Page 54 of Molly Boys
“The Black Orchid sails the tea runs from China mostly, but from what I hear they bring in other commodities from the continent and take passengers occasionally.”
“Did you know Charles Wakefield well?” Franklin asked suddenly.
Ev tensed, causing Franklin to shift his gaze to him once more as they walked.
“Lord Stanley, I’m not going to lie. I could use your help. This case… well, it’s unlike any I’ve come across so far and believe me, I’ve seen a lot of murders. There’s something about this killer… about how he chooses his victims…” Franklin frowned. “I can’t just walk into The Nichol and start asking questions about ten dead boys I’m not supposed to know about. It means Charles Wakefield and David Perkins are the only victims I can investigate right now, and I’m at a dead end. No one is talking and I suspect you know why. You’re my only link to the two dead men.”
Ev released a long sigh. “It’s not that simple.”
“It can be.”
“For a detective that’s risen that quickly through the ranks, surely you can’t be so naive?” Ev stared at Archie. “I sympathise with the dead, more than you know, but I have to protect the living.”
“And you think I won’t?”
“I think you are bound by rules and laws you can’t ignore.” Ev shook his head, his brow wrinkling in frustration.
“And you think those rules and laws don’t apply to you too?” Franklin grasped his arm, halting Ev’s movements and forcing him to meet his eyes.
“The world isn’t that black and white, Inspector,” Ev said quietly.
“Please.”
Just one word, spoken with such sincerity it made Ev’s chest ache. He wanted to help. He wanted the killer caught, but he couldn’t risk the police finding out about Francis or the Islington house; it wasn’t as well established or as hidden as Mother Clap’s.
“There are things about Charlie and David I can’t tell you… that I won’t tell you,” Ev said frankly. “There are others I have to protect. I don’t care what happens to me but I won’t risk them.”
“I care what happens to you,” Franklin admitted.
“Why?” Ev frowned, with genuine confusion. “You don’t know me.”
“Honestly, I don’t know.” Franklin shook his head, as confused as Ev appeared to be. “I just know I won’t let anything happen to you.”
Ev watched the man, trying to gauge his intention; he was hard to read, but everything in Ev’s gut told him the man was sincere. Ev blew out a resigned breath. He never thought he’d even contemplate trusting a policeman, yet here they were, and god help him, he wanted to tell the man the truth so badly the words danced on the edge of his tongue.
“There’s not much I can tell you.” Ev resisted the temptation to spill all the secrets he held. They weren’t his secrets to tell. “I only knew Charles in passing and met David briefly. But if I can help you catch their killer without risking the others, then I will.”
“Thank you,” Franklin replied, his attention drawn by the clatter of wheels over the snowy cobbles. He nodded toward the hackney cab. “Fancy a visit to the docks?”
Ev let out a huff of a laugh and shook his head. “Why not?”
* * *
The docks were, as usual, dirty, smelly, and loud. Tall masts towered high above them, circled by squawking gulls that every so often would land and perch atop the rolled-up sails. The noise was high and Ev found himself trying to separate out the various sounds: the creak of the wooden ships, the bellows of sailors and dockworkers, the crash and heave of cargo being moved to and from the ships.
Ev followed in the inspector’s wake as he weaved through the bustle and chaos confidently. He paused briefly to speak with a dockworker before changing direction.
As they neared a row of offices set back a way back from the edge of the docks, something caught Ev’s eye, or rather, someone. Drawn to a halt, Ev stood and watched. He couldn’t say what it was about the man who had just existed one of the offices, but there was something unsettlingly familiar about him. After a moment, Franklin, obviously realising Ev had come to a standstill, turned and moved back to stand beside him.
“What is it?” he asked, following the path of Ev’s gaze.
The man Ev observed wore a heavy overcoat which did nothing to hide his painfully thin and slightly hunched figure. He was holding a small, neatly wrapped package which he tucked into a brown leather satchel he wore slung diagonally across his body. The man suddenly looked up from beneath his shabby felt bowler hat and Ev inhaled sharply.
He recognised the man’s gaunt, pockmarked face and those watery, beady eyes that scanned the docks almost as if he could sense he was being watched. Ev couldn’t say why but he felt the almost overwhelming need to duck behind one of the stacks of cargo so the man couldn’t see him.
“Who is he?” Franklin asked.
“I don’t know.” Ev frowned. “But he was at the inquest.”