* * *
Four days later, with the sun still an hour away, Paddington sat in his pale yellow Hillman Imp by the south dock. Twenty feet away, Charlie loaded the last of Lisa’s shrubs onto the deck of his trawler. Most of the other fishing boats had already left; it was now or never.
Paddington stepped out of his car and approached. Charlie froze staring at him; the veins on his neck thickening. “Hello constable!” he bellowed and shook Paddington’s hand with far too much vigour. “Fancy, uh, seeing you here this early.”
“Charlie…” Paddington said.
The large man clapped an arm around Paddington and pointed at the boat. “It’s not illegal. No breach of Embargo. It’s only people, see? Not plants. Miss Tanner checked. Ask her! It’s her plan!”
“I’m not here to arrest you!” Paddington said, mostly so Charlie would stop crushing him.
“Oh?”
Paddington separated himself and glanced around. But for the water lapping at the wooden beams beneath them, the dock was silent. “Can you take something for me?”
Like his mind, Charlie’s bushy eyebrows moved slowly. “Take what?”
“An envelope.” Paddington handed over the letter he’d written to the Supernatural Help and Investigation Team. The Beast of Gévaudan’s hair was inside.
For many long moments Charlie turned it over in his hands as Paddington shivered in the crisp morning air. Finally, Charlie said, “It’s a fiver for something this size.”
“What?”
“You heard.”
“It’s not exactly heavy!”
“Got to give the other bloke something to post it.”
“It’s already stamped!” Everything was more expensive on the Mainland, apparently, so Paddington had put on a few pounds’ worth of stamps on it. They took up much of the envelope.
“For his trouble, like.” Charlie glanced at his boat, as if worried it would overhear, and leaned in. “I’ll tell you what,” he said, “you don’t tell anyone I’m working for a Mainlander and I won’t tell anyone you’re writing letters to one.”
That simple? Why the change of heart? Of course; Charlie was a respectable businessman. If word of this got out, he had far more to lose than Paddington.
“And you’ll waive the fee,” Paddington said.
Charlie shoved the envelope into his quilted jacket before Paddington could make any more demands. “Pleasure doing business, constable,” he said.