724 DRURY LANE, LONDON
"Besh! Besh! Kappi, besh!"
St. George sighed to himself as he walked up the stairs to his closest friend's quarters, the thick Romani accent shouting in that spellbinding language.
A pretty woman appeared with blond hair pinned neatly under her bonnet. She walked briskly out of the flat as her rich lavender skirts swayed along with her haste. Her sharp-featured face was red, flustered, and pulled tight in distraught.
St. George put on his charming smile and the woman stopped abruptly before him. Her big brown eyes widened, recognition flashing in them. Her face reddened even more as she put her gloved hand over her chest. Her narrowed, sloping shoulders stiffened and she gave a harsh swallow.
"I beg your pardon, My Lord." She curtsied, and St. George bowed.
"Why in such a hurry, Miss?"
"Daviess, My Lord." She replied shyly. "Kathleen Daviess."
He stepped up the stairs until he was at eye level with her. "What is the problem, Miss Daviess?"
She fidgeted with her covered fingers and jumped when a loud crash was heard along with broken glass, followed by boisterous Romani curses.
St. George didn't even flinch. "I take it you are here to gather assistance on a matter."
She nodded.
He gave her a flirtatious wink. "Mind coming back up with me?" He stretched out his arm and she gladly took it, looking up at him with shining eyes. He had an effect on women and this one was no different. She easily melted and relaxed as he guided her back up the steps. "Now, stay put while I go take care of this mess. I'll be back as soon as I'm able."
He gripped her hand and kissed it, causing her to flush and her pretty mouth to slacken. So innocent, he thought to himself. He was a known rake, and she was easy prey but before that...
She was Nicu's client.
He parted with her and entered the chaotic quarters, closing the door behind him. The usually somewhat organized place was an atrocious mess with papers everywhere, broken shards, and torn furniture. The cause was a grey and black blur of fur that now was scampering around in glee.
For a minute, St. George swore he saw something shine in the little vermin's front paws, but he was unable to examine it further because the little beast darted away.
"Kappi! I'm going to gut you and make coon stew out of you." St. George turned at the sound of a very agitated Roma. Nothing was worse than dealing with Nicu's eccentricity... except that of his temper. His longtime friend popped out from behind a large settee as the imported raccoon from the States, sat on it.
If there was any man in the world that could catch nature's most elusive bandit off guard, it would be Nicu. The raccoon had been outmatched as its owner wrapped his big weather-beaten hands around the rodent.
Crafty bandit, St. George thought to himself.
Whether he was talking about Nicu or Kappi was unknown.
Nicu with his endless calculating and unconventional demeanor snapped his attention to St. George. His eyes had always intimidated St. George. They were deep liquid gold, like cognac, and similar to the rich spirits, his eyes had a strong flavor that can only be sipped and relished slowly. Around the heavy liquor eyes, were black rims, showcasing his burning, unparalleled intelligence.
The anger festering in Nicu's gaze receded when he smiled up at St. George. And just like that, a new depth was added to those all-seeing orbs. St. George could never keep up with his friend. Nicu was an ever-changing wind.
Nicu straightened and held his screeching coon. "Phal, I didn't know you were coming today. Sorry for the mess."
Nicu didn't look apologetic in the slightest. Instead, he looked impish with his crooked grin and mischievous expression.
"First, this place is always a mess and secondly..." St. George lost his train of thought when he saw what exactly was in the horrid critter's paws. "Blast! Is that a gun?"
Nicu looked unperturbed as he swept some raven locks out of his face. "Ah yes, I was in the middle of interviewing a new client when Kappi managed to swipe the gun I had hidden in my stationary drawer. Scared the wits right out of her when—"
"Why do you have a gun in your stationary drawer?" St. George asked, cocking an ash blonde brow.
"Because of the simple fact, I had a client pull a knife on me when I was in the middle of writing a telegram. Since then, I have hidden multiple pistols in multiple places around the house." Nicu said as he tried taking the weapon from Kappi's paws. The two were fighting over it like kids with a lollipop, which caused Nicu to grunt out. "You know that some clients are happy with the news they receive, while others try to kill the messenger."
St. George grabbed a chair and sat it in front of the settee. "How many places?"
"Seven." Nicu stopped and snapped his fingers in midair. "No, eight. I just hid one by my chamber pot."
"Your chamber pot?"
"Yes, I'd rather not die there." He replied and he went back to the game of tug of war and finally pried the gun from the rodent's grasp.
"Why would you?"
"A client—"
"Please don't proceed with that explanation." St George was quick to interrupt.
Nicu's grin turned into a crafty smile. "So, what brings you here?"
St. George sighed. "We had an outing scheduled to go to your brother-in-law's. Remember? It's about Mr. Greerson and the robbery at his shop. Where the yellow diamond necklace—"
"Oh, absolutely boring, his wife did it." Nicu waved it out with his dark brawny hand.
