Her expression didn’t change, but there was a slight gasp of acknowledgement from her brunette friend. The latter rose to her feet and grabbed hold of Miss Sims’ dress sleeve. “I’ve heard of him. He works for the Home Office.”
It was not the best time to deny that claim. At least, not until he had the information that he required to find Miss Adams’ killer.
However, Miss Sims wasn’t so impressed by the gossip surrounding his achievements. She crossed her arms. “Is that so, Mr. Steele?”
“It’s true I have assisted on a number of high-profile cases.”
“Then what could possibly interest you about a group of common women who cannot give you anything but their kind consideration should you succeed in your endeavor to find Geneva’s murderer?”
He had to admit that he admired her fierce loyalty to a fellow actress. He didn’t know how close they had been personally, but something told him this was a devastating blow for Miss Sims. “I can promise you I am seriously interested in this case because it closely resembles another death of an actress which occurred just two weeks ago in Whitechapel. I am eager to see if the victims might be connected somehow and if this could be a growing concern.”
He could almost see the gears turning in her lovely head. “Leave us.”
Reynolds, who had been standing by uncertainly until that point, beat a hasty retreat, but the brunette was a bit more uncertain. “Aislynn, are you sure?—”
She gave the woman’s hand a slight squeeze. “I’ll be fine. Go.”
The departing lady shut the door behind her. Miss Sims didn’t offer him a seat, nor did she ask if he might mind if she smoked a cheroot. However, she returned to the bench she’d been sitting on before, and the tip of the tobacco lit up as she took a steady inhale.
“I’m only agreeing to speak with you because I want to know more about the previous victim. Otherwise, I would kindly tell you to take your leave.”
He smiled slightly. “I appreciate your consideration, but as to that case, I’m afraid that is confidential information.”
“Is that so?” She gave a light scoff. “Then I am afraid I cannot assist you with any further insight into Geneva’s life if you will not offer me the same courtesy.”
It had been a long time since Cordell had faced a worthy adversary. The fact that the one he faced now was a woman came as no surprise. Over the years, he had known many women like Miss Sims, but whereas she was using her wits and intelligence to negotiate, most of the women from his prior acquaintance had used their beauty and their feminine wiles. There was no question that Miss Sims could use either if she chose, but he applauded her for her direct approach. It was quite refreshing.
He released a sigh. “Very well, Miss Sims. You win. And since I am sure we would be working towards a common cause in seeing this killer brought to heel, I am willing to divulge certain key factors if you would do the same.” He walked over and sat beside her without an invitation. “Do we have a deal?”
Aislynn had been mildly surprised when the rather handsome man who’d walked into the theatre this evening introduced himself as Cordell Steele. However, upon considering the circumstances, she should not have been surprised at all, because his pursuit of criminals around London had become quite renowned. His name was appearing more frequently in the papers, and although he hunted down thieves and murderers alike, the idea that he might actually care about a small group of stage performers was rather unexpected.
Then again, if he was being honest and there could be a link between Geneva’s death and another unfortunate performer, Aislynn wanted to know.
She eyed him steadily, wondering if she truly could put her faith in him. There were very few men that she allowed herself to trust. But since she was determined to find justice for Geneva, she reluctantly agreed to his terms.
Snuffing out the cheroot, she said, “You are a shrewd negotiator, Mr. Steele.”
He lifted a brow, and Aislynn took particular note of his dark coloring. His hair, his eyes, and his skin all had a particularly agreeable tone. “Thank you, Miss Sims. I take that as a compliment.”
She leaned back against the bench and prepared to settle in for a lengthy conversation. “Tell me about the woman who died.”
His intense eyes flashed as if he was indulging her curiosity, and perhaps that was how he considered it. To be fair, it didn’t matter to Aislynn, so long as she learned what he knew. “Her name was Miss Avery Flynn. She was young and blond like Miss Adams, and also a talented actress who was finding her way into many Londoners’ hearts.”
“Was she… murdered in the same fashion?” The feeling of dread mixed with grief culminated in the center of her chest, directly over her heart. She wasn’t sure if she wanted to be sick or allow herself to cry unmercifully until the pain subsided.
“Actually, no. She was stabbed to death.”
Aislynn withheld a shudder. “How dreadful.” She closed her eyes briefly and then returned her attention to him. “In that regard, what makes you think the two are connected?”
“Because of the violence with which the act was performed and the almost sensual way they were placed.”
“Placed?” Aislynn’s attention was immediately more alert. “What do you mean by that?”
“I think that the murderer did not kill these women where they ended up. I saw no scuff marks from either woman. If someone were brutally attacking you, does it not make sense that you would fight with everything you had within you?”
She considered the logic in his words. “Of course. I would do everything possible to gain my freedom.”
“Yet, it seems as if these women were almost lovingly placed where they were found, as if the killer wanted them to shine in their final glory.”
