Lord Day and Lady Night

57. Help from the Police

It stopped.

Frowning, Patrick glanced around. The surroundings still looked just as bad as before, if not worse. Why...?

"Are ye wondering where all da crooks are?" Amy's voice suddenly came from beside him, low enough for only him to hear.

"I must admit to some curiosity, yes. I would have thought that in these parts, the streets would be full of thugs."

She jabbed a finger to where they had come from. "Did you see any normal people out on the streets back there?"

"No, of course not."

"And why was that?"

"Assumably because they were afraid to leave their homes."

Her finger moved, now pointing ahead. "Aye. So, if 'ere dere ain't any thugs out on da streets, either..."

Then they are also afraid.

She didn't say the words out loud. But she didn't need to. The look on her face was enough. They had entered another kind of place. A place where no sane man would wish to go.

Yay! Destination reached!

He just really, really hoped he wasn't going to regret this.

From beside him, Amy grinned up at him. "Let's go through da plan again, aye?"

"Very well," Patrick nodded, and started to recite what Amy had told him. "We cannot approach the gangs directly and just ask to join. They'll be far too suspicious. So at first, we'll try to come to their attention with small-time crimes, selling them supposedly stolen items and the like. For that purpose we're now heading to a...wall?"

"Fence. It's called a fence."

"We're heading to a fence, which apparently is also a human, and we will try to sell him things."

"Remind me ta brush up yer underworld lingo."

"I shall do my best."

For a minute, they strode down the dark street in companionable silence. Finally, Lord Patrick glanced sideways at her.

"So...what are we going to sell to those gangsters?"

Amy smiled. "I've got it covered, don't ye worry."

Suddenly, Lord Patrick Day felt a whole lot more worried.

***

The moment Amy saw the lamp with the blue shade in the shop window, she knew they were in the right place. Old Jem always used the same signal to convey he was open for business.

"Now, remember what I told ye," she whispered to Patrick. "Keep on dat old cloak I gave ye and hide yer mug till we can find somethin' better for ye. Keep yer mouth shut as much as possible. And for God's sake, try and look less noble!"

"I shall endeavour to—ow!" He rubbed his ribs where Amy's elbow had hit. "I mean, aye, I'll do dat."

"Good." Then, without waiting, Amy pushed open the door to the store.

"'ello dere, dear." The fellow behind the counter—a bald, emaciated old goat with half-rotten teeth and an actual hunchback—sent Amy a charming, gap-toothed smile straight from a gothic horror novel. "Welcome to me little lamp shop. What can I do for ye?"

Or would ye like me to just do ye, instead?

Amy very much heard the unspoken question. But she was a professional. Keeping a smile on her face, she leaned over the counter, displaying her assets.