Page 41 of A Vocation of Violence
“I was half ready to chase you down and toss your house to retrieve this evidence, but I knew that it was safe in your clutches and would find its way back to me with a new story.” He leveled a flinty gaze at me. “If this is another finger pointed at the royal family, it’d better be a smoking gun, Fiona. I’m already in deep water for asking the first round of questions, which cleared His Highness, Albert Victor, from all suspicion.”
“It did?” I squeaked, not having heard anything of the sort. “What happened?”
“That, I am forbidden to speak of,” he groused. “Now, tell me what this scrap of lace means. Knowing you, there’s a litany of theories accompanying this,” he prompted, his voice a low rumble that reverberated through the close atmosphere of the room.
“A litany?” I huffed. “Hardly that, though now I’m disinclined to share any of my hard-won findings with you.”
“You may as well speak your mind, Miss Mahoney,” Croft urged, his heavy sigh tinged with impatience. “Time is of the essence.” He turned the handkerchief over in his hands, the fabric whispering secrets against his fingertips.
“Detective inspector, I have reason to suspect that there may have been…personal entanglements beyond mere enmity between the baroness, Clarissa Fairchild, and Vivienne.”
“Personal?” His brow arched, the question unspoken but hanging like fog in the room. “We’ve found no evidence to suggest anything beyond a romantic rivalry that was decided two decades ago.”
“But what if the romantic rivalry had nothing to do with the baron?” I asked, my voice a hushed confession amidst the rigid spines of case files that lined the shelves, witnesses to countlessunsolved mysteries. “What if it was between the baroness and Vivienne all along? Certainly such an affair is worth killing for.”
“The baroness and Vivienne,” Croft mused, placing the handkerchief on his desk as if it were a fallen petal rather than potential evidence. “Do you have more than hearsay to back up your theory?”
“You already know I found this handkerchief by the boot of the knight’s kit,” I said. “C.F. could very easily be Clarissa Fairchild. And then there’s this flower stitched below. Are you familiar with Order of the Green Carnation?”
“Can’t say that I am,” he replied.
“It’s a clandestine club where people who are romantically interested in their own sex can find companionship. They often use it on lapel pins, tattoos, bookmarks, and other such personal items, like this handkerchief, to find people of similar tastes.”
“As a theory, it’s a bit far-fetched. The blossom on this handkerchief isn’t green.” Croft’s scowl deepened. “Besides, I do not concern myself with people’s private inclinations, Miss Mahoney, unless they cause harm to others.”
“Your integrity is commendable, detective,” I admitted, respect threading through my tone like silver through the darkness.
“Integrity has little currency if it does not champion the cause of justice.” He leaned back in his chair, the creak of leather punctuating his resolve.
“I thought perhaps this depiction of a carnation on the handkerchief might be pointing in that direction,” I challenged. “That and what Dr. Phillips said about the slight build of the killer made me wonder if Vivienne’s murderer could be a woman with less-than-platonic feelings for her. I know Claudia is more bereft than is seemly for anyone to be after the loss of an employer… Surely as a detective you’re aware of how love and madness walk hand in hand.”
At that, he paused, his eyes tracking a thought around the room. “Why not bring this to me sooner?” he asked. “A few days have passed since you’d access to the scene to clean it.”
His keen awareness caught my hesitation. “I didn’t know if I could trust you with the whole truth.”
He lifted a brow. “There’s more?”
I knotted my fingers together, the words threatening to strangle me before they were spoken. “I’m only telling you this because I think it will ultimately help to clear Darcy’s name.”
His visage darkened. “Go on.”
I felt like I was chewing on ashes, but I went on. “I discovered that Darcy and Tunstall were—are—lovers,” I whispered, my voice barely audible even to my own ears. “I cannot help but wonder if this might have provided Mr. Tunstall with a stronger motive to harm Vivienne.”
As much as I didn’t want Darcy to lose another love, I didn’t want him to hang.
“Miss Mahoney,” Croft said, his voice grave. “You must understand that divulging such information can have serious consequences for all involved.”
“I know,” I admitted, guilt clawing at my heart as I recalled Aidan, my late fiancé, and the terrible secrets he had kept hidden from me. Love could blind even the most perceptive of souls, and I was no exception. “But if we are to find Vivienne’s killer, we must consider every possibility, no matter how painful.”
Croft’s fingers ceased their dance over the scattered case files as he regarded me with an inscrutable gaze, his eyes carrying the emerald of my isle muted by the stormy hues of London’s own tumultuous skies. “Miss Mahoney,” he began, his voice resonant within the confines of his office, a sanctuary of law and order amidst the chaos that had overtaken the city’s streets, “I don’t give two ripe shits what Darcy and Tunstall are up to in theirown time. My only duty here is to unearth the truth behind Vivienne’s murder.”
“Thank you,” I whispered, the relief coursing through me tangling with a knotted sense of trepidation. I hoped the information would help rather than hinder the investigation. And, though I couldn’t say this to Darcy, I wasn’t convinced as he about Tunstall’s innocence.
“I’ll see you out, Miss Mahoney. I’m at the end of my shift.”
We rose from our seats, and as we made our way out of his office, the din of Scotland Yard enveloped us—the murmur of constables discussing leads, the clatter of typewriters documenting the deeds of the day. Croft guided me back through the maze of corridors, his presence a bulwark against the pervasive darkness hovering around Vivienne’s death.
“Why don’t you stop ’round for tea?” he suggested, shocking me. “Amelia has been asking after you.”
