The Humbug Murders Read Online Free PDF Page A

perhaps you’ve a point after all. What need would you have of Fezziwig’s daughters when you have that fair bit of crumpet I found you with? What does she do for you, Mr. Scrooge? Really ?”
    This time I refused to be baited. Though I did not know Miss Owen well, she had earned my respect with her quick thinking and brave acts. The best way I could think to see her reputation left untarnished was to give the constable absolutely nothing.
    At length, he turned from me, growling with frustration. “I am a simple man. I like things simple. Simple crime is proper crime. For example, only last week a man was found murdered quite to death next to some anonymous lady. Never identified his bit of crumpet, but a London theatre owner was he! Both slashed to smithereens. Obviously a crime of passion. Obviously an enraged missus. I like those types of cases. Husband opens his wife’s neck for cheating on him. Business partners fall out over money and one ends up stabbed. Simple!”
    Dickens shrugged. “I believe we have a position open in the mail room, if you’d like to apply for that. It’s simple work. Perhaps it would suit you?”
    â€œHumperdink!” Crabapple called, his face red, his hands balled into fists. Long seconds passed in silence before the heavy, slow steps on the staircase began. A ruddy-faced constable appeared at the trap in the floor, wheezing and reeking of gin as he climbed the last steps. “Escort Mr. Scrooge downstairs, detain him in the back room with the others. And you, Dickens. You make sure I get the credit for all this in your article. Not Inspector Foote. You hear me?”
    I glared at Crabapple as I followed Humperdink back downstairs. Behind me, Dickens issued a sharp cough. When I glanced his way, his fingers not-so-subtly described a brisk rubbing of the thumb against forefinger and middle finger, a motion universally signaling that payment would be expected for services rendered.
    I didn’t dare reply in any form, but it wasn’t a concern for either of us. He knew that unlike most of the thieves and rotters populating this foul city, I always, begrudgingly, paid my debts.

    As Humperdink unlocked the door to the back room, a cacophony of protests rang out from behind it.
    â€œNow see here!”
    â€œDo you know who I am?”
    â€œI demand to be released this instant!”
    â€œHumperdink, really,” I said as the rotund man reached for the door. “What is Crabapple playing at here?”
    With a shrug, Humperdink hauled the door open. A forceful shove to my back sent me stumbling into the middle of the room where not only Miss Owen waited, but also three men and another woman. Everyone except Miss Owen scrambled out of my way, then immediately took up challenging positions against me.
    â€œFor the love of God, Humperdink,” I said, shrugging off his rough treatment. “We all spring from apes, yet you did not spring far enough!”
    Three well-dressed men of business, one heftier than the other two, one a stuffed-shirt member of the aristocracy if ever I’d seen one, the last a hard-eyed Asian fellow. The woman was very young, barely over twenty, I guessed. Quite beautiful, yet slight, and certainly able to awaken a protective instinct in any male caught in her orbit, judging by the way all three of the men stationed themselves between me and her. She wore a burgundy dress with a gold partridge pin over her breast. An impeccably crafted chain of holly sprigs adorned her felt hat.
    Opposite me, Miss Owen surveyed their faces intently, then cast me a look that was equal parts warning and exasperation. Warning of what, I had no notion.
    The back room normally served as a joint kitchen and privy, so the four characters staring at me looked deeply uncomfortable and out of place. Subtle conspiratorial looks passed between them.
    The door was still open. Humperdink stood framed there, shifting his weight from one foot to