Page 12 of Method of Revenge (Spencer & Reid Mysteries #2)
Chapter Twelve
T he understated elegance of 23 Charles Street never failed to impress itself upon Leo. The signs of wealth were obvious, though they were masked somewhat by time and a touch of neglect. The wine-red carpet had faded toward pink; the floral wallpaper was out-of-date; the furnishings were aged, though polished to a high shine by the scrupulous Mrs. Zhao. The Inspector had kept things exactly as they’d been when his wife and children had been alive. In some ways, the inside of the house felt like it had been trapped in amber, isolated from the rest of the world.
Located just off St. James’s Square, it was an affluent area, home to wealthy aristocrats, politicians, and businessmen. The Inspector must have felt out of place here, surrounded by none of his contemporaries and instead by those who would look down on him for being a member of the working class. As Mrs. Zhao greeted their party gaily, Leo wondered if Jasper, too, felt the snub of his neighbors. Might that be why he’d nurtured a friendship with Lord Hayes? Or why he’d been courting Constance, an aristocrat herself?
Mrs. Zhao, pleased by their unanticipated arrival, assured them that she had indeed cooked a meal that could provide for them all. She ushered them into the little-used sitting room to await her summons to dinner. Jasper left the room soon thereafter to deliver the complaints file to the study and, presumably, to prepare for dinner. Claude made small conversation with Flora, who needed a few reminders of where they were and why. Leo felt at home in the sitting room as they waited for the meal, yet also a twinge of friction. It might have just been due to the presence of her aunt and uncle here at the house on Charles Street. She’d had two worlds from the age of nine onwards. In one, she had her beloved uncle and reluctantly accepting aunt; and in the other, she’d had the Inspector and Jasper. They didn’t often mix.
Things eased a little after sitting down to eat. Jasper ignored the chair at the head of the table where the Inspector had always sat and took the one at the opposite end, with Flora and Claude settling into chairs to his left and Leo to his right. As Mrs. Zhao brought in a tureen of soup, Claude and Jasper turned to business. They discussed an emerging theory that the whorls and ridges of a person’s fingerprints, which were known to be individual to every person in the world, might be used to identify and connect criminals to their crimes.
“I could begin pressing the fingertips of unidentified corpses onto a stamp pad and then transferring them onto paper to include in their postmortem report,” Leo said with a spike of excitement.
Flora, who’d been spooning up her soup, then letting it spill back into her bowl again and again, made a disgusted noise in the base of her throat. She dropped her spoon against the rim of the bowl, muttering to herself, “Corpses, corpses.”
Leo held still, aware of her blunder. Claude hushed his wife and helped her to grasp her spoon again before guiding it to her mouth. It was a caring, yet heartbreaking, display. Perhaps feeling as if he was intruding on the moment, Jasper turned to Leo.
“Sergeant Lewis and I visited Miss Morris’s address,” he said, his voice low. Leo was glad for the change in conversation. She’d been curious as to what he’d learned after leaving Mr. Henderson’s factory.
“The landlady confirmed Regina Morris hasn’t been there in a month. She had shared her room with another young woman, a Miss Putnam, who has since taken on a new roommate.”
“What did Miss Putnam have to say?” Surely, the roommate would have known Regina was pregnant. She might even be able to identify the baby’s father.
“She wasn’t in. I sent Lewis to the coffeehouse where Miss Putnam works. I should receive his report in the morning.” Jasper set down his spoon; he’d begun to dally with it as Flora had been.
“And you met with Mr. Carter?” He nodded but hesitated to give anything more. She wasn’t about to let it stand. “Well? How did he react when he heard Regina was dead?”
Jasper sat back in his chair. “He’s like a reptile. Cold, unblinking. I don’t know if he felt anything at all.”
From her one conversation at Scotland Yard with Andrew Carter, Leo agreed. He guarded his thoughts and feelings better than anyone she’d ever met, even better than Jasper, whose own expressions were so often unyielding.
“Did he know about the baby?” Leo asked softly.
“If he’s to be believed, no. He did mention Miss Morris had family. An aunt in Liverpool. I have the address.”
Although Regina had already been buried in a pauper’s grave, Jasper would contact Regina’s aunt to inform her about her niece. To question her as well, she imagined. Anyone with a connection to Regina would have to be.
Mrs. Zhao arrived with the main course of roasted veal, potatoes, and carrots, and for several minutes, Flora held court, explaining—more than once—that it was exactly as her mother used to make for their family. Leo tensed as she ate. Any mention of Flora’s family often led to talk of her sister, Andromeda, and then, ultimately, to the murders. Thankfully, they made it through the meal, and the four of them retired to the study for after-dinner drinks.
