A bucket of ashes Read Online Free

estrangement of eleven years that was due not so much to ill feelings as to Jamie’s disinclination to have anything to do with her? And what was Nell supposed a to answer, should Viola ask her what her brother did for a living?
He’s been a petty criminal since he was a child, mostly sneak thievery, robbing drunks, and holding up carriages on out-of-the-way roads. And picking pockets, which, as a matter of fact, happened to be a particular talent of mine.
    “Has your brother been in contact?” Viola asked.
    Nell shook her head, looking down. “He... Dr. Greaves thinks he’s been killed. In a fire.”
    “Oh, my dear.” Viola wheeled closer and grabbed Nell’s hand. “Oh, what dreadful news. I am so terribly, terribly sorry.”
    “I... I still don’t quite believe it. I don’t think I will until I speak to this constable tomorrow.”
    Folding up the letter in her hand, Viola said, “This can wait, then.”
    “What is it?” Nell asked.
    “It’s nothing. It’s not important, not now, while you have so much on your mind.”
    Nell’s gaze lit on the envelope lying faceup on the silver tray. Reading it upside down, she saw that it was addressed to
Mr. and Mrs. August Hewitt
in a strained, almost juvenile hand. Her mouth flew open which he saw the name on the return address:
Chas. A. Skinner
.
    “That’s from Detective Skinner? Why on earth would he write to
you
?” asked Nell. “He barely knows you.”
    “It’s not ‘Detective’ anymore, remember? It’s not even ‘Constable.’”
    “Of course. It’s just force of habit to call him that. Loathsome little weasel.”
    Charlie Skinner, once a member of the elite but defunct Boston Detectives Bureau, had been downgraded at the beginning of this year to uniformed patrolman on the weight of his corruption and myriad misdeeds. Unwilling to accept that this demotion was his own doing—his type never was—he blamed Nell’s friend, State Detective Colin Cook. So virulent was his hatred of the Irish detective that he plotted to get Cook convicted of a murder he hadn’t committed. The scheme turned against him, though, thanks in large part to Nell and Will, and last month he was booted off the force altogether.
    “What did he write to you?” Nell asked.
    Choosing her words with evident care, Viola said, “Mr. Skinner obviously harbors a great deal of anger toward you for being the instrument of his downfall. It’s nothing you need trouble yourself over during this difficult—”
    “Mrs. Hewitt,” Nell said quietly. “Viola. Please.”
    Viola looked from Nell to the letter, grim-faced. “Have a seat, my dear,” she said, nodding toward the nearest settee.
    “My bathing dress is wet. I don’t want to get—”
    “Sit, Nell.”
     
     

Chapter 2
     
     
    Nell sat, shivering in her damp swimming clothes. Viola unfolded the letter and handed it to her.
     
    Boston Friday, July 29, 1870
    My Dear Sir and Madame,
    You will no doubt wonder why I who am barely aquainted with you have penned this missive. By way of explanation may I explain that until recentley, which is to say the 9th of July, I was employed by the City of Boston as a Constable, a fact which is known to Mrs. Hewitt who may regard me ill but who I pray will credit the contents of this missive. In the days preceeding my termination I was engaged in inquiries pursuant to my Constabulary duties, which inquiries were thwarted hammer and tongs by the ill-advised labors of the Irish female who you employ as a governess, in concequence of which I was as I say relieved of my duties.
    As I am led to understand that you hold the highest regard for Miss Sweeney, who is no “miss” as I shall explain—
     
    Looking up sharply, Nell saw Viola sitting in front of the bay window with her back to the room, gazing out onto the exquisitely landscaped north lawn and the bay to the east. Nell returned her attention to the letter, her hands shaking so badly that she could barely focus on the words.
     
    As