, inadvertently pulling the cart’s massive front wheels rolled over a helpless Boulton.

  “Damn it,” Dean snarled. He slammed to a stop beside Boulton and stared helplessly down at the dying man. Boulton was gasping for air still, but the mangled and twisted position of his body and the blood pouring from his side warned Dean that it was only a matter of time before he died. “Where is he? You went to a lot of trouble for him,” Dean muttered, unsure if the man could understand him in his dying state.

  “He made me,” Boulton whispered, his face contorted in pain.

  “Where is he?”

  “Willershaw. He has a mistress there. You won’t get her to talk.” Boulton’s eyes glazed over.

  It was a few more minutes before his chest stopped moving. By the time Boulton was dead, Dean had been joined by his colleagues.

  “Willershaw it is then. I didn’t get his mistress’s name, but Morton is on his way there apparently,” Dean reported.

  “Let’s get him off the street. We don’t know if Morton saw us chase him and is aware of his death yet,” Roger sighed.

  “Do we keep a man in Boulton’s house in case Morton returns to see him?” Luke asked.

  “No. We are going to hunt for the mistress. I think we have done enough sitting around, don’t you?” Roger glared at his men, even though he knew that the loss of one of their main witnesses wasn’t really their fault. He had seen what had happened. Neither Boulton or Dean had been able to see the farmer’s cart, and the farmer hadn’t been able to avoid the accident.

  “Where to now?” Hamish gasped, bending over to prop his hands on his knees while he caught his breath. He was tall but had struggled to keep up with Dean’s ferocious speed. He would have been impressed had he not known the reason for his friend’s furious burst of energy.

  “You really have to go and see her,” Joshua warned panting so heavily he struggled to speak. “Please. For the love of God, go and talk to Pheony.”

  “There is nothing to say,” Dean spat before turning to leave.

  Hamish grabbed him by his collar. At equal height they glared at each other on an equal footing. “You can’t carry on like this, Dean. It has been two weeks now, and you have been impossible to be around. You are grumpy, barely eat, can’t sleep, and are such a miserable bastard that I may just shoot you myself.” He pointed to the corpse. “That could have been you, do you realise that? You were so focused on catching him that even you didn’t stop to think about the dangers before you when you raced out into the road.”

  “You didn’t care,” Roger added. “If you don’t care about your own life, you are a liability, Dean.”

  “You don’t know what you are talking about,” Dean hissed. “Pheony was a mistake. She is nothing to do with me anymore. She left. I am working with the Star Elite. That is the way it is going to remain. I am not Ronan, or Daniel, or you, Roger. I am not going to spend my days sitting in the tavern getting drunk to forget her. I am fine. She is forgotten. Let’s all move on, shall we?”

  “You should know that we have been asked by Sir Hugo to arrest Augusta and not leave it to the magistrate. Because we saw her in the tavern
, and I spoke to her, he says that it is our responsibility to get her before a judge,” Roger warned.

  “So?” Dean shrugged.

  “We need to get witness statements from Pheony and Bert.”

  “Go and get them then,” Dean replied.

  “We need to go now, Dean, so we can get on with catching Morton,” Peregrine announced.

  Ronan nodded. “Morton can wait for a day or two. He is going nowhere.”

  “How do you know that?” Dean demanded. “The man has been running around in circles for days, weeks now, and we have got nowhere near him. You don’t know what he has planned.”

  “The man has no house now,” Roger argued. “His daughter is in gaol. His friends have all deserted him, and he has no money. He has had the villagers scared of him, don’t forget. Morton still thinks he can hide here, but the villagers will turn against him now that they know we are after him.”

  “That’s right,” Hamish added. “Morton still thinks that he has power over the villagers because he has been able to bully them into believing he has the power to ruin them. He doesn’t. He is a thug, a thief, and a liar. Nothing more. He has just pretended that the shop keepers have sold him damaged goods to pressure them into giving him newer or better items for free, or monetary compensation. We all know that shop keepers in villages like this survive on their reputations. Look at what happened to Rosemary and her father. As soon as Samantha Morton started her hate campaign against Rosemary, her father’s business was effectively ruined. We know how Morton has targeted other shop keepers in the same way and threatened to ruin their reputations by claiming he has been sold faulty goods. We also know that Morton has made himself a fortune in expensive goods and financial gains from his lies, but we don’t know all of the people who have been helping him commit his crimes.”

  “Boulton was helping him.”

  “Boulton is like Samantha, Morton’s daughter. Boulton was helping to spread lies about shop keepers who wouldn’t agree to participate in Morton’s schemes, who wouldn’t buckle under his pressure. They invariably gave him whatever he wanted eventually, just to shut him up and stop him ruining their reputations. I don’t doubt Boulton was just as dispensable to Morton as Davey Brian was, and Samantha Morton. The problem Morton has is that his reputation is now ruined. He can’t threaten people to get what he wants from them anymore.”