Page 38

Chapter Twenty-Three

I n the hall leading to the detective department, several passing constables peered at Jasper with notable alarm before darting their eyes in another direction. They moved swiftly along as if trying to put distance between themselves and the detective inspector.

Jasper had a decent idea why.

Shortly before Mrs. Bates had been subdued, Sergeant Lewis had arrived at Holloway Prison with news from her home on Rupert Street.

Her maid had nervously insisted yet again that she could not tell him anything about her mistress.

Mrs. Bates was a dragon with the worst temper, and the maid provided an example of her wrath.

“Her first day on the job, the maid was cleaning in Mrs. Bates’s bedroom when she found a leather case stuffed under the bed,” Lewis explained, a grin pulling at his mouth as he spoke.

“She took it out and was going to set it with the other luggage stored away when Mrs. Bates saw her and flew into a rage, telling her to put it back or she’d be sacked. I asked the maid to describe the case.”

Jasper had caught on. “Let me guess. Brown leather with floral embroidery and a monogram that did not match the initials of her mistress?”

At Lewis’s nod, Jasper knew they had her.

The detective sergeant was tasked with bringing their new prisoner to Scotland Yard to be booked and held for questioning. Meanwhile, Jasper would deliver Leo to her uncle, so that Claude could determine whether the gash along her side needed sutures.

Leo resisted, of course. “You should go with Sergeant Lewis. I’m perfectly capable of seeing myself to Spring Street.”

“Get in the cab,” he’d replied, holding the door open for her. The sight of her blood-darkened shirtwaist elevated his pulse—and fortified his determination to see her safely into Claude’s care.

On the drive back to Westminster, Leo divulged what Emma Bates had revealed during her hasty escape attempt.

“She didn’t exactly confess that she took Geraldine’s valise,” Leo said, pressing the handkerchief Jasper had given her to her hip. His heart rate evened somewhat when, after several minutes, the amount of blood on the linen hadn’t increased.

“She didn’t say anything specific about who helped assemble the bomb, but she did mention Constable Lloyd and how the plan hadn’t been for him to die. He was simply supposed to place the bomb.”

Her voice cracked over the last words as she’d likely thought of her friend, Miss Brooks, and the future that had been stolen from her.

“So, he was working for the Angels then?” Jasper asked.

“It doesn’t sound like he had much of a choice, given he was in the gang’s debt.”

The depravity of Mrs. Bates’s mind sickened and infuriated Jasper. Added to that was the frustration that Leo had been harmed—and that he had not been able to shield her.

After she’d alighted from the cab onto the pavement in front of the morgue, Leo held out her arm to stay him when he’d tried to walk her to the door. He bounced his chest off her palm before stepping back.

“I am perfectly well, and you are needed at the Yard.” She swung out her arm, pointing in the direction of Whitehall Place. “Go.”

She was right. So, he’d assented with a nod and climbed back into the cab. Now, as Jasper reached the CID, he braced himself for impact.

It came at him like a runaway train.

“What the devil have you done, Reid?” Blood infused Inspector Tomlin’s cheeks and lit the tips of his ears red. “I told you to keep your nose out of my investigation.”

The room went silent. Constables and detectives hung back to view the brewing altercation and give it plenty of room to unfold.

Jasper could understand Tomlin’s reaction.

His slapdash work, which had led to a hasty arrest, was about to be thrown out.

It was a bad look and a black mark on his reputation.

“I’ve brought in the woman who arranged for Niles Foster’s murder and the bombing that killed PC Lloyd,” he replied as he removed his coat and tossed it over his chair. “It will all be in my report. You’re welcome to look through it once it’s finished. But for now, I have an interview.”

Lewis stood near the closed door to the interview room, a pane of frosted glass obscuring the sight of Mrs. Bates seated inside.

“You have nothing solid,” Tomlin said, sticking to Jasper’s heels.

“In fact, I do. A witness who saw Mrs. Bates with the valise in her home, and a confession Mrs. Bates made to Miss Spencer.” He’d gotten damn lucky.

Without the maid and Leo, Tomlin would have been correct.

Jasper would have been able to implicate her in the bribery scheme involving Mr. Stewart and Sir Elliot but not the bombing.

Tomlin scoffed loudly, emitting a snort. “Miss Spencer? As I said, you have nothing. Neither the chief, the superintendent, nor the commissioner will trust a single word out of that deluded, interfering cow’s mouth. The woman belongs in Bedlam.”

