Page 8 of Cloaked in Deception (Spencer & Reid Mysteries #4)

The witness statements that Police Constables Price and Drake had collected weren’t overly illuminating.

Everyone had seen and heard the same things.

Except for Marcus Gibson, the footman who’d been positioned at the front door.

His statement, taken by Stephen Warnock, newly promoted to the rank of detective sergeant, was brief: At the light rap of the knocker, he’d opened the front door.

The five masked men pushed their way inside, the first of whom struck the footman on the head before he could sound the alarm.

He claimed not to remember anything after that until he woke, which was after the men escaped with the stolen jewels and their hostage.

“Were the kitchen staff questioned?” Jasper asked, flipping through the pages, searching for their statements.

“Drake said they were barred from the dining room,” Lewis replied. “After they heard the gunshot, one of them left through the back door to summon the police. A constable came, but only after the intruders had left.”

“Go to the Giles house and speak to the footman, Gibson,” Jasper said.

“These men targeted the dinner, and they knew when to strike, too as soon as we were all seated at the table. It’s possible someone on the chief coroner’s staff knows something.

” Perhaps even gave important information to the masked men to help them plan the robbery.

Lewis nodded. “Sir Eamon’s housekeeper hired extra servers through a catering service. I’ll talk to them as well.”

It was a good thought. However, it would be shortsighted of them to only look at the staff.

Jasper shuffled the papers again until he found the guest list that he’d glanced over a moment ago.

At least thirty names filled the sheet. Jasper’s eyes paused on a few in particular: Gavin Seabright, a relation no doubt to the victim, though Martha had appeared to be there alone; and two more, Mr. and Mrs. Stanley Hayes.

Constance’s parents. Jasper had never met them, as he’d ended his courtship with their daughter before having the chance.

It was possible they had been in attendance, and he simply hadn’t recognized them, nor they him.

But they hadn’t been interviewed by either Price or Drake.

“They took a risk in letting Miss Spencer go, don’t you think?” Lewis observed, drawing Jasper’s attention from the guest list. “Why not just shoot her, like the one did the old woman?” Belatedly realizing the crassness of his question, he muttered, “Sorry, guv.”

Jasper shook his head. What the detective sergeant asked had merit. Why spare Leo but not Mrs. Seabright?

“Let’s find him, so we can ask.” Jasper closed the folder. “I’ll stop by the Law Courts and see if I can speak to Sir Eamon.”

They left his office—Lewis for Giles’s home in Kennington and Jasper for the Royal Courts of Justice.

But at the department’s entrance, they came upon Constable Horace Wiley, who stood, blocking Leo’s way inside.

Her distaste for the man was etched upon her face, and Jasper’s own annoyance boiled up fast.

“Step aside, Wiley,” he barked. “I’m expecting Miss Spencer.”

The constable did as ordered though his churlish scowl followed Leo as she passed. There was a rumor going around that Wiley had put in for a secondment to the Liverpool City Police, and Jasper hoped it would go through. The man guarded the front desk to the detective department like a bully.

As Leo moved further into the department, Jasper noted that her pace wasn’t as brisk as usual, and her eyes looked heavy. Like him, she’d probably dispensed with the idea of sleep.

“Miss Spencer,” Lewis greeted her with a friendlier-than-usual nod. She noticed and eyed him with a skeptical glance. The detective sergeant then turned and carried on his way, exiting the room.

Jasper gestured for Leo to enter his office.

“If only Constable Wiley was as happy as Sergeant Lewis is that I’m not dead,” she said as he closed the door behind them.

“Wiley is miserable, but he wouldn’t wish you dead,” Jasper replied.

Leo opened her handbag and sent him a dubious look. “You give him too much credit. Here.” She retrieved a sheet of paper and extended it to him.

“Your statement?”

“I thought there would be more,” she said with a sigh of disappointment. “Last night, there seemed to be so many things I wanted to tell you.”

Jasper took the sheet. Leo was getting used to typing witness statements, and like the others, this one was filled to the margins of the page with details. “It looks like plenty to me.”

“Yes, but nothing there provides much for leads. The beards were false. Horsehair, if I had to guess,” she said.

“So perhaps they were purchased at a costume shop? And the plaque in the coach…I keep trying to see it better in my memory, but the black paint in the engraved lettering was all chipped away except for the word Best .”

Jasper read through her statement even as she spoke. “You think it was a hired hack?”

“If there are any carriage companies with the word Best in their names, we might be able to track it down through the carriages department.”

He lowered the typed sheet, thinking of Coughlan’s warning. “Leo, your involvement in this case is to be limited to this statement. I will direct Sergeant Brooks to search the registries for any hansom companies with Best as part of their names.”

“I was using the word ‘we’ figuratively,” Leo said with a shrug of her shoulder.

Jasper didn’t quite believe her but returned to her statement without comment.

As he read on, the only identifying description she could give for any of the men was a bit about a scar on one man’s left hand.

It was good information though, especially if they could take in a suspect that had such a marking.

“I assume you already have constables visiting pawnbrokers, searching for the jewels that were stolen?” Leo asked.

There had been a page in the constables’ report allocated to the descriptions of the jewels taken, and Price had taken it upon himself to send men to several pawnshops. Jasper recalled the pearl necklace and earrings that Leo had lost.

“I hope we can find them,” he said. “And not just to track down these men. I know my father’s gifts were important to you.”

She shook her head. “I’m sorry to have lost them, but in the end, it is just jewelry.”

There was a dejected quality to her voice, and Jasper suspected she’d been more affected by her ordeal than she was letting on. However, he knew better than to pry. She would only close herself off completely if he did.

“Where are you going first?” she asked, changing the topic.

“I’ll speak to Sir Eamon.”

Interest flickered over her face. “He and Mrs. Seabright seemed to be arguing before dinner last night.”

“Yes. I’d like to know what it was about.”

“Why would she have been at the dinner?” Leo asked, the dejection clearing as her innate curiosity took over. “She didn’t appear to be a wealthy donor.”

The information on the victim in the constables’ report was classified, though not private.

Had the benefit dinner gone on as planned, uninterrupted, Sir Eamon would have likely spoken to the guests of Mrs. Seabright’s history with the Orphanage Fund as a grateful recipient of its charitable work.

However, giving Leo any more information on the victim would only further kindle her interest in the case.

He wanted her far from this investigation, out of harm’s way.

“We’re still gathering information,” Jasper replied, circumventing an answer. Then, after a pause, he reminded her, “I should be going.”

She shifted her footing as if realizing that she was being dismissed. And hell, if he didn’t feel like a donkey’s arse for it. But it was for the best.

“Right. I’m needed at the morgue,” she said, starting for the door. As he’d already learned from the chief, Mrs. Seabright’s body would be there, waiting.

“Perhaps you should take the day off,” he suggested blandly.

When Leo jolted to a halt and speared him with a glare over her shoulder, Jasper knew he’d overstepped.

“You have your job to do, Inspector, and I have mine.” With that, she opened the door to his office and left.