Page 8 of Dark Tidings on the Thames
“Yes. I gather the detective feels quite the same about you.”
“Oh, yes. Me. A woman who had the audacity to discover one of his cronies was working to bring down the monarchy.” She rolled her eyes.
“Quite.”
“Well, where is the detective? I shall be sure to avoid him.”
Landover looked uncomfortable. “A volunteer found the body this morning. The charity summoned a constable, who took stock and reported to Scotland Yard. The case was assigned to Frye.”
Suddenly, Kara understood. “And he sent you to act as both police and coroner’s assistant. How efficient.” She shook her head. “While he, no doubt, enjoys a leisurely breakfast at Carlisle’s?” It was a café frequented by the men from the Yard.
Landover’s silence told her she was right on all counts.
“I must assume you will be calling an inquest,” she said, gesturing toward the heavy iron object. “Foul play seems obvious.”
“Yes. I’m not sure where to hold it just yet. I’ll need to find a space big enough.”
“The Screaming Eagle,” she told him. “It’s not far, and it’s been used for inquests before.”
“Thank you.”
For a moment, she thought he would ask how she knew that, but she glanced down at the body again. “The poor girl. So young.”
“And this is not her first encounter with violence.”
At her questioning gaze, he knelt and pulled the woman’s hair away from her face. A thick scar ran from her cheekbone and angled to just beneath her ear. “That is no small injury.” His gaze moved to the large wound at the back of the girl’s head as he stood again. “Nor is this.”
Kara’s gaze hardened. “I hope you will find justice for her, Sergeant.”
“I mean to,” he promised. “In any case, it might be an easy enough task, according to the volunteers that work here. Miss Glynn Foulger was her name, and she apparently had an ongoing feud with another of the volunteers at the Waif’s Wardrobe. A man who is a cobbler, by trade.” He glanced significantly at what Kara assumed was the murder weapon.
She frowned and looked at the iron implement again. It was over a foot long, with a straight, heavy shaft, a base on one end, and a top that curved into a point that reached out to one side. She tilted her head—and then she saw it. “Oh! A cobbler’s shoe form? It is hard to recognize when it is not standing up.”
“It was definitely used to kill her.” Landover sighed and pulled a small notebook from his coat. “I have to ask a few questions of the people who run the place, and I really should not move Miss Foulger until I speak with the woman who found her—but she is inside, trying to gather herself.”
“A young girl? Blonde hair?”
“Yes.” He looked up, questioning.
“I believe that is Beth Williams. She is a friend. She was the one who invited us to come to tour the charity. I’ll see if she is ready to speak with you, if you like.”
Landover eyed her, his lips pursed. “You have a varied host of friends, Your Grace.”
Kara’s mouth twisted. “You have no idea, Sergeant.” Turning, she went back to the workroom, where Beth had indeed calmed and was speaking quietly to Gyda.
Kara took her hand. “I’m so sorry about your friend, Beth. The sergeant says that you found the body?”
Blinking back tears, Beth nodded. “I can’t believe Glynn is gone. She was a good woman. She really cared about the work we do here.”Her voice lowered to a whisper. “She was very kind to me when I started here.”
“I remember that you mentioned her in your letters,” Gyda said.
“Yes.” Beth glanced back. “At first, I just came and did piece work, here in the workrooms. I met many of the volunteers who sew, or craft garments, boots, and gloves—all the things the poorest in the city might be doing without. It was Glynn who encouraged me to apply for a position as a distributor.” Beth gave a little curve of a smile. “At first, I thought it was because I was far from the skilled needlewoman she is.” Tears welled again. “Was.”
“So you applied for a different position in the charity?” Kara asked, hoping that talking would help.
“Yes. Distributors are chosen for different sections of the city, or for different cities, if we have enough donations to send out to them. Glynn convinced me I would be good at it because I live at Lake Nemi. She knew it was close to Covent Garden, and that I meet a lot of women of different stations at the club. And she knew I was friends with some of the flower girls who come to buy their flowers at the Garden.” Beth looked anxiously between Kara and Gyda. “Distributors have to be both known and trusted by the poor in their districts.”
“Anyone who knows you trusts you, Beth,” Gyda said reassuringly. “I’m sure you do a grand job of it.”
