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Police Constable Horace Wiley, whose desk guarded entry to the CID, sneered at Leo from his seat. “I understand you’re here for booking.”

“Miss Spencer is free to go,” Jasper said.

“That’s not what I’ve heard, Inspector.”

“Well, you are hearing it now,” he barked. For a change, Leo held her tongue against provoking Wiley as she and Jasper swept past the tedious man.

She wanted to ask Jasper what the incident had been, but doing so would display an interest in his affairs, and she wasn’t certain that would be wise. They came to a desk—Sergeant Lewis’s. Currently without an office, Jasper seemed to be sharing the space with him.

“Tell me why you think Mrs. Stewart is being set up,” Jasper said as he removed his holey coat and tossed it over the back of a chair.

She glanced over her shoulder toward Constable Wiley. He was watching and clearly trying to eavesdrop on their conversation.

“I wish you still had an office,” she said.

“So do I.” He scrubbed his scruffy jaw. “My shaving kit was in there.”

Leo kept her voice low. “The valise belonged to Mrs. Stewart, but she says it had been in her attic for years. Why would she put a bomb in a suitcase that could so easily be traced back to her?”

“Maybe she thought it would be completely destroyed in the blast.”

“Why take the chance, when she easily could have purchased a nondescript case from a secondhand shop and used that? And how could she have forced Constable Lloyd to deliver the bomb? She didn’t even know him.”

“Or so she says,” Jasper argued.

Leo clenched her fists. “You agree with Tomlin then?”

Jasper leaned forward, bracing his hands on the desk.

“Tomlin is a horse’s arse, and I’d like to crack him in the jaw for arresting you and leaving you locked up all night for no reason.

” He took a breath, and Leo’s fingers loosened.

“But he is right to consider that Mrs. Stewart is lying. The valise belonged to her. It is evidence. And after the second wave of bombings that same night, he has no choice but to consider a link to Clan na Gael.”

That notion hadn’t yet crossed her mind. If possible, her worry for Geraldine increased. The Metropolitan Police would wish to solve the bombings swiftly, place the blame upon someone’s shoulders, and laud their accomplishment to the press. Tomlin likely believed his investigation was now over.

“She isn’t connected to that group,” Leo said.

Jasper arched a brow. “Tomlin isn’t a man to be trifled with, Leo. Don’t give him a reason to look your way.”

“I already have, it seems,” she said with a lift of her arms. She had a thought. “Might I look through the prisoner albums?”

“What for?”

“The man in the brown cap I saw scowling at Constable Lloyd. I could look for him among the prisoner photographs, if he has a record.”

Jasper gripped the back of his neck, the muscles along his jaw tensing. “Those albums can’t leave the building, and I can’t have you in here. So no, I’m sorry. Go home, Leo. I have things to see to here.”

She tried not to let her aggravation show. “Right. The incident from this morning,” she said.

He nodded, watching her with an expectant arch of his brow. When she said nothing more, he cocked his head. “You aren’t going to inquire about it?”

“Is it any of my business?” she replied coolly.

“It will be when you arrive at the morgue.”

A body, then.

“Murder?”

He looked around the room, then lowered his voice. “Possibly. He was found in Viscount Hayes’s duck pond at dawn.”

She looked him over again. “You were already there. For a gathering last night.”

Jasper stood back and rolled a shoulder. “Why would you assume that?”

“Because you haven’t shaved, your clothing appears to have been slept in, and you smell of whisky and cheap perfume.”

Jasper frowned and sniffed his collar. He didn’t deny it, and a prickle of irritation bothered her. Had Constance Hayes been present at this party? No, she wouldn’t ask. Because she did not care.

“Who drowned? Another member of your party?” she asked instead.

“No. It was an acquaintance of Oliver’s. Niles Foster, a parliamentary aide. Turned up at some point during the night, though by the footprints around the pond, he wasn’t alone.”

He rubbed his thumb along his cheek and chin in thought. There was something he wasn’t telling her. Dragging it out of him would take too much effort, however, and after the night she’d endured upstairs, she was severely lacking in stamina.

“I need to find my uncle. I’m sure he’ll be at the morgue,” she said, turning to leave. Then hesitated. “Or perhaps I should stay and wait for Inspector Tomlin. I don’t look forward to speaking to him, but I also don’t want him to have me detained again.”

Jasper crossed his arms. “I will deal with Tomlin. Go.”

She nodded, grateful. And yet, she didn’t want to feel grateful to him for anything. Discomfited, she again turned to leave just as Sergeant Lewis was coming toward his desk. “I found an address for Sir Elliot,” he told Jasper, handing him a piece of paper.

Leo’s attention piqued. “Sir Elliot?”

Jasper folded the paper and tucked it into his trouser pocket. “The MP Niles Foster was aide to.”

She returned to the desk, no longer eager to leave the department. “Sir Elliot was supposed to be our guest speaker last night at the WEA meeting. He canceled at the last minute.”

Jasper frowned. “That’s interesting.” And by interesting, he meant odd. Leo could hear it in his tone. “I’ll speak to him about it.”

There it was—the small twinge of jealousy that she’d felt time and again ever since January, when she and Jasper had come together to solve the deaths of four people after a locket was stolen from a body in her uncle’s morgue.

Leo had enjoyed hunting down the killer with him, even though she and Jasper had been held at gunpoint and come close to becoming victims themselves.

Then again, in March, when she had witnessed a woman die by acute arsenic poisoning, Leo had joined Jasper in unraveling a revenge plot.

It had been dangerous, yes. But also riveting.

And now, she found herself wishing there was some reason for her to speak to Sir Elliot too.

Or to go along with Jasper for his interview.

But there wasn’t a reason. And she shouldn’t want to be near Jasper at all.

If only her mind and heart could stop being so conflicted, it would make things so much simpler.

Leo started away again, and again, she turned back.

If she didn’t acknowledge his help in freeing her from the upstairs holding room, she’d only look and feel churlish. “Thank you,” she said, trying to meet his eye with difficulty. “For your help.”

She left before he could say anything in response.