Page 31 of Deceiving an Earl
Ashland was looking at him oddly, and Oliver pulled his mind back to O’Leary’s office and his friends.
“Just thinking,” he mumbled.
“We were talking about the strange disappearance of a few people in East End.”
“East End?” Oliver’s attention was captured. “There are always murders and the like in the East End.” The East End was one of the poorest sections of London where crime was rampant and no good gentleman ever ventured.
O’Leary took a long drag of his ale and put his mug down. “We have two separate reports from women who claim they were lured into a home, plied with ale, and then their lives threatened. One said she barely escaped, and she thought it was the end for her. The other sensed something was amiss with her hosts and claimed she needed to use the privy, whenceforth she escaped.”
Ashland’s eyes narrowed. This was where Oliver and Ashland excelled. Or rather, this was where their inflated egos felt they could do their best work. Over the years they had come to O’Leary with many thoughts and ideas on cases that Scotland Yard was working on. Seventy percent of the time they were correct. They knew that percentage because they kept a log.
It was a strange pastime, and Oliver wasn’t even certain how or when it had started, but eventually he and Ashland began to meet weekly, read the newssheets, and discussed the murders and other foul play reported. Then they speculated on motive and suspects.
It was a game to them, but it was O’Leary’s livelihood.
Oliver felt his blood humming with this new mystery.
“Why would someone lure women into their home, get them drunk, then try to kill them?”
Ashland and Oliver’s eyes met. They were both thinking of Ashland’s wife’s cousin, who had murdered at least half a dozen serving girls.
“You don’t think there is another murderer on the loose, do you?” Oliver asked. “Surely there can’t be two in such a short time.”
“The press went to town on the last murderer.” O’Leary shot Ashland an apologetic look. “Maybe someone read the newspaper reports and got it in his head to do the same thing.”
“Like a sort of imitator?” Ashland asked.
O’Leary shrugged. “Maybe. I don’t know. But it seems odd. And now they’re saying that Blue Posey is missing.”
Even if you weren’t from East End, you knew who Blue Posey was—a young man touched in the head, who sold posies on the street corner of Cheapside. The only word he knew was “blue” and so everyone called him Blue Posey. Despite his disadvantages, everyone knew and respected Blue Posey and no one ever tried to cheat him. While Blue didn’t know how to speak other than the one word, he knew math very well, and he could add and subtract quicker than anyone Oliver had ever met. He knew if someone was trying to shortchange him.
That he was missing was somewhat concerning, but Blue was also a man who kept to his own schedule.
“Do you think he fell victim to these people who tried to get the two women drunk?” Oliver asked.
“I think it’s a stretch to think that,” O’Leary said. “Blue’s a large fellow. It would be difficult to get him drunk, let alone kill him.”
“Why don’t you go to this house and poke around?” Ashland asked.
“I would if I knew where it was, but neither woman could confidently pick it out. Just knew it was ‘somewhere off the main road.’ That doesn’t help.”
They all fell silent, lost in their own thoughts. After a while, talk turned to other things, and Oliver and Ashland soon took their leave. They walked out of Scotland Yard into the damp night air.
“How are things with young Fieldhurst?” Ashland asked.
“I spoke to his mother today. She’s at her wits end. Doesn’t know what to do with him. He doesn’t listen to her, thinks he can do what he wants, now that he’s an earl.”
Ashland chuckled. “Ah, the poor lad. If he only knew that being an earl meant exactly the opposite. You can’t doanythingyou want. What is Lady Fieldhurst going to do?”
“I don’t know.” Oliver had an uneasy feeling in his stomach, like a rock was sitting there.
“Did you tell her the conditions of his return?”
“I did.”
“Well, out with it, man. What did she say?”
“Damn it, Ashland. I know nothing about lads like that. I can barely keep myself respectable.”
