Chapter Twelve Inventor Elbert

In spite of Anne’s prediction, they beat Elbert to the old cobbler’s shop James had claimed as his home, mostly due to James’s urging that Anne just point out a few essentials for now, since with the purchase of the shop they’d have all the time she needed to move things.

Thus, less than two hours after they had originally left, James found himself hanging a portrait of a young Anne and her mother in his den. “A little higher on the left.” She instructed, and James was thankful that she couldn’t see him roll his eyes.

“Anne, let me step back. The painting will shift once I release it regardless of how it’s hanging now, so it may settle properly.” He begged.

Reluctantly, the ghost woman agreed. “Very well. Step back.”

He stepped back, and slumped in despair as not only did the portrait not balance out, but it slipped to a truly awkward looking angle that made the more whimsical part of his mind wonder why little Anne wasn’t falling to the floor instead of remaining in her mother’s lap. “Right then, more to the left.”

Anne chuckled throatily as he returned to wrestling with the painting, when a loud knocking resounded through the building.

Stepping back, and relieved to see the painting lying level, James pulled out his pocket watch. “Ah, that would be Elbert now, I suspect. Very punctual, isn’t he.”

“Only when it concerns money.”

James grinned and jogged down the stairs, reaching the glass door as once again the person outside the portal banged on the glass. “Coming!” He called out, turning the bolt and pulling the door open.

He gasped in surprise as Elbert, and a rough looking man behind him, pushed into the shop. Elbert looked frightened and embarrassed, while the other man looked simply violent. “Sorry governor. My… associate here insisted on coming along to collect that four hundred pounds…” Elbert smiled, eyes shifting from James to the big man repeatedly.

“Four hundred? We didn’t agree to four hundred!” James, perplexed, argued. It was Anne, pushing a hand through his lips in the attempt to put her hand over his mouth that prevented him from blurting out more.

“That’s one of his more frequent… investors.” Anne whispered, though she couldn’t really explain why she felt the need, being invisible and all. “Elbert is trying not to get everything taken away from him.”

“We agreed to three hundred seventy five.” James yelled, perhaps more loudly than necessary. The violent man’s expression grew darker than it had already been, though Elbert visibly relaxed.

“Now don’t go doing that to me, Jimmy lad. Four hundred, fair and square. That was the deal for the broken-down place of my cousin’s.”

“Broken down! You worm faced little vermin! I’ll show you broken down just as soon as I figure out how to push objects over on people like a proper ghost!”

Elbert jumped, looked around, then shrugged. “Four hundred gov… fork it over.”

James sighed and nodded, turning towards the small safe he kept near his workshop. Normally it contained a relatively small sum of money, as well as his more dangerous or secret design projects, but it was where he slid the wallet of bank notes he’d collected on the way back from Whitechapel. Blocking their view with his body, he opened the door and counted out four hundred.

The heavy iron door clanked shut, and he turned to hold out the cash. “Should I give this to you, Elbert, or your… associate?”

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

“I’ll be taken it, mate.” The hard looking man said, stepping forward and snatching the wad of currency. He shoved it into his dirty coat and turned to the door. “That’ll cover us Elbert. I suggest you don’t make me wait the next time we find ourselves in this place.”

“That won’t be happenin’ Charles.”

The other man laughed. “Surely not, old son, surely not.” He stepped out the door, letting it swing shut nearly hard enough to break the window in its center.

“Woo. Was afraid you were going to leave me twisting in the wind there, Jimmy.” Elbert sighed, dropping into a chair at the inventor’s kitchen table. “That blighter would have taken the seven and not left me with hansom fare, had you let the cat out.”

“Well… perhaps you shouldn’t do business with gentlemen whose fist has the same rough circumference as your own skull.” James grumbled. “And my name is James, or Professor St. Cloud, not Jimmy.”

“A professor is it? My, my Anne knew quality men.” The other man chuckled. “She could have done worse than a bloke like you. Upstanding fellow, and all that.”

“Yes, well… Do you have the deed, or did he take that as well?” The chill that thought caused to flow through both man and ghost was almost tangible.

