Page 95 of Juliet's Touch

“Who wants to know?” the man asked.

Eric used his palm to shield his nostrils from the effluvium as he stepped over empty bottles and a dead rat. What kind of degenerate lived in this kind of filth?

“Don’t kill him,” Fletcher had said upon turning over the man’s name. “Face him. Berate him. Bloody his nose. Ask your questions. But whatever you do, do not take his life. Unfortunately, I doubt the magistrate will want to take on a twenty-year-old murder case. However, once you get your answers, I will still turn Pete Dixon over to him. Keep in mind, too much attention on The Pink Petal, after Abigail’s disappearance, won’t be good for Athena or her girls.”

Of course, Eric didn’t want to draw attention to Auntie, especially since The Pink Petal would soon be permanently shutting its doors and the ladies were weeks from freedom. But now that the man stood before him, and knowing that Dixon would never be punished, red-hot hatred coursed through him, and he wanted to kill.

“I’m Cleopatra’s son,” Eric said. He despised referring to his mother with the demeaning moniker, but he wanted this man to know who was about to snuff his life.

“Ah. What took ye so long to find me?” the man, who was obviously Dixon, asked.

What in the bloody hell kind of question was that?

“She was a good woman,” Dixon said. “Didn’t deserve for her life to end like that. ’Twas an accident, you see.”

Eric stomped across the room. He wrapped his palms around the smelly, old drunk’s neck and pulled him onto his feet. “Why did you run away like a coward? Why not face what you did?”

Dixon tried to answer, but his words came out garbled as he fought to breathe. Curiosity getting the better of him, Eric loosened his grip so that he could hear the man’s response.

“Because I am a coward. A no-good, pathetic piece of shite. Never was of use to anyone. Didn’t deserve to even have a woman like Celeste touch me.”

The degenerate knew his mother’s real name?

“I’m sorry, Eric.”

Obviously, he also knew Eric’s name.

“But you ended up a good man,” Dixon said. “Hell of a pugilist.”

Shocked and confused, Eric loosened his grip, stepped back, and gawked.

“I saw ye fight once,” Dixon said. “Your Momma would’ve been proud.”

Had the man who haunted his dreams been within his grasp the entire time? Eric pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Checked on you here and there, whenever I was sober,” Dixon said.

How had Eric not known, when he could detect any individual’s footsteps in a crowd, and scent a predatory man ina city of thousands? Especially when Dixon’s stench made him impossible to miss.

Eric dropped his gaze to Dixon’s hands. Sure enough, he was missing two fingers.

“Lost those fixing a loom,” Dixon said. “Worked in a factory for a bit. Until that night. Haven’t worked since. Haven’t gone out much since.”

If he rarely left this hovel, no wonder Eric hadn’t been able to find him.

“Guilt eats a man alive, from the inside out,” Dixon said. “Like a green toxin poisonin’ your blood. At first, ye can’t eat and ye can’t sleep. But then you discover that drinking takes away the pain. So ye drink and drink until the gin tastes like bile, and then all ye do is sleep. Unfortunately, sleep comes with nightmares, so ye just pray that someday soon, ye get what ye deserve because once ye take your last breath, ye can finally sleep nightmare-free.” Dixon stepped forward and elongated his neck as if inviting Eric to grab and squeeze.

“Do not think to garner my pity,” Eric said.

“Pity. Nah. Don’t want that. I just want ye to put me out of me misery.”

The truth was, Eric did pity this pathetic excuse of a man. But just like Riley, he wasn’t worth the green-bile-guilt that would come with his demise. Juliet Coldpepper deserved better than a murderer for a husband.

Eric turned his back to Dixon and slowly retraced his path to the door.

“Wait,” Dixon called. “Aren’t ye going to put me out of me misery? Come back.”

Ignoring him, Eric continued forward, leaving his nemesis in his past. He stepped into the gray fog, took a deep breath, and almost ran into Juliet. The bloody coachman and footman needed a put down.