Once he reached the top, his gun aimed to shoot, he took in the hayloft. There were no madmen, werewolves, or even sizable bales of hay that might hide danger.
So where did the man go? His eyes snapped to the rafters, expecting to be pounced upon, but no, they were equally free of danger.
Studying the hay, he followed a faint trace of blood to the window. It was a twenty-foot drop to the ground, yet he saw no heavy impression denting the soil below.
He leaned out and up to see if the fellow might have chosen a different path.
“Hold it right there,” a tense voice ordered.
Not a warning he would expect from a madman. “Are you the constable I sent for?” he asked as he slipped his gun back into his holster, then raised his hands and turned slowly around.
“And who might you be?” the man wearing the uniform of a constable asked.
“Jacon Bienora…these are my wife’s lands.”
The constable lowered his gun. “Mr. Bienora, my apologies, sir. I thought you were the murderer coming out of hiding once everyone left.”
“No, but it appears the killer went through this window. Just not sure what happened next.”
Jacko made his way down the ladder and around the barn to the back. To his surprise, the constable didn’t follow.
A great deal of rope lay in a tangle on the ground. He glanced up at the pulley and nodded, now understanding how the man got down without denting the ground or breaking a leg.
Saved by a rope…an odd rope. He lifted a section and studied what looked to be hair tangled into the twists. Yanking a section out, he noticed root follicles at the end of the hair tips.
Most interesting. How did one pull their hair out when going down a rope? He couldn’t fathom the answer, but nonetheless that appeared to be what happened.
He placed some of the hairs in his vest pocket and went to find the constable. “I found hairs that probably belong to the killer,” he said as he entered the barn. Both the constable and the body were gone, the prints no longer visible. In fact, it appeared as if someone had purposely scuffed them out. He stormed outside and went to the farmhouse, seeing no other place the constable might be since the fellow’s horse remained tied to the tree.
Frederick’s eldest son stood at the kitchen table, wrapping a torn swatch of fabric around his sister’s neck. His intense, almost wild stare, indicated the boy was very close to breaking.
The constable was seated in the corner of the kitchen enjoying a cup of tea.
Jacko went to the boy. “Leeson, you don’t need to do that.”
The boy stopped. “The constable said he planned to take her into town on the back of his horse.” His jaw clenched. “I don’t want her head falling off.”
Jacko gripped his shoulders. “The constable is not taking your sister on his horse.” He glared at the fool sipping his tea. “If you must transport Daisy’s body to a doctor for his official declaration of death, I will provide a wagon.”
The constable took another sip of his tea, studying Jacko over the edge of the cup. “You are most helpful, Mr. Bienora, most helpful indeed.” He then stood. “And since you are so interested in this case, perhaps you will be so kind as to drive the wagon.”
“If you do not know how to drive a wagon, I will provide you a driver,” Jacko snapped.
“I would prefer you to drive. And don’t claim you don’t know how. I believe Jacko Black not only knows how to drive a wagon but captain a ship as well.”
The constable smiled as he aimed his gun at Jacko’s chest. “It took me a moment to recognize you, dressed in those fine clothes, but I’m good with names and faces, and you, sir, are an accomplished murderer. However, this is, without a doubt, your most despicable crime yet. And finally, you will hang.”
Chapter 3
Jacko closed his eyes. What were the chances the town’s new constable would have spent time working the shipping docks? “You are completely mistaken on all points, constable. My name is Jacon Bienora. I was in my bed asleep when a loud howl woke me. When I heard a rifle shot soon after, I dressed and came here at once. You can verify this with my wife and my butler. Frederick can attest I arrived from the direction of my house after he fired his gun.”
“So says the pirate,” the constable sneered.
“Please contact Inspector Stone of Scotland Yard. He knows me very well and can assure you I am not a pirate, nor a murderer of young girls,” Jacko said with more confidence than he felt. He hoped Stone would back him up, but the inspector ran hot and cold, and in this case, the fellow would need to skirt the truth to be of assistance. Truth was, ten years ago, Jacko had been a pirate, but he was no longer that man.
And even then, he would have never killed a young girl.
The constable’s smirk faded. After a pause he snorted. “You dangle names about, but it don’t mean nothing except your tongue is as slick as a snake’s.”
“I perceive we are at an impasse. So let us return to my estate, where a wagon can be obtained to carry Daisy and you may question my wife and butler without any possibility I have coached their answers.”
“I’m not wasting my time on unreliable witnesses. Now put your hands behind your back.”
“Shall I get the wagon for my sister?” the boy asked.
Jacko nodded.
The constable shook his head. “No, we’ll put her on Jacko’s horse.”
The boy said no more and stormed from the house.
Jacko grimaced. He should have told the boy to let Alice know he’d been arrested and to contact Xavier at once.
He considered escaping as the Constable re-holstered his gun, but since he wasn’t willing to kill the fool, he decided it was best to allow this unjust arrest to occur. Clearly, Jacko would need outside help. This idiot would never get to the truth, not even if it came and bit his nose.
When the constable shoved him outside, the boy and all three horses were gone. Jacko was impressed. Hellion wouldn’t normally move for anyone but him.
