by Gwen Gardner
Dark, narrow alleys closed around us, the buildings leaning together overhead as we raced through the twisting passageways. The corridors became cave-like, dark and damp, as we ran further and further, and ever downward into the maze of passages. I hadn’t seen anyone, but muted light shone through shaded windows. The further down we ran, the more noticeable the odors; cooking smells mingled with rotting garbage, and the faint odor of urine.
Mist and fog distorted the sounds of pounding footsteps bouncing off the stone walls so that we couldn’t tell how close our pursuers were.
The cobblestones beneath our feet, slick from rain, made it difficult to stay upright. We used the stone walls to keep our balance, running our hands along the rough surface to guide us through the darkness. The blisters popped on my burnt hand and I gasped with pain. I hurtled around a corner and ducked into a dark stairwell, dragging Badger behind me. We tumbled further up the stairs, breathless, into the shadows. I hoped that I hadn’t gotten us trapped. Trying to control my heavy breathing, I peered into the alley below for the two men.
A crashing noise reverberated down the alleyway, as if someone had run into a garbage bin and sent it rolling downhill. Two men passed the stairwell, their chests heaving. A voice rasped out, “We lost them.”
Still we waited. The only sound in the dark stairwell was our own heavy breathing, when out of the shadows above us, a whispering voice said, “Are you two going to ‘ang out in the dark ‘all, or are you going to come inside?”
Chapter Eleven
Voice From Above
We both jumped and started to bolt, but then I recognized the voice, the way he dropped his h’s.
“Cappy?” I whispered into the darkness.
“Yeah, it’s me.”
I tugged on Badger’s sleeve, pulling him upward. Cappy grabbed my coat sleeve and pulled me inside a tiny, cold apartment. He led us down a dark hall, past a closed door with light shining beneath and canned laughter coming from a television. At the end of the corridor, he pulled a set of wooden steps down from the ceiling. We followed him up through an attic and out a door onto the roof. He held a finger to his lips.
“Come on,” he whispered. Crouched low, he ran through a labyrinth of passages and chimney pots across the rooftop. Badger and I followed.
The rooftop was like entering a different world, one where glowing eyes blinked out of dark corners. After a few minutes, Cappy brought us up short, and ducked down before approaching the far wall. We did the same. Voices drifted up from the alley below, on what must have been the next street over from where we entered. We peeked over the wall and spied two men standing in the narrow alleyway, talking.
“They got away,” said the taller of the two men, “do you think they suspected we was followin’ them?”
“Nah,” said the shorter, potbellied man. “How could they? It were dark and raining, weren’t it?” He said it like the other man was simple-minded. “Let’s get outta here and report in.”
The tall man wiped his nose on his sleeve. “Do we have to?” “The boss ain’t gonna like this.” They walked away down the alley.
“Come on,” said Cappy, “we’ll talk inside.” We made our way back over the rooftops to the apartment. I was completely lost and glad that Cappy was there to guide us.
Back inside, we walked silently down the hall, passing once again the closed door with the muted television sounds.
“Are your parent’s home?” I asked.
“I live with my grandmother,” Cappy answered. “She’s watching the tube. We can talk in the kitchen.”
Sitting in the tiny kitchen with hot mugs of tea, Badger asked, “Do you know who they were?”
“Yeh,” said Cappy. “Those two are bad news, they are. The short one is Billy Radcliffe, and the other one is ‘is brother, Ralph.” He sipped his tea. “What does that lot want with you two, anyway?”
Neither of us answered.
“I get it,” said Cappy, shrugging. “None of my business, right?”
On Wednesday morning I jogged through the village, keeping away from the ginnels (that would be alleys in American English), when I ran into Cappy with a group of boys crossing the town square. He wore jeans and a red sweat-jacket. The hoodie hid his face, but I recognized his frame and slight hunch.
I sprinted across the square, calling his name.
He turned and waited for me. The other boys stared curiously, but Cappy said he would catch up with them and they moved on.