Jasper reacted without thought. He whirled around and grabbed ahold of the belligerent detective. Grasping Tomlin’s collar in his fists, he slammed him against the wall just outside the interview room. The tense quiet surrounding them shattered.

“If every woman who proved herself to be smarter than you was sent to Bedlam, they’d be spilling out the bloody windows.” Jasper’s broken ribs burned as he held a thrashing Tomlin in place.

“Guv,” Lewis said, barring a few other officers who’d scrabbled forward to peel the two men apart. “Coughlan’s on his way. Let him go.”

Jasper tossed Tomlin aside, who then immediately lunged for him. The other officers intercepted, holding him back with hands and arms to his chest. Jasper readjusted his tie and threw open the door to the interview room. Mrs. Bates, seated at the table in handcuffs, peered at him coolly.

“What was that commotion?” she asked as he and Lewis stepped inside and closed the door.

“That isn’t your concern.” Jasper pulled out the chair across the table and sat. Lewis remained standing.

She arched a thin blonde brow as she looked Jasper over. “My, that is a considerable amount of bruising, Inspector. Whatever did happen?”

Her goading smirk failed to have the effect she desired. The brief scrap with Tomlin had been enough to work out the knot of frustration coiled within him. The release of tension in his arms and back put a grin on his face.

“Porter Stewart is expected shortly, along with his solicitor. I’m sure he will be relieved to hear that his wife is safe,” Jasper said, still grinning.

Her brittle smirk cracked.

“How long do you think he and Sir Elliot will hold out before throwing you to the wolves? Their reputations are at risk, after all,” he added.

Mrs. Bates hitched her chin. Her hands were folded demurely on the table before her. “They can accuse me, but they have no proof.”

Jasper nodded, giving the question some thought.

“You did well at first, keeping yourself in the background. Directing matters with an artful hand. You certainly concealed your involvement in the bombing well enough. That is, until your new maid told my detective sergeant here about finding a certain valise under your bed.”

Her nostrils flared, her eyes flicking toward Lewis. “She is lying.”

“I’m sure the magistrate will consider that possibility. But I doubt he’ll be convinced.”

The smugness drained from her face.

“We know you colluded with the Spitalfields Angels. You’re a Paget by birth, and your staff will testify that your family are known visitors to your home—only by way of the back door, of course.

” Jasper drummed the table with his fingers.

“To whom did you give the valise after procuring it from the Stewarts’ attic? ”

Mrs. Bates said nothing.

“Which Angel?” he pressed. “Was it Clive? Or Lester Rice? We know he has ties to Clan na Gael. He would have had access to materials for a bomb.”

Her lips remained sealed. She’d as good as turned to stone.

“You wrote a letter to Clive Paget about a month ago. Your maid—whom I imagine you’re wishing you hadn’t hired—can attest to that as well. The warder, Miss Hartley, confirmed Clive is your father.”

When she remained stoic, Lewis said, “The information’s easy enough to get through birth records.”

It was true, though it would be a hassle.

“I see. You’re afraid of them,” Jasper guessed. “Give up a name, and you’ll likely be dead before you go to court.”

She withdrew her hands from the table, the chains on the iron cuffs clanking. “I will confess to nothing. If you’re determined to charge me with a crime, then do so.”

“With pleasure,” he said, then stood. He would get nothing more out of her, but there was enough circumstantial evidence and witness testimony, not to mention the attack on Leo outside Holloway Prison, for a jury to convict her.

Lewis opened the door, and Jasper turned to leave.

“You will want to keep an eye on Miss Spencer, Inspector.”

He spun back around and glared. “Pardon?”

“There are whispers,” Mrs. Bates said with an easy shrug.

He returned to the table and braced against it with his knuckles. “What whispers?”

She hedged. “What is it worth to you?”

“She’s playing with you, guv,” Lewis warned. “Let’s go.”

Jasper pushed off the table, but he wasn’t convinced Lewis was right. With her connection to one of London’s most notorious gangs, it was possible Emma Bates had heard something about Leo, whose family had, after all, been slaughtered by one of the Angels’ enemies.

But Jasper wasn’t going to give her an inch. He would keep an eye on Leo as he always had. There were other ways of finding out if something was being whispered about her.

“Worry about yourself, Mrs. Bates. Leonora Spencer isn’t your concern.”

As he closed the door behind him, he thought he heard a stifled sob.