“Bloody hell! Where’d my horse go?”
“My horse may have set the two mares free and taken them back to his stable. He believes all females belong to him.”
“The hell he did. That boy must have taken him.”
“No, I didn’t,” Leeson scowled as he rose from the porch chair. “It’s like Master Bienora said. His horse took her and the other mare too.”
“A thief, just like the pirate who owns him.”
“No theft. I am certain if we walk to my manor, your horse will be there.”
“Oh, by all means, let us test your theory,” the constable declared and shoved Jacko in the back.
“Leeson, you should stay here, in case your father returns.”
The boy nodded and returned to the chair.
***
Through the entire walk up the hill to the manor, the constable went on about how Jacko was going to dangle. When they neared the entrance, he finally played the card Jacko had expected all along.
“Looks like pirates do very well for themselves. Shame you’re about to lose it all. You’ve a wife…any children?”
“Three.”
“Shame for them, being tossed out of their big house. Feel bad for them and your wife. They didn’t do nothing wrong.”
“No, they have not,” he agreed, finding this the slowest shake down he had ever endured.
“I might consider allowing you to remain free while I investigate the matter further.”
“I would greatly appreciate that,” Jacko said. “What do you require for this to occur?”
The constable paused. “Fifty pounds…”
“Done.” Jacko handed him back the cuffs he’d unlocked ten steps into their journey.
“A week,” the constable growled as he stared at the handcuffs.
Jacko’s eyes narrowed. “Do I have your word you will make your best effort to discover who really killed Daisy?”
The constable stared him straight in the eyes. “You
do.”
“And the payments stop when we find the true killer?”
“Unless it’s you. Then the price goes up.”
“Fair enough. I believe you’ll find your horse in the stable. If you truly need to take the body into town, I will provide you a wagon and a driver.”
The constable rocked back on heels as if something amused him greatly. “I’ll take the wagon and driver.”
He opened his front door. “I’ll let my butler know and then retrieve your first payment.”
“Better make it two payments,” the constable warned.
Jacko stopped and turned toward him. “I’m presuming you’re an old hand shaking down the poor. However, be warned blackmailing the rich has rules. Whatever is agreed upon is what will be paid and not a pence more. If they believe you cannot be trusted, they will hire someone to silence you forever.”
“Did you just threaten an officer of the law?” he demanded.
“Not at all. Just trying to assist you in the procedures of extorting the wealthy.” He leaned forward and spoke in his deadliest pirate growl, “Never make it easier to get rid of the problem than to pay the money. You’ve made a lucrative deal. Don’t be greedy.”
Finally, the constable stepped back, his eyes narrowed in slits.
Jacko looked up and spotted the butler Thomas standing at the kitchen door, concern etched on his face.
“Thomas, Constable…sorry, I never caught your name.”
“Constable Ott.”
“Constable Ott requires the use of a driver and the small wagon. Also, if his horse followed Hellion back, give him that as well.”
“Your horse returned with two, Elwood’s and one I do not know,” Thomas stated as Jacko and Ott entered the house.
“I’ll take them both,” Ott snapped.
Jacko’s eyes narrowed. “You may take your horse but no more.”
As Gretta exited the door she hurried straight to the constable. “You have to catch whoever did this!”
“I will try my hardest.” He stared at Jacko with a gleam of amusement.
Jacko turned away from him and gripped Greta’s hands. “The constable insists upon taking Daisy into town so the doctor can determine the cause of death. I am providing a driver and a wagon to carry her. You should perhaps accompany her and take Leeson as well.”
“That’s not necessary,” Ott said.
“It certainly is,” Greta snapped. “Daisy is my daughter.”
Jacko left the two arguing while he headed to the library and retrieved fifty pounds for the corrupt officer of the law. He returned to find Ott cornered by two angry mothers. The sight would have made him laugh if not for the horrible circumstances that had led to this situation.
He shook the man’s hand, passing him the money. “Thank you, Constable. I would appreciate you providing me weekly updates.”
The man snorted and stuffed the money into his trouser pocket. “Not a problem since I’m arresting you for the theft of my horse.”
Not many men surprised Jacko with the depth of their treachery, but Constable Ott had managed.
“Are you insane?” Alice yelled. “Your horse followed Hellion here. Jacko had nothing to do with it!”
As the man replaced the handcuffs on Jacko, Jacko spoke to Alice, who had grabbed a small brass statue and looked ready to kill Ott. “Contact Xavier. He has the skills to handle this.”
The butler moved to her side and gently removed the brass statue from Alice’s hand and replaced it on the shelf. “I will send a messenger at once, sir.”
“Send all the messengers you like. Won’t change a thing,” Ott declared and pulled Jacko from the house.
Chapter 4
Xavier Thorn paused to take in the impressive mansion before him. To acquire the wealth necessary to secure such a home in such short time gave him concern. He had established Vic’s prior driver as Crime Lord of the Lower Docks a half year before to reinstate stability among the criminal elements. Given Samson’s mansion, Xavier worried the young man had taken on his new role with too much enthusiasm. Odd that Stone hadn’t complained about an increase in crime on the west side of town.
