Page 13 of Method of Revenge (Spencer & Reid Mysteries #2)

Chapter Thirteen

“ F ive days, Reid. Five goddamned days, and you’ve not brought a single suspect into custody!” Chief Coughlan ran his palm across his forehead. “I told you this case needed to be handled swiftly. This is not swiftly!”

Jasper stood before the chief’s desk, hands clasped behind his back and waited for Coughlan to conclude—or continue—his ticking off. As the investigation had lengthened, and the chief’s temper had grown shorter, Jasper had come to expect the chief’s wrath during his daily briefings.

Stories about Gabriela Carter’s murder had been making it into every newspaper in London for days, and with no suspects named, no arrests made, and no more facts available to the ravenous reporters lingering outside the Yard, some of the more questionable papers had resorted to printing pure fiction and theory. Most were calling it a retaliation killing. A few named Eddie Bloom, as it had all taken place inside his club. And as usual, the papers were accusing the Metropolitan Police of inept investigating and more corruption.

“Do you know what this looks like, Reid?” Coughlan went on. “It looks like we’re turning a blind eye. Like we might not want to capture the killer.”

Jasper could listen to no more.

“Sir, I’m following promising leads. And the new connection to Regina Morris’s murder could provide more?—”

“You are not investigating that woman’s murder any longer,” the chief cut in. His voice cracked loud enough to reach through the walls and the closed door. No doubt, the whole detective department was listening. “I want you focused on the Carter murder and nothing else.”

Jasper clenched his jaw, suppressing the urge to shout that it was shortsighted to ignore the link to Regina Morris. Should he do that, Coughlan’s brittle patience would shatter entirely.

“You need to find the waiter who delivered that drink to Gabriela Carter, and you need to arrest him,” Coughlan ordered.

The chief, though easily irritated and often vexed, had a firm understanding of the many elements of this case. He also knew the hellfire that would rain down upon him and his department if they failed to pin the crime on someone. What Jasper would not do, however, was select someone to blame and arrest him just to get the public and the Home Office off their backs. Others at the C.I.D might, but not him.

“I believe Andrew Carter is searching for that waiter too, Chief, and plans to deliver his own justice.”

Coughlan scoffed. “That is unacceptable. You cannot allow him to do that.”

“How do you propose I prevent him, sir?” The sarcastic retort was out of his mouth and touching off a firestorm before he could stop himself. The chief’s skin began to boil toward pink, then red.

“By finding the murderer first, of course! Or is that too much of a challenge for you?” He came around his desk, his tall, thick- chested body suddenly seeming several inches wider. “You’ve landed at the C.I.D faster than others, Reid, and don’t think I don’t know why or how. Reid is an influential name around here. But by God, you will prove you deserved that promotion, or you will find yourself back where many people say you belong.”

Jasper flexed his fists, his blood roiling. Never had he felt the urge to strike someone so fiercely. He’d assumed there were some in the department who didn’t believe merit alone had earned him the promotion to detective inspector. And now, the chief had confirmed it.

He released his fingers from their clenched fists. “Yes, sir,” he gritted out, then left the office before he could be dismissed, and before he could do or say something more to enrage the chief.

Jasper kept the door to his office in his line of sight, ignoring the glimpses and smirks the others in the department were certainly giving him as he stormed by. Most detectives would dodge high-profile cases for this very reason. If all went well, the detective would shine, but if it didn’t, he would become an object of pity.

Roy Lewis rose from his desk and followed him.

“Tell me what you learned from Miss Putnam,” Jasper barked as the detective sergeant closed the office door quietly. Lewis tucked his chin, not reacting to his temper.

“She was at the coffeehouse, like the landlady said. Regina kept to herself mostly, but she had been seeing someone recently.”

“How recently?”

“December or thereabouts. But here’s where it gets interesting—Regina admitted to her roommate that it was a married man. After Carter cut her loose, the only place she ever went to anymore was work at the factory, so Miss Putnam assumed she met the new bloke there.”

Jasper had started to consider whether Lawrence Wilkes had, in fact, taken up Regina Morris’s offer to commiserate over their mutual losses. Seeking comfort in each other’s arms, he could have gotten her with child. But he wasn’t married, and he would’ve had no motive to then get rid of her.

