Chapter 5

“I can’t, no, I won’t help yeh kill yerself, boy,” the fisherman growled, narrowing his eye at Travers before hobbling away.
Travers fingered the knife in his back pocket, pondering threatening the old sot for information or just throwing the knife, catching him in the back of the skull, when the apple vendor hissed to him, beckoning him closer.
“He heard it from Marolyn McNeill,” she rasped, rolling him a granny smith with a smile that was missing a few teeth.
“Thank you, ma’am,” Travers said excitedly, his heart rate picking up, feeling all jittery inside. “Really, thank you very much!”
He leaned in and pecked her on the cheek, snatching the apple and scurrying away. He had a name; he had a place to start!

The End

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