Curse of the Poppy (Penny Green Series Book 5) Read online

  “But you must! You have to! I came here full of hope that you’d have at least one idea of what we could do to find him. You’re a news reporter, and you’ve been to all sorts of places and done all kinds of things. You’ve helped James solve some of his cases. Please, Penny, I realise you’re tired and upset, but I know you can do something about this. I’m here to help you. We can do it together. We have to!”

  I knew Charlotte would never have approached me if she had an inkling that I had kissed her future husband. I looked away, worried that she would somehow read what I had done in my face.

  I looked along Fleet Street in the direction of home and knew that if I returned there I would only be pacing the floor of my room, and that sleep wouldn’t come easily. Like Charlotte, I knew my mind would find no rest unless I was doing something about James’ disappearance.

  “There’s one place I can think of,” I began.

  “Where?” I looked at Charlotte’s young, hopeful face and felt concerned that she had probably never been anywhere remotely unpleasant in her life.

  “The East End.”

  Her hopeful look faded slightly, as I had expected it would.

  “Inspector Bowles of Marylebone Lane police station is holding a gang there who are suspected of breaking into the home of Mr and Mrs Forster.”

  “She was murdered there, wasn’t she?”

  “Yes, sadly the gang attacked Mrs Forster in her bed. I know that James helped interview the gang at Marylebone Lane station on the day of his disappearance. Inspector Bowles told me a few of them had been arrested around Commercial Street. I have a suspicion that a few of their acquaintances may still be in the area.”

  Charlotte’s eyes grew wide with worry.

  “You think we should go to the East End to find members of the gang? But what does that have to do with James?”

  “I’m wondering whether the gang he spoke to wanted to exact some sort of revenge on him. They may have asked an accomplice to —”

  “To do what?” Charlotte’s eyes widened even further.

  “I’m sure he’s fine, Charlotte. They may have detained him somewhere, but let’s go and see what we can find out from H Division at the station on Commercial Street.”

  “The gang are holding him, is that what you think?”

  “It’s a thought, that’s all. I really don’t know what else to try.”

  “Then let’s go.”

  “Are you sure you’re happy to do this?”

  “We have to do something, don’t we?”

  The journey to the police station at the north end of Commercial Street took about twenty minutes in a hansom cab. As we travelled I tried to explain the case to Charlotte.

  “Goodness, it all sounds rather confusing,” she said. “James had told me a little of it, but I try to discourage him from talking about work too much. I think it’s important for him to forget about it now and again, and to enjoy other aspects of life. I’m not very successful in stopping him, however. He can become terribly distracted by it. He’s often scribbling down little notes to himself or pondering over something. He did seem unusually distracted in the lead-up to his disappearance.”

  When Charlotte talked about James I felt envious. I wished I could have spent those moments with him instead of her, and I would never have tried to discourage him from talking about his work. I understood how a case could occupy one’s mind night and day, and for a moment I imagined what it would be like if James and I were married. We would have discussed cases for as long as we liked, whenever we wanted. And then I wondered whether that was necessarily a good thing.

  Although I felt envious of Charlotte I also felt sympathy for her. I knew exactly how she felt, and I could see that she was relying on me to make her feel better. In her hour of need she had turned to me for help. I realised that my motivation for helping her was partly driven by guilt.

  The police station on Commercial Street was a large, wedge-shaped building with a lower storey clad in stone and two upper storeys of red brick.

  “I hope they can help us,” muttered Charlotte as we stepped through the door.

  A young, wiry police sergeant was chatting to the desk officer as we walked in. I introduced Charlotte and myself.

  “Have you heard about the disappearance of Inspector James Blakely?” I asked the police sergeant.

  “Can’t say that I have,” he replied.

  “But you’re aware that Inspector Bowles is holding some men from this area at Marylebone Lane police station?”

  “Ah yes, the men who burgled the Forster home in St James’s Square. I helped Bowles with that. I rounded many of them up personally. I’m Detective Sergeant Harrison.” He had a thin, clean-shaven face and keen brown eyes.

  “I was wondering whether the men being held by Inspector Bowles have any acquaintances in this area,” I asked.

  “Yes, everyone knows them around here.”

  “I suspect the men you arrested may have instructed someone to harm…” I glanced warily at Charlotte “…Not harm, necessarily, but somehow detain Inspector Blakely. I think someone in this area may have had something to do with his disappearance.”

  “Do you want me to find out for you?”

  “We would be extremely grateful for anything you could do to help. We’re desperate for news.”

  “Has Scotland Yard not asked for your help in finding him yet?” asked Charlotte.

  “No, there’s been no word from the Yard about the inspector. Never mind, let’s go and find him, shall we?”

  “You make it sound so easy, Sergeant,” she replied.

  Chapter 52

  Sergeant Harrison skipped down the steps of the police station and we followed him at a brisk pace down Commercial Street, which was thronging with people despite the rain. A crowd had gathered outside a music hall, readying themselves for an evening of entertainment. The taverns were busy, and the costermongers were desperately trying to sell off the last of their wares for the day. A quick glance down the side streets revealed numerous rundown lodging houses, cramped houses and littered courtyards. Dirty-faced children played in the street, skipping out of the way of carts and barrows just in time.

