Page 18 of A Shop Girl’s Christmas (Pennington’s Department Store #3)

Stephen paused on the steps of Pennington’s grand staircase and surveyed the scene ahead of him. It was a bright, crisp day and the rainbow of light from the glass dome cascaded over the shoppers and merchandise. Smiling faces and good cheer abounded as customers wove from one counter to another, intent on buying gifts, food and decorations.

The string quartet set up on a dais in the very centre of the vast space played carols, the soft music serenading consumers and adding a touch of the exceptional that was wholly Pennington’s. Everywhere Stephen looked, garlands of ivy, entwined with flashes of red holly and pearlescent mistletoe, hung from counters, balustrades and lights. Golden bells and angels dotted arrangements of scarlet poinsettia and jewel-coloured ribbons over department entrances and the lift doors.

Unexpected pride rose inside him. It would take a very hardened individual not to be affected by such a special department store. He descended the stairs, keeping his eyes peeled for anything untoward.

Just as he stepped onto the atrium’s marble tiles, a cacophony of discord broke out. People gasped and hurried away from the entrance, swaying and jostling one another, their faces filled with fear or disgust.

What on earth was going on?

Stephen shouldered his way through the crowd. ‘Excuse me, sir. Madam, might I get through? Thank you.’

Two doormen tussled with a shabbily dressed man, whose greying hair was matted and dirty.

Stephen gripped one of the doorman’s shoulders. ‘What seems to be the problem here?’

‘This…’ He lost his hold on the man and reached out again to grab the unwelcome guest’s arm. ‘ Tramp thinks he’s perfectly entitled to walk in here and talk to whomever he pleases, that’s what.’

Stephen looked closer at the man’s reddened face as the two doormen continued to manhandle him towards the door. It was the vagrant he’d met in the alleyway. For the love of God…

He stepped forward and once again touched the doorman’s shoulder. ‘Let him be. I’ll wager it’s me he’s here to see.’

‘What?’

‘Let the man go.’ Stephen kept his voice purposely low, but firm, as he glanced around the sea of curious or repelled faces surrounding them. ‘I’ll ensure he’s taken outside.’

Judging by the set of the doorman’s shoulders and scowl, he was reluctant to release the man but eventually loosened his hold and stepped back. ‘Let him go,’ he ordered the second doorman. ‘Mr Gower claims to be familiar with this… gentleman .’

The vagrant was shoved towards him and Stephen sucked in a breath at the overwhelming stench. He glared at the doorman, his hand firmly on the vagrant’s arm. ‘Thank you.’

‘For Christ’s sake, who the bloody hell—’

‘Enough of that,’ Stephen cut off the vagrant’s words over the gasps and huffs of the watching crowd. ‘Let’s get you outside where we can talk.’

Ignoring the people around them, Stephen frogmarched the man to Pennington’s double doors, pushing one open and escorting his friend onto the street.

He walked him away from the entrance and released him. ‘How in God’s name did you know I worked here?’

The man tugged at the lapels of his sorry-looking overcoat, theatrically brushing at the soot- and grime-covered material as though it was a new purchase from Pennington’s men’s department. ‘I have ways and means of finding out about anyone unusual who comes down by the river.’

‘Is that so?’

‘Yeah, it is.’ The man straightened his top hat and rubbed under his nose, his fingerless gloves revealing his chapped knuckles and dirty nails. ‘And you know what I say is true, or you wouldn’t have asked me to bring information to you, would you?’

Stephen could hardly argue with the man’s logic. He glanced along the street. ‘And do you have information?’

The man grinned and puffed out his chest. ‘I do.’

Stephen raised his eyebrows. ‘Which is?’

‘If we’re going to be conducting business, don’t you think it would show a bit of etiquette if I knew your name?’

Stephen carefully assessed him. Despite his dress and general unkemptness, the man carried an aura of self-assurance. There was a quiet intelligence and perceptiveness in his silvery-blue eyes, indicating a man who had not always lived – or survived – on the streets.

Stephen cleared his throat. ‘My name is Stephen Gower. And you are?’

‘Herman Angel, sir. At your service.’

Stephen’s curiosity increased as the man took off his hat and swept it in an arc, executing a bow. Clearly, he had once known social manners.

‘Well, it’s good to see you again, Herman.’ Stephen nodded. ‘Your visit will be even more welcome if you have something worthwhile to tell me.’

Herman straightened and arched an eyebrow before extending his open palm.

Understanding the universal gesture, Stephen reached inside the trouser pocket of his uniform and extracted some coins. He dropped them into Herman’s outstretched hand. ‘Well?’

Herman counted the coins and slid them inside his jacket, his eyes lighting up with satisfaction. ‘I asked around as you instructed. About the woman.’

‘And?’

‘And I’ve been told about a bloke bragging that it was him who killed her.’

‘This man…’ Stephen’s heart picked up speed. He hardly dared to believe such a thing could be true. ‘Admitted it was him? Who is he?’

