Page 6 of Return Ticket

chapterthree

Detective Constable Hartridgelooked very relieved to see James.

If James had wondered how things had been in his absence from New Scotland Yard, he thought he could tell by the enthusiastic greeting.

“I’m sorry I didn’t see you yesterday, sir,” Hartridge said. “DI Whetford had me checking into something for him, and it took me out of the office.”

As he explained, the enthusiasm died, replaced by a nervous demeanor. Hartridge seemed worried about what he’d been asked to do.

James realized he and Hartridge would need to talk at some point about Whetford, and how dirty he was, but here in the office, a floor down from Whetford himself, was not the place.

The feeling he’d had yesterday when he’d come into the office after his break had been telling. He had felt depressed. Had wondered what he was doing here, with a boss as bent as Whetford directing him.

He’d left early, gone straight to find Gabriella, and had been on the verge of telling her he wanted to pack up his life in London and go back to Cardiff.

He hadn’t, though.

Seeing her, spending time with her, had given him pause. It was way more complicated now that he’d met her.

He would have to think through his options carefully.

“Anything I need to be read in on?” he asked to fill in the silence.

Hartridge hesitated, then seemed to shake off his mood. “No, sir.”

“What do we have pending, then?” James had come back to the Yard after his dinner with Gabriella, hot and restless, and had finished up all the paperwork he’d found on his desk.

“No active cases,” Hartridge said.

“What about the body found in Chelsea yesterday?” he asked. “Who’s been assigned to that?”

Hartridge frowned. “Body? I didn’t hear anything about it.”

“Some boys found a woman in the rubble of that old building that was bombed in the war. Chelsea is Miss Farnsworth’s route, and the boys approached her to help.”

“Miss Farnsworth?” Hartridge’s eyes widened momentarily. “That’s how you know about it?”

James nodded. “She saw the body. Says it was half buried under the rubble.”

“Like that woman a month or so ago,” Hartridge saw the connection right away. “The one the pathologist said he couldn’t determine cause of death, because the bulldozer that uncovered her had inflicted too much damage.”

James was glad Hartridge was on the same page. “Yes, at least on the surface, it seems similar. I’d like to have a look at the body, see if there are any other reasons to link the two deaths.”

“Dr. Jandicott was never happy about that death. Couldn’t prove suspicious death, but I got the impression hewassuspicious.” Hartridge moved to the filing cabinet, pulled out the file. “He insisted on keeping her in cold storage until someone claimed her.”

“Well, let’s go see if he’s had a chance to look at the new body.” James had a strong need to get out, far away from Whetford.

Hartridge grabbed his coat and tucked the file under his arm.

It was a bad sign, how eager they were to escape, James thought as they took the stairs down. That wasn’t what he’d thought his working life would be like when he joined the Met.

But at least they had a puzzle to solve.

That helped.

* * *

“How did you know about this?” Dr. Jandicott pulled the sheet back on the woman lying between them, face somber. “There were no detectives called to the scene.”

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