  We reached the junction with Hanbury Street and Sergeant Harrison led us up to a large, noisy pub called The Golden Heart. Without hesitation he pushed open one of the doors and we followed him inside, where loud voices and tobacco smoke filled the air.

  A number of the men inside seemed to recognise the sergeant, and they parted to let us through. Charlotte and I ignored the leers and suggestive comments.

  We walked through a door to a smaller bar, and Sergeant Harrison made straight for a table of lean, grimy-looking men with slack jaws and hard, narrow eyes. Their expressions suggested a deep dislike of him. For an uneasy moment we surveyed each other, and one of the men lifted a clay pipe to his mouth. My eye was drawn to the movement, and then I spotted something unusual about his hand.

  The little finger was missing.

  “Him!” I cried, pointing at the young man. “He must know something!”

  To my astonishment, Sergeant Harrison swiftly grabbed the young man by the ear and hauled him up off his stool.

  “Out the back,” he ordered.

  He dragged the man out through a small door and into a foul-smelling yard with a high wall. The man’s friends cackled as we followed the pair.

  “Get orf!” protested the man as Harrison continued to pull at his ear.

  “It’s not necessary to hurt him,” I said.

  “Oh, but it is, madam, it is,” replied Sergeant Harrison. He sneered at the young man as he addressed him. “Introduce yourself to these nice ladies.”

  “Tommy,” he replied through gritted teeth.

  “Now then, Tommy, would you happen to know anything about the inspector from the Yard what’s gone missing?”

  “No.”

  “Are you sure?” Sergeant Harrison pulled harder on the lad’s ear, which made him yelp.


  “Perhaps if you let go he’d be more inclined to answer,” I said.

  Sergeant Harrison glared at me for interrupting.

  “There’s only one way of dealing with men like this,” he barked. “Now what can you tell me about the inspector?” he said to Tommy.

  “Nuffink!”

  Voices rose up from beyond the high wall, and Charlotte and I exchanged a worried glance. The place made me anxious, and the bullying behaviour of Sergeant Harrison did nothing to put my mind at ease.

  “What has happened to your finger?” I asked Tommy.

  “I ain’t sayin’.”

  “Did someone cut it off?” I asked. “Do you know what they did with it?”

  “Why do you want to know that?” Sergeant Harrison asked me.

  “Inspector Blakely received a severed finger in the post,” I replied. “Perhaps it belonged to Tommy.”

  “Someone sent James a finger?” exclaimed Charlotte in abject horror. I had forgotten she had not been informed of the development. “In the post?”

  “The Yard receives quite a lot of odd things in the post,” I said, trying to lessen the impact of this new revelation.

  “I realise that, but a finger? Was it this man’s finger?” she asked.

  “That’s what I should like to know,” I said. “Because if it is, he can lead us to the people who threatened James and are presumably responsible for his disappearance.”

  “I see.” Charlotte’s face had turned pale.

  “Heard from your friends in Marylebone Lane, have you?” Sergeant Harrison pulled even harder on Tommy’s ear, causing him to howl with pain. “Did they send you a message?” he demanded.

  “Stop it!” shouted Charlotte.

  “I’ve got to make him talk, madam.”

  “Not like this,” she said. “He’s already had his finger cut off, show the man some sympathy. Perhaps we could ask him nicely —”

  Charlotte was interrupted by a cackle of laughter from Sergeant Harrison.

  “Ask him nicely, Miss Jenkins? Does this man look like the sort of man you can speak nicely to? He can hardly string three words together, let alone understand questions other people put to him.”

  “If he’s of no help to us, please stop hurting him,” I said.

  “I didn’t say he was of no help. His brother Blinker’s a member of that gang down in Marylebone Lane.”

  “I don’t know nuffink about wot ’e done!” Tommy protested.

  I wondered whether Tommy’s brother had removed the finger. More voices could be heard from the other side of the wall.

  “Do you know who ordered the gang to carry out the attack on Mr and Mrs Forster, Tommy?” I asked.

  “I don’t know nuffink, like I said!”

  The situation was becoming quite frustrating. Even if Tommy knew something he evidently wasn’t going to share it with us.

  A shout came from beyond the wall and suddenly there was a loud smash behind Sergeant Harrison. A flash of flame rose up and spread across the yard. He let go of the young man and lunged toward the door of the pub.

  Charlotte screamed. I grabbed her arm and pulled her along behind me in pursuit of Sergeant Harrison. Inside the pub, people leapt to their feet as they realised something serious had occurred.

  There was no sign of Tommy or his friends.

  “We need to get out of here!” I called to Charlotte.

  “Fire!” someone shouted, prompting a rush to the street outside.

  Elbows were shoved into my shoulders and face. I fought to push through the smelly, unwashed crowd. I couldn’t see past the men in front of me, and for a moment my feet left the floor as I was carried by the mob. A sensation of panic rose from my chest into my throat, and my breath felt constricted. I stumbled as my feet returned to the ground and I fought to stay upright, terrified that if I fell I would be trampled upon.

