He relayed the information the gentlemen had shared about the maid and the footman then asked Murdoch, “Have you met with Simmons?If either of these people were killed, there’s a chance they ended up at the morgue.In which case he may have seen them.”
Simmons assisted Doctor Fellowes, the chief coroner at St.George’s Hospital where many of the city’s dead were brought for investigation.He was also a loyal Croft family associate who’d earned a fair penny by cleaning up various ‘problems’ over the years.
“I went to St.George’s before coming here but he wasn’t there.I’ll try again tomorrow.”
“Leave it to me,” Adrian said, his voice dark.“I’ll be in touch should I need your assistance.”
Samantha placed her hand over his.If a new killer was on the loose, time would be of the essence.No matter the danger, she would support Adrian’s effort to catch the murderous scoundrel.
6
Peter Kendrick re-read his notes for the third time that morning.There was something oddly familiar about the woman who had been pulled from the river two days prior, though he couldn’t put his finger on what it was.
Frustrated, he downed the rest of his coffee and lit a cheroot.The warmth from the smoke he dragged into his lungs had a wondrously soothing effect.He exhaled it and watched the ghostly tendrils rise toward the ceiling where they dispersed.Absorbed by the plaster.
“That’s a disgusting habit.”
The feminine voice was so unexpected, it startled Peter, who’d been leaning back in his chair.He scrambled into an upright position, his head whipping round in search of the woman who’d spoken.
She stood immediately inside the doorway, observing him in a way that was not exactly critical per se, but which made his skin itch nonetheless.Peter frowned.How the hell had she gotten into his office without him knowing?As far as he remembered, he’d shut the door when he’d returned after fetching his coffee.
Then again, maybe he was mistaken.He had been distracted by his current case.
A matter he wished to return to.Except he now had an unexpected visitor, it would seem.A rather intriguing one, in fact, considering her appearance.
Whatever bonnet she’d worn upon her arrival here had since been removed, allowing him to appreciate the luster of her auburn hair, which was pulled into a tight knot at the nape of her neck.Her eyes were large, possibly blue or green.It was hard to tell from this distance.Especially since they were partially concealed by a pair of spectacles.
The nose that supported said spectacles was elegantly formed.Petite, one might say.Just like the lady herself since she didn’t appear to be more than five feet tall.Curiously, Peter decided her mouth might be her best feature.Not because she was smiling nor because her lips were the sort that might lead a man’s thoughts astray.Neither of which was the case.It was rather because of the imperfection he found there – an overbite that for some inexplicable reason told him this woman had substance.Even if she did disapprove of his smoking.
She was young too.Younger than he, at any rate.Perhaps in her late twenties?In his estimation their difference in age spanned at least fifteen years, possibly more.
Peter sucked in a breath and stood.He attempted a smile despite her stoic expression.“How can I be of assistance?”
She stepped forward, hands clasped in front of the practical dress she’d elected to wear.The grey garment clearly wasn’t meant to showcase her figure, though the ridiculously high neckline could not conceal her slim build.Looking at her, he suspected her waist to be just the right size for his hands to encase.
Disturbed by his line of thinking and the heat now sweeping the length of his body, he straightened his spine and schooled his features, affecting every aspect of the position he held.Chief constable.A man in control.Unperturbed by crimes and striking women.
“My father told me to offer my help.”She stared at him, her eyes – which he now believed to be green – meeting his without blinking.“However, I’m not sure I’ll be able to tolerate the air in here.Honestly, you need to give up those cheroots.”
Confused, Peter gave his head a quick shake.He was tempted to tell her that this was his domain and what he chose to do here was none of her business, only for the first part of what she’d told him to settle deep in his mind.
My father told me to offer my help.
He raised his chin a smidgen.Just enough to allow himself some sense of being the one in control.Even though she clearly had the advantage.An observation that made him feel as though he were floundering.“Who are you?”
She stuck out her hand, revealing ink-stained fingers.“Miss Gabriella Hastings.”
Peter shook the hand she offered, while trying to come to terms with what her name implied.“You’re the chief magistrate’s daughter?”
“The youngest one.”
He released her hand and tried to match her neutral expression.It was time for him to be professional.“You said you’re here to help?”
She pursed her lips, then marched to the window and opened it before turning to him and saying, “I’m good at seeing connections.Patterns others have a tendency to miss.Papa says you’ve been working on a potential murder for a couple of days now without making headway.Perhaps if I take a look at the file I can—”
“Figure it out in an instant?”Though he knew it was silly, Peter took offense to such a suggestion.
Maybe it was her age or perhaps the blunt manner with which she spoke.She was too authoritative and too bloody confident for anyone in his line of work.Plus, she was female.She shouldn’t be getting involved in criminal cases or investigating corpses.For God’s sake, what was her father thinking?
