by Laura Landon
The door to his office opened but Will didn’t look up. He knew it was his secretary, Constable Brian Randolph, with his morning coffee. “Has Thompson come in yet?”
“No, Inspector. It’s barely half past six in the morning. None of the constables have arrived yet.”
Will lifted his gaze. “Then what are you doing here already?”
“From the amount of work you had on your desk when I left last night, I guessed you would have stayed the night. I came in early because I knew you’d need your morning coffee if you were going to be bearable to work with today.”
Will struggled not to smile. Randolph had been his secretary since Will had been promoted seven years ago. He’d proven himself invaluable. He understood the way Will’s mind worked, and had an uncanny knack of anticipating what Will wanted before he asked for it. Technically, he was a constable. In reality, he was a saint.
The man was close to Will’s thirty years, and while not as tall or broad through the shoulders as Will, he could still hold his own when placed in a tense situation. Where he differed most from Will was in looks. While Will was dark, with hair a dark brown, and eyes a hazel-gold, passed down to him through his de Wolf ancestors, Randolph was light-haired with blue eyes. His fair features made him much more approachable, where Will was more often feared. Which was quite all right with Will. He’d silently thanked his legendary ancestor William de Wolfe many a time for his strong features and formidable appearance.
“What would I do without you Randolph?” Will said when Randolph placed another stack of papers atop his desk along with a pot of coffee.
“I don’t intend for you to find out, Inspector.”
Will smiled as he lifted his gaze. “What I can’t understand is why you don’t tremble in your boots as do the rest of the men who work under me?”
Randolph laughed. “Oh, I do, Inspector. I simply refuse to give you the satisfaction of knowing it.”
Will reached for the coffee Randolph had set before him and shook his head. A smile threatened to lift the corners of his mouth. “That reassures me, Randolph. I’d hate to think I’d lost my fear-inducing ability altogether.”
Randolph finished with his task and headed for the door.
“See that I’m not disturbed for the next hour,” Will said as he turned his attention back to his work.
“Yes, sir.”
The door closed behind Randolph, and Will reached for the top folder on the stack of papers on his desk. It was another robbery near Covent Garden. This time though, the victim had been severely beaten before he’d been robbed, and the perpetrators were thought to be hiding out in St. Dunstan East civil parish. The Superintendent had received several complaints and had contacted Will by special missive. He wanted the gang responsible for the robberies apprehended forthwith.
Will placed the folder to the side of his desk and wrote the names of two of his best men to handle the case.
He’d just opened the next folder when the door opened. “Not now, Randolph,” he said without lifting his gaze. “I told you an hour. It can’t have been that yet.”
“The publisher of the Times is here, Inspector, with some interesting information. I think you might want to speak with him.”
Will dropped the documents he’d been reading and gave his secretary an inquisitive look. The expression Randolph returned was totally unreadable. Will knew to take Randolph’s suggestions with a great deal of value and nodded his approval.
“Mr. Finnius MacMurphy, Inspector.”
Randolph introduced the man, then backed from the room and closed the door behind him.
Will studied the Times publisher with a discerning eye. He was small in stature but well dressed. The spectacles on the bridge of his nose gave him a studious appearance, exactly as one would expect from a person who spent his days reading newsprint.
“Mr. MacMurphy. Come in. Please,” Will said motioning to the single chair in front of his desk. “Have a seat.”
“Good morning, Inspector.” The newspaperman took his chair and locked his hands in his lap.
“May I offer you a cup of coffee?” Will said as he reached for the pot Randolph had brought in earlier.
“No, thank you, Inspector. What I came to say won’t take that long.”
“By all means. What brings you here today?”
“This has something to do with a case that happened quite a while back so I’m not sure if it’s relevant any longer. But since this case was of personal interest to you, I thought you’d want to know about it.”
Will felt a niggling of unease. There was only one case that was of personal interest, and that was the murder of his cousin, Elizabeth de Wolfe.
“Go on, Mr. MacMurphy”
“Early this morning, I had a visit from a young woman who asked to see any news articles pertaining to the unfortunate set of circumstances surrounding Miss de Wolfe’s murder.”
Will felt a stabbing of curiosity. “Did this woman tell you why she was interested in my cousin’s death?”
“No, Inspector. She only said that she’d just recently heard about Miss de Wolfe’s passing and wanted to know what had happened to her.”
“Did she tell you her name?”
MacMurphy shook his head. “I knew you would want to know so I inquired, but she told me her name wasn’t of significance. But she did offer that she had been an acquaintance of Miss de Wolfe’s. Nothing more.”
“I see. Did she say anything that might lead you to conclude why she was interested in my cousin’s death at this late date?”
“No, sir. She simply waited while I retrieved the papers surrounding the dates of Miss de Wolfe’s murder and gave them to her. She took them to a back table, then brought them to the front desk when she finished reading them and left.”
“Did you notice anything about her that might be helpful?”
“Nothing other than she was quite attractive, well dressed, well-mannered. Her hair was light and she had large blue eyes.”
