Everand Logo

Welcome to Everand!

  • Discover millions of ebooks, audiobooks, and so much more with a free trial

    Only $11.99/month after trial. Cancel anytime.

    Pickpocket's Apprentice: John Pickett Mysteries, #0.5
    Pickpocket's Apprentice: John Pickett Mysteries, #0.5
    Pickpocket's Apprentice: John Pickett Mysteries, #0.5
    Ebook110 pages1 hour

    Pickpocket's Apprentice: John Pickett Mysteries, #0.5

    By Sheri Cobb South

    5/5

    ()

    Read preview

    About this ebook

    Prequel novella to the award-winning John Pickett Mystery series!

    When magistrate Patrick Colquhoun orders a habitual thief and ne'er-do-well transported to Botany Bay, he doesn't realize a fourteen-year-old boy has been left behind to follow in his father's footsteps—not until young John Pickett is hauled into Bow Street for stealing an apple from the produce market at Covent Garden. Feeling to some extent responsible for the boy, Mr. Colquhoun prevails upon Mr. Elias Granger, a prosperous coal merchant, to take him on as an apprentice.

    For the next five years, John Pickett hauls coal in exchange for room and board. The work is dirty and hard, but the drudgery is lightened by the occasional deliveries to Bow Street, where Mr. Colquhoun usually tosses Pickett a coin for his pains. An even more pleasant diversion exists in the form of Mr. Granger's pert daughter Sophy, with whom Pickett tumbles headlong into love.

    And then one day nineteen-year-old John Pickett stumbles by accident into a criminal investigation that will bring him once again to the attention of Bow Street for an entirely different reason, and will change the course of his life . . .

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherSheri Cobb South
    Release dateSep 1, 2018
    ISBN9781386552147
    Pickpocket's Apprentice: John Pickett Mysteries, #0.5

    Read more from Sheri Cobb South

    Related to Pickpocket's Apprentice

    Titles in the series (7)

    View More
    View More

    Related ebooks

    Historical Mystery For You

    View More
    View More

    Related podcast episodes

    Related articles

    • Article

      The Coming Out

      May 11, 2020

      The Coming Out
      6 min read

    • Article

      Laughing STOCK

      Jul 17, 2020

      Laughing STOCK
      4 min read

    • Article

      Regency Romance

      Jun 12, 2022

      With the success of the TV show Bridgerton, it was inevitable that copycat Regency romances would follow. For those who find them insipid and silly, this won’t be the greatest news, but I adored the Georgette Heyer books (she was the queen of the Reg

      1 min read

    • Article

      Love will WIN

      Sep 6, 2023

      Love will WIN
      9 min read

    • Article

      Beau Brummell

      Nov 6, 2020

      Beau Brummell
      5 min read

    • Article

      Echoes

      Jul 13, 2022

      Echoes
      9 min read

    • Article

      A Nest Of VIPERS

      Jan 25, 2023

      A Nest Of VIPERS
      9 min read

    • Article

      Where The Walls Have Ears

      May 22, 2020

      Where The Walls Have Ears
      8 min read

    • Article

      Home to ROOST

      Jan 11, 2022

      Home to ROOST
      11 min read

    • Article

      A tender THREAD

      Dec 22, 2021

      A tender THREAD
      9 min read

    • Article

      Into The Breeches

      Jul 8, 2022

      Into The Breeches
      7 min read

    • Article

      Old Man And The Bayou

      Apr 20, 2021

      Old Man And The Bayou
      6 min read

    • Article

      LetTErBoCkS

      Oct 12, 2023

      LetTErBoCkS
      13 min read

    • Article

      Remote Locations

      Aug 26, 2019

      Remote Locations
      4 min read

    • Article

      Studio Jiggly

      Dec 17, 2021

      I’M hanging out in the kitchen, as one does, just minding my own business and doing my own thing. I am entirely alone in the house. For once. And it is bliss. This is one of the many things about Covid-19… It used to be that going away for the weeken

      3 min read

    • Article

      The Joy Of 'Lawyer Cat' Is That It Teaches Us Nothing – It's Just Very Funny | Imogen West-Knights

      Feb 11, 2021

      Less than a week since the nation was gripped by parish council fever, a phrase that feels mortifyingly British to have to write, another Zoom-based viral video has swept the internet. This time the setting is Presidio, Texas and the meeting in quest

      3 min read

    • Article

      Humility At The Helm

      Dec 7, 2021

      Humility At The Helm
      2 min read

    • Article

      How Are You DOING?

