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By the time Bel arrived home, a thick fog had rolled over London and glowing light of the street lamps burnt through the mist. It was a quiet night and a cold night, but she felt warm from the whiskey she and Freddie had been drinking.
Freddie had insisted on walking her home - despite her protests that she was perfectly capable - and she left him at the door. She had been frustrated with him lately and while tonight had gone a long way to improving things between them, he was still acting distant.
Given the late hour, their young housekeeper, Miss Cooper, would have been asleep. Bel crept through the hallway and up the stairs so as not to disturb her.
Bel struggled with the door for a moment – there was a trick to it – swinging it open to find Alexis Storm was standing besides doorway.
"Were you followed?" she asked. There was an urgency and impatience in her voice, and as she asked the question, Bel noticed the pistol in her hand. “Was there anybody in the street?” she added.
Whatever effect the whiskey was still having on her, Bel suddenly felt very sober.
“What? Lix...” Bel replied startled. “No. I don't think so,” she added after gathering her thoughts for a second and recalling the street was empty. “You cannot see your hand in front of your face out there.”
Lix looked over Bel's shoulder for a moment and then turned and walked into the lounge.
Lix had a preference for dressing as a man both around their apartment and in situations she deemed skirts unsuitable, and that night was no different. She was dressed in dark trousers, a white shirt and a billowing house coat. Bel was used to her habits, but the occasional visitor still found her strange.
She was a confronting presence: intelligent, angular and tall. She had a habit of standing at back and watching a person as they spoke, giving them a smile as they did so to tell them that she knew everything they were saying was a lie.
Bel on the other hand, was the comforting one. Of the two of them, she was the one terrified witnesses and victims trusted with their stories, and the one that the guilty tended to underestimate – at their peril.
"What's happened?" Bel asked following Lix. They had not had a case in three weeks, and even then their last three cases had been nothing exiting. No murders, no criminal masterminds, not even a conspiracy. Nothing Bel would have thought would have promoted Lix to be holding a pistol.
As Bell turned the corner she noticed blood soaked bandages were lying beside a bowl of water and a discarded similarly blood stained shirt beside them.
"I have not had time yet to clean up,” Lix said.
"It's not yours," Bel replied. Thinking if Lix had been wounded in such a manner she would not be walking around. "Who?"
As she asked her question the answer walked into the room.
Mr Brown. A sometimes associate of theirs. He was wincing in pain with each step from a wound in his side, but attempting to hide it.
Bel had met him only twice before, and she was not fond of the man. The last time she had seen him had been some months ago. They had been investigating the murder of a young man whose body has been found in a graveyard behind a church. Upon learning his profession and habits, Scotland Yard has lost interest – she and Lix had been left perusing the case and had discovered their young victim's lover was a prominent Member of Parliament.
Mr Brown had appeared at their apartment uninvited and Lix had talked alone with him for some time. He had left and Lix had declared that they would no longer follow that lead, and instead start their investigation fresh. When Bel asked, she would not give the reason why.
Alexis Storm was not a woman who could be bribed, threatened or blackmailed, so to see her make a complete turn around without explanation felt at the time to Bel like a betrayal.
Less than a week later, the reverend who had found the body confessed to the murder. Whatever Mr Brown had said, it was correct, but somehow that endeared him even less to Bel.
"Were you followed?" he asked.
"We've already had that conversation," Lix answered for her. Lix placed her pistol in her pocket, choosing to stand beside the fireplace while Mr Brown sat down, wincing with pain as he did so.
"What has happened?" Bel asked again, this time more forcefully and choosing to remain standing as well. This time she would not accept them leaving her out of the conversation.
"A lucky shot," Mr Brown replied.
"Mr Brown has found himself in a position where he must flee the country," Lix answered in slightly more detail but her tone suggested she was annoyed with the situation more than anything.
“You can't travel like that," Bel replied.
“I know a good doctor in Paris,” Brown answered.
“It's not as bad as it looks,” Lix added for good measure. "Would you please repeat what you have told me for the benefit of Miss Rowley," Lix asked of him.
