Moonlight Secrets (#2 Penderry's Bizarre)

Chapter Twenty Eight

Eight weeks later,

Knightsbridge, London

Jim leaned on the black iron railing surrounding Hans Place green and listened to Westman read aloud from a list in his hand.

"All right. How about this one?" asked Westman. "A gentleman residing on Jamaica Road claims he saw the ghost of Old Father Thames in St. Saviour's Dock."

A carriage clattered past, and Jim spoke over the noise. "Father Thames isn't a ghost, he's more of an entity."

Westman squinted in the sunshine as he watched the hackney cab pass along the street. "A river god in folklore. More like a sprite. It might be worth investigating."

"Jolly good."

Westman's dog, Jack, panted and moved into a shady patch under a tree.

"What do you have?" asked Westman.

Jim reached into his smart grey coat and took out his notebook. "Hm. Strange shadows and noises in a house on Berkeley Square. Also, a young woman in Barking says she was walking along an overgrown track near the asylum when it began raining toads."

"That can never be a good thing."

An expensive carriage bearing a coat-of-arms entered the street and Jim pushed himself away from the railing.

A grin stretched his lips. "Ah, here he is."

The carriage drew to a halt and Jim dashed to meet the passenger. Orson Carte stepped onto the street, his slicked hair reflecting the sun. At the sight of Jim landing in his path, the man's eyes widened.

"Good afternoon, Mr Carte," said Jim, pleased by the expression on Carte's face. He was looking forward to this interview.

"Oh, no, not you." Carte's mouth pinched beneath his little waxed moustache.

Jim mirrored each sidestep the man took, blocking his escape. "I meant to finish my article weeks ago, but I was delayed. I hope you don't mind."

"I have nothing to say to you."

"Are you sure? I thought I'd give you one last chance to share your side of the story. The account I have doesn't show you in a favourable light."

Carte stilled and exhaled sharply. "All right, Penderry," he hissed. "What will it take to make this go away? How much do you want?"

"A bribe?" His eyebrows migrated skyward. "I don't want your money, Mr Carte. I'm only concerned about the truth."

"Well, I'd sooner avoid a scandal. Leave my name out of the damn story and you can have whatever you want. A carriage, club memberships, invitations to parties, introductions to heiresses, anything."

"No, thank you." Jim frowned, amazed at the man's shallowness.

But as much as he disliked Orson Carte, Jim wasn't a mean-spirited person. He was aware of the damage his article would to do to Carte's reputation.

With a sigh, he tucked his notebook in his pocket. "I suppose I could make you anonymous."

A cool expression settled over Carte's face. "Good. I'm glad you finally accept the situation. It doesn't do well to tangle with one's superiors, paper boy."

Carte turned to leave and Jim clamped a hand on his shoulder. "I'm doing you a favour, Mr Carte. Perhaps you could grant me one in return?"

Carte peered at his hand and shrugged it away. "What do you want?"

"I'm acquainted with a gentleman who dreams of nothing more than dog shows. Mr Appleby Spencer. Your parents barred him a few years back. Perhaps it's time to lift the ban?"