“Excuse me,” Alex said, moving away from his arguing siblings and toward the group of men. “Are you the Forges?”
“The lapel,” Ellen whispered when she, Leo, and Mungo joined Alex. A flower pin in the lapel of one man’s coat told her they were talking to Barney Forge.
“Who’s asking?” He stepped closer.
“Who’s asking what?” Mungo said, moving to Ellen’s right. Alex and Leo were now to her left.
“Who’s asking if we’re the Forges?”
There was no doubting the three well-built men were brothers.
“We are,” Leo said. “We’re also asking you to tell us where Penny Tompkins is.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the man wearing the flower pin said.
“That pin on your jacket would suggest otherwise, Barney Forge. Now where is she?” Alex asked.
“You’re talking nonsense, and if you don’t want the lady hurt, you’d better leave.”
“What lady?” Leo asked.
A meaty finger was jabbed her way. “That one.”
“That’s our sister. She’s no lady.”
Leo swept his cane and dropped Barney Forge on his ass, and all hell suddenly broke loose.
CHAPTERNINE
One of Gray’s informants had told him the two boys who had broken into George Nicholson’s bookshop to steal money often lurked around the Hope and Anchor. They preyed on drunken patrons, picking their pockets. He was now on his way there to see if he could locate them.
Walking down the street toward the tavern, he thought again about the Nightingale siblings and, more specifically, Ellen. Why did she disturb him?
Gray had met many women in his lifetime. Some had intrigued him, one in particular, but that came to nothing when she realized he was married to his job. Which was the truth. He loved his work, and it took all his focus, and while he was sometimes lonely, the feeling soon passed.
Ellen Nightingale had been a society darling and fallen hard from grace. The woman he met was cool, collected, and nothing like he thought she’d once been. Her beauty would have had men falling at her feet and likely still did. It had definitely caught Gray’s attention. Yet, he had a feeling there was a great deal behind that pretty facade she’d once kept hidden in the ballrooms of fancy houses.
At least he’d walked away from society by choice. She’d not been given that.
Something hard hit him, and he stumbled but stayed upright. Gray reached out and grabbed the arm of whoever had ran into him.
“Sorry, mister,” a boy said.
“No harm done. Do you know someone called Snippy?”
A second boy appeared. “Why do you want him?”
“Are you Snippy?”
“Him.” The boy nodded to the lad Gray was still holding.
“I’d like a word with you if you please. I am Detective Grayson Fletcher from Scotland Yard, and I’m investigating a murder, which I believe you may be involved with.”
“What? No, I’m not!”
“A bookshop was being robbed. A lady stopped you, and she heard one of you call the other Snippy,” Gray said. “She then found a dead body. Now, if you don’t wish to be brought in on murder charges, you will talk to me.”
“We didn’t kill anyone,” Snippy said. “We were just taking the money, but the woman stopped us. There was no dead body!”
