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“Meet you back here at eleven tonight,” Marcus promised and ambled off to find a bed in the lodging house.
Once around the corner at the end of the street, he slammed to a stop just in time to watch a small, neatly wrapped package disappear into Ben Parkinson’s jacket pocket. It didn’t look the same as the jewel box Rawdon Bamber had stolen from the Squire’s house, but it was very similar; almost too similiar. Judging from the furtive way the lad studied his surroundings as he sauntered off, Marcus suspected the package’s contents were illegal. Marcus turned his attention to the lad’s contact.
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bsp; There was a cockiness about him that smacked of someone who broke the law, and didn’t care about the consequences. Marcus knew, however, that seemingly innocuous sides to people could often hide the most heinous criminal minds known to humanity.
He had been working for the Star Elite long enough to recognise when someone was up to mischief, and Ben and his contact were certainly up to no good. The magistrate certainly seemed to think so and, until Marcus could find some proof to indicate otherwise, he had to agree with him.
“Are you the one we are after?” Marcus whispered as he followed Ben’s contact through the village. Minutes later he stood beside Joe and watched Ben’s contact enter the back door of one of the houses Joe was watching.
“Bingo,” Marcus murmured.
“How did he get out?” Joe gasped in astonishment.
“Through the back door, I suppose, why?” Marcus sighed.
“I have been watching the front and the back of the house from the end of the road. Nobody left that house, Marcus. Just what the Hell is going on around here? Who is he?”
“I think we have a problem,” Marcus replied. “Either someone is playing tricks with us, or we have three potential suspects on our hands. Two of whom live in that house across the road. The other lives in the boarding house at the far end of the village. Are you sure that man isn’t the one you followed last night?”
“Positive,” Joe sighed. “The one I followed didn’t have an ample girth on him like that one has.”
“Then the man you followed has to be still in there. The one who has just entered the property must be a relative, a brother, or a colleague. Whoever he is, he is a thug. Ben has now gone home but with slightly heavier pockets than he had earlier,” Marcus said meaningfully.
When Joe raised his brows, Marcus explained what he had witnessed.
“We need to find out which one has the stolen goods on him.”
“There can’t be a network of them, surely to goodness?” Joe murmured in astonishment. “Not in a tiny village like this.”
“I don’t know,” Marcus sighed. “I sincerely hope not.”
“I can try to find out who owns the house from some of the locals at the tavern,” Joe suggested. “Meantime, I will keep watch here and follow whoever leaves first.”
“Have you had any sleep yet?” Marcus asked. He wondered if his friend was as exhausted as he was.
Joe shook his head. “I am going to have to stop soon. Preferably before I fall asleep standing up. Unfortunately, things are on the move right now. It is imperative that we don’t lose the goods, Marcus. We are onto something here.”
Marcus knew he was right. Not least because when Joe got one of his ‘feelings’ he was apt to be right.
“Eleven tonight. You know where I am if you need me.”
“Send for Barnaby,” Joe ordered. “We need men to take over so we can rest.”
Marcus nodded and melted into the bushes so he could make his way to his new lodging house undetected.
The large house would have once been quite grand if it hadn’t fallen into a ramshackle state of disrepair. Marcus wondered if it was safe to enter. It looked as though a good gust of wind would blow it down in a heartbeat. Still, he needed to get inside. If only to search Ben’s room and try to find the stolen items he suspected were now stashed inside.
He pushed the squeaky gate open and winced as its loud protest shattered the silence. Several blackbirds cawed as they left the leafy protection of the tree-tops. Marcus watched them fly off with a shudder. It was as though they were a forewarning of what was to come.
As he walked up the path to the front door, he eyed the freshly swept cobbles and the windows that sparkled. Whoever owned the place tried to look after it. It just wasn’t enough to stop the decades of decay from making a mark upon the place.
“It’s got to be warm and dry at least,” Marcus murmured as he came to a stop in front of the door.
He eyed the sagging roof doubtfully. “Well, warm, at least.”
Then he turned his gaze to the chimney pots. In spite of the chill in the air, there was no sign of any smoke coming from the chimney. He suspected that the fires were unlit. As if to encourage the direction of his thoughts, a cool breeze swept over his already chilled flesh.
