“I have no idea what you are talking about,” he said, sounding stuffy. “Would someone care to explain what the hell is going on?”And why have I not run for the hills?
They intrigued him, he realized. It had been the first time he’d felt this little surge of excitement in… well, since he’d met Ellen Nightingale, if he were being honest.
“Run to the first table. Drink what is placed in front of you, and do what they say. Then eat the pickled whelk,” Leo said.
“What? Absolutely not, I hate those.” He shuddered at the memory of eating one once. It had made him want to empty the contents of his stomach.
“If you wish to become an honorary member of the Crabbett Close community, which I have no wish for you to do, as I don’t trust you yet, then you must do this.”
“I don’t trust you either, Lord Seddon, and I’m not sure if I want to be an honorary member of this insanity.”
“I wouldn’t. He’s a smokey bastard,” Alex said, grinning like an idiot. Clearly, he was excited about something.
It was like Gray had stepped into some kind of weird scene from a play and hadn’t realized it. Perhaps he was asleep and dreaming?
“Stay alert. You will collect Fred, and she won’t tolerate anything less than your best,” Bram called to him. “Focus now, Gray, this could have the residents respecting or loathing you.”
“And I care because?”
“You’ll come to realize how vital Crabbett Close can be if you get this right. They can treat any ailment, cobble a horse, and balance your ledgers. Someone from this street could cater to any of your needs, plus aid you in any investigation. It pays to have them on side, and this is your chance,” Bram said.
“All true,” the bear of a man to his right said. “We don’t trust anyone from Scotland Yard without a reason to.”
“Mind, we could do with one of ’em in our pockets,” another man said.
“Excuse me, but I will not fit in anyone’s pocket,” Gray said in his coldest tone. It only made everyone to the right of him laugh.
He was respected by people, usually. Clearly, that was not the case in Crabbett Close.
“You’ll be on your mark!” The loud voice of Mr. Greedy boomed.
It worried Gray that he now knew exactly what he sounded like, even though he couldn’t see the man.
“You’ll get set. Go!” A loud clap had them surging forward, and as Gray did not like to be left behind in any situation, he moved. Soon, he was running to keep up with Leo and Alex. The other three were also level. The woman was a few paces in the lead. Extremely spritely, she reached the first set of tables laid out across the street.
“Hello there, dearie, remember me? I’m Miss Alvin. We live here at number 22 Crabbett Close.” Her smile differed vastly from the disapproving scowl of a few days ago.
She was again wrapped in scarves and also a thick cloak. Mr. Alvin had a woolen cap pulled to his bushy gray eyebrows.
“Stop your jawing now, Pixie, and hand him his drink,” her brother said.
A mug of something was thrust in his direction. As Leo had already downed his and Alex had started on his cake, he took it and sniffed. The pungent bite of alcohol nearly made him gag.
“It’s a bit wiffy, and if you’ve a weak belly,” Alex taunted, “I’m sure Tabitha could make you a nice cup of tea, Gray.”
He threw it down and only just managed to stop from throwing it back up by gulping several times. “Gah,” he managed to rasp.
“The Alvin’s cousin’s recipe,” Leo said, smirking. “Gin, treacle, and the secret ingredient of mutton fat.”
“Why?” Gray gasped.
“You simmer it for two hours. Keeps you healthy apparently,” Alex said.
“Eat your whelks, Detective.” Leo opened his mouth and dropped one inside. He then chewed, smiling at Gray.
He was competitive. It was a flaw he’d fought most of his life and had won, until today. Pinching his nose, Gray took the whelk handed to him by Mr. Alvin and swallowed. His insides rebelled. He retched, coughed, but held it down. By the time he was in control again, he was alone except for Fred.
“I knew I was going to lose being in your team,” she muttered, grabbing his arm. “Hurry, they are putting distance on us.”