“You noticed her eyes?” Will wasn’t surprised. Eyes were often one of the first things people noticed.
“Yes, only because when she returned the papers, it was obvious that she’d been crying.”
Several questions crowded Will’s mind. He hadn’t been able to track down the person who’d killed Lizzy before he’d been yanked out of his post and assigned a temporary mission for the Queen. By the time he returned six months later, all trails had gone cold. The commissioner had been of the opinion that they’d spent enough time and manpower on Lizzy’s murder, and there were other cases that were being overlooked while favoritism was being shown on one particular case—solely because the victim was related to one of the Inspectors. Then he’d been shot, and that had slowed him down a bit as the cases piled up. He’d found himself working to catch up for the better part of a year.
But Will hadn’t forgotten about Lizzy’s murder. He’d investigated her murder on his own time, trying to discover any clues they might have overlooked. But to no avail, even though no stone had been left unturned.
“Did you happen to see what direction the lady took when she left your establishment?”
“Yes. She walked toward Leadenhall. I watched until she was out of sight.”
Will rose from behind his desk. “Thank you, Mr. MacMurphy. I appreciate that you brought me this information. If the lady comes again, I’d appreciate it if you would send for me right away.”
“Of course, Inspector.” MacMurphy rose from his chair and walked to the door. “I truly hope you find the person who killed your cousin, Inspector. I know it has to bother you, knowing that you’ve solved so many other murders, yet the one that is most special to you has gone unresolved.”
Will nodded his agreement, then watched the man leave his office.
“Randolph,” he called when he’d heard the office door close behind MacMurphy
Randolph appeared before Will had taken his chair behind his desk.
“Yes, Inspector.”
“I want to see Thompson and Wallace the second they get in. And get everything we have on the Clydesmont and Shelton cases.”
“What are you going to do, Inspector?”
Will lifted his gaze until it locked with Randolph’s. “What I should have done two years ago. Keep the office running while I look for Elizabeth’s killer on my own time.”
Randolph nodded. I’ll send Thompson and Wallace in the minute they arrive. It shouldn’t be long. Thompson’s already been working on the Clydesmont case, and it won’t take Wallace long to become acquainted with the Shelton case.”
Will nodded, then reached for the two new cases that had happened overnight. He had to make sure his supervisor couldn’t fault the work he was doing for the department. But this time he intended to find the man who’d killed Elizabeth. If it took him the rest of his life.
. . .
It was late afternoon and Will stood behind a large tree in the middle of St. Dunstan’s graveyard—the same as he had done every afternoon for the past two weeks. From his position, he could see anyone who entered the graveyard without being observed himself.
He came each afternoon and stayed until dark and hoped he hadn’t missed anyone who’d visited Lizzy’s grave. Every instinct he possessed told him that the woman who’d been interested enough in Lizzy’s death that she’d come to the newspaper office before the office was even open, would also visit Lizzy’s grave. If not this week, then next. Or the week after. And that she’d come before dark. Women who valued their safety, knew not to travel about alone after the sun had gone down. So Will waited, hoping that today he’d glimpse the woman who was interested in Lizzy’s death.
The first visitor who came was a young man with flowers to lay on a fresh grave in the center of the graveyard. From the man’s stooped shoulders and the tears he wiped from his eyes, the person in the ground below him was possibly his wife who’d recently died. It was fresh grief, and pitiful to witness. Will made a mental note to discover the identity of the person the man had visited.
The next to come through St. Dunstan’s gates were two young ladies. They walked swiftly down the path as they traveled from one entrance to the other. They were undoubtedly using the path through St. Dunstan’s as a shorter route home.
Finally, Will saw someone he thought might be a possibility. She fit MacMurphy’s description. The young lady walked through the gate, but instead of walking toward Lizzy’s grave, she stopped at another grave a short distance away. Will’s heart fell.
She knelt for several moments, then rose. Will became aware of her natural grace while she looked around her as if checking to see that she was alone. When satisfied that she wasn’t being observed, she walked toward him.
Will kept in the shadows while he studied her features. She was small of stature and wore a serviceable cloak and matching bonnet. He couldn’t see much of her hair, but the few strands that had escaped to frame her oval face were light. Either a light brown or a dark golden blonde. She was more than attractive and possessed a beauty that caused him to take special notice.
She slowed when she neared Elizabeth’s grave and glanced around the area again. Will wondered what she could be searching for.
When she was close to Lizzy’s tombstone, she stepped off the worn path and knelt. Her gloved fingers reached out to trace the letters that spelled Elizabeth’s name and year of her birth and death.
She must have become tearful, because she repeatedly brushed her cheeks as if there were wetness there, then rose to her feet and slowly walked away. She’d taken a mere three steps before she stopped and turned back to face his cousin’s grave.
“I will,” she said.
Her voice held a richness that warmed him. Her words resonated with clarity and determination. Will couldn’t help but think she was talking to someone though there was no one there with whom to speak. And yet…
Will felt a strange connection to the female who’d come to visit his cousin’s grave. And when he could actually see the tears that fell from her eyes, he had the urge to take her in his arms and comfort her—perhaps because she was saddened at Lizzy’s death. Perhaps because there was something compelling about the stranger who seemed so fragile and lonely. Or perhaps because she spoke the same two words he had when he’d stood over Lizzy’s coffin and vowed that he’d find her killer and bring him to justice.
