Page 29 of Cloaked in Deception (Spencer & Reid Mysteries #4)
Chapter Fifteen
A s he stepped off the train onto the platform at Twickenham Junction just past nine o’clock, Jasper breathed in the cool, sweet scents of clipped grass and fresh air.
Even the clouds of smoke billowing from the train’s coal-burning engine could not subdue them.
It had been years since he’d left London.
Truly left it, that was. Oliver Hayes’s home in Kensington, which Jasper had viewed as a kind of country retreat from the city, did not have this same tranquil stillness.
His ears had become so accustomed to the turbulent cacophony of city life that its absence, now replaced by the melodic chirp of crickets, was a little overwhelming.
The late summer twilight had slipped away while he and Lewis rode the train southwest from Charing Cross Station.
The rickety ride had lasted a good two hours, with stops made at every rail station along the way.
The uncomfortable wooden bench, its cushion worn into a thin, lumpy state, had probably bruised Jasper’s backside.
“Detective Inspector Reid?” A uniformed police constable was waiting near the Twickenham station doors.
By the gas jets of the station lamps, he appeared young.
Probably no more than twenty or twenty-one years of age.
He stepped forward, wearing an open, somewhat eager grin to greet the Scotland Yard detectives.
“That’s correct,” Jasper said, then introduced Lewis as his detective sergeant.
“PC Landry, sir. Sergeant Tinsdale sent me to escort you to the orphanage at Wellesley House. He and Matron Westover are waiting for you there.”
Jasper and Lewis followed the young police constable to a wagon in front of the station. The dirt road was dark and empty, with only a few spots of light emanating from nearby structures.
“Is there an inn or lodging house that might be able to give us rooms for the night?” Jasper asked. “My sergeant and I will likely be staying here until morning.”
“Mrs. Barnston usually has rooms at her place,” Landry replied. “She runs an inn and tavern. I’ll arrange for it after I take you to the orphanage.”
With any luck, the tavern would also set aside supper for them.
Jasper’s gnawing hunger had grown as they’d traveled toward Twickenham, and it had likely been the reason why, after enduring Lewis’s smirking glimpses for as long as he could stand them, he’d snapped at the detective sergeant, “All right. Out with it.”
He knew exactly what the smirks were regarding.
Kissing Leo had been impulsive, and doing so within view of the open back door to the morgue’s office, reckless.
His blood had simmered high and hot the second he’d had her in his arms, crushed against him.
When her lips parted against his, allowing him to deepen the kiss, he’d tumbled well past caring where they were or who might see them.
Thankfully—and irritatingly—the detective sergeant had interrupted before Jasper could completely lose control of the moment, and of himself.
“Nothing to say, guv. Nothing at all,” Lewis replied, still grinning like a fool. “Except that you and Miss Spencer are a good match.”
Jasper had shifted on the hard bench, uncertain how to respond. He and Leo weren’t matched . They weren’t courting. What they were was too fragile to define just yet. Still, he knew kissing her the way he had and the desire building within him for her only led to one place.
“She’s smart, serious,” Lewis had gone on conversationally. “Like my missus.”
The compliment had left Jasper dumbstruck. He’d known Lewis didn’t dislike Leo, as the other men at the Yard might, but he hadn’t realized the detective sergeant thought enough of her to liken her to his own wife.
“That is high praise,” Jasper said, slightly uncomfortable. He attempted to steer the conversation away from Leo. “I haven’t yet met your wife.”
Lewis had kept his life and his work at the Met separate, so much so that Jasper didn’t even know his wife’s or sons’ names.
“We’ll have you around,” Lewis replied with a firm nod. “You can bring Miss Spencer—so long as she doesn’t talk about dead bodies at the dinner table.”
Jasper feigned annoyance with the caveat, but truthfully, the invitation from his sergeant pleased him. He’d wondered for some time if Lewis even liked him or was only being courteous because of their different ranks.
The pleasurable image of him taking Leo to dinner at Roy Lewis’s home had reminded him of their foiled dinner plans for that evening. He supposed that was just how it was when one was a police detective. Thankfully, she hadn’t seemed overly upset.
PC Landry drove them to Wellesley House, the main building of the Metropolitan and City Police Orphanage.
As the police forces increased their numbers, so too increased the number of officers either killed or seriously wounded in the line of duty.
