Free Murder on Stage by Cora Harrison Page B

interested?’
    ‘Everyone is interested in that murder,’ said Sarah, trying to smile, but Rosa continued to look at her suspiciously.
    ‘Don’t you lie to me, young Sarah,’ she said with authority. ‘Come on now, tell the truth. You’re holding something back, ain’t you?’
    Sarah twisted her fingers together, trying to make up her mind. Her own mother had abandoned her when she was a tiny baby – left her outside the Foundling Hospital – and Rosa was the
nearest thing to a mother that she had ever had.
    And she sounded just like a mother now, thought Sarah. She tried to give a casual smile but then the tears welled up again.
    ‘Oh, Rosa,’ she said, taking a large gulp of the hot chocolate in order to prevent a sob escaping, ‘the police have arrested a friend of mine, Alfie – the boy that ran on
stage when Harry Booth died. Alfie didn’t do it, but now they’ve taken him off to prison. I have to find out who really did kill Harry Booth. Oh, Rosa, you know all of these people.
Will you help me? Please, Rosa, for old times’ sake.’
    Rosa took a long drink of the hot chocolate, keeping both eyes fixed on Sarah’s face as she drank. Eventually she drained the last drops, put down the mug, looked carefully all around and
then said quietly, ‘I’ll ask around to see who was near to the curtains at the time, but I’ll be keeping one thing in my mind, and you remember it too, young Sarah. Whoever killed
Harry Booth will be having both ears open to see if anyone is asking questions.’
    Sarah nodded but Rosa hadn’t finished. Her voice sank even lower as she added slowly, ‘They say in St Giles that no one kills only once. The more you kill, the easier it gets –
that’s what they say.’

CHAPTER 17
T REACHERY U NCOVERED

    The fog was still thick when Sarah came out of Covent Garden market. She hurried along Bow Street, feeling her way along the wall, keeping to the inside of the pavement. The
few horses and cabs that were out were blundering around, unable to see the road and occasionally running up against pedestrians. The gas lamps cast no light on the pavements, but were just misty
globes of glimmering yellow in the darkness above their heads.
    Sarah stopped at a shop and bought a loaf of bread and some milk. She felt a great sense of responsibility for the gang now that Alfie was gone. He was always careful to stop them from drinking
water. His mother had died of cholera – a disease which had ripped through the neighbourhood from drinking water poisoned with the sewage that had seeped into it.
    The fire was glowing through the dirty window of the boys’ cellar. Suddenly she found her face wet with tears. Would Alfie ever come home again? She dashed the wetness from her cheeks,
swallowed hard and then rapped on the door. Sammy was back, anyway; Mutsy’s deep bark had sounded as she came down the steps and now he was sniffing so loudly that it almost seemed as though
he wanted to draw her in through the door on one deep intake of breath.
    Jack was absent, but Tom was there, a very subdued Tom who seemed almost disappointed to see her. Perhaps he was still sulking after her rough words earlier. She decided to ignore him and talk
to Sammy.
    ‘So Tom found you, then, Sammy, is that right?’ Sarah sat down beside him. How would the blind boy manage without his brother? The thought would not go from her mind and she bit her
lip to prevent a sob.
    ‘Nah,’ said Sammy in his peaceful way, ‘Mutsy and I got home by ourselves.’
    ‘I looked every place,’ said Tom defensively. There was something strange about his tone. Sarah glanced at him, but the fire was low and the room almost in darkness.
    ‘Where were you, then, Sammy?’ asked Sarah.
    ‘Me and Mutsy went to Smithfield. I had to leave the Strand. There was a bloke, some sort of toff, I reckon – the same fellow as gave Alfie the tickets, I’d say, because he
spoke the way that Alfie said, sort of disguising his voice