"His wife? Impossible!" St. George questioned in disbelief. "Nicu, Mr. Greerson is among the richest men in England and a personal friend—"
"I am well aware." Nicu interrupted sharply. He was the only man to ever talk to a Lord in that manner. A Roma that had no problem with the type of skin he wore, or the people he would offend. "But I'm not wasting my time on a case that is merely a domestic dispute. "
"How so?" St. George asked in indignation.
Nicu placed his firearm in the drawer and turned to St. George, grinning like a cat finding its prey dangling in front of him. "You would like me to explain then, Phal?"
St. George scoffed. "Explain away."
"The reason my brother-in-law wanted me to investigate is that there were no signs of a break-in, which baffled the constables, but you both thought I'd be highly interested and able to easily solve it. You were right of course." Nicu shrugged. "But only about me solving it. Everyone knows your stout friend Mr. Greerson has a mistress that he adores and bestows her with magical jewels."
"So why wouldn't it be the mistress?" St. George questioned, fanning boredom.
"Because of that very reason. Why would she steal from him when he drapes her in jewels that already make her the envy of every woman? No one ever notices the calm and quiet wife by his side, but I do. I ran into her not too long ago—"
"Please tell me you didn't disguise yourself." St. George pinched the bridge of his nose as if he could feel a headache coming on. "Why are you so outrageous?"
"I wasn't in disguise for her, but yes, for other circumstances. But that is beside the point. I took notice of how she wore a high collared neck. Now seeing as how she's a young and pretty woman, she should be wearing fashionable gowns with sloped and scooped necks, showing off her impressive bosom as women love to do. Only Dowagers or spinsters wear such day dresses. There is also the fact that despite her husband's lucrative jewelry business she never wears any of his products."
"It's because to him his wife is far too beautiful for any jewels. Any imbecile can see the way he adores her. Besides, he told me that himself. Diamonds would only be outshined by her beauty, whereas his mistress, a rather plain woman, would be far better suited to showcase how his jewels could make even the plainest woman shine." St. George explained, pleased with himself.
Nicu stared at him in silence for a few seconds giving nothing away in his blank stare. For a moment St. George prided himself on surprising his friend with his own detective skills. But then Nicu titled his head and when Nicu did that, a man knew he had been wrong about an assumption.
Very, terribly wrong.
St. George shifted in his seat feeling like a cockney from the Cheapside district of London with no education, rather than a blue-blooded Viscount who attended Oxford. Nicu had this ability with people, it made one forget he was a Roma.
Intelligence was a powerful ally.
"Absolute rubbish," Nicu stated blandly, "I'm curious."
"About what?"
Nicu picked up a glass with dark liquid, sniffed it, and put it back down, his face contorting in disgust at whatever it was. "What it's like to have such limited brainpower?"
St. George gave Nicu a deadpanned stare, used to his friend's insults. Nicu never did it to be rude but was genuinely confounded when people couldn't see or understand what he could. It made his friend quite hated and unable to have many close comrades or lovers.
A small sacrifice for endless knowledge, Nicu would say.
The exotic man picked the glass back up swished the contents around and poured some down his throat.
St. George looked at him in confusion. "You looked disgusted by that concoction so why did you drink it?"
"I was thirsty."
Nicu was the cleverest, and slyest man St. George had ever known, but very odd and insensible about certain things. They became acquainted a long time ago when Alastair Rayfield, Lord Rathborne, St. George's childhood friend who was now a Marques, needed assistance when he found himself in deep trouble. Alastair had been told by the police that their Romani detective, Nicu Rowe, would be able to help. Alastair nearly choked on his own breath at the idea of having a Rom help his situation, but St. George was able to convince him to at least meet with Detective Rowe. And then, when the door opened both the men were greeted by breath-taking beauty, Nicu's sister, Esma Rowe.
An exquisite Romani woman who was striking and adorned the kindest, most compassionate spirit... except when agitated. Alastair fell in love in that breath of a moment and hired Nicu right on the spot in hopes to see Esma more. Once the case had been solved with swiftness and privacy, Alastair and St. George found themselves a lifelong friend in Nicu, and Alastair a wife as well.
St. George cleared his throat. "I'm going to stop your explanation for now. You can finish it when we arrive at Lord Rathborne's."
Nicu eyed St. George and finished off whatever drink was in the glass. "You can't force me."
"Your sister is dying to see you and so is Lovey."
Nicu's eyes softened at the mention of his little eight-year-old niece. "Ah, my little love, Chakano. But no, I hate Berkshire and must stay in London, they may need me for this very interesting case."
"Is it over their heads?"
"Oh absolutely," Nicu stated as he set the glass back down on the table right where the stained ring was. "There are talks of ghosts."
