Page 1 of The Housebreaker's Assistant
Chapter One
LONDON – JUNE, 1888
The streets of Whitechapel after dark were no place for a child to be caught out. They were no place for a gentleman of good character and standing to spend his time either. But after a sticky, restless summer evening, there were more of both kinds wandering the fetid alleys, looking for custom and attempting to get up to more mischief than most of the good folk who slumbered peacefully in Mayfair or Kensington would ever want to know about.
Penny Frey leaned back against the grubby brick wall of The Oyster pub, one foot braced against the bricks, arms crossed, watching the world he’d been born into and raised in with a cheeky grin. There were those who knew how to navigate the crowded, bawdy streets of this part of London and those who didn’t.
At the moment, he was watching one of each as they danced around each other in the flickering amber light of a guttering streetlight.
“Please, guv’nor,” little Richie Porter appealed to the fine gentleman in his too-warm overcoat, eyes round and pleading. “I haven’t eaten in days.”
Anyone who had been observing the crossroads between The Oyster and The Huntsman for more than an hour would have known that was a load of bollocks. Not half an hour before, Richie had been stuffing his gob with a meat pie he’d bought from Mrs. Claughton’s cart up near Spitalfields Market, thanks to the proceeds from a silk handkerchief he’d nicked off a lady closer to Liverpool Street. The gentleman didn’t know that, though, and likely thought he could use the boy’s desperation as a bargaining chip.
“Hungry, you say?” the toff asked in his superior accent, fooling no one as to his intentions. “I might be able to help you with that, lad.”
Penny smirked, delighted over what the nasty old sod had coming to him.
“Please, sir,” Richie feigned innocence and made sweet eyes at the nob. “I would be ever so grateful.” He held up his hands in supplication.
“Perhaps not here,” the gentleman said, glancing around as if to see who might observe him in his attempts to take advantage of the boy.
The fool was utterly unaware that half the seemingly disinterested men and women loitering around the pubs, pretending to exchange yarns or, in the case of Gap-Tooth Annie, to be flirting with Old John, had their eye on the exchange and were ready to jump in and save Richie if his ploy got away from him.
“There’s a nice alley over this way,” the gentleman said. “We could have a bit of privacy, talk for a moment, get to know each other better.”
“Oh, yes, sir, please,” Richie said, leaning closer and subtly sliding his hand into the gentleman’s coat pocket.
Penny grinned. Richie’s technique was still rough, but his hands were nimble and he was willing to take the risks that ledto the biggest rewards. He was only twelve, but he’d been a fast learner. He was one of Penny’s brightest students.
“Come with me, then,” the gentleman said, reaching a trembling hand to stroke Richie’s hair. “We’ll have such a good time.”
Richie’s hand pulled back from the man’s coat, and Penny caught a brief flash of silk. As soon as whatever handkerchief he’d snatched made it into his own pocket, Richie darted a subtle glance to Penny.
That was the signal.
Penny pushed off the wall as Richie beamed up at the gentleman and said, “You have food for me?”
“I have something to feed you, yes,” the gentleman said, his smile predatory.
“Oy!” Penny shouted, walking fast toward the couple. “You! Get away from there!”
Exactly as Penny had taught him, Richie had reached for the buttons of the gentleman’s coat. He popped them open, as if his intention had been to snatch something inside the man’s coat, then gasped a little too dramatically as Penny reached him and clapped a hand on the boy’s shoulder.
“I—oh! I beg your pardon.” The gentleman instantly pretended innocence, pulling his hands away from Richie.
“Go on,” Penny shouted at Richie. “Scat! Leave the gentleman alone.”
Richie scrambled off, running for the shadows. Penny turned to the gentleman, clicking his tongue and pretending to brush dirt from the man’s coat.
“Terribly sorry, sir,” he said with deferential apology, manhandling the toff with a gentle touch. “That young scamp is a famous pickpocket. You were about to be fleeced.”
“I was?” the gentleman looked horrified.
“You must have a care, particularly around the little ones,” Penny went on, helping the man to straighten up and plucking a silver cigarette case, a pocket watch, and ultimately the man’s billfold straight off his person and into his own pockets without the bastard being the least bit aware. “They’ve been brought up as thieves and liars, the lot of them. I hate to see it happen night after night to respectable gents like you. Thank the good Lord above that you’re too clever to be taken in by a wretch like that.”
“Yes, yes,” the gentleman said, buttoning his coat tightly after the fact and sending Penny a grateful look. “I should not even be in this part of the city. I’m afraid I’ve lost my way.”
“Understandable,” Penny said with a grin, turning to rest a hand on the man’s back. “Let me point you in the right direction to find your way home safe and sound.” He walked the man on a few steps until they were at the mouth of one of his favorite alleys before pausing and leaning closer to the man to whisper in an inviting purr, “Unless you were searching for a little something I might be able to find for you.”
