William Monk 16 - Execution Dock

the clinic busy with its regular affairs, tending to the few who were sick enough to require days in bed, and the walking patients with knife or razor wounds who needed stitching, bandaging, general comfort, and a little respite from the streets, perhaps a decent meal. The regular chores of cleaning, laundry, and cooking never stopped.
    She offered words of approval and encouragement, a minor criticism here and there, then went to find Squeaky Robinson in his office. He had taken his bookkeeping duties very seriously this last year or so. She had not recently heard him complain about having been cheated out of the building, which, when it was his, had been the most successful brothel in the area. His new vision of himself, more or less on the right side of the law, seemed to please him.
    “Good morning, Squeaky,” she said as she closed the door, giving them privacy in the cluttered room with its shelves of ledgers. The desk was scattered with sheets of paper, pencils, two inkwells, one red, one blue, and a tray of sand for blotting. This last was seldom used; he just liked the look of it.
    “Mornin’, Miss ‘Ester,” he replied, searching her face with concern. He did not ask her how she was; he would make the judgment himself.
    She sat down in the chair opposite him. “This whole business is becoming extremely ugly,” she said frankly. “There are whispers of accusation that Mr. Durban was procuring boys for Jericho Phillips, and the River Police in general are being dirtied with that accusation. There seem to be several incidents where he found boys stealing and deliberately did not charge them. There may be other explanations as to why that happened, but the worst is being assumed.”
    He nodded. “Looks bad,” he agreed, sucking air in through his teeth. “In't nobody ‘oo int tempted by summink, whether it's money or power or pleasure, or just ‘avin’ people owe ‘em. I've seen some whereit's just feelin’ superior as does it. Specially women. Seen some awful superior women. Beggin’ yer pardon.”
    She smiled. “So have I, and I wanted to slap them, until I realized that's probably all they had. A friend of mine used to say that there are none as virtuous as those who have never been asked.”
    “I like that,” he said with profound appreciation. He mulled it over, like a good wine. “Yeah, I do.”
    “Squeaky, I need to know how Phillips gets his boys.”
    There was a tap on the door, and as soon as Hester answered, Claudine came in. “Good morning,” she said cheerfully. “Would you like a cup of tea?”
    Both Hester and Squeaky knew that she had come because she could not bear to be left out of the detection. She desperately wanted to help, but she had not yet let down her barriers of dignity enough to say so outright.
    “Thank you,” Hester declined quickly. “But I need to go out, and I think I need Squeaky with me. He knows people that I don't.”
    Claudine looked crestfallen. She tried to hide it, but the feeling was too deep to conceal it from her eyes.
    “In't summink you would know about,” Squeaky said brusquely. “Don't s'pose you even know why girls take ter sellin’ theirselves on the streets, let alone kids.”
    “Of course I know,” she snapped. “Do you think I can't hear what they're saying? Or that I don't listen to them?”
    Squeaky relented a fraction. “Boys,” he explained. “We don't get no little boys in ‘ere. If they get beat no one knows, ‘ceptin’ ‘ooever's keepin’ ‘em, like Jericho Phillips.”
    Claudine snorted. “And what is going to be so different about why they take to the streets?” she asked. “Cold, hunger, fear, nowhere else to go. Lonely, someone offers to take them in, easy money, at first.”
    “You're right,” Hester agreed, surprised that Claudine had apparently listened so closely to what was voiced, including the words themselves, which were often shallow and repetitive, sometimes full of excuses or self-pity, more often with a bitter humor and an endless variety of bad jokes. “But I need to prove that it wasn't Commander Durban procuring them, so it has to be specific.”
    “Commander Durban?” Claudine was clearly horrified. “I never heard anything so wicked. Don't worry I'll look after everything here. You find out all you can, but be careful!” She glared at Squeaky. “You look after her, or I shall hold you accountable. Believe me, you will be sorry you were born.” And with that she turned