Constantine Capers: The Pennington Perplexity by Natalie Brianne (new ebook reader TXT) 📕

them both and offered her a handkerchief. She didn’t take it.

“I didn’t know if you would come when I was kidnapped by Circe’s smugglers. I was certain that you would forget.” Byron looked back at her, eyes widening. She continued. “And so, I found my own way out. But you still came.” Another tear followed the first. “Byron, I won’t let you forget. Even if you don’t believe me, I will always come. So, just trust me.” Her eyes met his, and his resolve cracked.

“I’m sorry Miss. But I’m afraid I don’t remember you.”

“That’s alright Byron. You never do.” She sat down.

He nodded and looked down for a moment in silence. Then he moved over and knelt next to her chair.

“But you remember me. And more importantly, you remember the case.”

She nodded. “I have all the things we need right here.” She pulled out her costume and handed the bag over to him.

“Ah. Disguises. One of my favorite ways to go about detective work.” He hid the guilt in his eyes with a smile.

The real tears came as soon as Mira entered the spare offices at Scotland Yard. She could only be grateful that she hid them until she was alone. Or at least out of sight of Byron. “It’s not his fault,” she reminded herself. If anything, it was her fault for letting herself fall in love with someone who would never truly remember her. She laughed a bit through her tears. This couldn’t be love. It was silly. Ridiculous.

Her shoulders shook as she took another breath and took the ragged dress in her hands. She didn’t have time to focus on her feelings now. She slipped on the grubby garments and tightened the corset, keeping her heart in its place.

Today, she could be a different person. She would have to be. She knelt by the fireplace and gently lifted some soot, the particles soft and fine between her fingertips. The soot mixed with her tears as she smudged it on her face and down her neckline, then sprinkled some in her hair. Hopefully that would be enough to disguise her. She came back into the chief inspector’s office and he did a double take.

“Miss Blayse! I could hardly recognize you.”

“I believe that’s the desired outcome of this.” She pulled the shawl tighter around her shoulders as she set her own clothes down in a chair.

“I’m sorry about Constantine. It really is hard to see him like that.”

“At least he remembers you.”

“Ah, yes. That would make things more difficult.”

“I’m convinced he quite nearly brought me to a mental institution this morning.”

“He distrusted you that much?”

“I still think he doesn’t trust me. I’m starting to believe he never has.” She felt another round of sobs bubbling beneath the surface and she turned away.

“I think he trusts you more than you realize. Just give him some time to warm up to you today.”

“I just wish I knew where he had left the journal. It truly was nowhere to be found.”

The door opened, and Byron strode in. She could only tell it was him by the way he walked, he was so well disguised.

“Well?” He turned for inspection.

“Unrecognizable, save your voice my friend.” The chief inspector smiled.

“Excellent. That means we can get going.” He paused and acknowledged Mira for the first time. His eyes widened.

“Goodness! Your transformation is incredible.” He walked around her. The layer of soot hid her blush as he looked her over.

“Good enough?”

“More than good enough! No one will recognize you.”

She smiled. “Glad to hear it.”

“Now to free our jailbird.”

They drew several odd looks from people as they walked through the police station. Officer Wensley escorted them.

“Byron, my good chap, I hate to say it, but you’ve been letting yourself go,” he teased.

“It’s been a rough few weeks, so I’ve been told.” Byron glanced at her. She looked away.

“You’re wanting access to the cat burglar, correct?” Wensley fiddled with his keys.

“Indeed, we are.”

They came to where the cells were, and Fred unlocked Selene’s door. She stretched and walked out, graceful as always. She wore her original clothing again.

“Hello again, Detective.” She smiled sweetly. “You are the detective, right? I almost can’t tell under your disguise.”

“You’ve guessed correctly. Now I believe you were going to lead us to Miss…” He stopped and drew a breath through his teeth, looking to Fred for the name.

“Bridges. Molly Bridges, or MB. The Shadow,” Officer Wensley said.

“Yes. Her.” Byron looked back at Selene.

“Having memory troubles again?” the cat sneered.

“Just ensuring I have the correct information. Now I assume that you were able to get correspondence with her. Do you have a meeting time?”

“Yes. At noon. It’s, what? Ten o’clock now?”

Byron checked his pocket watch and nodded.

“That should give us enough time to get into the Pit. That is if your secretary shows up any time soon. Or is she not coming?” the cat said.

“I’m already here.” Mira folded her arms. The cat grinned.

“Oh! How dreadful! Look at you. You are practically common.”

Mira narrowed her eyes. Selene was almost too comfortable with her freedom. Byron cleared his throat.

“Shall we?”

They must have made quite the spectacle coming out of Scotland Yard. The ever-graceful cat burglar, the grisly old man, and the wretched beggar woman. Byron signaled for a carriage, but none would stop. With a simple change of clothes, they looked, and now were treated, like the working class. Selene led the way down backstreets heading east, and eventually south. The buildings became more decrepit as they walked deeper into almost unrecognizable territory. They passed Schwarz and Son’s Butchery and Mira shivered. She did not like this part of town. Byron barely noticed her discomfort.

Soon enough, residential buildings replaced the shops and marketplaces, although the houses looked barely livable, even for rats. Haggard faces stared out from cracked windows. She tripped over an old woman dressed similarly to herself.

“Oh! I’m so very sorry.”

Byron pulled her by the wrist, and away, his voice a harsh whisper. “You’re one of them now. Don’t you dare speak