Free Kitty Peck and the Music Hall Murders by Kate Griffin Page A

uninteresting variety.
    I reached across the desk and tried to take Lady Ginger’s letter but Fitzy slammed his hand down so hard on top of mine that I yelped. He removed my hand from the paper like it was something dirty and carried on.
    I cannot but think that you have failed me in this. Perhaps you have not adequately communicated the severity of the situation to the young lady? Or is it perhaps the case that fame has dulled her sense of familial loyalty? If I do not receive useful information soon, I will send my men to Joseph Peck and the cut will be a choice one. Assure her of this and be assured that you, too, will hear from me. I believe it is time to make the true nature of her task plain. I trust you will do this on my behalf and that the girl will deliver.
     
    Fitzy leaned back, took off his glasses and chewed his lower lip. He thumped the letter again. ‘She’s blaming me, clear as the nose on your face. This letter is a threat to the both of us, Kitty. Unless you give The Lady what she wants, it’s not only your precious brother who’s going to lose his bollocks.’
    He was right, of course. To most people that letter might have looked as dry as the sawdust on the floor of a carpenter’s workshop, but to Fitzy and me that workshop was stacked with coffins. You only had to bring to mind the old cow’s voice saying those words aloud and you could feel the lights shrivel up in your belly. Still, I have to admit there was a tiny part of me that thought to myself: I will send my men to Joseph Peck – he was definitely alive, then, somewhere?
    Fitzy clicked his yellow fingers in front of my face – they came so close I could smell the tang of old cigar on them. ‘What have you got to say to that?’
    I flinched. What could I say?
    ‘I . . . I’m doing my best. I’ve been up there for eleven nights now with nothing more than stale smoke and gin-breath between me and the floor. I tell you about everything I see – and I’ve already saved you and The Lady a pretty packet, I know that. What’s more, the halls have never brought in as much trade. Mr Jesmond at The Carnival reckons his takings have increased four times over.’
    ‘But it’s not enough, Kitty, is it? We both know that The Lady’s reputation is what’s at stake here. Someone is pissing on her patch, so they are, and she can’t afford to ignore that. Think about it. Her name is what keeps me safe. It’s what keeps all of this going.’ He gestured around the cluttered office with its dainty day bed, flowered cushions and china plates.
    ‘There’s plenty of Barons out there with a keen eye on Paradise. The only thing stopping them from muscling in and making life very . . . uncomfortable for us all is The Lady herself – or the thought of what she might do to them.’ He produced a square of chequered silk from his pocket and dabbed at his big pockmarked face. Fitzy’s forehead was covered with beads of sweat and his left eye was twitching again. He pulled back a drawer and took out a leather flask. He removed the top and swigged several mouthfuls before screwing the silver cap back on again. As he did so, I noticed that his hands were shaking. He wiped his mouth with the silk and tapped the letter.
    ‘These aren’t idle threats. If you want to see your brother alive again – as much of him as possible, that is – you are going to have to start coming up with the goods, my girl.’
    I could feel my heart beating double time under my new bodice. Fitzy was clearly a frightened man – and of a sudden it come home to me, very forcible, that there was a lot more at stake than I realised. If someone like Fitzy was worried, what should the rest of us feel like?
    ‘Well?’ He stared at me, expectant. His bloodshot eyes were almost lost beneath the forest of ginger bristles that rambled across the bridge of his thick nose. I don’t know why, but as I stood there I brought to mind Ma telling me and Joey some Bible story about the Hanging