Title Page

Copper Script

by

––––––––

KJ Charles

Copper Script

For Metylda, with huge thanks!

CHAPTER ONE

CHAPTER ONE

LONDON, AUTUMN 1924

Detective Sergeant Aaron Fowler massaged the base of his skull. It didn’t relieve the pain in his neck, because that was sitting opposite him in an expensive suit.

“Paul,” he said. “I’m sorry to hear your fiancée has broken your engagement. It’s not a police matter.”

“You aren’t listening,” said his cousin, Mr. Paul Napier-Fox. “She didn’t break it off of her own accord. She was manipulated, and I want the fraud who did it held to account. Isn’t there a Witchcraft Act?”

“Witchcraft,” Aaron repeated.

“Oh, you know. Spiritualism. Fortune telling. Money by false pretences.”

Aaron’s work with the Criminal Investigation Division covered such things as murder, rape, burglary, gang activity, sedition, extortion, and terrorism. Spiritualists weren’t his problem, he wasn’t fond of Paul, and he’d had a long day. He couldn’t remember when he’d last had a day that wasn’t long. “It’s not a CID matter. Go to the police station if you have a complaint.”

“I can’t make a fuss about witchcraft to a pack of bobbies,” Paul objected. “I’d sound like a madman. But this fellow told a lot of damned lies about me. He took Babs’s money and span a great lot of lies and she swallowed every word. She broke off the engagement because of my character! What character, I said, and she said Mr. Wildsmith told me all about you. I’ve never met the fellow in my life!”

“What has that to do with the Witchcraft Act?”

Paul made an exasperated noise. “He claimed to know my character through magic! Surely that’s not allowed. And I tell you what, Ronnie, Mater’s on the warpath about it. She said you should do something and she’ll have a word if you don’t.”

Several thoughts jostled for pre-eminence, among them how very much Aaron detested being called Ronnie; that Mrs. Ursula Napier-Fox could usefully be employed in Special Branch to put the fear of God into the most hardened subversives; and, regrettably, that Paul might have a point.

“If this fellow claims to have magical powers,” he began, and then checked, “What exactly does he claim?”

“He said he could tell my character and intentions from my handwriting. It was a few lines about my costume for our masquerade engagement party!”

“Graphology.”

“No, I was going as Henry the Eighth.”

Aaron massaged his neck again. “Graphology is the practice of analysing handwriting. I dare say it’s a lot of rubbish, but it’s legal.”

“Slander’s not legal,” Paul said stubbornly. “Babs broke off the engagement because of this damned fellow, with Mater already planning the flowers. I worship the ground she walks on and she didn’t even let me explain! And it’s not the first time, either.”