Page 4 of A Shop Girl’s Christmas (Pennington’s Department Store #3)
Elizabeth Pennington, co-owner of Pennington’s, walked across her office on the store’s executive floor towards her husband, where he stood staring out the window.
‘The poor man has only been working here a week, Joseph.’ She gently placed her hand on his rigid back. ‘You cannot raise the subject of Lillian’s murder to him yet. We must bide our time.’
His jaw tightened. ‘Time – wasted time – is all I think about.’
The low growl of his voice wound a knot in Elizabeth’s stomach.
He sharply turned, his beautiful blue eyes blazing with frustration. ‘Another woman is dead. Another woman murdered, while trying to help the poor. Beaten and stabbed in an alleyway. Possibly dragged there. How can the police not see this is almost identical to what happened to Lillian?’
Pain seared Elizabeth’s heart to see such anguish in his eyes as she stood before him unable to soothe him. Unable to help him. ‘I’m just asking that you wait a little longer before approaching Mr Gower. He was under no obligation to disclose his previous position at Scotland Yard, but he did, and now we must respect his honesty by allowing him to work freely for us. At least, for a while.’
‘I wouldn’t have to ask him at all, if the damn police would open their eyes and ears and take what I have to say seriously.’
‘I know, but—’
‘Mr Gower could help us, Elizabeth. He’ll have contacts, strategies and skills that could find her killer once and for all. He wasn’t just any ordinary policeman, for crying out loud. Stephen Gower worked for Scotland Yard. Bath’s crimes will be a drop in the ocean to him when he has dealt with the prevalent violence in London.’ He stepped away from her, swiping his hand over his face. ‘I am tired. Tired and angry. It’s been over four years and still the man who killed my wife roams free. I won’t stand by any longer when our own investigations are getting us nowhere.’
Tears pricked Elizabeth’s eyes and she blinked them back, hating herself for the jolt in her heart that Joseph had lately begun to refer to Lillian as his wife over and over again when it was now Elizabeth who wore his wedding ring. Yet, how could she forsake him his pain when she felt it so deeply, too? Until Joseph accepted he had no fault in Lillian’s murder, that he wasn’t to blame for not accompanying her on her rounds that night, Elizabeth feared he would suffer for the rest of his life.
‘You need to calm down.’ She took his hand. ‘I am hurting for you so much, but with each week that passes I fear what you will do next. We have to be sensible. Methodical and careful. The last thing we want is for Mr Gower to leave Pennington’s because of the pressure we are putting on him with something that has nothing to do with his employment.’
‘That won’t happen.’
‘How can you be so certain?’ She tightened her grip on his fingers, desperate to find the words to placate a little of the dangerous frustration bubbling inside the man she loved with all her heart. ‘Stephen Gower must have left Scotland Yard for a reason, or why else would he be here? Who’s to say it isn’t police work he has tired of? To present him with an unsolved murder on his first week at the store will serve no positive purpose. You must trust me, Joseph.’
His ran his gaze over her face. ‘I do trust you.’
‘Then leave Mr Gower be. At least for a little while. Please.’
He closed his eyes and tipped his head back, his pulse visible in his neck.
With each passing day, Joseph’s behaviour became more and more unpredictable. His once soft and happy gaze, angrier and more frustrated. They had known each other – loved each other – for almost two years and the longer his first wife’s killer remained undetected, the more Joseph became enveloped in a dark and dangerous shadow, despite all Elizabeth’s efforts to offer escape from his misery.
Helplessness pressed down on her as she cupped his tense jaw. ‘I understand that Mr Gower could be the key we have been waiting for, but let’s ensure he stays at the store for as long as possible. That’s all I’m asking. We will ask for his help when the time is right.’
‘There’s that word again. Time. I’m sick to death of it.’
Shooting her a glare, he strode to the door and left her office. Elizabeth watched him storm past her secretary’s desk and along the wood-panelled corridor to his own office.
What was she supposed to do to make him listen? To harangue a member of staff in such a manner wasn’t just unfair, it felt morally wrong. Mr Gower was perfectly in his rights to go about his work unmolested, but Joseph continued to hang renewed hope of bringing Lillian’s killer to justice on a complete stranger. Elizabeth crossed her arms. It gave her an incredibly bad feeling.
She slowly walked to the door and softly closed it, but her hand remained tight around the handle as a lone tear slipped down her cheek. What else could she to do but try to keep Joseph calm? To prove she understood his vexation. Yet, she knew in her heart that if he approached Mr Gower prematurely and too vehemently, everything they hoped to gain would be lost.
Pushing away from the door, she walked to her desk and pulled some papers towards her. For the twentieth time in as many days, she scanned Mr Gower’s application for a job as a Pennington’s security watchman. There was no clue as to why he had left Scotland Yard at this time, only that his superior had given him temporary leave for an undetermined amount of time. Which had been perfectly acceptable to Joseph… considering the assistance Mr Gower could possibly provide him.
Elizabeth frowned. Stephen Gower hadn’t entirely left the police force. Could he be on some sort of a sabbatical? In Bath for another reason? A personal reason? Why would a man, a sergeant no less, leave such a position unless he needed to distance himself from detection and crime solving?
The pressure of finding Lillian’s elusive killer was bringing strain on Joseph, but it was also perpetuating a threat to his and Elizabeth’s newly married life. She wanted a baby. A family. To show their love through the birth of their children. Joseph would not even consider that happening until Lillian’s murder was resolved. Which was exactly why Elizabeth had agreed, at least in principle, with the notion of involving Mr Gower.
It could no longer just be her and Joseph doing what they could to find this faceless animal. Too much time had passed, and they had got no further in the hunt. The Bath police had failed to turn up a single lead and the press were no longer interested. Or at least they weren’t until this most recent killing. Joseph was right, the similarities were too many to ignore. The poor woman’s body had been found in an alleyway near the city’s slums. A good woman doing her best to provide a little food and comfort to the poor, just like Lillian. Stabbed and left for dead, her basket of offerings strewn.
Surely, the police would have to step up their investigations once more? Charitable women helping the needy should not be under risk of being murdered. The whole situation was repulsive. There had to be a way to make the police listen to Joseph. But, once again, having taken his statement, Joseph was turned away. Accused of hysterical miscalculation; of imagining links that did not exist. Hence the escalation in his volatile behaviour, his deepened anguish and liability to do something – anything – he hadn’t done before.
And it was that risk, that possibility, that made Elizabeth’s hands tremble as Stephen Gower’s application slipped onto her desk.