Page 85 of Secrets in the Dark
“Well, it worked. He’s ready to trip over himself to help us.”
“Something will give, Edmund. If we get a true handle on where he has been, we can better get ahead on where he’s going to be,” Mason assured him. He glanced at Della. “We’ll get back to you. We’ll head out now and try to find a hideout.”
“Right.”
Edmund ended the call. Mason looked at Della.
“Feel like a leisurely stroll through the charming streets of Whitechapel?”
“But of course,” she assured him.
They left the house and Mason paused to look at St. Botolph’s.
“He’s not using the church,” Della said.
“Oh?”
“Abigail would know.”
“True. She walks around it, as the prostitutes were known to do long ago and she watches the house we’re in and the surrounding area from there,” Mason agreed. “I don’t see her now.”
“She’s out looking for him. She’s determined. It’s a pity we can’t give her a job.”
“She’d need to go through the academy,” Mason said lightly.
Della rolled her eyes and grinned, walking ahead of him, turning onto the main street of their block.
The first building housed a candy store.
The second was a clothing shop and the third was a pub.
“Shall we ask about their wine cellar?” Della suggested.
“Might as well. But...”
“You think we’re missing something.”
“I do. But maybe what we’re missing is at the pub.”
They went in and Della murmured to him, “Maybe this is a place we should try at night. If he has been watching the house, he might use this as a lookout point—if he sits at the bar, he can see outside. Mason, I think he might have watched the entrance to Daphne’s from here—you can see the door! He would have seen Rick Fields go out—followed by Stacey. But he wouldn’t have gone after her—because he saw us follow right on her heels.”
“And he’d know that Rick was going to be taken—and that there wouldn’t be any way to get Stacey farther back into the darkness of that alley.”
“Let’s see if they’ve seen him.”
Like many of the establishments in the area, the building was old but much of the inner facade had been updated. The bar itself was rich polished wood, the stools were crafted from the same material, the front windows were sheet glass and shiny chrome accents created an appeal that made the place feel comfortable, historic and modern all in one.
They ordered two pints, with Della smiling and chatting up the bartender, an older man who turned out to be George Harley, the owner of the pub. They had arrived before the early evening time when workers, off for the night, stopped by, so the two carried on a pleasant conversation before the bartender mentioned that they were never sure if they were going to be dead slow—or slammed, what with the news and the warnings going out.
It seemed the right place to get truthful and serious so Mason pulled out his badge and phone, explained that they were on an international team and asked him if he’d seen the man in any of the sketches Maisie had created.
Now, they also had a picture of Jesse Miller—as Jesse Miller—provided via email by Angela and her team.
Harley wasn’t put off by their questions; he studied the pictures and handed the phone back. “Maybe, I’m not sure. There’s been a chap in here a few nights who might... Well, he’s not exactly like any of these, but... Well, something is similar in these renderings and the man I’ve seen. Not like the actual pictures you have of him. The man I’ve seen is... I don’t even know how to explain. He has dark, dark hair, blue eyes. No beard, but a mustache. His nose is big, though, and he has a funny pointed chin. An Aussie or Kiwi, I think, from his accent.”
Mason produced a card from his pocket. “He’s not an Aussie or a Kiwi. He’s a master of accents, changing his appearance and his story wherever he goes. He’s a murderer, and he’s being hunted all over the city. Surely, you’ve seen the news.”
Harley swore and then quickly excused himself to Della. She smiled and waved a hand in the air before saying, “Trust me, I share your sentiment. We want to get him before he has a chance to kill again.”