However, David Henderson was married, and the secretary Leo spoke to, Miss Geary, had suspected something romantic between him and Regina.

“Did she give names?” Jasper asked, but Lewis shook his head.

“Regina only said he was already yoked. Miss Putnam did suspect she was carrying a babe, though. There were signs , was what she said.”

Jasper sat down hard enough to send his swivel chair rolling backward. Coughlan had just finished telling him to forget Regina Morris’s murder and to focus on Gabriela. It would be impossible to do, considering the two were connected. He had no evidence of it yet, but he knew it in his blood.

“The chief is under pressure from the new commissioner to get this tied up,” Lewis said, as if to explain Coughlan’s harsh scolding. But that wasn’t what was weighing on Jasper.

Briefly, he explained to the detective sergeant what the complaints file had turned up, though he bit his tongue about the fact that it had been Leo who had done the footwork and memorized each report. He felt a pang of guilt for omitting it, but he was already under enough scrutiny as it was. To his astonishment, Chief Coughlan hadn’t brought up that sodding article saying she’d assisted at Scotland Yard. But he suspected it was on his mind and waiting in the wings to be tossed into Jasper’s face at just the right moment.

“The death portrait found in Gabriela’s handbag was unknown to everyone I questioned. No one could understand who the children were or why she would be carrying such a thing,” Jasper said.

“You think they’re the tots that were killed by Henderson’s wallpaper?” Lewis asked, catching on.

“Possibly. I want you to find an address for Mr. and Mrs. Terrence Nelson. It wasn’t included in the complaint report, just that they were from Lambeth.”

Lewis nodded and stepped out on his task, but before he could close the door, Constable Wiley’s puffed-up chest filled the frame.

“Inspector, there is a woman here to see you?—”

Leo shoved past his shoulder and stepped inside the office. “Honestly, Constable, you know my name.”

Jasper got to his feet as the desk officer glowered. His unabashed dislike of Leo Spencer was as thorough as hers was of him.

“Thank you, Wiley,” Jasper said, gesturing for him to leave. The door shut, and Leo didn’t bother to hide her small grin of pleasure.

Jasper didn’t match it, even if he did enjoy seeing Wiley, a man who was bloated on his own unwarranted sense of self-importance, being hassled. Still, he didn’t need word of his visitor spreading around the Yard.

“Why are you here?”

Leo flicked him a look of reproach as she removed her gloves. “Back to being a scowling bear, I see. So much for the charming gentleman you pulled out of your magician’s hat last evening.”

Inviting Leo and the Feldmans to his home for dinner had been a spontaneous decision, and one he’d come to regret when Flora turned on her niece at the end of the night. Afterward, he realized he’d doubted Leo’s earlier claims that the cruel things her aunt was saying—casting blame on her for her family’s murders—were truly that bad. He should have known better than to assume Leo was exaggerating the truth, and now he felt like a horse’s arse for not believing her.

Before that, however, when they’d simply been dining, Jasper had enjoyed himself. It had been lonely at the dinner table since the Inspector’s death. He could not have Leo over for dinner, not alone, however her uncle and aunt’s presence had mitigated the impropriety.

“Answer the question, please,” he said as he retook his chair with a groan.

She slapped her gloves onto his desk. “Happily. I’ve been to The Times to speak with Mr. Fordham Graves.”

Jasper rubbed the back of his neck. “Do I want to know why?”

The reporter despised the police, and he’d made it his role at the newspaper to write pieces maligning them. Graves had, however, supplied Jasper and Leo with some helpful information during their investigation into the murder of Samuel Barrett and the accidental death of his sister, Hannah, in January.

“Trust me, you do want to know,” Leo replied. “I wanted to ask if he recalled any story similar to the one described in the complaint report involving the Nelsons. I’m aware they signed a contract of silence with Mr. Henderson,” she said, raising her hand to stave off what Jasper was about to remind her of. “However, I thought it entirely likely that before the contract was signed and the settlement reached the story might have made it to the papers.”

“And had it?”

Leo grinned and leaned a hip against his desk. Jasper’s attention went to the curve of dark purple wool. It lingered only a second before he came to his senses and got to his feet.

“A fellow reporter took the report from the grieving mother,” Leo explained, oblivious to his momentary distraction. Unquestionably, dinner last night had been a mistake. Even with the Feldmans there.

