Page 8 of Ashes To Ashes
Lincoln merely looked at him.
The guard's top lip curled up. "You ain't got no chance with Ela if you ain't a lord or rich."
"That's not what I hear."
"Or a strong man," the guard added, with a chuckle that made the flesh of his neck shake like jelly.
Lincoln watched the procession of acrobats dressed in white tights and red costumes, cut low at the bust and high up the thighs like Elizabethan trunk hose.
"Does Ela have regular liaisons with any of the other performers?" Lincoln asked the guard.
"Why do you want to know?"
"We're private inquiry agents, looking into the death of Patrick O'Neill. The police here in England are useless, and your employers want to find the killer." If the story had worked once, it should work again.
It did. The guard nodded his approval. "Good. Glad they're doing something right by the acts for once." He stroked his heavy jaw. "She weren't with anyone else that I knew, just the strongman. Of course, there were others outside the circus."
"Lords or rich men?"
"Both."
"Do you have any names?"
"No." His hand whipped out and he grabbed the arm of one of the girls walking past—a pretty dark-haired girl with a tiny waist and large bosom that was barely covered by the flimsy outfit. "Gentleman here wants to speak with you, Ela."
Ela told the other dancers that she would meet them later, after she found out if "this one" was "worth it." She spoke in her native Polish, a language Lincoln was familiar with.
She turned a bright smile onto him. It became even brighter when Seth joined them. "Twohandsome gentlemen?" she said in a thick accent. "I am lucky girl."
"We want to speak with you," Lincoln said.
Seth held up his hand for silence. Lincoln clamped his teeth together. "My dear," Seth said, turning on his smile. "It's Ela, isn't it?"
She nodded. "And you are?"
"Lord Vickers." He removed his hat and swept into a low bow.
The girl held out her hand and Seth kissed it. "I am pleased to meet you, Lord Vickers. Did you and your friend enjoy our performance?"
"Very much. You danced beautifully. So graceful! So elegant!"
"Thank you. You are very kind." She placed a hand on her hip and lowered her heavily made-up eyelids. The coquettish move made Seth stand straighter.
"We have some questions for you regarding the death of Mr. O'Neill," Lincoln said.
Everything about her suddenly changed, from her assured stance to the color of her face. It was as if her life force drained out of her. Her lower lip wobbled and she bit it. If it was an act, Lincoln couldn't detect the lie.
With a jerk of her head, she led them away from the eavesdroppers. "Why are you asking questions about Patrick?"
Lincoln repeated his story. "Did he have any enemies within the circus?"
She shook her head. "Everyone like Patrick. He was kind, good."
"Was he your only lover here?"
Seth shook his head and muttered something Lincoln couldn't hear. Lincoln ignored him.
Ela gasped and placed a hand to her bosom. "I find your question very rude, sir."