There was look between the pair of them that Bel could not help but notice, a silent communication with her as the topic. Of the two of them, Bel had for some time been the junior partner, but Lix now treated her as an equal.
Brown eventually began to talk. "Two days ago I was approached by a potential client with which I had not worked before. While I was reluctant, the client was insistent. This morning, we met and upon learning his,” he paused and chose his next word carefully, “requirements - I declined his patronage."
“Usually that is the end of the matter,” he continued. “However it appears that he was concerned enough about what was said in our conversation to attempt to silence me.”
“I was followed. At some point the gentleman following me must have realised that I was attempting to evade him. Thankfully his aim requires improvement. It's a graze, nothing more,” he finished.
“Are you usually shot at, Mr Brown?” Bel asked.
“Secrets are a dangerous currency,” he said. “This is nothing I was not prepared for.”
“Deciding to bleed all over my furniture is not what I would call preparation,” Lix said. She had light up a cigarette while Mr Brown was talking.
“That was not why I came,” he said, but only to Lix.
Lix gave him a look in exchange, which Bel interpreted to mean that she knew exactly the reason he had appeared in their apartment.
Bel had the feeling she was just an occasional guest in this conversation.
“Who was it?” Bel decided to ask the obvious question.
Lix turned her attention from Mr Brown and looked at her. “Mr Brown doesn't reveal his clients,” Lix answered for him.
“Not even the clients who attempted to murder him?” Bel asked Lix.
“Mr Brown's famous discretion is the sole reason why more people have not attempted to murder him over the years," Lix answered, still seeming more irritated with the whole situation than concerned.
If he cared, Mr Brown showed no concern that they were talking about him, or that Lix was talking for him.
“No,” Lix continued, turning her attention away from Bel and looking at him directly in the eyes. “Mr Brown will not say more than two words on the matter, and certainly never say a name, will you?”
Bel had the sudden realisation that this was part of an argument between Lix and Mr Brown that had never been resolved, instead an impasse had been reached, and she wondered in that moment just how long they had known each other.
Lix had mysterious sources. She had a network through London that both Inspector Madden at Scotland Yard and Freddie at the Evening Standard were envious of, and a past steeped in even more mystery. When they first began to work together, Lix had told Bel that she knew all the rumours, that none were true and that if Bel ever asked for the truth, she would lie.
Bel had a feeling that Mr Brown knew the truth. She then wondered if he was part of the tale.
“I must be gone,” he said standing up. “I've stayed too long.”
“Then I had best walk you to the door,” Lix said.
He pulled on a jacket over his fresh shirt with a degree of difficulty and then proceeded to fiddle with the sleeves for a good long moment.
Lix put out her cigarette, picked her pistol from her pocket and followed him out of the door.
Bel waited for a moment, long enough for them to have walked down the stairs, and quietly made her own way out of the door behind them.
She crept a few steps along the corridor and crept down so she would not be seen, feeling a tinge of guilt for spying on her friend. She could not hear them, but the caught a few words of their conversation.
“Be careful,” she heard him say.
“You wouldn't have come here if you were worried,” Lix said.
“That's untrue. No,” he replied. “Please understand.”
His words were met with a long silence and finally the closing of the door.
Bel hurried back into their apartment and waited for a moment.
“Emeralds and coal,” Lix said as she walked into the room.
“What?” Bel asked, puzzled, wondering if Lix's words were supposed to mean anything to her.
“Two words: emeralds and coal,” she repeated as Bel put together the puzzle.
“I'm aware of your thoughts on the matter,” Lix continued, “Mr Brown keeps secrets that if exposed would cause society or the law to unjustly condemn his client or an innocent,” Lix continued.
"We expose the secrets of those who have escaped just punishment.”
“You can argue the ethics of his role against ours, but all three of us seek payment or at the very least expenses, so none of us are truly altruistic, are we?”
"He didn't come here tonight to hide,” Bel said.
“And certainly not for my skills as a nurse, no,” Lix said. “Mr Brown is an ally of sorts. He will infuriatingly never tell you as much as he knows, but he will tell you as much as he can,” she finished.
“I will tidy this mess. In the morning I think we shall pay a visit to Inspector Madden - we have a new case.”