“I spoke to the reporter, who said Mrs. Evelyn Nelson was adamant that Henderson & Son must be held responsible. She wanted to warn other parents of young children about the dangers of installing wallpaper pigmented with Scheele’s green. However, before the reporter could even finish the article, it was pulled. He was told there wasn’t space for it, but he suspected that wasn’t true. He found out later that the publisher is an acquaintance of Mr. Henderson’s.”

And an article that could sully Jack Henderson’s name wasn’t going to make it into his publication, especially if Henderson happened to offer a timely donation to either the paper or its publisher. Sometimes, Jasper hated to be cynical. But he had yet to find a reason not to be.

“Anyway, the reporter had the address for Mrs. Nelson.” Leo took a small, folded slip of paper from her dress pocket and held it aloft between her fingers. Her goading grin conveyed exactly what it was she wanted in exchange for the address.

“You’re not coming with me this time, Leo,” Jasper said. “Chief Coughlan is currently fashioning a noose for me in his office and is ready to use it if I don’t get this case solved and do it by the books.”

Lewis knocked before entering. “Got the address for the Nelsons, guv.”

Jasper went to get his coat and hat. Leo followed on their heels as they left the department. “I was thinking…if the Nelsons felt they never got justice for the deaths of their children and wanted revenge, why would they target Gabriela? She had no say in her father’s business. Why wouldn’t they poison Mr. Henderson instead?”

“Could be an eye for an eye,” Lewis suggested. “Henderson’s child for theirs.”

To a rational person, it would be an untenable thought. But to two parents in anguish, Jasper supposed rational thoughts could be few and far between.

They passed the telegraph room on their way to the lobby. The door was open, and inside, several uniformed officers were receiving communications from other divisions in London. A public telephone had been installed a few years ago, however, it had almost immediately been removed when most calls coming in had been frivolous in nature, beleaguering the officers and preventing more serious crimes from being reported. One woman had even called to complain that her maid had burned off a lock of her hair while using curling tongs, and she wanted to put her in a jail cell overnight to punish her. The return to telegraph lines between police divisions around the city had been a relief for the operators.

A few strides past the room, an officer rushed into the corridor behind them. “Inspector Reid, there’s something here for you.”

He turned back and accepted the slip of paper. The typed words barreled into him with a slap to his senses.

“Christ,” he muttered, crumpling the paper. “A body has been found at Henderson & Son Manufacturing.”

Leo took in a small gasp of air. “Do you have a name for the victim?”

He shook his head. “Just a request that I get there as fast as I can.”

They hurried out the back of the building into the yard, where several hansoms were lined up, waiting for business. It was a popular spot for cabbies who were always ready to be hired by any police officer or visitor to the Yard.

“Might I come along?” Leo asked, still on Jasper’s heels. “I can speak to Miss Geary again.”

Lewis flagged a cab, and while the detective sergeant was busy, Jasper pulled her aside. “Please, Leo, go back to the morgue. If this is another murder, I can’t have you there.”

The lines of her jaw rippled as she clenched her teeth in defiance. But in the end, she didn’t argue. Her unexpected compliance might have been why he heard himself saying, “Thank you for bringing me the Nelsons’ address and for going to The Times . You didn’t need to do that. In fact, you probably shouldn’t have.”

Her dark brow lifted. “Your cab is waiting,” she said sharply, then she turned on her heel and began to walk toward the stone arch leading out of the yard.

As soon as he joined Lewis in the single-bench cab, their driver, who sat perched high behind them, urged the horses forward. As they did, Leo could be seen approaching another cab. Comprehension smacked into Jasper like an anvil.

The insufferable woman. He called for the driver to stop.

“What are you doing?” Lewis asked as Jasper opened the half-door and called for Leo.

“She has the Nelsons’ address. She’ll just go there on her own while we are dealing with the body at Henderson’s factory,” he explained as Leo straightened her back and grinned at his summons. Dismissing the cab driver she’d been speaking to, she walked briskly toward their hansom, leaving a trail of triumph in her wake.

Lewis whistled softly. “Someone ought to put a leash on her.”

Jasper darted a sharp look of reprimand at him as Leo reached the open door, still smiling smugly.

“Get in,” Jasper barked, extending his hand. “You bloody pest.”