B is for Bookies: A Langley & Porter Mystery

Contents Title Page Copyright Chapter One - Luck of the Draw Chapter Two - A Visit Paid Chapter Three - Gone Chapter Four - Pagaentry Chapter Five - Nightcap Chapter Six - Visitors Chapter Seven - The Americans Chapter Eight - An Unfortunate Encounter Chapter Nine - Solace and Sympathy Chapter Ten - Getting To Know You Chapter Eleven - Inquisition Chapter Twelve - Reputation Chapter Thirteen - Threatened Chapter Fourteen - A New Friend Chapter Fifteen - First Crack Chapter Sixteen - A New Narrative Chapter Seventeen - Sisters Chapter Eighteen - Home Of The Free Chapter Nineteen - Muffins and A Bouquet of Lilies Chapter Twenty - Tell Me Your Secrets Chapter Twenty-One - A Close Call Chapter Twenty-Two - Triumph C is for Conspiracy Series Information About The Author Guide Contents Start of Content B IS FOR BOOKIES A. N. Horton Copyright © 2023 A. N. Horton All rights reserved. ISBN: ISBN-13: CHAPTER ONE Luck of the Draw MY PROTESTATIONS FELL on deaf ears as our carriage pulled up to the curb of the familiar gambling den that was quickly becoming an unwelcome sight to my eyes. Mr. Langley gave me a brief smile meant, certainly, to assuage my concern and encourage me for whatever new trick he had up his sleeve. It did no such thing as all I could think of was the memory of a bruised and beaten Mr. Langley stumbling into his own home with a black eye and a cut lip after the last time he entered this establishment for the purpose of investigation. I opened my mouth to remind him of such an event but he promptly exited the carriage, cutting off any attempt to do so. A moment later, a hand stuck itself into the empty space inside the door in offering. I sighed and took it, allowing him to help me from the carriage until my feet were firmly on the ground beyond. "We will be right back, Harold," Mr. Langley called up to the driver calmly enough, straightening his jacket and smiling as he did so. "Shouldn't be long." I cast a look of my own in the direction of the young driver, making a point to very much not smile. I put all of the intensity and fear that I felt into my gaze and he seemed to understand. He gave an almost imperceptibly small nod and I felt myself expel a breath in relief. He was not so foolish to think that the journey we were embarking upon was not dangerous. Undoubtedly, he remembered the day that Mr. Langley had ridden home injured as well as anyone else. I hoped my silent communication had transferred my intentions well enough. If it came to blows in this gambling den, I was no Mr. Harrison. I would be nearly useless in a fight. Harold, however, was young and active enough. He would be of far more use than I. Mr. Langley set off for the door and I followed along at an even pace. The moment he was inside, he held his hands in the air as one would when surrendering themselves into police custody. I marveled at him in astonishment as the greasy haired man beyond the counter, whom I had already had a few unpleasant dealings with in the past, glanced to a couple of hired ruffians and gave a lazy wave. Their lumbering approach had me wanting to retreat but Mr. Langley remained still and so I did as well. When they approached him, they began checking him for weapons, patting him down the length of his body. It seemed an uncomfortable and clearly violating occurrence but Mr. Langley's smile never left his face. When they were satisfied that he was not concealing anything from them, they backed away and gave a curt nod to greasy hair who looked down his long hook nose at my employer. "What do you want, Mr. Langley?" he asked with an unearned arrogance. I felt my temper flare. That man was easily four rungs lower on the social ladder from Mr. Langley and dared to speak to him in such a way. My sister would have been positively scandalized. He continued, "We have no desire for another quarrel." "Nor do I, Frank," Mr. Langley answered. "I am not here to ask questions. I'm here to play." My hand flew to my mouth but I yanked it back to my side as soon as I realized what I had done. It was too late, however. Greasy haired Frank had seen it. He raised a brow in suspicion. "Is that so?" "The other night, I played to get my partner's father out of trouble for his nightly debts. I got a taste for it. I thought I would try my hand again." There was a moment of hesitation while the man named Frank weighed his suspicion against his greed. As it always does, the latter won out, and Frank nodded his head in the direction of the games as a clear indication that we had his approval. Mr. Langley smiled and nodded a thanks before lowering his arms and extending one to me. I gazed into his eyes and saw something there. A warning. Keep quiet. We will discuss this later. I gave a nod of my own and took his arm, following wherever he might lead. He began to make his way to the poker table in the back, that being the game that I knew he was most familiar with and quite skilled at. But when he saw the hulking form of the man who he had nearly come to blows with over my protection and my father's debt standing in the shadows of that particular game, he changed course and headed for the blackjack table instead. As he approached the table, all eyes were on me. It was rare for these men to see a woman who wasn't a serving girl or of a more sordid profession in