Slightly breathless, I said, “I wanted to thank you for last night, for coming to our rescue. I know you didn’t have to, and I appreciate it.”
“No problem,” he answered. “Always willin’ to help a damsel in distress.” He was cocky, but the look on his face was dead serious. He pushed his hands into his pockets and looked around. “‘Sides, I owed you one, like, for that ‘eads up you gave me the other day.”
“Oh, that. No big deal.” I shrugged.
“How did you know?” he asked, tilting his head.
Cappy was a street-smart kid. If my vision came true, then of course his curiosity about me would be aroused.
I looked around, played with a thread on my coat, cleared my throat. “It’s a secret.”
“You can trust me, ya know?” he said. “Just because I ‘ang around with that lot,” he jerked his head in the direction of the ragtag crew of boys, “don’t mean I ain’t trustworthy.”
I believed him. “All right, then. But what I tell you has to remain a secret. No one else can know. Not any of your friends. No one.”
He nodded in agreement.
“I have the second sight,” I said. “When I shook your hand the other day, I had a flash of what might happen, in my head, if you went to the park.”
He was silent.
Rainwater dripped from the eave overhead. Muted conversations drifted from across the square. A burst of laughter erupted from the Blind Badger.
And still Cappy didn’t say anything. He only looked at me and waited for me to continue.
“I’m psychic, but I’m better at speaking to ghosts.” Still mute, wondering if I was yanking his chain, no doubt. I waited until he arrived at the only conclusion possible.
His voice was low when he leaned in to speak. “I believe you. You saved me from all sorts of aggro by not going there. A bloke got stabbed. Coulda been me. I owe you.”
“Thank you. It means a lot to me – and you won’t tell?” I was shaky, and not used to telling my secret to anyone, let alone a virtual stranger.
“Nah. We all have our secrets, don’t we?”
I raised my eyebrows. “Yeah. Some more than others.” The sarcasm wasn’t lost on him. He grinned.
“So what can I do for you?” he asked.
“You know these streets. You know people and places that I don’t.”
“Yeah. I’m sure that’s true.” He waited.
“We could use your help,” I said. I looked around to be sure we weren’t overheard. “Could you meet us later at the pub? Come through the alley, er, ginnel - nine o’clock. We’ll be in the back snug.”
“Is this about last night?” he asked.
“Yes. I’ll explain everything later.”
He nodded. “All right then.”
Cappy took a ribbing from his friends when he rejoined them. “You hooking up with that broad?” a rough looking boy had asked, accompanied by catcalls and smooching noises. “Get on with you,” he answered.
The Blind Badger bustled that Wednesday evening due to the holidays. A few couples sat at smaller tables, candlelight casting romantic glows on their faces in the muted lighting. The big round table near the fireplace was occupied as usual, a group of tourists drinking and laughing loudly.
Ghostly revelers occupied empty tables. All men, they cat-called their appreciation of a lone seventeenth century serving girl. She wore a white chemise under a black bodice vest and brown billowy skirt with apron, her white mop cap bobbing as she floated around the tables. She laugh
ed, expertly dodging and slapping at wandering hands as she served frothy mugs of ale.
Bart sat in his usual seat at the bar, reading the newspaper. Agatha’s spirit served alongside Charlie the bartender. I wondered if she was waiting to cross over with Bart. After the snug storm, he seemed to only interact with her, oblivious to anyone else, living or dead.
And in a dusky corner a shadow hovered, faceless, evil pouring out in waves. The Dark Shadow again. Eyeless and menacing, robbing me of breath.
I gasped. My heart plummeted to my toes. .
Simon turned. “What is it?” He glanced around the room but didn’t see it.
“The Shadow. In the corner,” I whispered, pointing with a shaky hand.
“Come on.” He took my arm and led me down the crooked hall. “Bloody thing.”
The snug was warm, with a cozy fire burning in the grate, and the smell of fresh coffee brewing.
“Are you all right now?” Simon whispered, trying to be discreet. I didn’t like to talk about the Shadow.
