Chapter 11 - The Fancy Blue Jacket
Norrington was quiet for a long time while he digested everything I just told him. He just sat there, staring at me. Sparrow was also quiet, but he wasn't still for a second, fiddling with anything and everything that was around and I could swear I saw him slip a small knife into his sleeve.
After about two minutes of this, it occurred to me that I was standing there, waiting for something. I gave myself a mental head slap when I realized that I was waiting for them to tell me what to do next. Looking down at myself, I knew it had to be the dress. A dress like this would make any woman think she was helpless. I was a lot of things but helpless wasn't one of them. It was time to go to work.
I turned to Sparrow. "I want my clothes."
He put down the papers he'd been rifling through and looked up at me, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards in a smirk. "Do you?"
"Yes."
"I prefer you in that dress, looking like a woman."
I narrowed my eyes. "I want my clothes, Sparrow. Now!"
"And do ye think I'm carrying them with me," he asked, moving closer, smirk firmly in place. "Even if I had them, what do ye think you'd be doing with them? The good people of Port Royal might not appreciate fine 21st Century tailoring."
"I don't think I'd look any weirder than you," I told him. "They don't seem too disturbed by a pirate wearing all that eye makeup and dreads."
There was a snort of laughter from Norrington, who quickly covered his mouth with his hand. "Pardon me, Sparrow."
Sparrow took the time for a quick eye roll and then turned his attention back to me. "Sorry, pet, you'll stay in that dress."
"I don't have time for this. I'll meet you back here at noon. Make sure you bring my clothes, underwear and the pepper spray that was in the pockets of my cargo pants. That's the little metal cylinder." I started to head for the door but he grabbed my arm.
"We'll get to the part where you think you can give me orders later, preferably in private," he said. His tone was mild but his eyes showed the tiniest hint of annoyance. "I want to know what it is ye think you and Noose'll be doing while I scurry off on this errand."
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. "We'll be doing it on the deck of the Doubtless."
"The Dauntless," Norrington corrected me. It was amazing how he didn't show the slightest bit of emotion. "It's the Dauntless."
"What do you think I'll be doing," I said, pulling out of Sparrow's grip. "I'm going to the recorder's office and I'm going to look at the deed for the apothecary to see if there's any useful information. I bet the clerk remembers Junior. And then I'm going to see if he has any ties to the community. There's gotta be something that brought him back to 1689 and I'm hoping it's a girlfriend –"
"Excellent plan, Miss Plum," Norrington said, getting to his feet. "Shall we?"
"I was kind of thinking that maybe I should work alone. If people see you in your fancy blue jacket, they might be less inclined to share things with me."
Now it was Norrington's turn to narrow his eyes and look annoyed. "While I might concede your point, I would like to bring three things to your attention. One, you are a stranger to Port Royal with no means of transportation. Two, your quarry likes to use explosives as his calling card and I would be remiss in my duty to protect Port Royal if I sat back and did nothing. Three, while women may be bounty hunters in the 21st Century, they do not have such occupations in 1689. You will attract more attention than my fancy blue jacket if you travel unaccompanied and ask too many questions."
He was right. "Okay, you're on, but get this straight. I am not asking your permission to do my job. Or yours either, Sparrow."
"How can you, since I'll be scurrying back to the Pearl to fetch milady's things?" Sparrow crooked his finger at me. "Come here."
"Are you going to grab my arm again?"
He grabbed my arm, pulled me to him and kissed me. When he finally let go, he smirked down at me. "I'll see ye back here at noon. Behave yourself. Remember ---"
"No going off by my onesies. No blowing anything up."
"And don't do anything stupid." Sparrow emphasized the last word. "Mind ol' Noose here. It just may keep ye alive."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
It was a short walk from the smithy to the town hall, where Norrington assured me we'd find the recorder's office. We walked through the ornately carved mahogany doors into the dimly lit office. There were four mahogany desks, each occupied by an overweight middle-aged man wearing similar- looking 17th Century suits. None of them bothered looking up. Bureaucrats were the same in any century I figured.
A scrawny, harried-looking younger man who reminded me of Bob Cratchit came in from an alcove to our right. He nearly dropped the leather-bound ledgers he was carrying when he saw Norrington.
"Good day, Mister Comstock," Norrington said.
