Page 7 of Dark Tidings on the Thames
Gyda looked between them. “Thank you both,” she said quietly. “For everything.”
Kara rocked back as her friend unexpectedly launched herself at her. “Oh, Gyda,” she said as the other woman’s arms tightened around her. “You are family. You know we’ll always do anything we can for you.”
Chapter Two
“Gyda, I don’tthink we can go in there.” Kara grasped her friend’s hand as they stood in Bedford Street, staring at the chaos that was spilling out of the Waif’s Wardrobe.
They had arrived in London the day before. Gyda had sent Beth a note straight away, and an answer had arrived quickly, inviting them to come for a tour of the charity this morning. Niall had decided to let them go without him, choosing instead to take Harold to visit Lord Stayme in Berkeley Square.
“Of course we can.” Gyda started to push through the crowd.
“I’m not sure we should,” Kara objected. “Clearly something has happened here.”
“That’s why weshouldgo in,” Gyda said, still moving. “Beth was worried something untoward would happen—and it clearly has.”
It was hard to argue the point. People gossiped in the street as several crying women stood on the stairs leading into the charity. One woman had descended into hysterics. She screeched and moaned as a group gathered around and tried to comfort her. Gyda moved past without sparing the woman a glance, and Kara, afraid to lose her friend, moved in her wake.
The entry hall lay quieter, but no less crowded. Gyda approached a gentleman standing quietly, listening while another spoke to the gathered volunteers, encouraging calm. “Beth Williams,” Gyda said tohim. “Can you tell us where to find her?”
The gentleman gestured toward a long, open room to the right. “She was in the back, watching the activity outside, when last I saw her.”
“Thank you,” Kara told him as Gyda moved off in the direction he’d indicated.
“Beth!” Gyda called, moving past tables, crates, and walls posted with paper schedules and lists.
The girl, tears streaming down her face, turned. Relief flooded her expression when she saw them, then her face crumpled.
Gyda caught the girl in her arms as she started to sob. “Beth! What is it? What’s happened?”
Kara smoothed a hand over the girl’s pale head. “Are you all right, Beth? Have you been harmed?” Beth’s answer was garbled and beyond comprehension, but she shook her head. Kara glanced out the door where she had been standing—and stiffened. “Beth! Is that—?”
“What?” Gyda demanded.
Kara looked again.A body,she mouthed to Gyda over Beth’s head.
“What? Whose?”
Kara noted the small collection of sober people standing to one side of the figure stretched out on the ground. “A woman,” she said. Her skirts were spread out over the lawn.
Beth started to sob again.
A man bent over the fallen figure. He touched the dead woman’s hand, then leaned in to examine her head. When he straightened and stood, Kara gasped. “Gyda, it’s Sergeant Landover, the man from the coroner’s office!”
They had met the coroner’s assistant when their friend Josie Lowe, one of London’s most famous music hall performers, had been accused of killing her patron.
“Go and speak with him,” Gyda urged. “See if you can get some answers while I help Beth calm down.”
Kara hesitated. Landover had not understood—or entirely approved of—their involvement in Josie’s case. Then, Kara had possessed both the personal connection and an ally in her friend, Inspector Wooten. Now she had neither. Nor was she eager to involve either herself or her makeshift family in another case of murder and mayhem. But Gyda was making shooing motions with one hand, while patting Beth’s back with the other. Heaving a sigh, Kara stepped out into the garden.
It must have been a place of tranquility, before being touched by death. A green lawn stretched out, all the way to the back of a church ahead—and Kara realized this must be part of St. Paul’s churchyard. She approached gingerly, waiting for the sergeant to notice her. The woman’s body lay near a bench and a border of lilies. Oddly, there was a head of cabbage resting nearby. Kara’s gaze moved on—and she started when she saw a large, pointed piece of iron lying beyond it, bearing an obvious coat of blood—and other substances she would rather not identify.
As if he’d heard her indrawn breath, Sergeant Landover looked up. “Miss Levett,” he said, obviously surprised, but then he flushed. “I mean, Your Grace.” He glanced behind her, as if looking for someone. “What are you doing here? Don’t tell me you are connected with this victim, too?”
Kara could not help but glance down at the poor woman. “Sergeant Landover,” she said with a nod. “No. Nothing like that. Gyda and I are friends with one of the volunteers here. We were invited to tour the place this morning, and found… all of this.” She frowned at him. “But what are you doing here alone, Sergeant?” She glanced at the group gathered a short distance away, but they were a mixed bunch that looked like people associated with the charity, not anyone of an official capacity. “I thought the police were meant to summon the coroner? Shouldn’t Scotland Yard be here?”
“They are, after a fashion. I am still training with Scotland Yard.It’s been thought I would benefit from shifting among departments and working with different levels of officers. I am following Everett Frye at present.”
Kara made a face.
