Death in the Peerless Pool by Deryn Lake Page A

‘Are you saying that I am a busybody?’
    Samuel began to bluster. ‘Gracious me, no. Merely a lady with sharp eyes who notices what her neighbours do.’
    The woman made to slam the door shut but John stepped in to retrieve the situation. ‘Madam, as you correctly observed, I am not Hannah Rankin’s cousin. However, I do represent the hospital of St Luke’s, and the fact of the matter is that Hannah did not appear for work today, nor has she been seen there since the day before yesterday. I wondered, therefore, if you could tell me at which cottage she resides so that I might ask her landlord for information.’
    â€˜Two doors down from me she lives, with one Mother Hamp, who takes in lodgers being as she is a widow woman.’ She drew in breath. ‘So Hannah’s disappeared, has she? I thought she’d been keeping strange company of late.’
    The Apothecary raised a lively brow. ‘Really? Who, for example?’
    â€˜A Frenchie from the Hospital, for a start. A right sly old fox he looks with his powder and patches. Then there was the coachman, a hulking big fellow. I wondered what she could be doing with such a pair of suitors.
    â€˜You think they were that?’
    â€˜Well, what else could they be, calling on a woman alone?’
    â€˜Business connections?’ said John, doubtfully.
    Samuel snorted. ‘Hardly, I should have thought.’
    Hannah’s neighbour nodded. ‘Who could be doing business with a warder from the lunatic asylum? Unless it was something shady, of course.’
    â€˜Perhaps that’s the answer.’ The Apothecary looked thoughtful. ‘Perhaps Hannah was involved in some rum doings.’
    The neighbour’s ear for gossip was certainly acute: for she put her head on one side and said, ‘Was?’
    Furious with himself for making such a crass mistake, John answered, ‘A figure of speech, that is all.’
    But the woman did not seem altogether convinced for she watched the two friends closely as they went to the cottage where Hannah had lived, having politely thanked her for her help.
    â€˜Do you think she believed me?’ John muttered.
    â€˜No,’ Samuel whispered in reply.
    â€˜The rumour of her possible death will soon be down the entire row.’
    â€˜It’s already started.’
    And John saw out of the corner of his eye that the neighbour had gone to the house next door where she had been joined by another, very similar to herself, and that the pair of them were looking their way. Partly because of this, the Apothecary decided he must persuade Mother Hamp to let them in immediately and not stand talking on the doorstep, even if this meant revealing the true nature of his enquiry. Accordingly, when a greasy, grey-haired harridan of a great many years and exceedingly few teeth answered his summons, John, speaking in a low voice, said, ‘Madam, I urgently require you to let my companion and me into your house. We are here on the official business of Mr John Fielding of Bow Street.’
    His plan was instantly thwarted by the crone cupping her ear and saying, ‘What? Speak up, young fellow. Can’t hear a word.’
    Horribly aware of the grin spreading over Samuel’s jocund features, John leant close, his nose wrinkling at the terrible stink emanating from the hag’s apparel and person, and repeated the message.
    â€˜Bow Street?’ she bawled in reply. ‘What have I got to do with Bow Street?’
    â€˜Nothing,’ he thundered. ‘Go inside.’ And seizing her skinny elbow, the Apothecary hurried Mother Hamp within doors. He turned to his companion. ‘If those two besoms come knocking the door, send them away with a nit in their ear.’
    â€˜To add to the others already there,’ Samuel answered, and chortled.
    Away from the street and in her own grim surroundings, Mother Hamp became somewhat more amenable and produced a bottle of gin