She didn’t like him looking down at her, so she got to her feet too. He was still taller, but at least the difference wasn’t as browbeating.
“It was only Dita, and besides, there is already a private agency planted inside Gleason’s. Castelan Private Inquiries.”
Jasper’s eyes narrowed. “How do you know that?”
“Because Dita is working for Mr. Castelan,” she answered, hopeful that she could hide her envy. She might not wish to have Dita’s job of luring Mr. Gleason into a compromising position, but working for a detective agency could be exciting, if she was given the chance to truly investigate.
Briefly, Leo explained Dita’s assignment to him, including what her intent was. Jasper’s astonishment likely mirrored her own when Dita had first told Leo in the tea shop.
“That is preposterous,” he said. “Sergeant Brooks would never condone it.”
“You can’t tell him,” Leo pleaded, belatedly recalling her promise to Dita. “She will reveal her employment there in time, but for right now, she is only trying it out.”
Jasper’s irritation bordered on anger as he again began to pace. “If Lydia Hailson was killed in connection to Castelan’s investigation, luring Gleason into a trap is dangerous for Miss Brooks. And for you, if you keep pressing for answers. It won’t go unnoticed.”
“There is no evidence that she was killed because of Castelan’s agency looking into his adultery,” she said. “Dita isfinding out where Lydia was living, and I’m going to speak to those whom she knew outside of work.”
His glare told her exactly what he thought of that plan. “I spoke to Lewis. He will learn which detective has been assigned to her case. Allow whoever it is to take over from this point forward, Leo.”
She set down her whisky and crossed her arms. “I seem to recall you once telling me that I was just as capable, if not more so, than any Scotland Yard officer.”
He clenched his jaw, no doubt regretting that compliment now. “Youarecapable. That is not what I worry about. I don’t like the idea of you investigating something as serious as a murder by yourself.”
“I’ve been in danger before,” she replied, prepared to list off the handful of times she’d been one foot from death or injury.
He groaned and threw back the rest of his drink in one toss. “I don’t need reminding, Leo.” Jasper peered at her, wincing in confusion. “I thought you were happy at the morgue, working for Quinn.”
“I am,” she insisted, though she was surprised by an unexpected prick of guilt. It wasn’t a lie. Not exactly. She did enjoy her job at the morgue, especially now that she was being paid. It was a decent wage too, and paired with Claude’s income at the funeral service, it was enough to keep them comfortable. And yet, she couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt as energized and eager to work at the morgue as she did when she’d gone to visit Gleason’s Department Store.
“If you are so content, why have you offered to investigate this woman’s murder?” Jasper asked, as though reading her mind. “What is it that you feel you need to prove?”
She pulled back, stung by his assumption that she was helping in order to prove something about herself, rather thanto bring Connor information. “I don’t have anything to prove to anyone. I enjoy investigating, Jasper, just as you do.”
It was something he should have already known.
“Enjoyment shouldn’t matter,” he replied tersely. “It is about being qualified.”
With every new word that tumbled from his mouth, Leo’s anger multiplied.
“I may not hold a position at the Yard, but we’ve worked together to capture murderers and kidnappers and even bombers in the past,” she said.
Jasper shook his head. “Those times were different.”
“Becauseyouwere involved?” she presumed. He exhaled loudly and sent her a vexed look.
“You are a morgue assistant, Leo, not a detective.”
How many times had she heard those words from him? A dozen? And each time, she would endure them with a grimace because, after all, itwastrue. She wasn’t a detective. Nor had she thought she could be one. And yet, now Dita was employed by a detective agency.
“Well, then…” She hesitated only a moment, then jumped off the ledge. “Maybe I will become one.”
Warmth climbed her neck toward her cheeks. It had been a bold statement, and she wasn’t even sure she meant it or if it was what she wanted. But that wasn’t the point right now. Leo braced herself for his reaction. She expected him to shout, or laugh, or roll his eyes. Instead, he held still, and when he spoke, it was with a low, flat timbre: “You cannot do that.”
The declaration—or rather, order—lingered between them. Leo’s mind whirled, searching for why he would so resolutely refuse the idea. “I’d like to know why not.”
He kept his voice measured, his temper restrained. “Because it isn’t respectable. The women who are employed by these agencies are not real detectives. They act as bait, as lures,insinuating themselves into disreputable situations, just as Miss Brooks is doing now at the department store. The agencies don’t care about these women compromising themselves, and if you were to become one of them, you’d open yourself up to ridicule, not respect.”
Earlier that afternoon, she had said these same things to Dita. Now she understood why her friend had grown so irritated with her.
