Page 12 of Molly Boys
“No bruising or mottling of the skin,” Shaw said, indicating the front of the body. “If he’d died in this position,the blood would most likelyhave sunk to the lowest point—in this case, his face and chest—but there’s nothing. Of course,given how cold it is, could be any fluids left in his body are frozen along with his soft tissue.” Shaw poked at the rigid corpse as if to make his point. “Like I said, I can’t be certain of anything until I get him thawed out.”
“Hmm.” Archie’s gaze deviated to the edge of the sluggish brown water lapping at the bank a few feet away. “Given the nature of the injury caused to the body,it seems unlikely the boy was killed here. The killer would’ve wanted privacy and room to work.”
“Most likely, this took time and skill. This wasn’t done with a butcher’s knife. The wound looks surgical.” Shaw mused as he stared at the Thames. “I doubt the boy was dumped in the river though. If he’d washed up on the banks,his body would be in much worse condition.”
Archie moved closer to the water’s edge, picking his way through the filth that had washed ashore, pausing for a moment to withdraw his handkerchief from a pocket and press it to his nose and mouth to alleviate some of the stench. Excrement swamped the ground along with broken glass and a matted lump of fur and twigs—a dead cat, or possibly a small dog. He shifted his foot slightly and noticed a long furrowfrozen into the mud. Something had been clearly dragged ashore.
“A boat… something small, a skiff or a rowboat.” Archie mused. “The killer came ashore here, dragged the boat onto the bank, and dumped the body. It would’ve been quicker and easier than moving through the city, less chance of being apprehended.” Archie stood and glanced first up then down the river. “Using the river, he could’ve come from anywhere.”
“Well.” Shaw rose and dusted off the knees of his trousers. “There’s nothin’ much I can do here.I’ll have him moved to the mortuary, butasI said,I’ll have to thaw him out first. He’s almost frozen solidsoit’ll be a while before I have any answers.”
Archie nodded to Shaw, his gaze skimming over the doctor’s shoulder and to the growing crowd and assembled gawpers being held back at a distance by some of his men. He glanced down at the dead boy and his stomach clenched. It wasn’t righttoleavehim naked and exposed. Lifting his hand,he beckoned the nearest constable.
“Find a blanket to cover the boy with,” Archie instructed.
“Why?” The man replied as his gaze flicked to the dead young man, his lip curling with distaste. “It ain’t like he needs it.”
Archie’s eyes narrowed.Of course it had to be Joseph Turner,the most belligerent of the constables under his purview since he’d been promoted to lead inspector at H Division.
“I said get a blanket,” Archie replied coolly. “The boy deserves some dignity in death.He’s not a sideshow attraction to titillate the crowds.”
“What’s the point? Dead’s dead now,innit? His kind ain’t nuffin’ special. Dirty bastards.” Turner’s lip curled into a sneer.
“His kind?” Archie repeated slowly.
“Well look at ‘im.” Turner lifted his chin toward the corpse. “Pretty boy like ‘im could pass for a woman.Bet he got ‘imself in trouble taking a stroll through Hyde Park after dark. Little he-strumpet like ‘im, probably amolly. He’s got that look about ‘im. You ask me, he got what was comin’ to ‘im.His kind ain’t natural.”
Archie stared at him for a long silent moment,his expression flat,thenhis balled fist met Turner’sjaw with so much force it took the man’s feet out from under him,sendinghimsprawling backward onto the hard ground.
“Don’t make me ask again,” Archie said coldly and succinctly as he stood over Turner.
One of the other men reached down to help Turner up,but he shoved him away angrily and climbed to his feet,wiping the blood from his lip as he glared murderously at Archie. A moment later,Merritt handed a coarse dark blanket to Turner, who tossed it carelessly at the surgeon and gave Archie one last insubordinate glare before turning away.
“One more thing,Turner.” Archie’s tone was deceptively soft but threaded with steel. “Keep your opinions to yourself. We’re here to investigate with an open mind and to find the truth.If you can’t do that, you will be dismissed.Do I make myself clear?”
Turner glared at Archie, his eyes burning with hatred. “Yes,”he eventually muttered from between clenched teeth.
“Yes,what?”
“Yes,Inspector,”he growled.
“Then you may return to the station house, where I’m sure the desk sergeant could use some help. There are plenty of reports that need to be filed.” Archieturnedhis back on the other man.
“If he’d had a knife in his handsright now, I suspect I’d be digging it out from between your shoulders.” Shaw chuckled. “You like to live dangerously, don’t you?”
“I’m here to do a job, not listen to mouthy troublemakers like Joe Turner,” Archie replied as he watched Shaw unravel the blanket and cover the dead boy.
“Do you think he could be right?” Shaw stared down at the blanket-shroudedcorpse. “Think he could be a molly?”
“There’s a reason Turner is still only a constable after ten years.He lacks the capacity for actual investigative police work.” Archie kneeled down and pulled the corner of the blanket back just enough to reveal the boy’s hand, the fingers of which were clearly stained at the tips. “He’s got ink stains on his fingers.” Archie glanced up at Shaw. “My guess is he’s an apprentice or some sort of clerk. Working class,most likely, but he’s a little too well-keptfor a prostitute. Regardless, it’s too early to make assumptions.”
Shaw nodded. “Okay, let’s get him to the mortuary and maybe I can figure out what happened to him.”
Archie stood watching in stoic silence as the boy’s body wasloaded onto a coroner’s cart,asmall, wheeled apparatus the size of a coffin and with a dark covering to hide the dead from prying eyes.
Tearing his gaze away from the cart as it was pulled away by two of his constables, he glanced back to the void where the body had lain in the frozen mud.Something had caught in the hardened groundand now fluttered in the breeze.
He reached down to tug it free. It was a small scrap of cloth, a rag really. He raised it to his nostrils and caught a harsh chemical smell. He tucked it into his pocket for further examination later on, once again letting his calculating gaze skim the assembled crowd.