His gaze settled on my face, but I only nodded, not making eye contact, trying to still my shaking hands enough to pour a cup of coffee.
A few minutes later the back door quietly closed and light footsteps made their way to the snug.
A tap on the door and our visitor came in.
I stood up. “Everyone, this is Cappy.”
“Who the bloody hell is he?” demanded Simon.
Chapter Twelve
The Gang Meets Cappy
Cappy leaned nonchalantly in the doorway, straight-faced and apparently unaffected by the tension he caused.
“I invited him to this meeting,” I said. “I think he can help us.” Yes, I was squirming. I brought a stranger into our midst and was about to tell him our secrets.
“How do you know him and why is he here?” Simon growled. The glower in his eyes was not encouraging.
“Yeah, how do you know him?” chimed in Badger, looking Cappy up and down with a frown. He had met him last night in a not-so-nice neighborhood, but since he basically rescued us, he hadn’t stopped to question it then. But now?
I had to admit, Cappy didn’t make the best first impression, looking like the artful dodger and all. Tonight he wore his filthy chimney-sweep coat with the over-long sleeves rolled up, and a cap sitting askew upon his head. His cheeks were smudged with charcoal and his scraggly brown hair hung in his eyes. I was pretty sure he looked that way on purpose, to antagonize the gang, so they’d know he didn’t care what they thought.
I sighed and shook my head. Little dude needed to learn how to pick and choose his rebellious moments better.
“I picked a strange kid off the street and brought him here because it sounded like a fun way to let him pick our pockets!” My sarcasm did not impress them. I rolled my eyes. “He’s our chimney sweep and my new friend.” I indicated to Cappy that he should take the empty seat next to me. Observing the suspicious looks of Badger and Simon, prudence said to keep the little guy close to me. He might require my protection before the night was out. “And he also just happened to save our arse’s last night,” I reminded Badger. “Or don’t you remember?” I said with raised eyebrows. It didn’t change his mutinous expression. But I did have fun saying arse, like a true Brit.
Figuring that was as good as it got for the moment, I introduced Cappy around. “You know Badger, that’s his sister Riley, and this is my cousin, Simon.” They nodded in his direction, but still eyed him suspiciously. “I’m vouching for him,” I added. Surprised when nobody called me out on it, I realized we had the whole night ahead of us for that.
With a cheery fire in the fireplace and five bodies in damp clothing stuffed into the small room, the snug became muggy. Condensation gathered on the foggy window before meandering down the panes like slow-moving snakes. I kept forgetting that Christmas was quickly approaching until the colorful blinking lights rimming the snug window forced me to remember. I wished we could skip December all together. January was looking pretty good from where I sat.
I explained to Cappy that Badger and Riley had questions about what had been going on in their dad’s life before his disappearance.
“I suspect that was why we were followed last night. We were asking questions and making someone nervous,” I said.
“So who’ve you told then?” asked Cappy. “About the investigation, I mean.”
Silence echoed loudly in the little snug. All heads turned to Badger. We hadn’t forgotten who was in charge of this, er, inquiry.
“What investigation? Who said anything about an investigation?” asked Badger harshly, pinning Cappy to the spot like a fly under a flyswatter. He had been playing with a stained beer coaster, twirling it one-handed through nimble fingers, but stopped abruptly.
Cappy raised his eyebrows. “Come on, mate. You go around asking questions about your dad and now those lowlifes are tailing you. By now, whoever did this knows you lot are snooping.”
Badger scowled, but Cappy had pinned the tail directly on the donkey’s butt.
“He’s right,” I said. “Someone is on to us. Or at least they’re nervous about us asking questions. They can’t have any idea what we’re really up to. At least not yet.”
“Any number of people could know where we were and the kind of questions we asked by now,” said Badger. “Obviously we’ve hit a nerve.”
I turned to Badger. “And obviously,” I pointed out, “we haven’t been discreet.”
“I never said I knew what I was doing.” His eyes drew together in a frown and his shoulders stiffened as he turned his focus to the twirling coaster.
