Bailonz Street 13

Chapter 82: Christmas (3)



When we visited Philip Peterson’s house, his wife and two children were there. They looked surprised to see the three of us suddenly show up.

His wife was a middle-aged woman with a melancholic expression, and she seemed to shrink back slightly as if afraid of us. Philip Peterson’s eldest daughter was shielding her mother, clearly wary of us. The son, the younger of the two, appeared clueless. After all, he was only five years old.

“Has anything unusual happened recently? Any visitors perhaps…?” Liam asked Mrs. Peterson very politely.

“Please, be honest with us. We want to help you,” he added.

“No… No one has come,” she replied.

I fell into quiet contemplation. Was she telling the truth? But there didn’t seem to be a reason for her to lie. Exchanging glances with Liam Moore, I decided to speak.

“Then, if anyone suspicious does show up, could you contact us immediately at 13 Bailonz Street?”

“Who would come? Who could possibly come?” Philip Peterson’s eldest daughter sharply retorted.

“No one will come for us. Do you think anyone would after our father was hanged?”

Oh. How should I put this? I clamped my mouth shut. Your husband was hanged, but he seems to have come back to life? I wasn’t sure if Mrs. Peterson could bear this shocking news.

However, she figured it out on her own. With eyes wide in fear, she kept muttering to herself.

“No way, no way. No way…”

“He’s dead!” Julia, Philip Peterson’s eldest daughter, screamed, her voice like a sharp cry.

“We barely found freedom! There’s no way someone who was hanged could come back!”

Her face was pale with terror. Holding her younger brother close, she looked like a girl forced to grow up too quickly. The woman who had to take on the role of the head of the family raised her chin defiantly.

“Listen to me, all three of you. Especially you, sir. I know you’re stirring up London, obsessed with crime. But you shouldn’t trouble innocent people!”

“Julia! You mustn’t speak to Mr. Moore like that!” her mother interjected.

“Thank you for catching him, but why are you coming back after five years?”

I stopped Liam from speaking. He lowered his eyes and obediently listened to Julia Peterson.

“He’s no relation to us. Don’t scare our mother with a dead man. We’re struggling just to make ends meet! So, please, don’t come here again.”

Later, after we left their house, I realized why the eldest daughter had reacted so sensitively. They must have had a hard five years due to their father’s notorious crimes. Moreover, she had a younger sibling to care for, so her distress must have been immense.

However, after much persuasion, they finally promised to contact us if anyone suspicious showed up. Only then could we leave their house with some relief.

“Mrs. Peterson has had a tough time,” Liam remarked as we walked away from their block.

“Philip Peterson’s colleagues, those released criminals he helped, kept visiting their house, causing them trouble every day. People would accuse them of living with a murderer.”

I sighed at the explanation of how they had to flee from place to place even after his execution.

“The children are innocent.”

“Indeed,” Liam agreed, briefly reminiscing about five years ago. Suddenly, he looked up as if remembering something.

“So, Scotland Yard secretly relocated them, didn’t they, Inspector?”

Jefferson nodded.

“That’s correct, Miss Jane. Mrs. Peterson was both a criminal’s wife and the one who betrayed Philip Peterson.”

A betrayal. It wasn’t surprising. Even I wouldn’t be able to stand it if my husband was constantly releasing criminals.

“Do you have any ideas on how he used to get people out?” Liam’s eyes turned to me. His gray eyes seemed to understand my intention.

“You think he’ll use the same method again.”

“We never found his hideout when we captured him, right? That’s why we’re here. It’s the only remaining link.”

Liam shrugged, speaking smoothly. It was an admiration-filled sigh, almost a praise.

“You are truly…”

“Brilliant?”

“Perfect.”

I laughed softly. His compliment made me feel a bit giddy, even though I hadn’t intended to fish for praise. Whether he knew the effect of his words or not, Liam Moore was naturally charming. I was sure of it.

Liam, who had flattered me, extended his elbow. I naturally placed my hand on it and turned to look at Inspector Jefferson. He seemed surprised by our intimate behavior, reminding me that we appeared closer than our official image suggested.

Jefferson glanced around before whispering to us.

“When did you two become so close?”

Although I had suspected, his words still shocked me. I asked blankly.

“Excuse me?”

“You two. Anyone would think you were married.”

Liam’s eyes flickered rapidly. I pressed his side firmly and answered.

“No. We’re just… friends.”

“…”

It was an unconvincing excuse. Yes, I knew.

Jefferson looked between us for a while before bursting into laughter. My ears turned red. For a moment, I felt like a teenage girl caught with her first love letter by her father.

“Miss Jane. I earnestly hope my concern is unnecessary, but as someone who’s known this friend for a long time, I must tell you.”

Liam shifted uneasily. I lightly pressed down on his arm and waited for the inspector’s words.

“Liam Moore is not husband material at all. I stake my 30-year career on it…”

“Inspector Jefferson.”

“…You see? This is what he does.”

What could he have done? I didn’t know because I was looking ahead, but Liam Moore must have made some kind of face. By the time I turned back, his innocent, smiling face was all I saw.

He looked so silly. Really funny.

Watching him, Inspector Jefferson clicked his tongue in amusement. Strangely, it made me laugh too. Eventually, I burst out laughing.

* * *

Liam Moore knew the geography of London well. Not only the geography but also about the new buildings coming up. For instance, he could predict what a new construction would be.

For a man who could find spaces deliberately omitted from maps just by looking at blueprints, finding people in London to help him wasn’t difficult.

“This method, huh.”

I watched Liam Moore disguised from inside the carriage. With just a bit of disguise, he instantly looked like someone who had lived in this slum for decades.

Liam was talking to a drunk man. As they conversed, several vagrants approached them. Liam handed them bread wrapped in paper and returned to the carriage.

Inspector Jefferson asked, looking at Liam Moore.

“What did you talk about?”

“London weather, today’s earnings, and… if there’s been anyone suspicious around the slum lately.”

He drew the curtains. Liam quietly wiped the soot from his cheeks, took off his worn jacket and scarf, revealing only a dark-colored shirt underneath.

“Need a vest?”

I dug through the medical bag and handed him a vest. Liam smiled, accepting and putting it on. Now he looked like the well-dressed gentleman he was.

“There are many people coming and going in the slums. If one dies, another quickly takes their place, right?”

“But those who stay for long know who’s where. Even I can’t do that.”

This genius man!

“Of course, I paid them for the information. Those friends are my excellent informants. I couldn’t just hand out half-crowns like water, so I gave them bread.”

Knowing how dangerous the sound of coins is in the slum, he wouldn’t do it lightly. Liam Moore’s informants would now spread throughout the slum, from Whitechapel to East London.

“And recently, someone saw activity in an abandoned warehouse by the docks… We should check that out. Are you not busy, Inspector?”

Inspector Jefferson shrugged.

“Murder cases and missing persons, but this is the most important.”

“Oh. He might get fired.”

“You could just curse me instead.”

“It was a concern.”


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