He entered the foyer, where a butler welcomed him, took his hat and coat then led him into a sitting room. A moment later, a servant returned and led Xavier to Samson’s library, which looked identical to Xavier’s, even down to the same maroon leather chairs.
Samson motioned him to the left chair, poured them both whiskeys and joined him, sitting in the right chair, which would have been Xavier’s in his own library. Xavier took note of the subtle power play.
“I gather business is going well?” Xavier asked with an arched brow.
The young man chuckled. “Worried Vic’s former driver has gone to the dark side?”
“You wouldn’t be the first who fell to the lure of corruption.”
Samson leaned forward. “Truly? You’ve had someone, whom Vic sees as family, go rogue?”
The young man’s challenge caused Xavier to smile in relief. His partner, Vic, still held Samson’s reins. “Actually, no. He definitely was not a member of Vic’s family. In fact, he disliked Vic immensely.”
Samson leaned back and sipped his whiskey. “To your question, business is going very well. Vic showed me mathematically that an honest gambling facility should make money, and if mine weren’t, then my workers were stealing. Through statistical analysis of the wins per table, he isolated which of my crew I needed to watch, and sure enough, they were favoring a player.”
“And you fired them?”
Samson frowned. “As a crime lord, I have a reputation to protect. If they think I’m soft, all hell will break loose.”
Xavier nodded in agreement. That was exactly what he worried about. Samson had a very thin line to navigate within.
“So I broke a few bones, bloodied them so they looked skinned alive, carved ‘cheat’ on their foreheads and ordered them dumped into the Thames. Had a man there to ensure they all got out, so no one died, but to all appearances I intended to kill them.”
Xavier glanced at the rows of leather bound books that had to cost a bloody fortune. “So you’ve acquired my library through honest profits from your gambling hells?”
Samson chuckled. “Vic is far more subtle. He simply asked to see my books, wishing to find places to reduce my cost or improve my sales.”
Xavier frowned. “And was he helpful?”
“Remarkably so.”
Odd, given the pup knew nothing about finance two years prior. “So what changes has he suggested?”
“Better food, improved hygiene, clean clothes, and regular doctor visits for the whores.”
“That sounds like an increase in costs.”
“That was my complaint, as well. Vic insisted I could get a better class of ladies, which would bring in a higher quality of patrons. He also suggested having the waiting room look more like a gentleman’s club with drinks and light meals served. So I gave it a try at a new house, pulling my best girls from other sites, and the house makes more than five times what the other houses pull. Thus, I’m in the process of renovating a few more. Won’t do them all, or the common blokes will be left without a place to go.”
“Any of these whorehouses offer your customers children?”
Samson frowned. “No, I send them to Seth’s district for that. Vic has very firm ideas about what is and is not a victimless crime. I may provide any sexual stimulations as long as no one involved is a child, unwilling, or seriously injured while participating. Gambling is allowed, dog or cock fights are not. Sadly, he insisted I close down all my smoking dens. He is strongly against morphine and opium.” Samson frowned. “He wasn’t once addicted was he?”
“No. However, Seth takes great amusement getting me addicted whenever he holds me captive.”
Samson smiled. “Well, now I understand why you wrapped London’s most powerful crime lord in a rug and made him swelter in his own filth for three days. That always seemed a bit perso
nal.”
“Be warned, Seth will eventually get you hooked on opium or morphine. He finds addiction an excellent way to control people long after their release. When he does, go to Dr. Connors. He can assist in weaning you off the drug.”
Samson frowned at the warning. “If Seth dares try to addict me, then I will wrap him in a rug and drop him in the Thames.”
And thus begins the slippery slope of corruption. “Have you ever killed anyone?”
“Not yet.”
“I have. It changes you, and not for the better. Even if the person you kill is evil, it marks your soul. Ask Tubs. All he’s ever killed are evil men…and one very dangerous woman.”
Samson snorted softly as if taking a life wouldn’t touch him.
“While your soul can survive one righteous kill, they start to mount up fast. If you’ve killed one, why not two, if two, why not five, if five, why not twenty…”
“How many have you killed?” Samson challenged.
“Twelve men, all in the service of my country, the last being Black Harry.”
Samson frowned. “I thought Tubs did that.”
“No. He offered, but the order was given to me, so I killed him.” Vic’s protector, Tubs, had more than a hundred deaths on his count, Xavier wasn’t going to ask him to add more to it.
“They should give you a medal,” Samson muttered.
“They normally shake my hand and thank me. But ultimately, it makes no difference; it still mars my soul.”
“You seem happier than most men your age.”
Xavier didn’t appreciate the ‘age’ remark but stayed on point. “Finding a person who not only sees but brings out the goodness in you, can counter much of the stain of taking lives.”
Samson smiled. “Are you recommending me to find a good woman or to take Vic off your hands?”
Xavier’s glare turned fierce as he stood. “Vic and I are partners for life. Unless you want the wrath of hell to rain down upon you, look elsewhere.” Without another word, he stormed from the house.
The Darkest Days (The Adventures of Xavier & Vic Book 6) Page 2
