Part 28 (1/2)
”Yes, Joe-what's his name again? ... Oh, it escapes me right now-”
”I didn't know he had a last name,” she interjected sarcastically.
”Anyway, Joe came with this young woman, claiming to be the young man's father, and the turnkey didn't recognize him-he was so neatly made up, and then he exchanged places with the prisoner.”
”n.o.body recognize him? I mean, this is hard to believe.”
”I agree with you fully, but that's water down the Clyde. We've been searching for them ever since last evening. I won't rest until we catch them.”
”Ah... In this area?”
”Yes, we'll check every vessel leaving the wharf.”
”I see, as a precaution? ... But come to think of it, the la.s.s must have come down to the wharf, otherwise she couldn't've engaged Joe, ... unless Joe's really the young man's father. His wife had a teenage son when she finally got sick of his drinking and returned to her folks in Lanark. It must be nigh ten years ago already.”
”I don't think so. I actually arrested the young man. He claimed to come from Argyle, although my impression was that he's English. He has a strong southern accent. The trouble is, I should have taken a more careful look at his wife when I arrested him at The Good Shepherd.”
”They stayed at The Good Shepherd? They've expensive taste!”
”I guess you're right... Look, Rose, the reason I'm here is to ask if you did see the young woman. All we know is that she has red hair, is of medium height, dresses expensively-according to the turnkey, she wore a gray skirt, white blouse, and dark jacket. He also said that she's good-looking. 'Striking' was the word he used. The trouble is that no more than half an hour ago I talked to a young woman who fitted that description. But when we chased after a young man who had been seen hiding in Jarvis' warehouse, she got away from one of our new recruits.”
”She got away?” Outraged surprise colored her voice. ”What kind of recruits do you get now-a-days who can't even hold on to a young woman?”
”Oh, she was quite nasty.”
”What do you mean by nasty?”
”She kicked him in the groin. He still has trouble standing straight, the stupid fellow.”
Rose whistled through her teeth, shaking her head. ”She's quite a la.s.s. First, springing her man from prison and then cutting down a policeman... I can't help admiring her a bit.”
”Yes, she is. I really misjudged that pair completely. When the provost told me to lock up the young man, I felt quite sorry. He had this innocent look about him. But I'll have no pity for him, not after what happened last night. How he got his wife to fool the prison wardens so brazenly is beyond me!”
Naturally, it would never occur to you that a woman planned all this, she said silently to herself, smiling inside, feeling smug.
He continued: ”You know, we searched all over the city for that horse, every single inn. I think yours was the only one we didn't search, but then only sailors would ever know of your place anyway.”
She suppressed a grin and nodded vigorously.
”And then in the middle of last night, we got this anonymous letter that we would find the horse in the stables of The Golden Eagle. And it was there. But when our men tried to detain the highlanders who were lodging there and claimed to own the four horses in the stable, they got beaten up rather badly. The one guarding the stallion managed to ride away and call for reenforcements, but when we got to the inn, the four had vanished.”
”You don't say! Could they have been the young man's accomplices?”
Constable Fraser pondered this for a few seconds, as if that thought hadn't occurred to him. ”If they were, why would he have denounced them?”
”How do you know that he wrote that anonymous note?”
”We found a second on the stallion, signed by him.”
”Well, they may have fallen out with each other. You know how readily these Highlanders pick a quarrel.”
”That could explain a few things...” He left the sentence hanging in midair. ”Anyway, as I started to say before, we are looking for all of them, and particularly the young couple. The young man is about the same height as I, just a bit slimmer.” He patted his bulging stomach. ”Black hair, well spoken. He had a full beard, neatly trimmed, but is now probably clean shaven-”
”I haven't seen anybody fitting this description, nor did I see the la.s.s around here,” interrupted Rose again, ”but if I hear anything, I'll let you know. In fact, I'll make some discreet inquiries among my regulars... So Joe's really involved. I've a hard time believing that. What's going to happen to him now?”
”Apparently, he's still too drunk to be questioned, and he won't remember anything. My guess is they'll let him go in a week or so rather than having to put up with him... But now, I better get back to my patrol and see whether they have found any traces of that young man or his wife. Thanks, Rose, for that delicious coffee. I really should visit you more often.”
