Page 92 of A Stolen Heart

“Not ‘im,” Maisy replied honestly. “Red Bill ain’t one to rat out ‘is mates. ‘Sides, ‘e don’t know ‘oo it is.”

“But I thought you said—”

“I seen ‘er.”

“Her!” Alexandra sat forward. “It was a woman?”

Maisy realized that she had let some of her precious information slip. “I din’t say ‘at.”

“You said ‘her,’” Sebastian reminded her. “Now, come clean. Tell us what you know about her.”

“I’ll do what I can to help Red Bill,” Alexandra told her. “The person who hired him is the one I want to see behind bars.” She slid her hand into her pocket and pulled out a coin, which she laid on the table between her and Maisy. “Here’s a little something to help tide you over until your man’s out of jail again.”

Maisy looked indecisively from Alexandra’s face to the coin, then to Sebastian’s implacable countenance.

“I don’t know ‘er name. I only seen ‘er. She come to our place a couple weeks ago, told Bill she wanted ‘im to take care of the old lady.”

“The old lady? My mother?”

Maisy nodded. “I guess. She told ‘im where she was and all. So Bill ‘ired someone to do it. Only that silly oaf Peggoddy made a mull of it!” Her voice dripped scorn. “So she come back to Bill. Spittin’ mad, she was. Says ‘e made a mess of it and she refuses to pay ‘im. Bill weren’t ‘aving none of that, though, and finally she says she’ll pay ‘im, but ‘e’s gotta finish the job, like. An’, she says, ‘e’s got to get rid of that innerferin’ American bitch, too.”

Sebastian made a choked noise, and Alexandra shot him a quelling look. “Indeed?”

“So Bill did it ‘imself. ‘E din’t trust nobody else again.” She sighed. “Worse luck for ‘im.”

“How did she get hold of him? I mean, how did she know to come to Red Bill?”

Maisy shrugged. “Ever’body knows Red Bill. If she asked around, she’d ‘a found out well enough.”

“You have no idea what her name is?” Alexandra asked.

Maisy shook her head. “She wouldn’t tell us sumfing like ‘at, now, would she?”

“What did she look like?” Sebastian asked.

Maisy looked thoughtful. “I din’t see her real good like. She wore a cloak, see, and pulled the ‘ood forward so ‘er face was in shadow. She wore a half mask, too.”

“Could you tell anything about her?” Alexandra asked. “Was she young or old? Tall?”

“No. She weren’t tall. Leastways, not tall as you. But not as short as me, either. I couldn’t see if she was young.”

Alexandra sighed. Since Maisy was quite small and Alexandra was a very tall woman, most of the women of London would fit Maisy’s description.

“What about her voice?” Sebastian asked. “You heard her speak, at least. What did she sound like?”

“I dunno.” Maisy gazed at him blankly. “Like a toff, like you.” She turned toward Alexandra, a thought dawning on her face. “But not like you, miss.”

“So she was English. Not American.”

Maisy nodded. However, she seemed to have come to the end of her knowledge. Not all the prodding or questioning that Alexandra and Sebastian could do could dislodge any further nugget of information from her. Finally, Alexandra slid the coin across the table to the woman and promised to speak to the authorities on Red Bill Trimble’s behalf. Maisy was quick to take the coin and jump up from the table. Alexandra watched her hurry through the kitchen and out the back door, and she turned to Sebastian.

He was watching her, his face faintly questioning. “Well?”

“Well, what? Do you believe her?” Alexandra stood and started out of the kitchen.

Sebastian shrugged as he rose from his chair and joined her. “I don’t know. She certainly didn’t give us any real description of the person—not tall, not short, disguised by a hooded cloak as well as a mask. It certainly wouldn’t be hard to make something like that up. She made a coin out of it, as well as whatever help we might be able to give her Mr. Trimble.”

“It would be just as easy to tell the truth as a lie, I would think.”