But the change was all on her own initiative. If her father knew, he would lock her in her room. She stared up at the unassuming sign announcing her destination. Any missish fears she had would have to be ignored. She was finally going to have the answers she sought.
She climbed the short flight of steps and pushed through the office’s door. It was darker in the main room, and quieter. She had assumed that an office full of runners would be more…active. But only one man looked up from his desk to her. The place had the solemn feel of a monastery.
Or a tomb.
“Can I help you, miss?” The man rose, his long, thin limbs unfolding to a shocking height. With his sandy brown hair and disheveled cravat, he looked like the cousin of the scare crow her father had erected in the back pasture.
“Yes.” She fumbled in her reticule and pulled out one of the calling cards Mr. Wilberforce had presented her with at the office. It was simple and to the point: Miss Moore, Investigator’s Assistant, Bond Agency for Discreet Inquiries. She handed the card to the man as he approached.
“I’ve been asked to gather information on a…a murder that occurred five years’ past,” she said. She set her shoulders. It wouldn’t do to be intimidated just from asking questions. She needed to find her spine if she was to avenge her sister. “I believe your organization was hired to look into it.”
“Five years.” The man rubbed his prickly jaw. “If we have any files on it, they should still be here. We send our files over seven years old to storage. What was the name?”
“Miss Lydia Moore.”
“A woman engaged our services? That’s unusual.”
“No.” She gripped the strings of her reticule tighter. “Miss Moore is the one who died. Her father, The Honorable Cecil Moore, asked for your help.”
The man nodded, then looked down at her card again, frowning.
Cassie attempted a light laugh. “Yes, I am a Miss Moore, as well. The coincidence of names was what made my employer give me this task.”
“And your employer sees fit to hire women in this business?” He shook his head. “I don’t see why Bow Street should be helping our competition, especially when the Bond Agency would be so indecent as to place you in this position.”
The back of her neck heated, but she kept her smile. “Mr…. I’m sorry, I don’t know your name.”
“Mr. Briley.” He inclined his head and Cassie dipped into a slight curtsy.
“Pleased to make your acquaintance, Mr. Briley. There is nothing indecent about my employment. I assist the investigators by taking dictation or collecting information on a case that is long past relevant.”
A man hunched over a desk near to them muttered, “I wouldn’t mind having an assistant to write down these notes.” He frowned at his ink-covered fingers.
Cassie held her hands out, palms up. “And as to competition, each of our agencies has its place. There is more than enough wrong-doing in England to keep all of us busy. And it has been five years. The woman’s father is desperate for answers. I’m sure you can understand.”
Mr. Briley studied her a moment then sighed. “Wait here.” He disappeared into a back room.
She drew into the corner of the room to wait. From her position half in shadow, she could observe the goings on of the Bow Street Runners while they seemed to forget she was there. She was used to standing quietly and overlooked. She only wished there was something more interesting to look upon as she waited.
Lydia would have been so disappointed to learn that such a renowned organization, one that they’d thought would be full of dashing young men bravely bringing criminals to justice, could be so dull. They would have laughed over the wide chasm between expectation and reality.
A pain rippled through her chest so sharp that it stole her breath. She thought she had gotten past the worst of her grief, but Lydia’s death still had the power to knock her to her knees.
Mr. Briley finally emerged, carrying a file that seemed much too thin, not when her sister’s life had been so full. “I’m not sure what you hope to find. After five years, well, the chances of finding who killed her are small. Especially when there was so little to go on at the time.”
With trembling hands, she took the file. “Circumstances change in five years.” Since that explanation didn’t seem to satisfy him, she added, “In truth, my employer doesn’t hold out much hope that we will be able to learn anything new, but he promised the father we’d try.”
Mr. Briley nodded. “Well, you’re welcome to read through it.”
Cassie turned to the first page. Paused. Squinted. “I would like to, but….” She leaned closer, hoping the loops and swirls would form into patterns she recognized.
Mr. Briley sighed, taking the papers back. “Mr. Sedgeworth was the lead investigator for this death. He was quite old at the time, but I can usually decipher his handwriting. Let’s see…. The body was discovered at eleven twenty at night… at the base of a fountain in Lady Stockton’s gardens…”
Cassie pulled out her own paper and bit of lead and began taking notes.
“She had been choked to death,” Mr. Briley continued. “It was assumed that it had been a lovers’ tryst gone bad.”
Cassie swallowed. “Were there any suspects?”
