“What are you saying, Mr. Baptiste?”
“If it was a robbery gone wrong, why would they have left your husband’s watch?” Pierre looked at me, then turned to face Mrs. Reid. “Priscilla, what was your husband’s trade, if I might ask?”
“He.” She leaned back as if stunned by Pierre’s question. “I…what does that have to do with anything?”
“I believe this was a planned murder to look like a robbery. If I knew what your husband did to earn his wages, perhaps…”
“He worked in the factories south of the Thames. He washed wool.” She replied without looking at either of us, then added with a quick glance toward Pierre. “He was of no importance to anyone but me. There is no reason someone would want my husband dead. No, we were of no importance,” she repeated. Her head shook back and forth with a slow, steady motion.
“Who else knew of the coffer and its location?” I asked.
“No one. Not even our daughter knew.”
“Well someone had to have known.” I looked around the room. “Nothing else appears to have been disturbed. It is as if they knew where to look.”
“Mrs. Reid, are you sure no one knew of the location?”
“No, Franklin was insistent on keeping it a secret. It was our life savings.”
“Perhaps he was forced to open the box.” I added, trying to give light to the situation. I was beginning to feel inadequate in my ability to help.
“An excellent observation, Thomas, but unlikely in Mr. Reid’s case.” Pierre smiled at me.
“Why is that?”
“Mr. Reid was a loyal and proud man. He would have put up a fight to protect his property, and there is no sign of a struggle. Whoever did this, came in, murdered Mr. Reid then went to the location of the coffer.”
“Then someone had to have known,” I said.
“No.” It sounded more of a question than a statement. She blotted her eyes and looked at us. “What am I going to do? We…I have nothing left.”
“Listen to me, Mrs. Reid. We shall figure this out. You have my word. I am going to ask of you something you will not like, but you must obey my directive. It is imperative that you send word to the magistrate—”
“No, I do not trust him, Pierre. The man is a scoundrel. Please, can you take care of this for me and for Franklin?”
“Yes, I will, but we cannot hide this. Mr. Wilcox must be notified, and your husband’s body examined. There will have to be an inquest. If we do not report this crime, we can be arrested and tried for perverting the course of justice.”
“I do not like it. For all I know, Mr. Wilcox is responsible for Franklin’s death.” She stared at her husband lying on the floor.
“Why would you say such a thing, Mrs. Reid? Is there something you are not telling us?”
“I do not trust the man. Besides, ask anyone in the area, and they will say the same thing. The man is evil.”
“As much as I detest the man, I cannot imagine he would dirty his hands with murder. If he did have something to do with this, then he will be looking to sell the jewelry. You know how he operates. He will ask you if you are offering a reward for the return of your valuables then he will arrest one of his thieves for the crime, and collect the reward. It is how he operates. He will not murder someone with his own hands. If he wants someone out of the way, he has them arrested on false charges, and he lets the judge sentence the person to death.”
“It is his fault, I just know it.”
“Priscilla, when he asks about a reward, tell him twenty shillings—”
“I do not have that kind of money.”
“Do not worry, I will pay the reward. If Mr. Wilcox asks, and I am sure he will, tell him you have the money but do not say how you obtained it.”
“Very well, if you insist.”
“Please, Mrs. Reid, whatever you do, do not tell Mr. Wilcox we were here. I do not want him to know that we are looking into this, especially for Thomas’s sake.”
“I shall go to one of the other neighbors and ask them to fetch Mr. Wilcox as soon as the two of you are gone. What then?”
“Tomorrow morning, we shall come back and check on you, and talk to some of the neighbors. This happened during the day. Someone must have seen or heard something.” Pierre placed his arm around her. “I know this is difficult, but please, we shall find out who did this. I promise.”
“Thank you, Mr. Baptiste, and you as well, Mr. Newton. As always I am in your debt.”
“No need for that.” I rubbed her arm. “We shall see you tomorrow.”
“Yes, yes all right.” She stood and escorted us to the door. She waited until we made it back to the carriage before closing the door.
“What did you find out?” Christopher asked.
“Not much,” I said. “The thief knew the exact location of the coffer but Mrs. Reid swears no one knew the existence of the box, let alone its location, and she had the only key around her neck, which appears to have been swapped with another.”
“Home?” Christopher opened the door.
“Yes, there is nothing else we can do here tonight.” Pierre looked up and down the street with expectant caution.
“Is something wrong?”
“It is best if we are not here when Mr. Wilcox arrives.” Pierre entered the carriage, and I climbed in after him.
I could tell something was bothering Pierre. He had remained too quiet on our journey back to Clapton’s. “What is troubling you?” I asked.
“There is something about this that is not sitting right with me.”
“How so?”
“I cannot seem to find the source of my discontent,” Pierre said. “Ah, it has been a long and trying day for all of us, perhaps what I need is a good night’s rest to put my mind in order.”
Chapter 3
I awoke before dawn with Christopher snuggled against my back and I the same to Pierre. The morning sun drifted through the window and cast its warmth across our bodies. In my childhood, I was never one to linger in bed in the mornings, out of fear of my father, but it was mornings like this before the reality of daily life rose after the sun, I felt the most at peace and wondered how I survived all those years without someone to love.
