Page 1 of Murder in Blackfriars

1

September 1884

I was enjoying a fine autumn Monday afternoon picnic on Hampstead Heath with my daughter, Grace, and my dearest friend Daniel and his son, James, when an incongruous sight met our eyes. A man as large as a bull in a long coat and battered hat lumbered at quick speed up the hill, making for us.

Our fellow picnickers—prim ladies, nannies with small children, and a few courting couples—raised their heads to stare. One of the nannies gathered her charges and scurried with them in the opposite direction, making for the fine homes that lined the park.

The apparition raised a long arm and waved, pumping the air like an ungainly crane.

Grace leapt to her feet. “It’s Mr. Grimes.” She waved back as enthusiastically. “Ahoy, Mr. Grimes!”

A few around us relaxed, seeing a respectable girl happyto spy a family friend. Though Grace was a girl no longer. She was a young lady now at nearly fourteen years, as tall as I was.

Mr. Zachariah Grimes, in spite of resembling the hardest tough to roam the south shore of the Thames, wore a sunny expression, which brightened further as he approached. Daniel assisted me from the ground, James springing up beside us with the ease of youth.

“Good afternoon, Mr. Grimes,” I said when he reached us. “I tucked away some extra pastries in our basket. May I tempt you?”

In truth, I’d brought only enough for the four of us, but I knew they’d gladly share what we had for a man who’d saved Daniel’s life and mine more than once. Indeed, if not for Mr. Grimes, I’d have perished in an inky dark lane off the Strand not long ago. I’d be forever grateful for his timely intervention.

“Won’t say no, Mrs. Holloway,” Mr. Grimes boomed in his big voice. “Kind of ye.”

“Please.” I gestured to the blanket we’d spread on the grass.

Mr. Grimes seated himself, folding his bulk under him with surprising ease. Grace plopped down beside him, James on his other side, while I dug out the last of the pastries and presented them to him on a cloth napkin.

Mr. Grimes shoved an entire cream-filled profiterole into his mouth, his eyes widening in appreciation as he chewed. I noted that the four of us, who’d resumed our seats, watched him intently, as though fascinated by his mastication.

“What brings you to Hampstead Heath?” I asked when he’d swallowed and wiped his mouth on the second napkin I hastily handed to him. He’d been about to clean it on his sleeve. “Seeking fresh air?”

South of us, smoke from the chimneys of London hoveredlike dark clouds on the horizon. The weather had remained warm since August, but nights had begun to cool, and now coal smoke from household fires coated the air.

“Naw, I come to find Danny here.” Mr. Grimes indicated Daniel with a broad finger, then stuffed a lemon-filled pastry into his mouth.

“You happened to guess I was picnicking on the Heath?” Daniel’s voice held its usual warmth, but I sensed his wariness.

Mr. Grimes swallowed noisily and wiped his mouth again. “Asked your landlady in Southampton Street where you’d gone. She didn’t want to tell me, but I said it were urgent, like.”

A gust of the breeze that had kept the worst of the smoke from the Heath threatened to dislodge the cap firmly atop Mr. Grimes’s unruly dark hair. I thought the wind held a colder note, the premonition of something coming.

“What is it?” Daniel asked. “If it is a message from Scotland Yard, then I will speak to them when it suits me.”

Daniel, a few months ago, had at long last given up working for a branch of the police run by a man named Mr. Monaghan. Daniel had indicated he was willing to stay on with Scotland Yard and do any investigating they needed, because he was excellent at undercover work, but so far they hadn’t contacted him much, that I knew of.

“Why would I be bringing messages from Scotland Yard?” Mr. Grimes demanded. “I never go near a nick, and you know it. No, there’s a cove what wants to speak to ye. Says he has some information you’ll want.”

Daniel’s eyes narrowed. “What sort of information?”

“He wouldn’t tell me all of it,” Mr. Grimes confessed. “But said it was important enough for me to find you right away.”

Mr. Grimes glanced sidelong at James and Grace, who were listening avidly. I was listening as intently, of course.

Daniel noted our attention and climbed to his feet. “Let’s have a walk, Grimes.”

“Right you are.” Mr. Grimes heaved himself up, handing me the empty napkins with thanks.

The two of them strode away, moving steadily down the emerald green slope of the Heath.

I tried to hide my disappointment that Daniel did not invite me along, but I could hardly jump up and race after them, leaving Grace and James behind.