  Just as I was beginning to think I would be confined to this interminable crush forever I found myself outside on the damp, filthy pavement, gasping for air. People stumbled all around me.

  “Charlotte!” I called out.

  I looked around frantically, trying to catch a glimpse of her pale blue dress. I eventually found her slumped against the wall of the pub, where a sunken-cheeked man with an eyepatch was trying to make her acquaintance.

  “Charlotte, are you all right?”

  “Penny, thank goodness!” She took my hand and stood to her feet. “What happened in that yard? Where did those flames come from?”

  “I’m guessing it was lit paraffin in a bottle. We heard those voices on the other side of the wall, didn’t we? They must have been Tommy’s friends.”

  She nodded.

  I turned to see a dozen or so police officers dispersing the crowd with their truncheons raised.

  “So what do we do now?” Charlotte asked.

  “I really don’t know.”

  Chapter 53

  “It’s no enormous surprise to find you at the centre of this debacle, Miss Green,” said Chief Inspector Cullen as we stood in the parade room at Commercial Street police station.

  Sergeant Harrison had found Charlotte and me outside the Golden Heart pub and escorted us back to the police station in the interests of our safety.

  “I find your comment rather uncharitable, Chief Inspector,” I retorted. “Miss Jenkins and I were merely conducting some enquiries about the possible whereabouts of Inspector Blakely.”

  “Which ended up causing a full-scale riot in London’s East End!”

  “That was not our fault! There is clearly great antagonism between H Division and some of the people who live here, and we merely found ourselves caught up in it.”

  “There’s no antagonism, Miss Green,” corrected Sergeant Harrison. “They understand we’re in charge and sometimes they get a little lively.”

  “You need to return home, Miss Jenkins,” said Chief Inspector Cullen. “You’re making a big mistake having anything to do with this ink-slinger. In fact, you probably don’t need me to tell you that; you’ve no doubt realised it for yourself by now.”

  “I want to know where James is,” protested Charlotte, “and I asked Miss Green for her help!”

  “You should have asked the police,” he replied, “not some news reporter.”

  “I did ask the police,” she replied, “and they’ve done nothing! You’ve done nothing! That’s why I thought Miss Green was my best hope.”

  “You’re overestimating the woman’s capabilities.”

  “What exactly are you doing to find Inspector Blakely, Chief Inspector?” I asked. “Someone must be holding him somewhere, and this someone has to be connected to the case he’s working on. D Division already has some of the men in custody, so why aren’t you arresting more and questioning them?”

  “We’re doing what we can, Miss Green.”

  “I don’t think you are, and that’s why Miss Jenkins has asked for my help. She and her family are desperate for news, yet they’ve received no assurance that anything is being done. One of your colleagues is missing and you don’t seem the least bit concerned about it.”

  Chief Inspector Cullen sighed. “It’s almost eight o’clock in the evening and you ladies should be in the safety of your homes.”

  “Is there something you’re not telling us, Chief Inspector?” I asked bluntly.

  “Of course not. And even if there was I cannot publicly state something which might prejudice the investigation. You’re a news reporter, Miss Green, so it should come as no surprise to you that I have no wish to divulge the details of everything I’m working on.”

  “I have no interest in publishing any of this in the newspaper! My concern for Inspector Blakely is of a personal nature, and Miss Jenkins is his fiancée. Don’t you see how important any information you might have on his whereabouts is to her? I demand you to tell her something – anything – which could allay her fears. She and Inspector Blakely are to be married in just a few weeks’ time, and she needs to know that matter
s are in hand for his safe return. How will she even be able to sleep at night otherwise? If you wish to tell her something in private I can leave this room in order for you to do so. Surely you can see how trying this is for her.”

  “You misunderstand me,” he said. “I did not intend to suggest that I know anything, but merely to clarify that if I did I wouldn’t necessarily, as a matter of course, share that information with you. Now go home, Miss Green, before you say something you later regret.”

  Chapter 54

  Mrs Garnett’s knock woke me the following morning. A heavy sleep had finally descended upon me in the early hours and my head ached as I opened my eyes.

  “Telegram!” she called out, pushing an envelope beneath my door.

  I leapt up to read it, hopeful of good news. My head span with the sudden movement and I stumbled as I picked the envelope up from the floor.

  The telegram was from the Morning Express offices:

  Miss Holland begs meeting with you.

  The telegram was dated the previous evening. I had returned home so late that I hadn’t noticed it waiting for me on the hallway table.

  I hurriedly dressed and fed Tiger some sardines. After eating them she curled up on my bed to sleep while I left the house and dashed to Moorgate station, from which point I could take the underground train to Gower Street station near Euston.

  I couldn’t think why Emma wished to see me, but I was desperate for news of any sort. I wanted something – no matter how small or irrelevant – which would hopefully lead me to James.

  “Penny, are you all right?” asked Emma as she welcomed me into her home. “You’re not unwell, are you?”

  “No, I’m quite well, thank you. I must confess that I haven’t eaten a great deal in the past few days. I’ve been rather distracted.”