Page 2 of Ashes To Ashes
"Tall, red hair, gray beard, fat, and he had on round specs. Wore a long black cloak, made of fine wool, it were."
Lincoln's heart sank. The red hair and gray beard didn't match the descriptions he'd already gathered from his other informants. One had met a beardless man, another had described the fellow as blond and slender, yet another claimed he was young with brown hair and of average weight. The only thing they agreed on was that the man was tall. A man's height was impossible to disguise. The rest could be changed with wigs, glasses, and padding.
"What about a name?" Lincoln asked.
"Are you bleedin' stupid?"
It was worth a try. "Did he have a conveyance?"
"Black hack, no markings."
"What about the driver and horse?"
"Driver were wrapped to the eyeballs in his cloak, the horse were brown. I didn't follow him, if that's yer next question. I didn't want to make meself known to him."
"You took careful note of these things because you knew I would pay for information?"
"Aye. Jim told me."
How many people had Jim told? "Did your friend refuse the job or did the toff decide to go elsewhere after meeting him?"
Billy's pause made Lincoln frown. "How do you know he didn't take it?"
Because the killer had turned up dead a week ago, most likely silenced by the toff's hand, and Billy spoke as if his friend were still alive. "I just do."
"He refused it. He ain't no killer, see. He just uses the barker to scare folk out o' their jewels and the like."
"Why did it take you this long to approach me?" Lincoln had been speaking to informants earlier in the week, but there'd been no word from them in two days. Billy the Bolter might have delayed because he couldn't decide if lying to collect the reward was a risk worth taking. Jim would have told him what happened to informants who misled Lincoln.
Billy rocked back. "It were only last night."
"Last night?"
"God's truth! I knew you would pay because Jim told me so, but it were only last night that it happened. I spoke wiv Jim today, and he set up this meetin'."
That he had. If the exchange had only happened last night, either someone else was looking for a killer to hire, or the toff who'd commissioned the murders of the supernaturals was going to kill again.
Lincoln wasn't surprised. It had only been a matter of time. Fortunately, with Charlie gone, he could now focus on finding out who was behind the murders and stop them before they killed again.
"Is there anything else you can tell me?" Lincoln asked.
"Nope." Billy held out his hand and Lincoln placed another pouch onto it.
"There'll be more of that if you can find out anything else of note about the toff, or the gunman he hires."
"Aye, sir. I'll be all ears and eyes."
"Breathe a word about this meeting to anyone and I'll slit your throat."
"You got to catch me first." Billy danced away then turned to run.
Lincoln silently cursed the entire criminal classes for their arrogance and sprinted after him. He caught Billy well before the lane opened up onto the main street. He twisted the scum's arm behind his back and clamped a hand over his mouth. No one would have seen—Whitechapel wasn't known for its working streetlamps—but there was a chance someone had heard Billy's muffled cry of pain.
"As I was saying," Lincoln said with quiet menace, "do not tell a soul. I know where you live. I know where your family lives. No one will be harmed if you abide by my rule of silence."
Billy nodded quickly and Lincoln let him go. "H-how do you know where I live?"
The fellow was audacious to ask. "I make sure to investigate all my informants…William John Hamlin."
