Prologue
18 JANUARY 1894, PICCADILLY CIRCUS, LONDON
It was cold,the sort of cold that settled in the bones this time of year in spite of the thick wool of Constable Joseph Martin’s thick wool overcoat.
Not that he wasn’t used to it after more than twenty years on the street. Still, he thought, he must be getting old as he rolled his shoulders against the stiffness that had set in.
It was late, very near midnight he guessed, most of the lights about the ‘Circus’ dimmed as taverns had closed, shops completely darkened, the last lights of the theater district winking out in the distance through the misty fog.
The usually well-lit sign for Mellins Food had gone out hours ago and was barely visible across from the roundabout with the recently added statue in the center.
A Greek God it was said, with bow and arrow, to commemorate the Earl of Shaftsbury for his charity work.
Constable Martin figured it wouldn’t take long for someone to remove the arrow, young louts in a prank no doubt. And then the arrow would show up at some other location in some offensive manner.
“I’ll see you the next street over,” Constable Tabor, his partner said, in what had become their nightly routine.
They would each make one last circle around in opposite directions, Regent Street, then a last stretch down Shaftsbury on his usual patrol of the night, as Tabor came back around where they would meet and end their shift.
It was far easier that way to cover the ‘Circus’ one last time during the late shift. And truth be told, there was rarely any activity on the street this late, other than a shopkeeper who had stayed late closing for the night.
But apparently not tonight, as Constable Martin glanced down the street, with faint pools of light from the streetlamps that were swallowed by the grey shroud of mist that had rolled in from the river.
He checked the pocket watch he carried in the thin light of a nearby streetlamp. It was almost midnight. With one last turn, he would be home by one o’clock and warm in bed after signing out at the station house. He pocketed his watch.
“Cor! But it’s bloody cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey,” his partner exclaimed.
“Step lively, then,” Joseph Martin said in parting as each set off. “And we’ll be done for the night.
Only a handful of years more, and then he would have his pension, thanks to the new system that had been created for those with long-term service.
His Maddy had been frugal over the years and had also worked in a bakery shop. There was a good amount saved. They might open a shop of their own. At night he could close the door against the cold instead of walking the streets.
Perhaps dry goods, he thought, as he started down Regent Street. Or a bake shop for tarts and cakes. His Maddy was talented that way.
Customers came from all parts of London for her fruit-filled tarts and cakes. And he had no complaint for the early hours required in a bake shop after walking patrol late at night.
He could almost feel the warmth of the bakery ovens as he reached the end of the block then turned at the corner. That had a far greater appeal than dry goods for certain.
They had talked about it before, perhaps even taking over the bake shop when he was able to finally step away from the MET. The man she worked for was getting on in years; he might be open to the idea.
Only a little farther now until he met Constable Tabor back at the roundabout, then on to the Vine Street station, a bit of a walk farther on the last part of their patrol.
A sound had him turning about, then he shook his head at the creature that darted out from the narrow alleyway and immediately dove into a narrow crack in the stone steps of a darkened shop.
“A bit cold even for the likes of you,” he commented as he gathered the collar of his coat closer and continued on. Not even the rats wanted to be out on this night.
“Constable Martin.”
It was faint at first, followed by the sound of footsteps. Then closer.
“Joseph Martin…”
“Aye?”
He turned as a shadow stepped out from the coved entrance of a shop and slowly came toward him.
“Who might you be, sir?”