      Feb 26, 2023

      Musings from our favourite Kiwi funnywoman There is a very good chance that you, like me, have had it up to here with “unprecedented events”. That you would like many days in a row where nothing notable happened, where you only experienced things tha

      2 min read

    • Article

      How Are You DOING?

      Feb 26, 2023

      Musings from our favourite Kiwi funnywoman There is a very good chance that you, like me, have had it up to here with “unprecedented events”. That you would like many days in a row where nothing notable happened, where you only experienced things tha

      2 min read

    • Article

      ‘I Am Pablo Escobar’s Secret Son’

      Aug 28, 2020

      HE BELIEVES that one day a film will be made about his life. Phillip Witcomb can see it now: part espionage caper, part globetrotting crime thriller, part family saga with several twists, mostly tragedy but with a peaceful end for its hero, packed wi

      8 min read

    • Article

      Peter Russell-clarke Forever A Pot Stirrer!

      Jul 31, 2022

      As a teenage street kid, runaway Peter Russell-Clarke survived by scrounging for food scraps outside the ritziest Melbourne restaurants. The way he tells it, that's where the larrikin TV chef, author and artist first discovered his love for fine food

      4 min read

    • Article

      Electoral Reflux

      Sep 30, 2018

      Electoral Reflux
      2 min read

    • Article

      Great Scot

      Oct 22, 2021

      Great Scot
      10 min read

    Related categories

    Reviews for Pickpocket's Apprentice

    5/5

    3 ratings0 reviews

    What did you think?

    Tap to rate

    Review must be at least 10 words

      Book preview

      Pickpocket's Apprentice - Sheri Cobb South

      Pickpocket’s

      Apprentice

      A John Pickett Novella

      Sheri Cobb South

      PICKPOCKET’S APPRENTICE

      ©2015 by Sheri Cobb South. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

      Cover illustration Taking Time, by R. Dagley, ca. 1821.

      1

      In Which a Juvenile Delinquent Is Brought to Justice

      OCTOBER 1798

      London 

      The large clock mounted on the wall above the magistrate’s bench had long since struck five. Magistrate Patrick Colquhoun pronounced sentence on his last case of the day and rose from the bench, congratulating himself on a cleared docket and thinking with eager anticipation of the dinner that his wife, Janet, would have waiting for him at home.

      Before he could head for the door, it opened to admit a stiff autumn breeze and a young man of about five and twenty who wore the blue coat and red waistcoat of the Bow Street Foot Patrol. As if further proof of his identity were needed, he hauled by the collar of a shabby gray coat a scrawny individual who appeared disinclined to bear him company.

      Have you a moment before you go, Mr. Colquhoun?

      Resigning himself to congealed roast beef and cold potatoes, the magistrate sighed and turned toward William Foote, the newest member of the Night Patrol.

      Yes, Mr. Foote, what is it?

      Foote shoved his captive forward, all the while maintaining his grip on the miscreant’s collar. I caught this little thief stealing in Covent Garden.

      Thief the fellow might be, but Mr. Colquhoun would hardly call him little; he was every bit as tall as Foote, who was not a short man himself. Mr. Colquhoun might have pointed out this discrepancy, had he been less impatient for his dinner—and had he not at that moment got a better look at the alleged thief’s face. In spite of his height, Foote’s prisoner was hardly more than a child—a skinny lad with a tangle of dirty brown curls hanging down to his shoulders, and arms far too long for the sleeves of his threadbare coat. A lad, moreover, with a slightly crooked nose whose nostrils were caked with congealing blood, and a rapidly swelling left eye which would no doubt be black by morning.

      He was resisting arrest, Foote put in hastily, as if aware of his magistrate’s appraisal of the boy’s injuries. I had to subdue him.

      Mr. Colquhoun leaned forward to frown at the lad from beneath bushy eyebrows liberally sprinkled with grey. What’s your name, boy?

      The boy’s chin came up, and he returned the magistrate’s gaze unwaveringly, his brown eyes reflecting defiance and hostility not unmixed with fear. John.

