Kendra’s gaze traveled over the three narrow slabs. Only one was occupied, the cadaver’s shape clear beneath the dirty linen sheet.
Munroe stared at the figure. “I don’t understand . . .” he muttered, and hurriedly crossed the room. He yanked back the sheet to reveal the peaceful visage of an elderly gentleman. Munroe spun around so quickly that the flames of the candelabra he held flickered and threatened to go out.
Kendra’s skin tingled, and in a flash of precognition, she knew what Munroe was going to say before he said it.
“She’s gone.” The anatomist gestured to the empty table behind him. “She was there.And now she’s gone.”
Chapter 10
“Gone, sir? I-I don’t understand.”
Mr. Barts, Dr. Munroe’s apprentice, stood next to the table that they occupied at the Green Lantern, a tavern with a low, timbered ceiling, a fire roaring in the rugged stone hearth, and a dark mahogany bar that ran the length of the far wall. Serving maids wove around the tables or worked behind the tap, handing out tankards sloshing with ale and plates piled high with meats and vegetables. The room was noisy with the clatter of cutlery and conversation, a homey congeniality that Kendra thought solidly middle-class, the customers mostly clerks, merchants, and shopkeepers.
Forty-five minutes ago, they’d retreated to the tavern to satisfy their hunger and wait for Mr. Barts. By the time the apprentice, a pale young man with wispy blond hair and a weak chin that disappeared into his cravat, came jogging through the tavern door, they were almost finished with their meal.
“The dead woman from the Thames is not in the morgue,” Munroe said now.
Mr. Barts blinked. “But . . .Ididn’t move her. No one came to claim the body. Itmustbe there.”
“It’s not. Please, sit down, Mr. Barts. Do you want any food? Something to drink?”
“Oh. Thank you, no, sir. I ate earlier.” Barts had taken off his tricorn hat, but kept on his greatcoat as he pulled out a chair and sat. He frowned at Munroe. “This is most unusual, sir.”
“Did anyone ask to see the body?” Kendra asked. She saw the flash in Barts’s pale eyes and knew he was thinking of the veiled lady, and clarified, “Not the woman on Friday.”
“Oh.” Barts’s face fell. “No. No one.”
“Did you notice anyone loitering outside the school?”
“No. Well, at least, I don’t think so. I didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. Do you think—” Barts stopped abruptly, casting a quick look at Sam.
Munroe lifted his tankard. “Go on, Mr. Barts. If you have a suspicion, please, speak freely. You are amongst friends.”
The young man’s eyes darted uneasily around the table. With the exception of Munroe, she suspected that he didn’t view them as friends. And maybe not even Munroe, who was his employer.
“I only . . . well, could a resurrectionist be involved, sir?” Barts said. “Stealing the body to sell to one of your competitors?”
Munroe’s dark brows lifted in surprise. He was quiet for a moment as he considered the possibility. “I concede that this is a competitive business,” he said slowly. “I have certainly vied with my fellow anatomists in purchasing bodies. However, we outbid each other—we don’t steal from one another.”
Kendra regarded him. “How difficult would it be to steal a body from the morgue?”
“It’s never happened before, but I daresay it wouldn’t be very difficult,” Munroe admitted. “You’re familiar with the building, my lady. If Mr. Barts and I were in our offices or in the operating theater, it would be fairly easy to go into the morgue without our knowledge. And the building has various entry points besides the front door. Someone could sneak in with no one the wiser.”
“I locked up when I left in the evening, sir,” Barts insisted. “I did it every evening when you were gone.”
Munroe nodded. “I don’t doubt you, Mr. Barts, as I had to unlock the door when Mr. Kelly and I arrived earlier. However, I never checked the other doors. I saw no reason to do such a thing. Someone could have broken in.”
“I’ll send me lads ter the flash houses, see if anyone’s heard of a body being stolen.” Sam angled his head as he considered the matter. “’Tis a queer job for a housebreaker ter steal a body—queer enough that they’d most likely boast about it. And somebody would be paying them, ’cause they wouldn’t be doing it on their own. These buggers would steal their own mum out of her bed and sell her for a guinea.”
A barmaid, ample hips swinging like a pendulum, sashayed up to their table, her dark eyes on Barts. “W’ot can Oi get fer ye, love?”
“Oh.” Barts seemed startled to be addressed. “Nothing. Thank you.”
“Well, if ye change yer mind . . .” The barmaid gave him a wicked grin and wink that had Barts turning red and swallowing nervously.
Kendra addressed the apprentice when the maid swung to the next table. “You worked in the morgue when Dr. Munroe was gone?”
“No, I didn’t conduct any postmortems. I taught a few classes for the students,” he replied stiffly. “I also did paperwork and ordered supplies, as instructed by Dr. Munroe. Everything was normal. But I . . .” He looked to Munroe. “I didn’t go down to the morgue, as there was no reason to do so until your return, sir.”