As Jasper poured glasses of cherry cordial, Leo looked to the low table, where Mrs. Zhao made a habit of placing the newspapers. The Illustrated Police News wasn’t there, even though she presumed Jasper hadn’t canceled the Inspector’s subscription. Had he removed it from the table on purpose, so she wouldn’t see it?
She said nothing as Jasper brought two glasses of cordial to Claude and Flora, who were busy inspecting the bookshelves.
“All right,” he said upon his return to Leo’s side. “Tell me what you found in the complaints file.”
Putting the bothersome article from her mind, Leo focused on the typed reports she’d memorized earlier. Quietly, she recounted the stories of the most serious complaints against Henderson he preferred small beer, and that only sparingly.
“It affected him, the death of those two children. We coroners accept the fact that we must deal with dead children and infants, but these two…Richard said the green pigment that stained their mouths and tongues gave him nightmares. He even decided to hire a man to come take down the wallpaper in his own house. Grandchildren, he said. Didn’t want to risk it.”
“There was no police investigation?” Jasper asked.
Claude shrugged. “The postmortem was straightforward. Arsenic poisoning. Accidental.”
“But the Nelsons may have filed a report with the police,” Leo suggested. “They clearly held Henderson & Son accountable for their children’s deaths and wished to press charges.”
“However, they accepted Henderson’s private settlement of one hundred pounds,” Jasper said. “And a contract of silence as well?”
Leo nodded. If they were a poor family, as Mr. Nelson’s employment as an ironmonger indicated, the sum would be life-changing. However, so would be the loss of their two children.
“The death portrait,” Leo said. Jasper nodded, understanding her suggestion without her needing to say more. The children upon that rocking horse might very well be the Nelsons’.
“Those poor babies.”
Leo’s eardrums buzzed at her aunt’s voice. Their conversation had slowly risen from a whisper as they’d been speaking. Flora, still seated on the sofa, clutched the book to her chest. Her eyes were distant.
“Killed. Murdered,” she said, her voice high.
Claude started back to his wife’s side.
“This was an accident, Aunt Flora,” Leo said, wanting to kick herself. She’d assumed her aunt hadn’t been paying attention.
Her distant gaze sharpened and locked on Leo. “She told me. She wrote to me, telling me about the business. The bloody, bloody business.”
Leo held her aunt’s stare, her curiosity rising. This was something she had never said before. “Who wrote? My mother, do you mean? She wrote to you?”
Not once had Flora mentioned correspondence with Andromeda. Claude had never mentioned letters either. Flora shook off his hand when he attempted to grasp her shoulder and got to her feet with surprising rapidity and balance. “It was you. You did it. You killed them!”
The words had been slung at her before, but Leo felt the heat of embarrassment consume her cheeks even more fiercely now that Jasper was listening. Flora continued to mumble the words again and again— You did it. You killed them!— as Claude tried to soothe and distract her. Leo set her cordial glass down, avoiding Jasper’s eyes.
“Mrs. Feldman, why don’t you take the book with you?” he suggested, joining Claude in his efforts of distraction.
She stopped chanting and thanked him profusely before then inquiring where they were and what they were doing there. Leo’s throat cinched up tight as they left the study and met Mrs. Zhao in the foyer to collect their coats and hats.
Jasper pulled her aside after she hastily put on her own coat. She hadn’t wanted him to help her again, as he had earlier. She was too agitated. Too desperate to leave.
“Are you all right?” he asked. Ridiculously, his concern caused her eyes to mist over perilously.
She forced a cheery nod. “Of course. She doesn’t mean what she says.” Leo put on her hat, still unable to look him in the eye. “Thank you for dinner. It was kind of you to invite us.”
Jasper exhaled as if unsatisfied with her response. But he left it alone and said, “I’ll hail a cab for you.”
“That isn’t necessary.” Leo opened the front door. “We’ll go to the cab stand.”
He caught the edge of the door with his hand. “I will hail a cab, Leo.” The terse command was successful in dragging her eyes to his at last. In them, she saw resolve. And a touch of sympathy. “Wait here.”
With that, he went outside and closed the door behind him.
She glanced toward Flora and Claude, who were saying their goodbyes to Mrs. Zhao. As sorry as she was that the evening had concluded on such an unsettling note, Leo was at least grateful for one thing: her aunt’s strange comment about the letters from Andromeda Spencer. The bloody, bloody business . What business could she have meant? Leo would ask Claude once they were alone. But there was also another way to find out.
If Flora had received letters from her mother, they could be somewhere at their home on Duke Street. If they were, Leo would find them.