“Indeed not.” He pulled the deed from his sleeve with a flourish, setting it on the table. “If’n you have a pen, and the other four hundred pounds, we can be done with this matter and you can return to your quiet evening.”

“A pen I have.” James nodded, reopening the safe and collecting the rest of the monies. “As for the three hundred we agreed to, I also have that.”

Elbert shrugged, smiling good naturedly. “You can’t blame a bloke for trying, now can ye?”

“Actually…I can.” James stated as he set the ink down, still holding the cash. “I believe your name goes on this line.”

“So, it does.” The man agreed, scrawling a barely legible mark on the place stated. “And yours Jim… I mean James.”

The professor wrote his name, in his much neater penmanship, and handed over the remaining pile of pounds sterling. “Dare I ask what you intend to do with the remains of your inheritance.”

“Indeed, you might!” Elbert declared, digging around in the many pockets of his coat. “Ah ha! Here it is. A locking wallet!”

The device, which Elbert proudly handed to James, was a simple leather wallet, with a small brass lock at the ends of the fold. “It’ll make pickpockets think twice about going after a blokes bill fold, it will.”

James frowned. “Why?”

“Why? Why not? It locks, don’t it?”

“Um… yes… but it’s just leather or am I wrong.”

“Fine calf skin, as a matter of fact.” Elbert nodded, proudly. “Last a long time, that will. I invented it myself.” The other man peered around the workshop, and its large store of gadgets. “It looks to me that you’re a bit of an inventor yourself, aren’t you.”

“Of a sort.” James agreed. “And being a… fellow… inventor… I don’t wish to curb your enthusiasm for what I’m sure is a well-conceived notion but… Wouldn’t the thief just cut the leather to get at what’s in the wallet?”

Elbert continued to smile, but his eyes went round. “What?”

“Well, leather is sturdy, and all that, but it’s not that sturdy. I mean, if you added something like chainmail on the inside, to discourage cutting, it might do some good but even then, they’ll have the lock with them. A trip to a less respectable locksmith would have it open in no time.”

“I… didn’t think of that.” Elbert admitted, face falling. “Blimey… I thought I had something this time.”

“How… many have you made?”

“Had made, you mean, and fortunately only ten. I was going to show them to possible investors.” Elbert sighed. “Aw well. At least this time I didn’t get in over my head.” The man stood and sighed. “I’ll be out of your hair, then.”

“A good evening to you.”

Elbert nodded and approached the door, then paused. “Say… you’re a smart fellow… and you were probing around kinda suspicious like before I found you. Are you really a friend of Anne, or are you a want to be detective hunting Jack the Ripper.”

James frowned, but decided to be honest. “A little of both, to be fair. More Anne’s friend since I have given up my hunt, such as it was.”

“Oh, given up huh.” Elbert shrugged. “Then I guess you wouldn’t care. Have a good eve.”

“Care about what?”

“Pardon?” Elbert, who had begun to open the door, looked over his shoulder. “Oh, you mean… well… I happen to know a bloke who’s in a bit of financial trouble you see.”

“Yes? What does that have to do with the Ripper?” James asked.

Elbert shrugged. “He’s with the metropolitan police, you see, and he managed to nick a couple of odds and ends from the evidence room. Nothing to interesting, a bit of the most recent victim’s hair, Anne’s apron, and a tip from the blighter’s knife what was buried in Anne’s… well… you know… I pondered purchasing some of the items myself, see what I could do for digging among my less savory friends, in my cousin’s memory and all that, but now I won’t have enough for that and to see myself through the week. If you were interested just in souvenirs, I’m still supposed to meet him later tonight.”

“Souvenirs, of a murder! That’s… atrocious! What sort of sick, demented being would deign to buy such sordid things, much less sell them! And a constable no less? Why, that could ruin an investigation. Any person so low as to do such should be hung!”

Anne, who had been trying to get James’s attention, finally walked through him, causing him to shiver, and shut up. “With the knife tip, and my mother’s book, we could work a spell to track my killer!” she declared.

“When, pray tell, could we meet this man?” James finished, less enthusiastically.

“Um… about eleven…” Elbert replied, leaning back and blinking owlishly at James.