A sudden wave of emotion bathed my body with the realization that today was the first day without Mr. Green in my life. For the first time in many years, perhaps the first time in my life, I felt hope for the future, my future, and I was determined to make the most of it. The thought brought a smile to my face. I snuggled closer to the men on either side of me.
Christopher stirred and drew his body closer to mine. His lean prick pressed between my buttocks, making my prick stir with need. I moved my hips back and forth, feeling the length and firmness of his prick slide up and down my arse. Christopher’s prick, dampened with its morning dew, slicked my arse and made our motion all the more pleasurable. He moaned. His breath caressed my neck. I gasped from the sudden invasion of his prick. He kissed my back and nibbled my skin, as he rocked himself against me.
A flush of desire came over me. I grabbed the trunk of my prick and slipped it inside Pierre, waking him with the burning sting of my insertion. A groan from somewhere deep inside Pierre vibrated against my body. Tracing my fingers up his thigh, I tickled the trunk of his prick. His prick bobbed and nodded and leaked an abundance of an early release that fell into the tight, curly pubic hair. I wrapped my fingers around his prick and palmed him.
The three of us lay with each other. The only sound was what our bodies made between them. There was no need for words or the common dirty talk between men like us. All that was necessary was the act of fucking, or what Christopher had begun calling our loving making. It was the three of us in blissful union. The need for others was a distant memory of our former lives, and as Christopher spewed his seed into me and I spent into Pierre, I felt Pierre release himself into my hand. Nothing else in the world mattered but the gifts we were giving and receiving.
“Good morning, my hand
some man.” Pierre rolled over, forcing my shrinking prick from his arse. He kissed me. My body shuddered, I moaned as Christopher withdrew himself. He reached across my body and pulled Pierre closer, pressing me between their warm bodies. I closed my eyes and inhaled the sex-laced odor of the room.
“I wish we could stay like this all day,” I said.
“Perhaps one day soon, the three of us can take a holiday.” Pierre nibbled my shoulder. “Then we could spend days like this.” He raised his eyebrows. Dimples marked his smile as he sighed and tossed the covers from his body. “Unfortunately, we have work that must be attended to.”
“Shall I make us some breakfast?” Christopher rose from the bed, raised his arms toward the ceiling, and stretched.
“Some coffee and toast would be perfect,” I replied. I watched Christopher’s long, slender prick dangle between his legs. Remnants of our sex matted the tight moss of pubic hair, and the hair that stretched across his belly. He leaned forward and touched his toes, groaning with the stretch. I found myself facing his firm behind. The light from the morning sun glistened through the fine hair covering his arse. The sight made me want him even more. I could not help but to reach out and slap his buttocks.
“Thomas.”
“I cannot be held responsible for my actions if you insist on exposing your arse to me.” I stood, slapped his buttocks once more, then reached for my clothes.
“Then I shall refrain from ever showing it to you again.” He slipped on his under linens then pulled on his breeches.
“You would not dare.”
“You are right. I would not.” He smiled, kissed my neck then grabbed his shirt.
“The two of you are incorrigible.”
“I hope you are not feeling left out.” I walked up to Pierre and nuzzled his furry chest while I stroked his still stiff prick.
“Sometimes I think you have the devil himself inside you, Thomas,” Pierre said. He moaned from the attention I gave his prick.
“Your superstitious nature does not seem to mind.” I stroked him with more vigor.
“You should not start something you cannot finish.”
“Who said anything about stopping?” I fell on the bed on my hands and knees and wiggled my arse. “Take me if you can, Mr. Baptiste.” I looked over my shoulder and wiggled my arse.
“I shall go get breakfast started.” Christopher laughed and left the room as Pierre mounted me from behind.
* * * *
“Christopher, have your parents given any more thought to my offer of letting them live in the house in Bishop’s Stortford?” I asked as we gathered at the table for breakfast.
“They have.” Christopher poured the coffee. “As you know, your generous offer left them rather speechless. They have lived in their small rented flat for their entire married life, my father even longer, and to think of life in such an elegant house was a dream come true for them.”
“So, they have agreed?” I interrupted as I blew across the surface of the hot beverage before taking my first sip.
“After I told them that it was your wish to rid the house of the unhappy memories left by your childhood and Mr. Green, and they would be doing you a great favor by bringing joy and love back into the home, they have accepted your offer.”
“That is wonderful news,” Pierre said. “Thomas, what is wrong? I thought you would be happy with the news.”
“I am. It is what I wanted.”
“Then why the worried look?”
“I hope my offer to your parents did not raise any speculations as to our intimate relationship.”
Christopher laughed. “Thomas, they know.”
“You must be joking.” I coughed, almost choking on a piece of toast. “For how long?”
“Since the day, Mr. Green found us together in my room and beat me to within an inch of my life.” He took a drink of his coffee. “How else was I going to explain the injuries I sustained? I was already in such pain; I believed I had nothing left to lose in telling my parents the truth.”
