Page 4 of Method of Revenge
Jasper looked toward the open door to the back office, from where the clacking sounds of a typewriter’s keys emanated. “I’ll also need to speak to Leo.”
The noise of the typewriter ceased. The sound of a chair sliding along the bare wooden floor followed, and a moment later, Leo Spencer appeared at the threshold.
Earlier, when Jasper’s detective sergeant, Roy Lewis, had given him the Gabriela Carter report, sent over from L Division in Lambeth, the nameLeonora Spencerhad jumped out at him. Jasper stared at it for several moments, awestruck. She’d been one of the first witnesses questioned when constables arrived at Striker’s Wharf. In fact, her recorded statement indicated that Mrs. Carter’s death wasn’t a fatal choking or an otherwise innocent occurrence.Witness (slightly hysterical female) claims to see signs of arsenic poisoning in the victim.The aside had amused Jasper, as he knew Leo had likely never had a hysterical moment in her life. She was measured, serious, and obstinate—the last of which was what had likely caused the constable to incorrectly label her as hysterical.
Leo entered the postmortem room, her bright hazel eyes hinging on him. She passed the other sheeted corpses without so much as a blink.
“Jasper,” she said, her gaze direct and keen. “I’m glad you’re here.”
The warm greeting set him back on his heels and gave his mood an unexpected lift. It had been a few weeks since he’d last seen her—just after the Jane Doe’s postmortem, on the anniversary of her family’s deaths, to be precise. Since his father was no longer there to accompany her to the cemetery, Jasper had stepped in. They’d remained quiet for most of the journey there, then again while she laid flowers at the graves of her father and mother, older brother and younger sister. Pleasantries had been exchanged. She’d asked a few questions regarding his work at the Yard, none of which had dissipated a strange friction that lingered between them. One that had not been there before the Inspector’s death.
This morning, Leo’s sable hair, usually pinned into a low, plain knot at her nape, was twisted and pinned higher, with a curled tendril loose to frame her face. He tried to remember if she’d ever worn her hair like that before.
“The constable I spoke to last night was roundly dismissive of my observation,” she went on without pause.
He stopped looking at the glossy, dark tendril of hair and focused on why he was at the morgue to begin with. “Your observation that Mrs. Carter was poisoned?”
He followed Claude to a table occupied by a sheeted figure, the new Mr. Higgins trailing behind them at an indifferent pace. The drape of the sheet, and the small, bare feet exposed at the base of the table, revealed that the corpse beneath was a slim, white female.
“Yes,” Leo replied. “And that I’m almost certain I saw who did it.”
He cut his eyes to her, a streak of alarm arcing through him like fire. The throbbing of his temples crushed with renewed vigor. “That wasn’t in the report.”
She crossed her arms. “Constable Fulton wasn’t willing to believe a woman could possibly possess helpful information to the investigation.”
Many Metropolitan Police officers suffered from the same shortcomings when it came to their opinions of women, but that wasn’t what kindled the concern in Jasper’s chest just then.
“Yousawwho poisoned her?”
Leo nodded. “I believe so. And it was indeed a poisoning, as I told the constable,” she answered just as Claude was turning down the sheet to reveal the victim’s face, neck, and clavicle.
Gabriela Carter had been a pretty brunette with delicate features. A dainty nose, thin, dark eyebrows, and full lips, now ashen with the pallor of death. Jasper frowned, tucking away the usual pang of sorrow he felt when a young victim lay on one ofthese tables. The postmortem had been completed; the closing sutures were visible just below her collarbone.
“I ran the Marsh test as required for proof of arsenic in the system,” Claude began. “It was conclusive that Mrs. Carter had consumed a large quantity of the poison shortly before her death. Evidence of foaming in her lungs supports the presence of pulmonary edema, and the capillary collapse my niece observed at the scene—the blood leakage from her nose, eyes, and lips—is in line with a precipitous drop in blood pressure. Both findings are commonly seen with acute arsenic poisoning.”
Jasper nodded at the coroner’s explanation, already familiar with some of the signs of arsenic toxicity. One of his first inquests as a detective constable at E Division had been the case of a woman who had sprinkled the tasteless, odorless poison into her mother-in-law’s porridge every morning for three weeks. The old woman had rapidly fallen ill and died, and if not for a thorough postmortem, the daughter-in-law might have gotten away with murder.
“She would have consumed the poison roughly fifteen to twenty minutes before she began exhibiting distress,” Leo added.
Jasper had read Constable Fulton’s report, so he’d come to the morgue armed with some of the facts. But there were still plenty of questions left to answer.
“I’d like to know what you saw, starting from the beginning,” he said to Leo.
Claude covered the corpse’s face again, and the trembling of his hands was visible in the split second before he released the sheet. The coroner glanced at Jasper briefly to see if he’d noticed, then over his shoulder at the apprentice. Mr. Higgins was leaning against an empty table, chewing on a fingernail absentmindedly. He wasn’t taking an interest in the conversation or anything else, for that matter.
In the lobby, the bell above the door chimed again. Claude seemed happy to leave them to greet the new arrival. Mr. Higgins lingered aimlessly where he was. Leo gestured toward the back office, and once she and Jasper entered the room, she closed the door behind them.
“That man is a nuisance,” she whispered. “He’s been here a week and hasn’t done a lick of work.”
“I also imagine he’s keeping you from lending Claude a hand from time to time.”
Leo crossed her arms and glared, and Jasper wished he’d kept his mouth shut. It was a sore subject. She shouldn’t have been helping her uncle in such a manner, and yet, Jasper could understand why she did. He waited for her to make some cutting remark, but instead, she lifted her chin, her eyes drifting slowly over him. Her brows pinched together.
“Is that a new suit?”
Jasper looked down at his clothing, surprised by the question. “Relatively new. Why?”
She shrugged. “I haven’t seen it before.”
