Free The Body in the Fog by Cora Harrison

post office horses across
Trafalgar Square. He let this piece of paper drop, and I picked it up – and he saw me do it and ever since then he’s been hunting me.’
    ‘Where’s the piece of paper?’ asked the inspector eagerly, but Alfie shook his head.
    ‘Probably down in the Thames with the flood water,’ he said and then told the whole story of how he and Jack escaped by going down into the underground river under the cellar of the
White Horse Inn and how the flood waters had swept them down until they managed to hold onto the wooden barrier gate.
    ‘Well, you must be born to be hanged! You’ve had more lucky escapes in your short life than any man I know. Whatever was written on that piece of paper must be of vital importance to
Flash Harry and his mobsters. You can read, can’t you? You read it, I’m sure.’
    Alfie nodded and then remembered Sammy’s words. ‘Would it be possible, sir, to put some sort of notice outside the police station to say that the piece of paper was lost –
between Haymarket and Trafalgar Square? That’s the truth, too. You see, sir, I can’t put my mind to solving your murder while I’m being chased all over London by men with guns in
their pockets.’
    ‘I can see that.’ The inspector nodded. He took a steel pen from a tray in front of him, dipped it in the ink bottle, rapidly wrote a few lines and then showed it to Alfie, ringing a
small brass bell on his desk at the same time.
    The red-nosed policeman came in immediately, scowling slightly at Alfie. ‘Take this down to Monmouth Street, Constable,’ said the inspector authoritatively, ‘and get the
printer to make half a dozen copies. Tell him that it’s a rush job and that you’ll wait until he has finished. Then put one outside this station, one in Trafalgar Square, one in
Haymarket outside the White Horse Inn and the rest anywhere nearby. Be as quick as you can.’
    The door had hardly closed behind the constable when Inspector Denham leaned across the desk and said, ‘Tell me what was on the piece of paper.’
    ‘Well, the paper itself was interesting,’ said Alfie, who liked to tell a story in his own way. He eyed the man’s impatient face and added sweetly, ‘Very
interesting.’
    The frown was knitting the black bushy eyebrows again so Alfie continued quickly, ‘You see, sir, it was toff’s paper. Real thick stuff – very white – and that
doesn’t come cheap, does it? Very thick too, and with wavy bits around the edge, all done in gold.’
    ‘Toff’s paper,’ murmured the inspector. ‘Well, well, well, that’s very interesting. Fits with what I was thinking. Tell me what was written on it.’
    ‘Nothing,’ said Alfie, but then, as he saw the disappointment in the man’s eyes, he added slowly, ‘but there was something drawn on it.’
    ‘Drawn?’ The inspector looked confused.
    ‘Can’t read, poor old Flash Harry, I bet. Not too bright.’ Alfie pushed away the memory of how recently he had learnt to read himself. ‘There was a picture of a moon and
a clock beside it with the hands pointing to twelve – twelve at midnight, I suppose.’
    ‘Hmm.’ There was a disappointed note in the man’s voice. ‘Hardly seems worth all the fuss, does it?’
    ‘There was a signature, too, though I couldn’t read it – more a sort of scrawl at the bottom of the page. We thought that Flash Harry might use it for blackmail – getting
money from the cove that wrote it.’
    ‘Now that, I suppose, would make it worthwhile trying to recover it.’
    There was a silence. The inspector shuffled papers on his desk and Alfie looked into the fire. It was a pity that he had taken the piece of paper from its hiding place and then lost it, but
there was no use crying over spilt milk.
    ‘I’ll be going now, sir, unless you want me for something else.’ Alfie rose to his feet. He knew what he was going to do with his day, but for the moment he didn’t want
to talk about it to the inspector. This