Twincy Quinn and the Eye of Horus Part One Read Online Free Page A

use it.
    I turned.
    As a blast of
wind took the edge of my skirt and furled it around my boots, I
angled my head forward, staring out at the cityscape of London.
Undulating roofs, slate and wood and brick and stone, I saw the
lights flickering below. Lamps and even new electronic lights that
Esquire himself had invented and introduced to the population at
large.
    It was a
beautiful sight.
    Up here you
could forget what occurred down there. There was no mud, there were
no slums, there was no death. Just the open night sky above
you.
    I did not
pause.
    I pushed
myself forward.
    I was
somebody's last hope, and I was not going to give up.

Chapter 3
    Michael F.
Stanford
    ‘ Detective,’ the man before me nodded his head low, offering me
a blunt smile from underneath his enormous, bristly moustache.
‘Michael F. Stanford, I presume?’
    I nodded.
‘Inspector, how can I help you?’ I took a step forward, wiping my
hands on my long jacket, annoyed when I found a spot of mud halfway
down. It had been an arduous and busy day. Not only had I
investigated a new kidnapping, but I had also chased several
thieves through the slums.
    Which was
unfortunate, because I did not have the time or the opportunity to
go home, change clothes, and fix my appearance before going on my
date tonight.
    ‘ I wish to enquire how the latest investigation is coming
along. Do you have any news? Anything I can tell the grieving
family?’
    It was a good
question. It was also, unfortunately, an uncomfortable one.
    After a short
pause, making eye contact with the man, I shook my head. ‘No
news.’
    The Inspector
sighed. Clapping his hands behind his back, his white, extended
knuckles brushing against the coat tails of his perfectly tailored
jacket, he shook his head. ‘This is a sudden and worrying
phenomenon, whatever resources you require, whatever help you need,
I will give you everything you desire so we can finally put a stop
to this. The Walters are a respected family. For them to lose their
daughter, so young,’ the inspector shook his head, emotion
obvious.
    I say obvious.
I am not entirely sure what the emotion was. I'd encountered men
like the inspector many times before. They knew how to put on a
good show, especially when someone rich was watching.
    Status. Class.
It ruled my world, and I was usually careful enough to work my way
around it. Yet sometimes I found it jarring.
    I gave a
little cough. Perhaps I shouldn't have, but I was feeling in a
querulous mood. From the marks on my jacket to the fact I was
already late, I wanted to close a fist at the world and shake it.
‘You mean several months,’ I corrected, my expression bland, ‘these
kidnappings have been going on for several months.’
    The Inspector
narrowed his eyes, looking for a moment confused. ‘Several weeks,
my good man, you must be overworked. The first child to be
kidnapped occurred only 22 days ago. The daughter of Governor
Fletcher. Why I remember it perfectly, I was the first on the
scene.’ As the inspector spoke, he punched his chest out a little,
clutching his hands tighter behind his back.
    I brought my
glass up, sipping at the wine distractedly.
    I did not
understand the point of this silly affair. If the inspector truly
wanted me to solve this case, he shouldn't have invited me to this
tedious, time consuming, pointless soiree. It was a useless event
too. What did he hope it would achieve? Mingling with the upper
crust, putting on a good show would ensure his funding and status,
but would make my work no easier.
    Harder in
fact.
    Because I
would always have to deal with moments like these. Moments of
blindness.
    Taking another
sip, I eventually shook my head. ‘Approximately 23 urchins and
orphans have gone missing, according to reports. The patterns of
those kidnappings appear to be the same as these. They began
several months ago,’ I brought my glass down and stared over the
top.
    It wasn't a
challenging look, yet I hoped from the sheer nonchalance