      Foote shook the youth by his collar, in much the same way that a terrier might shake its quarry by the scruff of the neck. You’ll answer Mr. Colquhoun proper, my lad, or you’ll get another taste of my fist!

      The magistrate raised a restraining hand. That’s enough, Mr. Foote. To the boy, he added, Well, John, do you have another name?

      The lad hesitated a moment before answering. Pickett, sir. John Pickett.

      And how old are you, John Pickett?

      Fourteen.

      Where do you live?

      The boy shrugged. Here and there.

      Mr. Colquhoun scowled, an expression that had caused men far older than John Pickett to quake in their boots. Answer me, boy! Where do you live? Who are your parents? Your mother? Your father?

      My mum’s dead, I guess, or else run off. My dais—gone.

      Dead, do you mean?

      Again that shrug, an attempt at nonchalance belied by the fear reflected in his brown eyes. Near enough as makes no odds.

      And your name is Pickett, is it? The magistrate’s eyes narrowed in sudden suspicion. Your father wouldn’t by any chance be Gentleman Jack Pickett?

      Oh, wouldn’t he? retorted the boy, and received another shake from Mr. Foote for his insolence.

      Gentleman Jack Pickett, thought Mr. Colquhoun. One of the most elusive criminals in the rookeries of St. Giles and Seven Dials. But his luck had finally run out, and the elder Pickett was now on a ship to Botany Bay. And he, as magistrate, should know; he’d sentenced the man himself. What he had not known was that the elder Pickett had left a son, a fourteen-year-old boy who was now forced to fend for himself in the only way he knew how—the way he had no doubt learned, so to speak, at his father’s knee. Mr. Colquhoun looked at the boy more keenly, trying to discern the face beneath the blood and bruises. The younger Pickett, conscious of the magistrate’s gaze upon him, reached into his pocket, extracted an apple, and bit into it with a defiant air which gave Mr. Colquhoun to understand that the boy’s unlawful possession of the apple was the reason for his presence in Bow Street—and that, if he was going to hang for it in any case, he intended to enjoy his ill-gotten gain first.

      You’ve been here before, haven’t you? It was more in the nature of an accusation than a question.

      Less than a fortnight ago, Foote put in. I told you last time that he’d be back. He’s rope-ripe, this one. Best string him up now and save the hangman the trouble later, if you ask me.

      Mr. Colquhoun acknowledged this advice with a nod. Thank you, Mr. Foote. If I want your opinion, I’ll be sure to ask for it. In the meantime, I suppose we’d best clean up the mess you made of young Mr. Pickett’s face. Fetch a wet cloth. No, the boy is not going to escape, he added, anticipating Foote’s objection.

      With obvious reluctance, Foote released his hold on his captive’s collar. His cold blue eyes shot the boy one last look of loathing before he took himself off.

      Mr. Colquhoun leaned back in his chair and regarded the thief. Now it remains only to decide what we are to do with you, Mr. Pickett.

      You mean—you’re not going to have me hanged? The boy’s hostility dimmed somewhat, leaving wariness and imperfectly concealed hope.

      I have a constitutional aversion to hanging children.

      I’m not a child, John Pickett declared mulishly. I’m—

      Fourteen years old, the magistrate said, nodding wearily. Yes, so you said. A veritable Methuselah, in fact. Tell me, Mr. Pickett, when you said you lived ‘here and there,’ you spoke no less than the truth, didn’t you?

      He looked down at the floor, apparently studying his oversized feet with great intensity. Moll—Da’s woman, that is—she threw me out after Da was shipped off. Stands to reason, doesn’t it? When a woman’s looking for a new man, she don’t want her old man’s son cluttering up the place.

      Mr. Colquhoun might have made several highly unflattering observations regarding the sort of female who would banish her de facto stepson to life on the streets, but he wisely refrained from voicing them, assuming—quite correctly—that the young Pickett would take offense at any suggestion that he was incapable of looking after himself, his present dilemma notwithstanding. Mr. Colquhoun could not remember the exact date on which he had ordered the elder Pickett dispatched to Botany Bay—criminals and their sentencing tended to run together after awhile—but he was fairly certain that it would have been at least a month ago, and very likely more. And for all that time, this lad had been on his own, scavenging for his food and sleeping God only knew where. It was a miracle the boy hadn’t awakened one morning to

      Enjoying the preview?
      Page 1 of 1