‘Not as much admitted, but, to my friend’s mind, he seemed to know a whole lot more than he would have if he hadn’t been there that night.’

‘And who was this man? Your friend knew him?’

‘Knew of him. There’s a difference.’

Stephen carefully assessed Herman’s expression, looking for any sign he lied or exaggerated. The other man stared back, his gaze not in any way furtive or disingenuous.

Stephen frowned. ‘So, all you can tell me is that you know of someone bragging about this poor woman’s demise, but you don’t know his name or where I can start to look for him?’

Herman’s eyes glinted with amusement. ‘Did I say that?’

Stephen tensed, his previous fondness towards Herman threatening to dissolve as quickly as it had emerged. ‘Don’t play games with me, Herman. You’ll lose.’

Their gazes locked before the other man dropped his shoulders and flapped his hand dismissively. ‘Ah, and I thought you was a bloke who could take a joke.’

‘I don’t joke. Not about murder.’

Two spots of colour stained the vagrant’s cheeks as his gaze darkened. ‘Neither do I. You might assume I walk these streets without care or dignity, but you’re wrong, Mr Gower. I have plenty of pride for my fellow man… and woman.’

‘I’m glad to hear it. Now, what else can you tell me?’

Herman took a long breath as he looked past Stephen’s shoulder along the street. ‘I don’t know the individual’s name, but he’s rumoured to be residing near the river, amongst the trees beneath Pulteney Bridge. If you’re thinking to look for this arsehole, I suggest you start your search there.’

Adrenaline sparked treacherously in Stephen’s blood at the prospect of chasing a potential lead. ‘Good. That’s information I can use.’

He looked towards Pennington’s doors and paused. Cornelia Culford stood on the store steps, slightly shivering, her arms tightly crossed as she watched them. What was going on with the woman that she seemed to be near him at every turn?

He quickly faced Herman. ‘Thank you. If you hear anything else, keep it under your hat and don’t come back here looking for me. I’ll come and find you. Understand?’

Herman’s eyes shadowed with consideration before he gave a slow nod. ‘No doubt I’ll see you soon then.’

Touching his hat, Stephen’s new friend meandered along the street, shoulders hunched against a bitter wind that had been rising since first thing that morning.

Turning, Stephen met Cornelia’s gaze. It was clear from her expression, he had absolutely no way of avoiding talking to her.

He slowly ascended Pennington’s steps and looked into her wide, blue eyes. ‘Miss Culford.’

She nodded, her gaze sombre. ‘Mr Gower.’

‘What can I do for you?’ Stephen was struck anew by her eyes and the caramel curls that framed her temples. ‘Only, I think it would benefit both of us to get back inside.’

‘I witnessed the commotion a while ago, and when someone said you took control of the situation, I wanted to make sure you were all right.’

‘As you can see, I’m fine.’ He gently took her elbow. ‘Now, might I escort you back inside?’

‘Not yet. I…’ Unfamiliar hesitation flashed in her eyes before she cleared her throat and stared at him with complete resolve. ‘I need your advice.’

Unease rippled through him. ‘My advice?’

‘Yes.’ She dipped her head towards the side of the steps, indicating they should move away from the stream of customers walking back and forth around them. ‘It’s about something quite sensitive.’

He studied her. No doubt she intended to ask for a favour of some sort, but he couldn’t stand the way she trembled in the cold. If he listened, then maybe he could get her back inside sooner rather than later. Stephen guided her to the side of the entrance. ‘How can I help?’

She looked into his eyes, searching for God knew what, before blinking and taking a deep breath. ‘I am due in court in two days.’

‘Court?’ Shock reverberated through him. ‘For what?’

‘A divorce. My divorce.’ Her cheeks reddened. ‘My husband – soon-to-be ex-husband – is threatening to take my children.’ She lifted her chin. ‘But I won’t allow that to happen and I hope you can help me.’

Stephen briefly closed his eyes. What in God’s name had he done to be dragged into not one but two cases of people wanting his help, because of his police experience?

He met her gaze and found it softly laced with pleading… any refusal he might have momentarily harboured dissolved. Why would she come to him for help unless she had absolutely no one else to ask? Was she alone and fighting to draw a line through her past just as he was?

Rubbing his hand back and forth over his jaw, he sighed. ‘Then I’d better hear the whole story. How about meeting for coffee after work?’

Relief lit her eyes, turning them such a brilliant, mesmerising blue, Stephen’s heart stumbled a second time.

She grasped his arm. ‘Oh, thank you. Could we possibly meet at lunchtime? Only, I work half a day on Wednesdays. Could you get away around one, do you think? There’s a wonderful teashop not far from here.’

‘Of course.’ He smiled yet was scared senseless by the unexpected lift in his chest. This woman was beginning to affect his judgement and that was not good. Not good at all. ‘Now, let’s get inside.’