Comstock set the ledgers down and I noticed his hands were shaking. This was a guy who'd done something wrong and knew he was about to get found out. I had a gut feeling it involved Junior. "C-can I help you?"
"I need your records concerning the parcel of land where the apothecary stood," Norrington told him. "I want all the information you have concerning the most recent purchaser."
"The man who bought it is my husband." I was amazed how easily the lie came out. I could never have gotten away with a lie like this in the Burg, but since nobody knew me here, I figured it was worth a shot. Probably it didn't count as doing anything stupid. "He said he was going out for a walk. That was a month ago. He didn't mention another woman to you, did he?"
Comstock's mouth was hanging open. He snapped it shut and goggled at me. Finally, he made up his mind and nodded. "The widow Stark was with him. They seemed kind of...friendly."
I looked up at Norrington. "You know who that is?"
"I do. We can discuss that later."
"Did he give a prior address when he bought the parcel of land," I asked Comstock. Norrington kicked me in the shin, warning me that I was asking too many questions. I ignored him. "And how did he pay?"
"If you give me a moment, I'll fetch the records," Comstock said. "They're in the back."
He headed back into the alcove and suddenly I had a sinking feeling. "Noose, would you know if there's a window back there?"
Norrington's eyes showed a flicker of surprise as he caught up to my train of thought. He glanced down at me and then ran for the door. I took off after him, running as fast as the dress would let me. By the time I caught up to him, he was holding Comstock and there was a pile of smoldering ash at his feet.
"I'm afraid he burned the records," Norrington said.
"It doesn't matter. Probably the information was bogus."
"And yet worth burning."
"It's a shame you can't take him in for questioning."
Norrington raised an eyebrow. "Can't I?"
Mental head slap. There was no Fourth Amendment yet and people were guilty until proven innocent. It sure made things a lot easier, as long as you weren't the one under suspicion. "I guess you can."
Comstock's mouth dropped open. "P-please. I'll talk! Anything you want to know."
Norrington smiled down at me and I felt certain parts of me start to tingle. "I think you owe my fancy blue jacket an apology."
Humble author's note: I screwed up on the jacket color, originally posting this as red. Cinnamongrrl put me wise and I reposted. Thanks for the fashion tip!
Norrington was quiet for a long time while he digested everything I just told him. He just sat there, staring at me. Sparrow was also quiet, but he wasn't still for a second, fiddling with anything and everything that was around and I could swear I saw him slip a small knife into his sleeve.
After about two minutes of this, it occurred to me that I was standing there, waiting for something. I gave myself a mental head slap when I realized that I was waiting for them to tell me what to do next. Looking down at myself, I knew it had to be the dress. A dress like this would make any woman think she was helpless. I was a lot of things but helpless wasn't one of them. It was time to go to work.
I turned to Sparrow. "I want my clothes."
He put down the papers he'd been rifling through and looked up at me, the corners of his mouth tugging upwards in a smirk. "Do you?"
"Yes."
"I prefer you in that dress, looking like a woman."
I narrowed my eyes. "I want my clothes, Sparrow. Now!"
"And do ye think I'm carrying them with me," he asked, moving closer, smirk firmly in place. "Even if I had them, what do ye think you'd be doing with them? The good people of Port Royal might not appreciate fine 21st Century tailoring."
"I don't think I'd look any weirder than you," I told him. "They don't seem too disturbed by a pirate wearing all that eye makeup and dreads."
There was a snort of laughter from Norrington, who quickly covered his mouth with his hand. "Pardon me, Sparrow."
Sparrow took the time for a quick eye roll and then turned his attention back to me. "Sorry, pet, you'll stay in that dress."
"I don't have time for this. I'll meet you back here at noon. Make sure you bring my clothes, underwear and the pepper spray that was in the pockets of my cargo pants. That's the little metal cylinder." I started to head for the door but he grabbed my arm.
"We'll get to the part where you think you can give me orders later, preferably in private," he said. His tone was mild but his eyes showed the tiniest hint of annoyance. "I want to know what it is ye think you and Noose'll be doing while I scurry off on this errand."
I fought the urge to roll my eyes. "We'll be doing it on the deck of the Doubtless."
"The Dauntless," Norrington corrected me. It was amazing how he didn't show the slightest bit of emotion. "It's the Dauntless."
