A man sat behind the desk. He did not look as Elswyth had imagined: He was perhaps fifty, with graying brown hair and subtle lines on his face. His appearance was mild, like that of a bureaucrat rather than a policeman, with a slender jaw and a delicate nose. His clothes were finely cut, unwrinkled, of an inoffensive blue color that made his skin seem even paler.
When Elswyth entered, the man stood, inclining his head.
“Miss Elderwood,” he said.
“Detective Inspector Reed,” Elswyth said with a shallow curtsy.
“Please, sit,” he said. He gestured to the chair across from his desk. After she was seated—thankfully she had practiced sitting in a bustle with Mrs. Rose—Detective Inspector Reed took his seat across from her. Directly in front of him, facing the guest’s side of the desk, was a framed photograph. It showed a younger Inspector Reed, in his military uniform, receiving a medallion of valor from Queen Viscaria herself.
Over Inspector Reed’s right shoulder stood the corkboard. Dozens of photographs, newspaper clippings, and handwritten notes were pinned to it in a morbid constellation. But it was the content that perturbed her: There, just behind the detective’s head, were police photographs of five dismembered and mutilated women. She saw their open rib cages, splayed out like wings. She saw their organs, cast out into the snow and mud, their faces left pristine. One of the newspaper clippings read “Reaper Takes a Third.”
Inspector Reed followed her gaze, then frowned. “Apologies, Miss Elderwood. That is not meant for a lady’s eyes.”
“No,” Elswyth said. “I’m afraid the error is mine, for dropping in unannounced. I must thank you for meeting with me.”
“Well. We do try to keep the families of our parliamentarians happy,” Inspector Reed said, smiling, “and the Metropolitan Police would appreciate Lord Devereux’s support in upcoming votes. He’s been rather critical of our department in the past. It is wonderful that we can now be of… personal use to him.”
“Yes,” Elswyth said coldly, “how wonderful.”
Inspector Reed appraised her, then leaned back in his chair. “I did hope that Lord Devereux would be joining you. You understand that it is quite unusual to be meeting with a young lady such as yourself unchaperoned. Why, even right now, you are in a room alone with a married gentleman,” he said, laughing uneasily. “I think it would be best for all parties involved if we were to keep this meeting as brief as possible, wouldn’t you say? With that in mind, perhaps you would like to share the reason for your visit.”
The man’s face was polite but impassive. He folded his thin fingers together on the desk in front of him, keeping his posture erect.
Elswyth straightened her own. She’d prepared, of course, what she planned to say. But now, looking into the man’s eyes, all the courage seemed to leave her.
“I shall be direct,” Elswyth said.
“Please do.”
“I would like to know what caused you to end your investigation into my sister’s death prematurely,” she said. “As I understand it, a body was never recovered, and yet you still declared her dead.”
The man smiled as though he were expecting her question. “Of course. Miss Elderwood, I cannot fathom what you and your family must be going through. To grieve the loss of a sister, and at such a young age. The emotions you must be bearing.”
“Thank you, Inspector, but—”
He raised a hand. “I assure you, Miss Elderwood, that we did our very best to uncover the whereabouts of your sister. But the policy of the Metropolitan Police is to retire an investigation after two months. We are a very busy police department, in a very dangerous city. We cannot afford to search endlessly for one woman, no matter her station.”
“But there was no body,” Elswyth said. “Persephone could very well be alive, even. Held captive somewhere. She could have run away. I do not see any reason to declare her dead, or to—”
“Yes, yes, Miss Elderwood, and we are still offering a reward for information about her whereabouts or the whereabouts of her remains. We will tirelessly investigate each new piece of information that is provided to us, but Miss Elderwood…” The man sighed, as if what he was about to say weighed on him heavily. “We have not received any information. And when a woman has been missing for this long… I cannot think of a single one who has turned up, in my tenure here. Alive, that is.”
Elswyth ignored his comment and fished in her reticule for her commonplace book. “That is another reason that I came here today,” she said. “I believe I have new information for you. I’ve discovered something. In her rooms.”
Inspector Reed, leaning back in his chair, looked at her as though something were funny. Then he smiled, never showing his teeth. “Of course, Miss Elderwood. While it is unusual to take new evidence after a case has been closed, we are of course dedicated to finding Lord Devereux’s niece. What have you found?”
“A message. A hidden message.”
He paused. “A letter?”
“Well, no. Are you familiar with floriography?”
“Flower arrangement, correct? My wife has dabbled. But of course she always has a new hobby.”
He smiled as if this were meant to be ridiculous.
“No—it is a language of flowers. Carefully crafted and deeply complicated. Here, I’ve brought this as well.”
She took out her reference book on floriography and handed it to him. He put on his spectacles and read the title.“The Language of Flowers, Being a Reference Guide for Ladies, Lovers, and Poets,”he said. “How… intriguing. Well, Miss Elderwood, I suppose I can have this book entered in evidence.”