"Well, my friend, you will have to miss it and while we're gone, we should look into hiring you a maid."
Nicu smirked at his dear friend. "Phal, I will not be going. You may go ahead and give Alastair the news and little Lovey my regrets, but this case is not something I can walk away from."
A small light knock interrupted the two and St. George sighed. "The woman is still here and is waiting to be seen. I'll answer it."
As St. George went to the door, Nicu stood by his window watching, calculating all movement outside. His mind never rested. Nicu had worked for Scotland Yard, but because of his tendency to irritate his comrades and cause scenes, they had allowed him to do his work from home. They would send him cases they couldn't be bothered with or were too above their heads.
St. George opened the door and the brown-eyed girl from earlier was no longer in disarray, instead, her eyes shined with determination. "I must speak with Detective Rowe."
He stepped aside and allowed her in. "It is rather dangerous for a woman to come to a man's place unchaperoned."
The girl paid no mind to St. George's comment. "Detective Rowe, I am here on a matter of urgency like I said prior, before your little—"
"Kappi." Nicu interrupted.
"Vermin shot the pistol it was carrying." She finished not listening to Nicu's interjection. She turned to St. George. "I am a spinster and have no need for a chaperone."
"Shot it?" St. George asked wide-eyed.
Nicu's pensive expression turned toward the furry companion, his lips pressed in an intrigued smile. "Ah, yes, a most impressive creature."
Kappi jumped up on Nicu's shoulder and rested himself along his master's neck. The young woman eyed the rodent in disgust but swallowed it down.
"The police said I am being intolerable and sent me your way." She fiddled with her reticule and watched Nicu, flushing.
If there was one man that could possibly surpass St. George in looks it was Nicu. The man with his swarthiness and exotic nature was hypnotizing for women. Heated whispers followed him wherever he went and not a single woman's eye wasn't captured. They were lured to him, but none would tread the territory of a Rom, especially when he opened his mouth. He was fun for them to look at though.
"What is your problem, Miss Daviess?" St. George asked on Nicu's behalf since his friend already looked bored.
"My sister. She goes to Fulton's Girl's School in Reading and since she had been sent there, I have received a letter from her weekly." Her reticule swayed as her finger pointed to the floor for emphasis. "I haven't heard from her in weeks. The police refuse to investigate claiming I'm being a senseless wench."
Nicu turned to her, his eyes slit in contemplation. "And you think something happened?"
St. George stepped in. "It hasn't been long enough to suspect anything, Miss Daviess. Why don't you visit? I wouldn't go as far to hire a—"
Nicu's hand in the air stopped St. George at once and his attention was solely on Miss Daviess. "You feel it don't you?"
"Yes. Something is wrong Mr. Rowe, and the parents of the other girls are growing concerned as well."
St. George clicked his tongue in contempt. "You can't base something off a feeling, Miss Daviess, which is why the constables said what they did."
Miss Daviess gasped as Nicu swiftly stepped toward her. "Ignore this plonker..." St. George scoffed at Nicu's insult. "Where do you feel it, Miss Daviess? Your gut?" He pointed to her stomach, not caring that it was improper. "Or your bones?"
"What's the difference?" St. George asked in genuine interest.
Nicu touched the woman's small wrist, tapping the little bone that protrudes from the delicate ivory skin. "A great one, Phal. A gut can lie, but bones... bones sing the truth."
St. George should've been baffled by his friend's explanation, but he wasn't. As brilliant as Nicu was, what helped him solve most of his cases wasn't only his knowledge, but also his Roma heritage. His ability to believe in things that couldn't be seen.
"Like the wind, Phal, you can't see it, but you can feel it. Intuition is one and the same."
Nicu and Miss Daviess stared at each other in silent conversation as St. George stood there awkwardly. In that brief but intense exchange, Nicu nodded and straightened himself. "I will look into it for you. Now if you don't want rumors following you, I insist you must depart. Leave me your information and I will contact you when I've found something."
The woman nodded and wrote down her information while Nicu disappeared. When she went to leave, St. George stared at the door, and as soon as it clicked shut and her footsteps descended, he said, "That was a quick way to turn her down. Now let's get back to—"
When St. George's eyes landed on Nicu his friend was putting on his coat with some luggage by his side. Without so much as a word, he opened the door and Kappi immediately darted from his perch and jumped up to Nicu's shoulders.
"Wait a moment. What are you doing? Where are you going?" St. George asked baffled.
Nicu paused at the door and then turned around giving a big broad smile that only meant one thing. "I seem to have a new case, Phal, and it looks like we'll be visiting Phen after all."
Chapter One! What do you all think of Detective Nicu Rowe? He has been one of my favorite characters to write, apart from Kappi 🤣
Comment here with a heart emoji if you'd like more ❤️
Besh: sit
Phal: brother
Chakano: star
Phen: sister