Last night might never have happened. I don’t know what I expected. He made it clear that the kiss was all part of the ruse. Just a fake make-out session between a fake couple. All for the cause. I wouldn’t think about it. At least, not until I got home. Then I might dissect the whole relationship, or lack of one, under a high-powered microscope.
I turned my attention back to the conversation without a blink. That’s how good I am.
“None of us do,” said Simon.
“No, we don’t.” I agreed, back to focusing on the situation at hand. “But now we’re being followed, so someone suspects something. It doesn’t necessarily mean they know for sure we’re investigating. I think they’re probably keeping an eye on us for now. It means we need to be more careful.”
“What about last night?” Riley asked. For a nanosecond, me and my one-track mind assumed she meant the “kiss.” But then she followed with, “Did you get any useful information out of Nat?” Her head was bent, shiny hair tucked behind ruby-studded ears, scrolling through her cell phone. The question was the only outward sign that she paid attention to the conversation.
Heated mutterings of blasted phone kept escaping under Riley’s breath and a frown of frustration wrinkled her forehead. The ghostly serving girl, the one I saw coming in, hung over her shoulder. A look of rapt wonder shone from her eyes. She had copied Riley and used her finger to scroll through messages. The action was counter to what Riley tried to do.
“Only that he thinks Dad and Shelly were having an affair. He was rat-arsed, of course, so he pretty much spewed all sorts of venom about them. But...” Badger looked at me and so did the others.
That was my cue. “I shook his hand,” I added, “then I had a vision of him shaking Shelly - rather violently.” I held up my bandaged hand. Simon had applied burn cream to it last night, but, even hours later, tiny blisters were still popping up.
“Blimey,” exclaimed Cappy. “I never ‘eard such a thing!”
Neither had the others, I could tell, but I shrugged it off.
“And where do I come in to all this?” asked Cappy.
“Like I said earlier,” I began. “You know these streets better than we do. You have the ability to blend in better than we would, in certain areas.”
I shifted on the bench and crossed my legs, wincing when the damaged skin on my knee stretched. I was still recovering fro
m the last injury.
Cappy said nothing, so I continued.
“I’d like you to follow Billy and Ralph, see what they’re up to, where they go.”
“He shouldn’t ask any questions, though,” added Simon, looking around the table. “That could be too dangerous...”
“...they must know all of us by now...” added Badger.
“...and stay hidden, of course,” Riley put in.
Cappy whipped his head from side to side as everyone began speaking at once.
“...We would pay you, of course...” I said.
“‘old on a minute.” Cappy held up both hands. “First,” he said, looking at me, “I don’t want to be paid. I owe you one, remember? And I always pay me debts.”
Everyone’s eyes turned to me. Explaining that I gave him useful advice that paid off would have taken too much time and taken us off track, so a shrug would have to suffice.
“And second, you lot are gonna get ‘urt if I don’t,” he said.
I sighed. This whole thing would work a whole lot better if Cappy wasn’t so cocky. The others didn’t trust him and he was determined to show them he didn’t care.
Riley shut her phone with a frustrated snap and tucked it into her back pocket. “How about a break?”
The serving girl, slightly put out, drifted away.
Riley returned ten minutes later with a plate of sandwiches and crisps. That would be potato chips in American English.
“Leftovers, anyone?” She set the plates down in the middle of the table. We pounced on the sandwiches like piranhas that hadn’t eaten in a while. Cappy slipped a sandwich into his right pocket while grabbing another with his left.
Simon peeled back the edge of his bread to find a creamy smeared meat. “Liverwurst.” He disgustedly dropped the sandwich back onto his plate and grabbed another. When that one turned out to be liverwurst, too, he picked up a bag of salt and vinegar crisps and slumped back onto the bench.
The laughter broke the tension in the room for the first time.
“I’ll take that if you’re not gonna eat it,” said Cappy. He finished the two triangles of sandwich in four bites, before starting on another sandwich. We watched in amazement. Where did the little guy put it all?
