“What is his name?” Sebastian asked in a steely voice.
“I-I can’t tell ye, or I’m done fer,” Doogan stammered.
“Tell me his name or you’ll have more to fear this very night,” Sebastian said, lifting the now trembling man by the collar.
“Rosco. He goes by the name Rosco,” Doogan squeaked out. “I only see him when he comes looking for help in one of his jobs. He pays better ’n most others ’round here.”
“Tell us about the toff and his chit. They were targeted, weren’t they?” Sebastian demanded.
Doogan’s face twisted in pain. “Yes. Yes, they was. We were waitin’ fer them. We tried a few times to get them and then that night Rosco broke the gas lamps on Drury Lane, we figured no carriage driver would want to wait there on that dark corner. And we was lucky the toff walked into our trap.
“You were lucky, eh?” Nelson growled, shoving Doogan from behind. “You were lucky to get the chance to murder a man in cold blood?”
“No! No! No!” Doogan shook his head. “I told ye both, that Rosco told us there would be nobody killed. And then he killed the bloke—for nothing.”
“You’re coming with us,” Sebastian said bluntly. “And if you try to leave, I’ll break your legs.”
“I’d listen to him. He’s not his usual charming self at the moment,” Nelson suggested.
Doogan drew up. “What’s goin’ to ’appen to me?”
Sebastian lifted him once more by the collar. “I’m having you locked up. Prinny has become interested in this murder—you killed a peer and the nephew of a prominent judge in one of the common law courts. You cannot believe that bodes well for you.”
“I didn’t kill him,” Doogan protested again.
“But you did help Rosco to rob the couple and you didn’t go to the authorities after, either,” Sebastian said. “But if you help us now—I will put a good word in for you. I can make no promises. But anything is better than swinging at the end of a rope. Right?”
Doogan ran his hand along his neck. “There’s a place in the Blackfield Cemetery where he goes sometimes. He bragged about bringing the women up there.”
“What do you mean, the women?” Nelson asked.
“I told ye, Rosco is dangerous. I’ve heard rumors that he kills them and buries them there. He takes ’em to the old gatekeeper’s cottage first. I never done anything like that, but Gummy and I met Rosco there the first time we worked for him.” Doogan expelled a breath. “He’ll kill me if he finds out I snitched.”
“We won’t tell. But you aren’t finished helping us, either. Where’s Gummy?”
“I dunno…and that’s the truth. Haven’t seen him in weeks.”
“Fine. That’s enough for tonight. Let’s go.” They walked a visibly shaking Doogan to the corner where Sebastian’s carriage was waiting. “No. 4 Bow Street,” Sebastian said to his driver.
Nelson opened the door to the carriage and shoved Doogan inside.
“We’re going to keep you somewhere nice and safe,” Sebastian said. “You may become useful again.”
Rosco opened her cell and walked in, kicking the door closed behind him. “I’m back, Endora.”
“I’m sick of this filthy cell.” Endora flung the paper she’d been reading to the floor. “You say you have clout here, yet you have yet to find me a more suitable chamber. I want a larger room, one that matches my station in life.” She pouted. “You promised me. I want a canopied bed—not that ridiculous excuse for a bed.” She pointed to the unmade narrow bed with its dingy sheets. “And an Aubusson carpet, not that flimsy thing,” she said, scowling at the threadbare rug.
Rosco instinctively closed his eyes and covered his ears, trying to shut out her shrill voice. Lately, he was finding it more and more of a challenge to coax her out of her dark moods. Endora had picked up exactly where she’d left off that morning when he shut the door behind him.
“You’re not listening to me!” she whined. “You never listen to me!”
“You’re in the bloody Tower, woman!” he said, losing his temper. “A convict. You killed two husbands with arsenic—and don’t bother to deny it. You’re lucky they put you in here.”
“Lucky? Lucky am I?” She stood and began to pace. “How am I lucky? I’m in here because of that meddling old woman and the Lathams.”
“You avoided the hangman’s noose, En…dor…a,” he said, deliberately drawing out her name. “I’d say that qualifies as luck.”
She threw a scowl at him and continued to pepper him with questions. “Well? Did you do what I asked? Are those two buffoons back in town? Have you been following the chit’s movements? We have to know what her routine is.”
