Page 17 of Murder in Blackfriars

Mr. Grimes would offer the best protection, but I didn’t want to drag him into a situation where he might come to the attention of the police. Also, there was the problem of knowing how to find him.

I could wait for James to turn up in Mount Street to ask me for odd jobs, but that might take days. Besides, he didn’t come around as much anymore, as he was busy making deliveriesfor Daniel. I couldn’t send for him, because he was as elusive as Mr. Grimes.

Joanna was as adventurous as I was, but she had four children, Grace, and a husband to take care of, plus a move to plan for. Besides which, I’d never take Joanna into potential danger.

I could think of one other person, but I’d have to travel across the city to find her.

I heaved myself to my feet, patted the stone balustrade in thanks for its moment of refuge, and returned to Clover Lane.

Mr. Grimes had been true to his word and explained to Joanna what had happened. He’d vanished quickly again, Joanna told me, though she’d slipped him a tea cake before he could run off.

A mercy he had disappeared right away, because a constable had planted himself at the corner of Clover Lane and Cheapside, keeping an eye on all who went in and out of the cul-de-sac.

“I’d like to finish the afternoon in Portobello Road,” I told Joanna and Grace, once they’d heard my side of the tale and exclaimed their worries about Daniel. “To do some shopping.”

Grace’s eyes lit with excitement. She loved the market. “Will we visit Hannah?”

“What are you up to, Kat?” Joanna asked in sudden suspicion. “What about Mr. McAdam?”

“He is never far from my thoughts, I assure you,” I said. “But I must trust his gift for keeping himself out of trouble. Meanwhile, I have errands to run.”

Joanna did not believe my glib explanation for one moment, but she conceded and called to her maid of all work to fetch Grace’s coat.

6

I decided we’d walk around St. Paul’s, putting us out of sight of the constable on Cheapside, before I tried to find a hansom to take us to Portobello Road.

As we climbed aboard one waiting in the queue in Ludgate Hill, I thought I spied James lurking about, but I couldn’t be certain. He was even better at hiding himself than Daniel was.

“May I tell Hannah about our move to Basingstoke?” Grace asked me as the cab jerked into motion.

“Of course,” I said. “She is interested in all you do. But no begging her to take you in, mind.”

“No, Mum.” Grace answered without resentment and heaved a little sigh. “It was a mad idea.”

“I would rather you stay in London near me, love, more than anything. But it is impractical at this time,” I made myself say. If I repeated this often enough, I might believe it.

“I know.” Grace went glum. “Will they really send Uncle Daniel to Newgate? He could never have killed that man.”

“Not if I have anything to say about it,” I said decidedly. “And no, he did not kill him. That I am certain of.”

Mr. Grimes possiblycouldhave, I knew, but I did not voice this to Grace, who was fond of the man. Besides, I could think of no reason why he would.

Unless Mr. Banks’s news was something that could hurt Mr. Grimes somehow? Mr. Grimes and Daniel had been lads on the streets together—did Mr. Banks know something that Mr. Grimes did not want Daniel to know?

It seemed unlikely. I was grasping at straws, which was maddening. I really must have a look at Mr. Banks’s rooms.

Portobello Road held a market most days, though it truly came alive on Saturdays. The bulk of the vendors sold produce, meat pies, and fresh-baked breads, one with tarts, tea cakes, and pastries that looked nowhere as good as mine.

Other vendors sold secondhand clothing or fabric—I’d purchased the cloth for the gown I wore now from one of them.

Still other booths carried sundries and trinkets, which is what my friend Hannah Dunnett peddled near the top of the hill.

“Katie, me old darling.” The greeting rang from a lady with a pile of very black hair under a worn, feathered hat. She came to her feet with a swing of skirts and rested her hands on her full table. “Was hoping I’d see you today. And you’ve brought your darling daughter. How are you, Grace, me love?”

“Very well, thank you,” Grace returned with a grin. “Are things selling nicely?”

Hannah wrinkled her nose. “Not as much as I’d like today, but it’s a wet Thursday afternoon.”