Page 33 of Across Space and Time

Hugh shrugged. “I wish I knew.”

“Danbury!” came a call from one of the other constables. “The backyard butchers want a word with you!”

“Thank you,” Hugh said, waving at the man. Depesh looked like he might turn green again, and Hugh gave his friend’s arm a reassuring pat. “I’ll go myself. I’ll catch up with you later.”

Depesh nodded and hurried away. Hugh made his way through the police station to the morgue at the back, stepping inside the building and finding Dr. Ledbetter in front of another blackened corpse. That was starting to become a familiar sight, though this one was not Spring-Heeled Jack’s doing.

“Ah, Hugh,” Ledbetter said, glancing up at him. He motioned to a sheet of paper on his nearby desk. “I received an identification on that boy the viscount was eating.”

He said it with such casual bluntness that Hugh almost laughed. He picked up the sheet. Joseph Cumberland, a known thief and prostitute. He had been arrested several times for soliciting gentlemen in the area near where he had been found, though never caught en flagrante. There was no address listed; Hugh wondered if the young man had had a home to go to or if he simply slept on the streets, as many of London’s poor did.

“Hmm,” Ledbetter said, examining the corpse in front of him curiously.

Hugh glanced up. “What is ‘hmm?’”

“It’s odd,” Ledbetter said. “This corpse was obviously burned in the fire, but there is no sign of smoke inhalation.”

“What does that mean?” Hugh asked with a frown, coming up to stand beside the table. He didn’t know much about anatomy, but the insides of the person currently cut open upon the table did not look burned to him the way he would have expected someone in a blazing inferno to look.

“It means, he was dead before the fire was started,” Ledbetter said, gesturing to the lumps of charcoal that made up the bodies on the tables. “I will have to examine the rest of them to see if it’s the same. Unfortunately, with the state they are in, if they were not killed by the fire, I don’t know that I can determine a cause of death.” He reached up to open the corpse’s mouth, peering inside of it with a lighted lamp. “Hmm. Missing his front teeth, this one.” Hugh followed his gaze. Sure enough, the blackened corpse was missing its top two front teeth. “Yes, no sign of ash or burning in the airway. Definitely was dead before the fire started,” Ledbetter was mumbling to himself.

“Are his teeth being missing recent?” Hugh asked.

Ledbetter shook his head. “No. No blemishes or bruises or anything in the area. Probably was a past incident in his life.”

“Did you receive all five victims here?” Hugh asked, glancing around at the cloth-draped shapes on the tables. One of them looked a little more petite, about the size of Prudence, and his heart gave a sad little drop in his chest.

Ledbetter nodded. “I did. Haven’t had a chance to check out the others yet though.”

“Keep me informed, thank you,” Hugh said, giving him a polite nod, which Ledbetter returned without looking up from the corpse in front of him.

Hugh made his way back inside, sure that the scent of smoke and burned flesh would not be coming out of his nose or his uniform any time soon. Depesh was sitting at his desk and waved him over, holding up a sheaf of paper. “I was able to get the inspector’s notes about what we know about the bakery fire so far.”

“Great work,” Hugh said, sliding into the seat across from him. “The bakery had four employees,” Depesh said, studying the report. “Miss Wilcox, her father, his wife, and another bloke.”

“Four?” Hugh asked. “Who was the fifth body found in the bakery then?”

Depesh shrugged his shoulders. “No idea. All they know is that it was a man.”

That only left several million possibilities. Hugh sighed to himself. Who was the fifth victim in the fire? A friend? A customer? A good Samaritan who had been in the wrong place at the wrong time?

“Oh, curious detail though, he had no front teeth,” Depesh said.

“Dr. Ledbetter showed him to me,” Hugh replied. His tongue traced over his own top teeth thoughtfully. Many people, especially those who were not well off, did not have the money to afford proper dental care or to be able to have false teeth made if they lost some. He knew there were probably hundreds, if not thousands, of men in England who might fit that description, but it was still a place to start if he was able to find a way to determine his name and what his body was doing at the bakery. He picked up the newspaper again to study the article and the photographs.

Hugh glanced up as a shadow suddenly fell over both of them. It was an older man, his clothes clean but old and well-worn. He had large, bushy muttonchops, and he held his cap in his hands. “Excuse me, sorry to interrupt,” he said, glancing nervously between them. Hugh thought he looked a bit like an oversized rabbit, quivery and wide-eyed.

“Yes, sir, can we help you?” Depesh asked politely.

“I’d like to report a missing person,” the man said, twisting the brim of his hat with his gnarled fingers.

“Oh.” Hugh glanced around the room, but no one else seemed to be taking much interest in the shabbily-dressed man. “Yes, of course. I can take of that for you.” He nodded at Depesh before he moved over to his own desk, gestured for the man to sit in the chair across from him as he picked up his pen. “What is the name of the missing?”

“John Henries,” the man said.

“And what is your name, sir?”

“Michael Rhodes.”

---