Page 31 of Molly Boys
Stepping up onto the platform, he edged along the seating until he reached Francis and lowered himself into the chair next to him, nodding as Francis looked up.
“There you are,” he whispered. “I was beginning to think you’d been abducted.”
“That’s not amusing, Francis.” Ev removed his hat and then his gloves, placing them on his lap and then smoothing back his hair. “Given the current state of affairs.”
“Isn’t it a little thrilling though? I mean, it’s frightful, don’t misunderstand me. But…” Francis trailed off as his hawk-like gaze once again skimmed across the assembled rabble of mismatched people.
Ev rolled his eyes even as he was filled with equal parts exasperation and affection for his friend.
“Oh look, there’s Dickie,” Francis murmured. “That fellow beside him must be Dr Shaw. What a dreadful job. Could you imagine chopping up dead bodies for a living?”
“I’m sure he doesn’t chop them up.” Ev’s mouth twitched in amusement as he glanced over at the heavy-looking man with dark hair and a bushy handlebar moustache. “He’s a police surgeon, not a butcher.”
“Still, can you imagine being related to someone who does that?” Francis huffed indignantly and went back to scrutinising the crowd, which seemed to be growing by the moment.
“You should’ve brought your opera glasses with you,” Ev chuckled.
“I was tempted.”
Ev’s gaze skimmed the witness stands past Dickie and the man they assumed was his mentor until his eyes fell on another man and his stomach swooped.
The man’s suit, although neat, was of coarser material, the cut clearly not tailored. From his profile, Ev couldn’t quite make out his features. Only a strong, shadowed jaw, and a dark arched brow. His black hair, slightly too long to be fashionable, brushed the tip of his starched collar and gleamed like shoes after a penny shining.
“Well, well, well,” Francis muttered, his tone hushed so only Ev could hear. “You do have impeccable taste. I’ll wager ten pounds that’s the delectable Inspector Franklin.” He hummed low in his throat. “No wonder Dickie doesn’t stop talking about him. I can’t say I wouldn’t mind being manhandled by that gorgeous bit of rough.”
“Being manhandled by that gorgeous bit of rough comes with a prison sentence,” Ev reminded him.
“Oh.” Francis turned to study Ev’s face, startled by something in his tone. “You want him, don’t you?”
Ev elbowed him discreetly. “Keep your voice down,” he hissed. “Are you mad? This is hardly the place to say such things.”
“But you do, don’t you.” Francis’ eyes narrowed as he studied Ev.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” Ev scoffed, grateful there was no one yet sitting close enough to overhear their whispered conversation.
“And you say, I like to live dangerously.” Francis smirked as he leaned back in his chair.
Making a pointed effort to ignore his friend, he tried to tear his gaze away from the dangerous detective inspector, but he found he couldn’t. His eyes kept returning to the man who sat patiently waiting for the proceedings to begin. His intelligent gaze swept the room. The inspector may have come from a working-class background, as suggested by his state of dress, but as his piercing gaze swept over the table of reporters, Ev suspected the man missed nothing. He had a presence about him, and there was no mistaking the power and authority that exuded from him effortlessly.
The inspector, while older than Ev, was younger than was usual for a man of his rank. Ev shook his head as if to clear his thoughts. At least the inspector hadn’t caught Ev staring at him, a thought Ev found particularly mortifying. But as if hearing Ev’s thoughts and following them back to their source, Inspector Franklin chose just then to turn his head.
Ev’s breath caught in his throat as their gazes locked and he found himself staring into the darkest, most intense pair of eyes he’d ever seen.
* * *
Archie’s gaze locked on the handsome blonde man. He would even go so far as to describe him as pretty. Archie had no idea who the man was but his interest was piqued. The man’s suit was impeccable and costly, his slim smooth face freshly shaven and his blonde hair combed neatly into place. With slender hands curled around the pommel of the cane propped in front of him, he was clearly upper class and from the regal look of him, possibly of the peerage, which begged the question: What was he doing at the inquest of a murdered working-class clerk?
There was something about him that triggered Archie’s gut feeling. Most people were naturally skittish around the law, but the young man not only met his gaze and held it, there seemed to be a flash of something akin to defiance in those pale eyes.
Archie’s gaze darted to the companion seated beside the blonde. He carried with him the same air and dignity as his friend, but there the similarity ended. His hair was dark, neatly combed and oiled into a parting, his slim face clean-shaven but for a tidily trimmed moustache, and his suit of the same quality as the other man’s. However, a lazy amusement for the proceedings mixed with a curious playfulness emanated from him, almost like he wasn’t quite giving the event the gravity it warranted.
He didn’t have time to further ponder the two spectators as a commotion at the door drew his attention. When he looked up it was to see the coroner enter, followed by the jury. A hush fell over the room while they took their respective places. Archie’s gaze fell to the table of reporters—or the pit of vipers, as he silently liked to refer to it. Like vultures, they all watched the jury with their pencils poised over notebooks, looking for any sign of discomfort or distress, knowing they had just returned from viewing the victim’s corpse at the mortuary. The reporters’ prying eyes sought out the slightest hint of gossip they could use to sensationalise their articles.
Except for one man whose attention was firmly fixed on Archie himself.
Ernest B. Grover, reporter for The London Herald.
He was the worst of them. Archie knew that Grover and the previous detective inspector had had a very antagonistic association. In point of fact, it was common knowledge at the station that they couldn’t stand each other.