His head jerked at the clattering racket of a speeding carriage. A four-wheeler flew toward Lambeth Bridge with lamps dimmed and shades drawn. The driver, a dark mass in the coachman’s seat, cracked his whip as he neared the bridge, but his horses balked, wanting no part of the steep approach. The driver regained control with difficulty and turned the carriage east.
Change of plan,the copper thought.Heading to Westminster Bridge.
Instead, the carriage slowed and stopped. Doors opened and slammed. Then the coach rumbled off, out of sight by the time the constable reached the end of the road. He trained his lantern on something at the curb and walked toward a bundlewhere the carriage had stopped. The constable pulled at the cord, and the bag opened.
A cascade of copper curls tumbled out.
* * *
Sergeant O’Malley’s bulk filled Inspector Tennant’s doorway.
“A copper found a girl in a sack near Lambeth Bridge who fits the description of our missing shopgirl. The chief is giving it to us instead of that pair of slackers.”
Tennant sat back in his chair. “You surprise me.”
“We’ve ‘pissed away’ too many hours with ‘letter-writing bollocks,’ says he, and ‘balmy’ female artists.” O’Malley grinned under his bushy mustache. “Time we did some real work.”
“Where have they taken the body?”
O’Malley’s smile faded. “To the mortuary on Horseferry Road. They’re describing her as young, with flame-colored hair on her, like the last missing lass.”
“Send a message to Doctor Lewis with my . . . you know the drill, Sergeant.”
“With your compliments,” O’Malley said. “And would she meet us on Horseferry Road?”
“That’s the ticket.”
* * *
Tennant and O’Malley waited inside the mortuary for Julia to arrive.
The inspector asked, “What about Annie’s old roommate? Did you find Margot Miller at her flat in Chelsea?”
“That I did.” O’Malley chuckled. “She’s a fine one. I’m thinking it’ll take more than a letter to frighten Margot—with or without a T.”
“Hmm . . . from a room with Annie O’Neill in Aldgate to a flat in Chelsea. Margot Miller is rising in the world.”
“She had two notes sent to her, printed in capital letters like the lady artists. Margot said she tossed them both in the fire.She laughed, saying they were off the mark, implying that other accusations might not be.”
They turned at the sound of a slight commotion. A young constable had stopped Julia at the vestibule’s entrance.
“That’s far enough, miss,” he said testily, “The public is not allowed in this facility.”
O’Malley rolled his eyes. “We’re used to her, but he’ll not be expecting a lady doctor.”
Julia had fished a note from her pocket when O’Malley called out, “That’s all right, son. Let Doctor Lewis through. She’s here for the postmortem.”
“Thank you, Sergeant,” Julia said as she passed the wide-eyed young copper.
Tennant said, “As usual, you’re a nine days’ wonder, Doctor.”
“Thank you for not saying ‘circus sideshow,’ Inspector.”
Tennant opened a door. “The victim is through here.”
He ushered her into a tiny but well-lit examining room. A sack still covered most of the girl’s body, but coppery hair spilled from the opening, and purple bruises stained the left side of her face.
“Tossed from a carriage like yesterday’s rubbish,” Sergeant O’Malley said.
