Strike at Midnight(90)
“What?” I asked, turning around to see three law-enforcement officers hovering at the doorway. Oh, double shit balls on a stick.
“Stay where you are,” the one at the front growled at me, and then he shook out a pair of manacles with one hand while aiming a sword at me with the other. “I mean it.”
“Mean what, exactly?” I asked, dropping my tunic so I could raise my hands to show I meant no harm. “I just found the guy like this.”
“Likely story,” the guy sneered, and he sheathed his sword before grabbing my hands and yanking them behind my back so he could lock the manacles on my wrists.
“You’re making a big mistake,” I said, not liking how he was manhandling me. “I’ve just found him like this. He’s part of the case I was working on for a Knight of the First Order.”
“Of course he is,” he said, and I recognized him to be one of the cocky shits who always liked to make lewd comments on the occasions I was forced to go into the jailhouse. His name was Hamlington or something like that, but his buddies called him “Ham.” He was a complete ass, and the other two were as green as green could be—and not just from the smell. They looked to be newbies to the law enforcement, and they were looking at me like I was actually capable of smashing someone’s head in with a poker. Great.
“Stay with the body, Tomkins,” Officer Ham ordered one of the younger officers, and the guy gulped and nodded in reply. “We’ll take her down to the jailhouse and make arrangements for his collection.”
“Sir Raymond will vouch for me,” I said, struggling against Officer Ham’s hold, but he just shook me hard in warning for me to behave myself.
“Let’s go,” he said, ignoring anything I had to say. Then he was dragging me out to a carriage that had bars on its windows and white letters that read LEO painted on the side. I believe that stood for law-enforcement officers, but one could easily mistake that for Lazy, Egotistical Oafs. It was a fine line between the two.
He threw me into the carriage and shut the door behind me.
“It looks like you’ve finally crossed a line, Rosewood,” he said with a grin that looked a bit disturbing on his round face. With his pig-like nose, I guessed the nickname Ham suited him after all. “It’s off to the other side of the bars for you.”
“Fuck off,” I managed to say before he disappeared, but it was a petty comeback on my part. I had just gotten arrested for a murder I hadn’t committed, and I hadn’t even had my morning coffee. I kicked the seat in front of me out of frustration and vowed that the next time I got tied up by somebody, it would be with my damn permission.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
Bored Behind Bars
Well, this was turning out to be a shitty day.
They had taken the manacles off me, but I was now on the floor of one of the grimy cells with only the wooden door being anything of interest to look at.
The room was made from stone, with a hole high above in the wall behind me with bars separating me from the outside. Why the bars, I didn’t know. It wasn’t exactly like anyone who wasn’t born with giant genes could reach the damn thing and bust out of it.
There were rushes on the floor and a bucket in the corner. If they thought I was going to be using that thing while I was here, then they were sadly mistaken. I would rather piss on the rushes.
The place stank and there was a small hatch on the door that was pulled back every hour or so as the officers took turns to take a look at the infamous Rella Rosewood getting her dues. Assholes.
They had never liked me very much, and it was most likely because I made them look like the lazy bastards they were. I’d had a few cases referred to me over the years because of their poor efforts, and Sir Raymond wasn’t the only one who hadn’t trusted them in hunting someone down. That must have rankled.
Now I was stuck in a cell and privy to their bullshit, and I just hoped that some common sense would prevail on them soon. Or that it was some horrible kind of joke at my expense. But I wouldn’t hold my breath on either point.
The hatch opened again and this time, it was Ham looking at me with a smug grin on his face.
“I can’t get hold of Sir Raymond,” he said with a sneer. “So it looks like you’ll be staying here until the next scheduled public hanging. Make yourself comfortable.”
Public hanging? Wait. What?
“Wait,” I said before he went to shut the hatch door once more. “What the hell do you mean? Public hanging? This case involves a peer, so it should go to the Royal Court. And I need to speak to Sir Raymond, damn it. He knows that Lord Peacock is the one who most likely murdered Dumpty. I told you this before you threw me in here.”
“And you were the one we found standing over the body. That’s sufficient enough evidence for us to bypass the Royal Court and sign off on a public hanging.” He blew me a kiss, and I heard laughs from other men who must have been standing with him.
“The prince knows about all of this,” I said, getting up and running up to the door to try and get him to understand. “You need to send this information to them and he will vouch for me. I vow it. Send a summons to the castle.”
“On what grounds?” he asked with a quirk of his eyebrow. “You’ve been a liability in this city for a long time, Rosewood. We all knew it wouldn’t be long before you were on this side of the cell. Why the hell would royalty vouch for you?”