Historical Thriller Snippet

Snippet: from the thriller plot in Painted Trust

Great Britain 1898

There’s a fledgling killer, fostered and trained by men so deep in the echelons of power catching him could be more dangerous and letting him run loose. Inspector Morrison and Master Brody head to the first crime scene in Manchester.


“Angel Meadow,” the cabbie called out as the carriage drew to a halt.

“Angel Meadows has the highest mortality rate in the country,” Master Brody said as he peered out the window. “The looms are said to go all night.”

Inspector Morrison looked across the bench at the pup, his newly acquired and unwanted ‘go fetch boy’. He’d been regaled with facts throughout the train trip from London to Manchester, and now on the carriage ride to the crime scene. No doubt a nervous blathering the kid needed to get sorted. Well he’d been given pups before and he knew exactly how to get rid of them.

“Here’s a fact for you pup, poor Mancunians who can only afford sleeping space, sleep back to back on the floor in a room with strangers. The thing is they have to do it naked to avoided spreading lice from their clothes. Any guesses at the unwanted pregnancy rate?”

The pup went red and his pale fine fingers gripped the brown leather satchel strap that pressed across his young all too skinny chest.

Ha, it turned out making the kid go scarlet beat fact sharing hands down.

Morrison collected his hat from the bench beside him.

“Stay in the cab.” It would be the kid’s first crime scene and they wouldn’t have called him up from London if it wasn’t going to be serious. He may not have wanted a go-fetch-boy and was annoyed that he now had one underfoot but he would not traumatize the kid.

The pup straightened, “Absolutely not.”

Morrison barked out a laugh before he could stop himself. “For fuck sake grow some balls ‘absolutely not’” he mimicked. The kid was going to be a laughing stock if he kept that up.

The pup went tense. “I resent your…”

Morrison held up his hand, “Just grow a pair. No one talks like that on the street and that is where we work. You want respect don’t dish out indignant little Molly statements. Now stay in the cab.”

“You don’t have to worry about me Inspector,” the boy said with all the earnestness those unsoiled by life seemed to have. “I’ve seen more than you might imagine.”

“As I might imagine?” Morrison swore under his breath. “What I can imagine you don’t want to know.”


The Painted Sisters Series Book 1