Page 17 of The Detective and the Baroness

“All right. So, I am on a list. What do you want from me? My life is demanding enough. I don’t need complications mucking things up,” Hallahan said brusquely.

One of the servers came over. “We have customers, Liam.”

“I’ve got a business to run.” He stood abruptly. “At seven, this place turns into a pub with card games at the tables. That is when I knock off, and my night manager takes over. Be here thirty minutes past seven, ask for Fiona, and she will show you to my quarters. I live upstairs. The meals are on the house, but leave a donation on the table. I feed the poor of the neighborhood in the mornings.” Hallahan turned and strode toward the rear of the restaurant.

“Well, I am intrigued already,” Drew whispered. “And this food is outstanding.”

“Then we will return early this evening.” Mitchell buttered a piece of bread and bit into it. “This bread is delicious as well. I can see why this restaurant is popular.” He glanced up at the entrance as more customers came through the door, a young family of four and a couple of men wearing suits. Outstanding, indeed. Wistfully, Mitchell imagined bringing Corrine here. She would undoubtedly like it as well. Did he dare ask her?

Get over it, man.

Mitchell turned his attention to the food and the night ahead. After meeting with Hallahan, he should head to Camden Town and check in on the baron. Hopefully, that would remove all thoughts of the lovely baroness from his mind.

The Crowing Cock had been transformed from a restaurant into a pub. The place was packed; all the tables were taken up with men and a few women of all classes playing cards. He recognized the waitress that had served him and Drew that afternoon. Only tonight, her uniform was that of a barmaid’s, complete with a flowing skirt and a tight bodice, showing ample cleavage.

She strode toward them, carrying an empty tray. “You’re back. Here to see Liam?”

“Yes,” Mitchell replied. “We are to ask for Fiona.”

The waitress stuck her thumb and index finger in her mouth and gave a shrill whistle. A woman at the rear of the pub looked up, then came before them.

“Thank you, Hannah. The doctor and the detective?”

“We are,” Drew answered.

“Then come this way, through the back.”

Smoke filled the air, along with loud laughter and animated conversation. The beer flowed, and from what Mitchell could see, a lot of money sat on the various gaming tables.

Once they stepped outside, Mitchell said, “Hosting a gaming hall in the evening appears profitable.”

“It is,” Fiona replied. “It helps to fund the rest.” She pointed to wrought iron stairs. “Up there and through the door.” She glanced at Mitchell’s cane. “Can you manage? We have a man on the premises who can assist you.”

“I can manage, thank you.”

“Fair play. Once you are through the main entrance, head straight down the hall and knock on the door directly before you. Good evening.” Fiona gave them a pretty smile and disappeared through the rear of the building.

As they slowly climbed the stairs, Drew stood alongside Mitchell, ready to offer aid. By the time they reached the top, Hallahan stood at the entrance.

“You’re prompt, I’ll give you that. Come in.” Hallahan opened the door to his flat. The coziness of it immediately struck Mitchell. Older and possibly used furniture, but high quality, filled the room. Dark wood walls and gold and green accents gave the place a masculine appearance. However, the sound from downstairs was incessant, a low drone of muffled voices and laughter. “Sit there.” Hallahan pointed to the sofa. “There’s mugs of tea and bowls of flummery. It is basically milk and bread in the Irish workhouses, but I have added oats, honey, blackberries, plums, cream, and a dash of Irish whiskey.”

“This is very hospitable of you,” Drew exclaimed as he sat. Hallahan sat across from him in an overstuffed chair, large enough to comfortably support his frame.

“My mother taught me some manners,” Hallahan scoffed.

“Was it your mother who told you of the duke?” Mitchell asked as he sipped his tea.

“Always the detective, eh? She did, but I never believed her. We were barely surviving, hardly a crust to eat, yet she goes on and on about a duke? She died when I was twelve years of age, and I was left an orphan alone on the streets. Is that what you wanted to know?”

There was an edge to his voice that lingered, regardless of the subject matter. A barely contained rage, not at them specifically, but no doubt at life itself. Or at least, when speaking of his past life. Mitchell placed his mug on the table and picked up the crockery bowl of flummery. It smelled enticing, and he took a heaping spoonful. He audibly groaned at the tastiness of it. “You are very talented. This is amazing.”

The corner of Hallahan’s lips twitched—an almost smile.

“We do not wish to furrow about your past,” Drew offered, his voice soft with empathy. “Far from it. We are here to offer an invitation. We are forming a group to assist those associated with the duke through a common bloodline. But not specifically that. I work at free medical clinics in between seeing a few paying patients. We can band together to help those in our vicinity. For example, those less fortunate who come here to be fed every morning?”

Hallahan arched an eyebrow. “Aye. What of it?”

“I can come once a week and offer free medical care. I would guess most people do not know about free medical clinics. I can refer those needing more serious attention. Another example? The new Duke of Chellenham’s group sends leftover food to soup kitchens. What if I divert some of the food here?”