”Yes, Constable Fraser, you do that!”
She followed him to the door.
”Had any trouble lately?” he asked, pausing briefly on the steps.
”You know me. I won't tolerate trouble... No, all my patrons behave themselves while I'm around.”
He nodded, saluted, and walked away briskly in the direction of the wharf. She watched him until he disappeared behind a warehouse. The wind had abated and the cloud cover was hanging even lower, with a fine drizzle falling. After closing the tavern door behind her, she leaned against it and let go a relieved ”oomph”.
20.
Three hours later, a miserable and cold Andrew sneaked into the backyard of The White Heron, after Owen had made sure the coast was clear. His clothes were still wet, or wet again from the steady drizzle, and all crumpled up. His s.h.i.+rt was a dirty grey, rather than white.
”Oh, look at you, you poor man. You're all wet. Change into something dry,” exclaimed Rose, and then she caught herself. ”Oh, you left all your things on the Clyde.” She filled a cup with hot coffee and pa.s.sed it to him. ”Here, have at least something to warm you.”
He took the cup gratefully and sipped the hot liquid slowly, looking around, searching for Helen.
”She's asleep,” remarked Rose, guessing his intent. ”The poor la.s.s just collapsed. I promised to wake her if I got any news from you. But now that you're back safely, we don't have to disturb her.”
He simply nodded. He felt leaden himself. After emptying his cup, he begged: ”May I see her?”
”Sure!” Rose showed him the way. Outside the door she whispered: ”You get undressed and rest too, and give me your clothes. I have them washed and freshened up again.”
He entered the little room and watched Helen for a few seconds, before he shed his wet clothes and wrapped himself in a blanket. Then he placed his garments on the floor outside the door.
For a while he wondered what to do. He was reluctant to wake Helen. Should he lie down on the floor? Finally, he decided to join her on the narrow bed. Gently, he moved her closer to the wall. She didn't even stir. With just enough s.p.a.ce, he stretched out next to her. He had barely closed his eyes when sleep conquered him too.
Mid afternoon, Helen woke up. Without opening her eyes, she turned to her side, and her hands touched naked skin. Startled, she shot up and, seeing Andrew sleeping peacefully next to her, fright turned into joy. She observed him quietly. His lips were slightly parted, tempting her to kiss them, but she resisted. She studied his lean torso, his flat stomach, the spa.r.s.e spike of black curls pus.h.i.+ng from his pubic hair to his navel. Her hand reached out to touch them, but stopped short. His flaccid p.e.n.i.s lay on his left thigh a few inches above the pink scar of the bullet wound. A smile played on her face, as she studied its odd shape curiously.
After a while, she carefully slid off the bed, undressed, and emptied her full bladder in the chamber pot. Then she climbed back onto the bed and, lying on her left side, nestled into the crook of his arms, her head on his shoulder, her right hand on his chest, leaning against him, their bodies touching from head to toe. She felt euphoric, hardly able to contain her love, having a need to wake him, to tell him. Almost without thinking, her right hand stroked his torso and came to rest on the spike of curls below his navel. She noticed his manhood filling. How would it be to hold it? For a moment her thoughts shocked her. But he touched her in the most intimate places, why couldn't she touch him? Almost gingerly, she folded her hand around it and couldn't entirely suppress a giggle when it began to swell gradually. She moved her hand down the hardening shaft, freeing its s.h.i.+ny, pink head. Andrew stirred. From the corner of her eyes she saw that he had opened his eyes. Embarra.s.sed, she withdrew her hand.
”Don't stop, love,” he whispered, ”this feels good.”
She folded her fingers again around the erect shaft, moving her hand cautiously up and down, feeling its strangely ribbed texture. She searched his eyes. ”Am I doing it right?” she asked hesitantly.
He nodded and then cupped her hand briefly with his own, showing her how to move it more vigorously. Slowly, he tensed his whole body. She sensed her own arousal. Suddenly, his manhood began to pulsate in her hand, the juices spilling onto his belly. Peals of soft laughter rose in her throat. Their eyes met, glowing coals of love. Andrew took her face between his hands and kissed her.