With more children affected, the need for additional space had grown.
Jasper recalled his father speaking of the orphanage’s recent purchase of another building across the street.
Both domiciles were dark and quiet when their wagon arrived. Lanterns flickered in a few windows of Wellesley House, and two gas brackets at the main door spluttered, but otherwise, the large manor looked to be abed for the night.
Landry drew the horses to a stop, and Lewis whistled softly. “Remind me to be more cautious while I’m on duty,” he said. “I can’t stomach the thought of my boys being sent here if I were to cark it.”
“They wouldn’t be sent here. Your wife would never part with them, I’m certain.” Jasper’s thoughts immediately turned to Martha Seabright and her sister, Esther Goodwin. The older woman had informed Leo that Martha had been eager to be rid of her children. The sentiment left him cold.
“You’re right,” Lewis said as they approached the main entrance. “Her mother would take her and the boys in.”
That Lewis would have to consider any alternative to living long enough to raise his two children was a reality of the job. At the hollow clangs of the door knocker, Jasper thought of all the children housed here, many of whom had lost their fathers.
The front door was opened by a man in police uniform who introduced himself as Sergeant Tinsdale.
He was older, graying around the temples, and he had a rigid, rule-following bearing as he took over from Landry and led them inside.
The interior was airy and cold, without hangings on the walls, rugs on the floor, or any other décor.
Spartan was the word that came to mind as Sergeant Tinsdale held a lantern aloft, lighting their way up a set of wide marble stairs to the first level.
“The body hasn’t been moved from where it was found earlier today in the infirmary,” he reported. “Matron Westover was not pleased, as we had to close off the room and post a man outside the door.”
The Matron was the top authority at the orphanage, and Jasper held a vision of what she would look like. Older. Stern and draconian.
“Thank you for adhering to protocol, Sergeant,” Jasper said as they followed him. He had worried on the way there that the body would have been moved, the immediate area cleaned, with helpful evidence swept away.
“I heard about what happened the other night in Town at the benefit dinner for this place,” Sergeant Tinsdale said once they’d reached a landing.
“The robbery and the woman who was shot. So, when I saw the nurse here had been stabbed, I thought it best to contact Scotland Yard. Two murders connected to this place had me suspicious.”
“You were right to be,” Jasper said. The sergeant was to be commended. There were plenty of officers who would not have wanted to turn the reins over to someone else, out of pure pride. “Stabbed, you say?”
Another lantern brightened the hallway ahead, and as they walked along the corridor, a woman exited a room. Seeing them, she hurried in their direction. Tall and lithe, she had an elegant, feminine figure that set Jasper back on his heels. Lewis, too, by his staggered expression.
“Matron Westover,” Sergeant Tinsdale said in greeting, though he sounded irked. It must have been a long day holding her off from having the nurse’s body removed. “Detective Inspector Reid and Detective Sergeant Lewis from Scotland Yard have arrived.”
Jasper’s expectations were not usually so thoroughly upended.
The matron, wearing a dress of somber dark blue that reminded him of the fashions Leo wore to the morgue, was probably no more than forty years of age.
She was quite pretty, with a long, swanlike neck and golden hair done up into a soft twist.
“Inspector, Sergeant,” she said in greeting, her expression stark, though not severe.
“I am glad you’ve come. It’s been an awful day, as you can imagine, and I would very much like permission to attend to Nurse Radcliff as soon as possible.
It’s indecent, leaving her there upon the infirmary floor. ”
“Matron Westover, I appreciate that it’s been a difficult day for you, but Sergeant Tinsdale was correct to leave the deceased where she lay. If she has been killed, it is best for us to view her where she fell.”
The matron’s chin lifted, and she challenged him with a glare, one that Jasper imagined many children would cower under. But she did not argue.
“If you will take us to her, please,” he urged.
Without a word, she held out her arm to direct them, then began down the corridor. Tinsdale fell into step beside her, with Jasper and Lewis following.
“What time was Nurse Radcliff found?” Jasper asked.
“Ten o’clock this morning,” the matron replied, her pace brisk, the soles of her shoes clicking along the bare stone. “She was absent at breakfast, but as she had been tending to a sick child, it was presumed she was taking breakfast in the infirmary instead.”