"What do you think I'll be doing," I said, pulling out of Sparrow's grip. "I'm going to the recorder's office and I'm going to look at the deed for the apothecary to see if there's any useful information. I bet the clerk remembers Junior. And then I'm going to see if he has any ties to the community. There's gotta be something that brought him back to 1689 and I'm hoping it's a girlfriend –"
"Excellent plan, Miss Plum," Norrington said, getting to his feet. "Shall we?"
"I was kind of thinking that maybe I should work alone. If people see you in your fancy blue jacket, they might be less inclined to share things with me."
Now it was Norrington's turn to narrow his eyes and look annoyed. "While I might concede your point, I would like to bring three things to your attention. One, you are a stranger to Port Royal with no means of transportation. Two, your quarry likes to use explosives as his calling card and I would be remiss in my duty to protect Port Royal if I sat back and did nothing. Three, while women may be bounty hunters in the 21st Century, they do not have such occupations in 1689. You will attract more attention than my fancy blue jacket if you travel unaccompanied and ask too many questions."
He was right. "Okay, you're on, but get this straight. I am not asking your permission to do my job. Or yours either, Sparrow."
"How can you, since I'll be scurrying back to the Pearl to fetch milady's things?" Sparrow crooked his finger at me. "Come here."
"Are you going to grab my arm again?"
He grabbed my arm, pulled me to him and kissed me. When he finally let go, he smirked down at me. "I'll see ye back here at noon. Behave yourself. Remember ---"
"No going off by my onesies. No blowing anything up."
"And don't do anything stupid." Sparrow emphasized the last word. "Mind ol' Noose here. It just may keep ye alive."
XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX
It was a short walk from the smithy to the town hall, where Norrington assured me we'd find the recorder's office. We walked through the ornately carved mahogany doors into the dimly lit office. There were four mahogany desks, each occupied by an overweight middle-aged man wearing similar- looking 17th Century suits. None of them bothered looking up. Bureaucrats were the same in any century I figured.
A scrawny, harried-looking younger man who reminded me of Bob Cratchit came in from an alcove to our right. He nearly dropped the leather-bound ledgers he was carrying when he saw Norrington.
"Good day, Mister Comstock," Norrington said.
Comstock set the ledgers down and I noticed his hands were shaking. This was a guy who'd done something wrong and knew he was about to get found out. I had a gut feeling it involved Junior. "C-can I help you?"
"I need your records concerning the parcel of land where the apothecary stood," Norrington told him. "I want all the information you have concerning the most recent purchaser."
"The man who bought it is my husband." I was amazed how easily the lie came out. I could never have gotten away with a lie like this in the Burg, but since nobody knew me here, I figured it was worth a shot. Probably it didn't count as doing anything stupid. "He said he was going out for a walk. That was a month ago. He didn't mention another woman to you, did he?"
Comstock's mouth was hanging open. He snapped it shut and goggled at me. Finally, he made up his mind and nodded. "The widow Stark was with him. They seemed kind of...friendly."
I looked up at Norrington. "You know who that is?"
"I do. We can discuss that later."
"Did he give a prior address when he bought the parcel of land," I asked Comstock. Norrington kicked me in the shin, warning me that I was asking too many questions. I ignored him. "And how did he pay?"
"If you give me a moment, I'll fetch the records," Comstock said. "They're in the back."
He headed back into the alcove and suddenly I had a sinking feeling. "Noose, would you know if there's a window back there?"
Norrington's eyes showed a flicker of surprise as he caught up to my train of thought. He glanced down at me and then ran for the door. I took off after him, running as fast as the dress would let me. By the time I caught up to him, he was holding Comstock and there was a pile of smoldering ash at his feet.
"I'm afraid he burned the records," Norrington said.
"It doesn't matter. Probably the information was bogus."
"And yet worth burning."
"It's a shame you can't take him in for questioning."
Norrington raised an eyebrow. "Can't I?"
Mental head slap. There was no Fourth Amendment yet and people were guilty until proven innocent. It sure made things a lot easier, as long as you weren't the one under suspicion. "I guess you can."
Comstock's mouth dropped open. "P-please. I'll talk! Anything you want to know."
Norrington smiled down at me and I felt certain parts of me start to tingle. "I think you owe my fancy blue jacket an apology."
Humble author's note: I screwed up on the jacket color, originally posting this as red. Cinnamongrrl put me wise and I reposted. Thanks for the fashion tip!