“Do not look so shocked.” Pierre placed his hand on my shoulder. “While our activities go against the Church of England and the laws, there are those who see love in a different way. Mother Clap was a beautiful example of letting people love whoever they wanted. You should know that better than anyone.”
“I understand there are people, like Mother, who love unconditionally.” I wiped the coffee from my lips. “I suppose I am more accustomed to people’s cruelty and intolerance than I am to their kindness and understanding.” I looked at Christopher. “I do not mean any disrespect to your parents, by assuming they were of the former group, but I often worry about people finding out about us. We are, after all, three men living together.”
“No offense taken I can assure you. The knowledge their son was a sodomite was not easy on them. Thankfully, they loved me enough to see past my preferences in the bedchamber.” Christopher’s cheeks blossomed with a red hue. “It is a fanciful notion on my part, but I would like to think the majority of people have my parents’ compassion.”
“While I share your hope of human kindness, Christopher, I think Thomas has made a good point about our outward appearance. The Society for the Reformations of Manners has lost much of its power over the last six months, but the members are still out there living among us with their same hate and intolerance. It would be foolish of us not to recognize the potential danger they could pose as individual citizens.”
“What do you suggest?” I was alarmed at the sudden turn of tone around the table.
“I have none.” Pierre shrugged. “I will say this; I am not going to start dressing as a woman just for the sake of appearances.”
“Now that is something I would like to see.” I laughed, as did Christopher.
“Not a chance.” Pierre joined in the laughter. “But to get back on point about Christopher’s parents and the house.”
“Yes, sorry.” I cleared my throat of another laugh. “How soon can they move in?”
“Because of Mr. Green’s conviction of treason—” Pierre wiped his mouth on the napkin “—the king seized all of his property. We shall have to wait for the inheritance to be released.”
“How long are we talking about?”
“I cannot imagine it would take more than a fortnight. After all, there is no question you are the rightful heir. It is a simple matter of clearing up the paperwork and having the property released and signed over to you. The Cantor’s were well known and beloved by all. There is no question as to how their wealth came about.”
“Christopher, you should send word to your parents and let them know that as soon as his majesty releases the property they can move in.”
“I guess I forgot to tell you, my parents are in London for a few days.” Christopher wiped his mouth. “I am spending the day with them, so I shall let them know when I see them.”
“I wish we could meet them, but Pierre and I must go back to Spitalfields and interview Mrs. Reid’s neighbors.”
“I know they would love to meet the two of you. Perhaps we can arrange something while my parents are in town.”
“I would like that.”
“Why don’t you take the carriage today?” Pierre finished his coffee. “Thomas and I will hire a coachman to take us to Spitalfields and the dinner party tonight.”
“I had forgotten all about it.” Christopher stood and cleared the plates. “Would the two of you mind going without me? I would like to spend the evening with my parents. We do not see much of each other these days.”
“Pierre and I will be fine and will give your apologies to Mr. Wilcox. Tell your parents we look forward to meeting them soon.”
Pierre stood. “We should be going. We have a lot to do today.” He leaned across the table and kissed Christopher.
“Of course.” I walked over to Christopher and kissed him as well.
Pierre placed his arm around my shoulders as we walked out the door. Once nearing the edge of the street, P
ierre opened the space between us to keep our intimate familiarity from prying eyes. It was not more than five minutes before we were able to wave down a carriage to take us to Spitalfields.
* * * *
“Shall I wait for you, sir?” The hired coachman asked as he opened the door for us.
“That will not be necessary.” Pierre handed the man sixpence.
“Good day to you both.” The man tipped his hat, bowed then climbed up on his seat and with a click of his tongue, the horses trotted down the street.
“Where do we begin?” I asked, feeling overwhelmed at the task ahead of us.
“Let us find out what Mrs. Reid can tell us after her conversation with Mr. Wilcox.” We waited for several Hackney carriages to pass then preceded across the street. The door was opened before Pierre had a chance to knock.
“Please, come in,” Mrs. Reid said. She poked her head out and looked in both directions then shut the door in the same urgent manner as she opened it.
“You seem rattled this morning,” Pierre said.
I walked into the living room to wait for them. “Pierre?” I called out. When he did not answer, I peered into the hallway. Pierre was holding Mrs. Reid’s hand. “Pierre, you need to see this…or not to see as the case may be.”
“What?” Pierre looked at me.
“The corpse. Mr. Reid’s body.” I turned and stared at the drying blood on the rug. Everything was as it had been less than twelve hours ago, except that Mr. Reid’s body was gone.
“Where?” Pierre looked at me then at Mrs. Reid. “What happened to your husband’s body? The coroner could not have come and gone so soon.” He looked around the room.
“He came moments after Mr. Wilcox arrived.” Mrs. Reid dabbed her eyes with her handkerchief.
“But the body…what about the inquest into his death? They cannot rule this as anything but suspicious.”
“I do not understand.” I glanced at Pierre. He raised his eyebrows and shook his head then nodded toward the trolley and a pot of steaming coffee. “Mrs. Reid, what happened last night after we left?” I poured her a cup then took a seat on the settee across from her. Pierre joined me.
Den of Thieves Page 4
