Page 63 of The Detective and the Baroness

“You’re sure of that?”

“Aye, I’m sure. He looked away and got into his own cab. Then he went to a bank on Piccadilly, The Strand. Again, he were only there a few minutes. He were going all over. Then he stopped at a place on Cleveland Street.” Charlie twisted his cap nervously. “After that, the driver got caught in traffic, and we lost him around Paddington Station. I’m sorry, Jedi. I tried my best. Don’t cuff me one.”

“I’m not going to hit you, Charlie. Considering all the bloke’s stops, you did all right. How much money have you got left from what I gave you?” Rumor had it that Charlie was his, but Jedi didn’t care one way or the other. The lad was clever. That was why he used him in this capacity.

The boy reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of coins. “After paying the driver? Some florins and pennies, plus the shilling the lame bugger gave me.”

“Here’s half a crown. I’ll be in touch at the usual places. Remember, tell no one I’m alive or that you’ve seen me, you follow? You know what will happen.”

Charlie snatched the half crown and swiftly tucked it and the rest of the coins in his pocket. “Aye, I know and all.” The boy ran off, leaving Jedi in his hiding place. It was a condemned building in Notting Dale, but a few people still lived there. Rumor stated the place would be pulled down next month. In the meantime, it afforded him a safe room in the basement, with its own door leading into the alley. It had a functioning fireplace running along the side of the building. Since other people were using it, so did Jedi. It kept him warm.

But he knew he couldn’t stay here long.

And he dared not venture out. Not just yet.

Jedi had no idea how Cillian was doing or if he’d grassed him to the coppers. He hadn’t known his son that long. Would he crack under pressure and give up the goods? Maybe he should send word to Erin and give her a warning only he knew how to deliver, just to ensure his son’s silence. He could sweeten the deal by offering her money and asking her to check out the Cleveland Street address for him.

Jedi threw more coal on the fire and sat back in the rickety chair, folding his arms. Paddington Station. That was in the Tyburnia area, where mucky-mucks lived. Why would a copper be traveling over there? Maybe he would make Charlie prowl the streets looking for the lame man. The area wasn’t that big. Perhaps he could contact his informant at the Lancaster Station where Simpson worked and discover the detective’s status. The more he thought about it, the more Jedi was convinced it was Simpson. And he’d make sure the sergeant would regret interfering in Jedi’s plans again.

He sat there for a moment, trying to figure out what to do next. He hadn’t heard anything about Addington’s funeral. Nothing had been in the papers, at least from the ones he found in rubbish bins. The murder was splashed all over, but nothing more. Jedi would be a complete nutter to show up there, in disguise or not. He curled his lip at the thought of the baron. What an idiot to pull a gun out of the safe and shoot. It just went to prove you couldn’t trust any toff.

Well, he paid the price of double-crossing me.

The smart thing to do would be to leave London immediately and not look back. But to do that, he’d need money. If Addington had just paid him, he would have been gone already. Granted, he still had close to two hundred pounds left from his stash, but that wasn’t enough to live on for the rest of his days. And there was still a chance he could collect… He just needed to devise a way to do precisely that. He was owed. Jedi could not let that go. Not when it concerned money. Not ever.

And this time, no one had better stand in his way.

Chapter Twenty-Four

The next day was a flurry of activity. Corrine was pleasantly surprised when she received a delivery from Wimpole Street in the late afternoon. Inside the boxes were dishes, pots, glasses, bedding, a clock, and some of her clothes and toiletries. This had to be Mitchell’s doing, she surmised. He was looking out for her once again. Earlier this morning, he’d traveled to a local grocer and placed a food order: sugar, tea, bread, and other sundries. Plus, she had the ginger biscuits and scones he’d purchased yesterday.

She’d also received a telegram from her brother, Jeffery. He was catching a late afternoon train and would return to London tonight. He would come to see her at Gloucester Square immediately.

Mitchell handed her a bag of Yorkshire tea to place on the shelf in her tiny kitchen. “After this, I will head to The Crowing Cock with the baked goods.”

“I am tempted to come with you. I do not like that my life must come to a standstill because I’m a widow. The black mourning gown is not being delivered until tomorrow morning.” She rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “I can wear the nurse’s uniform and the veil.”

Mitchell shook his head. “I am not certain that is a good idea. Danaher may be lurking about. As I said last night, I felt I was being followed yesterday.”

“I need to stay active. I cannot sit here alone with my thoughts.”

“Then, by all means, come with me.” He came toward her and cupped her face with his hands. The pads of his thumbs caressed her cheeks, sending waves of desire through her. “Know this. I will never dictate to you how to live your life. I only expressed doubt because of your safety.”

“I know. Thank you for keeping me safe.”

“There will be a time—and very soon—for us to discuss what happens in the future. In the meantime—” He swooped in and captured her lips, kissing her passionately. Corrine replied with a soft moan as her insides turned to custard. Exploring, he delved deep, caressing every part of her mouth. To her disappointment, Mitchell ended the kiss and stepped back. “We had best head to Hallahan’s before we become swept away.”

Corrine was tempted to grab his lapels, pull him in, and kiss him fiercely. They were alone. Why not allow themselves to be swept away? Because the time was not right. Corrine laid her hand against his cheek. “Then we should leave immediately.” She whirled about and headed to her bedroom. “I won’t be a minute!”

Changed into her uniform along with the veil obscuring her face, they hailed a hansom. After paying the driver, they stood in front of the restaurant. It was three in the afternoon and, thankfully, not too busy. Fluffy snow flurries tumbled from the sky but melted as soon as they hit the ground.

Taking Mitchell’s arm, they stepped inside. On her opposite side, she had the paper bag tucked in close. A waitress came toward them. “Hello, detective. Here to see Liam?”

“If he can spare a few moments.”

“I will fetch him.”

The waitress disappeared out back, and moments later, Mr. Hallahan opened the swinging door and motioned them to come toward him. He led them through the kitchen, where young lads were chopping carrots and potatoes, another lad was scrubbing the counters, and a woman sorted through trays of food. The scents had Corrine’s mouth watering: frying onions, gammon steak, plus the sweet smell of chocolate and buttercream.