Jackson exchanged a glance with Kit, and when she nodded, he began. “I suspect my wife will have a fair amount to say as well, but yes, there is a matter we wish to discuss. It was recently brought to our attention that the man who was murdered, Mr. Blade, had an opium addiction, one that was fed by your employer, Frankie.”
“Caw!” The boy’s eyes widened, the whites stark in the glow of lamplight. “Mr. Bellow?”
“One and the same.” Kit swallowed a requisite bite of Martha’s cake. Oh, it tasted fine enough, but her appetite had fled for missing Bella. “You weren’t there very long, but did you notice any unusual activity at the glassworks?”
One of his thin shoulders shrugged as he shoveled in a huge mouthful. “Din’t notice no runners.” Crumbs flew out his mouth.
Martha cuffed him on the head. “Mind yer manners, boy.”
Charles shifted in his chair. “It seemed on the up and up when I was there, albeit a chancy hellhole to toil in ten hours a day. Do you think Bellow is personally involved, or is someone else running an operation from the facility behind his back?”
Having made short work of his cake, Jackson set down his fork. Men. Apparently his appetite wasn’t connected to his emotions. “Graybone’s got an informant pegging Bellow specifically. And if he’s selling opium, no doubt he’s storing it.”
“Mebbe.” Frankie held out his empty plate to Martha, who shook her head. He set it down with a frown. “There were one building I weren’t allowed in. Which o’ course got me to itchin” bout it. I tried to get me a look-see, but a great jollocks of a coal shuffler shooed me off. Said if I tried pokin” round there again, he’d feed me to the fires.”
“Beast!” Martha rapped her fist on the table “I’d like to give that bully a piece o’ my mind!”
“The thing is,” Jackson said, “we won’t really know exactly what or all that Mr. Bellow is involved in unless we get eyes inside his glassworks.”
“Tha’s easy enough.” Frankie jutted his jaw. “I can talk my way back in.”
Martha cut her boy an evil eye. “Don’t be daft. I’ll not let ye risk gettin’ burnt any more than ye already are.”
“I’m afraid I agree with your mother,” Charles rumbled. “You’ve taken a big enough hit with your injury as is.”
Defeat mopped up what sweetness was left in Kit’s mouth. If Frankie didn’t sniff out any information, then who would? She leaned forward, planting both elbows on the scarred wood. “This is the best lead we have, and if it shakes out, we could land a far bigger quarry than an opium addict and an assassin for hire. If we discover who Mr. Bellow is working for or with, we just may be lifting a huge rock off lots of creepy crawlies that ought to be crushed. And the sooner we make a move, the sooner the threat of Carky harming us—or Bella—will be ended.”
Martha angled her head. “So ye’re saying if my boy goes nosin’ about, ye could stop a smugglin’ ring and slap away the danger hanging o’er all yer heads?”
“That’s right.”
“Then send me.” Charles swept his hand towards Frankie. “I’ll throw on a disguise and Bellow will never know we’ve met before.”
Jackson shook his head. “Valiant of you, but I’m afraid not. We need you here on the off chance Carky makes a strike against Bella.”
“Then you go.” Charles stabbed his finger at Jackson.
Kit started stacking the empty plates, placing hers on top. “Jackson and I are tied up with moving Mr. Coleman in an effort to draw out Carky.” Which was a dangerous proposition, but at least she and Jackson worked well together. Still, the chance of leaving Bella orphaned nagged at her. Once this caper was over, never again would she choose a case that involved both her and Jackson.
“It’s a’right, Mr. Baggett, Mum.” Frankie glanced from one to the other. “Miss Kit trained me real good. And now I know better than to bump into the wrong end o’ a blowpipe.”
Martha pressed her lips tight, her blue eyes searching out Charles’. Why they didn’t just marry was beyond her, for clearly they were already of one accord.
“I don’t like it,” Martha said at length, then wagged her finger at her boy. “But see that ye keep away from that coal heaver, and don’t ye dare take another tumble into anythin’ hot.”
“Kipes, Mum! I won’t be doin’ any such thing. Learned me lesson, I did.”
“Then it is settled.” Jackson pushed back his chair. “The moment you find out something—anything at all—you report to me. Understood?”
“Aye, sir.” Frankie nodded solemnly.
“Thank you, Frankie.” Kit smiled at the lad—the youngest member of her crew back in the day—then reached across the table to pat Martha’s hand. “And you, Martha. I could not find a truer friend.”
“Bish bosh.” She fluttered her fingers in the air as she rose. “Now, if ye’ll excuse me, I’d best tend to yer wee one. Like as not she’ll be wantin’ the milk I got warmin’ on the range. Step sharp, Frankie. I won’t have ye sleepy eyed if ye’re to set foot in that factory in the morn. G’night to ye all. Mr. Baggett, ye’ll find a plate o’ bread and cheese on the counter should ye need anythin’ more a’fore breakfast.”
Charles dipped his head. “Thank you, Mrs. Jones.”
“And thanks to you as well, Baggett.” Jackson slapped the man on the back. “Though I doubt I shall sleep this night, it will not be for worrying about the safety of my little girl.”