“I will,” this woman had said. And so had he.
But he hadn’t.
The young lady left St. Dunstan’s graveyard and Will followed behind her, making sure he stayed out of sight. He didn’t intend to stop her. He only wanted to discover where she lived. By doing that, he could find out who she was. Perhaps that would give him a clue as to what her interest in his cousin might be.
Chapter 3
Wattersfield Emporium. A store that specializes in women’s accessories: gloves, fans, hair combs, ribbons, parasols, and a number of other items for fashionable women. The proprietors of the emporium are three sisters: Ardella Wattersfield, Virginia Wattersfield, and Lucinda Wattersfield.
Will thumbed through the information he’d gathered concerning the Wattersfield family and continued to familiarize himself with what he’d discovered.
Edmund Wattersfield died years earlier from an undisclosed illness, and their mother was tragically killed a little more than a year ago when she tried to cross the street in front of a delivery wagon.
During his early morning visit to the graveyard he’d discovered that Marian Wattersfield was also buried at St. Dunstan’s. That was no doubt the primary reason one of the Wattersfield sisters frequented the graveyard. He had yet to determine which sister it was, but he knew he’d recognize her as soon as he called on them. Which he had every intention of doing as soon as he could leave the office.
He’d just finished meeting with his detectives to gather an update on the progress they were making on the cases they’d been assigned and was reaching for his hat and gloves when Brian Randolph entered.
“I have some additional information on the Wattersfield ladies.”
Will stopped to listen to what his secretary had to say. The more he knew about the owners of the Wattersfield Emporium, the better his advantage would be.
“It seems any one—if not all—of them might have known your cousin.”
“How do you know this?”
“I went back through all of the notes the detectives made when investigating your cousin’s murder. Miss Elizabeth attended the same church as the Wattersfield sisters. Hence the reason their mother is buried in the same cemetery. And your sister was a frequent customer of the Wattersfield Emporium. We know this because your cousin’s sisters reported that they happened to visit the Emporium the day she was killed.”
Will filed away the information Randolph gave him, then put on his gloves. “You never cease to amaze me, Randolph.”
“That is my intent, Inspector.” Randolph opened the door for Will to leave.
“If I’m not careful, you’ll take my position before I’m ready to retire.” Will heard a chuckle as he headed outside.
He wasn’t worried about Randolph vying for his position. Randolph, more than anyone, knew the pressures that were associated with being an inspector with the Metropolitan Police. And he wanted none of that.
Will left Seething Lane Station and walked toward Cornhill Street. He could have ridden. There was a carriage at his disposal as well as a stable of horses, should he need one, but he wanted to walk. He needed to think. He needed to organize his thoughts and the questions he wanted to ask the three Wattersfield sisters. He needed to watch carefully when he introduced himself to study the reaction of the sister he’d spied upon in St. Dunstan’s Cemetery.
By the time he reached Wattersfield Emporium, he was prepared to conduct his interrogation. A strange warmth swirled inside his chest as he prepared to meet the lady he’d only seen from a distance the day before. Although there was no reason to feel such an urge, he couldn’t deny his e
agerness to see her. He was anxious to see if she affected him the same way today. And he was impatient to find out the color of her hair, as well as determine if she was as pretty as he’d surmised she was when he’d first seen her.
Will opened the door to the Wattersfield Emporium and stepped inside. A small bell tinkled above him and the female behind the counter turned to look at him.
It was her.
. . .
Ginny looked up when the door opened and came face to face with a man whose heroic stature took her very breath away. The fact that he’d had to bend slightly to enter the shop was something she wasn’t accustomed to seeing. This fellow was far taller and immeasurably more handsome than the usual men who accompanied females to Wattersfield Emporium.
His features were strong and formidable. He stood before her with a confident set to his shoulders. The rugged line of his square jaw gave him an air of command that should have frightened her, but didn’t. His hazel eyes promised a warmth that set her at ease.
His gaze focused on her now, and the slight change of his expression almost suggested that he recognized her. But how could he? They’d never met before. She’d remember if they had.
Ginny quelled a momentary tremor and walked around the counter to approach him. “May I help you, sir?”
The man lowered his gaze to look at her and he seemed even taller than he had from the doorway.
“Yes,” he answered. “I’ve come to see you.”
“Me?”
“Yes, Miss Wattersfield. Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Inspector William de Wolfe of the Metropolitan Police Department and I’ve come to ask you a few questions.”
Inspector! Why would he have questions for her? Ginny reached out to support herself against the nearest table. A display of lace handkerchiefs slid from their perfect arrangement to bunch into a crumpled pile. One handkerchief fell to the floor and Ginny bent down to retrieve it. Her hands trembled as she gathered up the delicate cloth. She could hope the inspector hadn’t noticed, but she knew he had.