The man blocking her on the pavement didn’t budge.
“That wasn’t a request, Miss Spencer,” Eddie said, his tone a shade less polite. “Get in. You have something I want.”
Chapter Fifteen
The inside of Eddie Bloom’s carriage was as posh as his nightclub across the river, on the Lambeth wharves. Scarlet plush benches, black and gold silk walls, and gold brocade curtains in the windows gave the impression of wealth—and a suggestion of sin. The curtains were open, keeping the busy street and pavements within view as Leo sat across from Mr. Bloom. Had they been drawn closed, it would have felt even more like climbing into the mouth of a predator.
“What is the meaning of this, Mr. Bloom?” She kept her back straight and the folio tight underneath her arm.
It had been several months since she’d last encountered the crime lord. In the spring, Leo had gone to his club alone and asked him what he knew about her father, Leonard Spencer, who had been working for the East Rips as an accountant. She’d wanted to know what had motivated the slaughter of her family and believed that Eddie Bloom would have more information about the bloody events that had transpired sixteen years before.
But he had warned her off, telling her that if she were to poke around for answers, she would be risking herself, even now, since there were some among the Carter family who viewed heras a loose thread to be eradicated. Drawing attention to herself would also draw attention to Detective Inspector Jasper Reid—and other members of the Carter family, besides Andrew, might recognize his true identity. So, to protect herself and Jasper, Leo had let the matter go.
Seated on the backward-facing bench, his palms resting on his thighs, Mr. Bloom smiled affably. “We need to have a talk about what you were doing at that boardinghouse.” His eyes slipped to the folio. “And what you have there.”
The man, somewhere in his mid- to late forties, had a distinct charm about him and smiled often. However, those grins held a cunning edge and were accompanied by a menacing gleam in his dark eyes. The effect, Leo knew, was to make the recipient of those smiles feel willing to do anything to appease the man.
Leo felt a little of that same yearning to cooperate now, although she also knew Mr. Bloom appreciated a challenge.
“How are you concerned?” she asked, her mind spinning furiously as she tried to understand his interest.
He kept his slightly amused stare on Leo as the carriage joined traffic. “I could ask you the same question. How did you come to be in Miss Hailson’s boardinghouse and in her room, at that?”
Leo startled, wondering how he could have known that detail. But then, she remembered she’d gone to the window and looked outside.
“You’re having Miss Hailson’s boardinghouse watched.”
His white smile flashed, as if to reward her for her correct guess. “My boys saw you apply at the front door with the landlady, and they sent word to me.”
“Why would they do that?” she asked. “How do you know Miss Hailson?”
“How do you?” he countered.
Leo sighed, tiring of this dance around direct answers. It was possible that Eddie Bloom had played a role in Lydia’s death. Why then would he be having her lodgings watched?
“Miss Hailson’s body arrived at the Spring Street Morgue two days ago,” she replied. If she were straightforward in her answers, perhaps Mr. Bloom would be too. “She’d been strangled.”
His expression lost any trace of amusement or lightness, and his stare hardened. He shifted his attention out the window, as if in thought.
“I wondered if she was dead,” he said. “It’s why I had eyes on her place.”
“Tell me how you knew her.” Leo heard how commanding her tone was just as Mr. Bloom turned his eyes back on her in surprise—or annoyance. He kept his lips sealed, and she knew he was waiting for her to explain her own interest first.
“She was known well to a friend of mine, and he asked me to investigate her murder.”
He cocked his head. “The bobbies aren’t interested in doing that?”
“Her case hadn’t been assigned the last I knew,” she replied. “Now, please tell me how you and Lydia were acquainted…and if it has anything to do with the article she was writing.”
Leo had tacked that last bit on to see if he would react, and it worked. He lifted his chin but didn’t respond.
“Mr. Bloom,” she said, growing impatient. “I am aware that Lydia was working at Gleason’s Department Store to gather details about stolen items being sold to their customers. I’m going to presume you knew this as well.”
He nodded. “I knew.”
“And do these stolen goods have anything to do with you?”
“They belong to me.” The answer baffled Leo, and he noticed. “I didn’t have anything to do with her murder, Miss Spencer. In fact, I’m the one who planted her at Gleason’s.”
