Page 14 of A Murder in Trinity Lane
His brows lifted. "And you believe Elsie Leonard fit that description?"
"I don’t claim to know the full truth, Inspector. But she was sixteen. What else could explain it?"
His smile turned cruel. "I know whores younger than that who’d skin a man for a farthing." I drew in a sharp breath, stunned, but he continued, unbothered. "She likely slipped out to meet a lover and got more than she bargained for."
"You’re despicable."
He shrugged. "Just practical."
Turning slightly, he nodded to Sister Margaret. "I gather she’s told you the essentials of the crime."
"She has."
“Then I won’t bother to explain.” His lip curled into a sneer. “The body’s been removed to St. James’s mortuary. There’ll be an inquest in due time."
My heart twisted at the thought of Elsie alone and cold on a slab.
“Why a woman of your station sees fit to get involved in matters better left to the police . . .” His mouth twisted again, this time in something closer to annoyance. "Frankly, I’ll never understand."
I folded my hands calmly in front of me. "I happen to care deeply what becomes of young women cast aside by society."
His expression sharpened. "Be that as it may, I must remind you, Lady Rosalynd, this is a police matter. We are conducting an official investigation. I would thank you not to interfere—or distract the witnesses."
"Distract?" My voice cooled. "You mean, speak to the girls who knew Elsie best? Ask the questions you won’t?"
Dodson’s eyes flashed with irritation. "You overstep, my lady. This is no drawing room parlor game. I suggest you leave the investigating to those trained to do it."
Sister Margaret bristled beside me, but I held up a hand, keeping my gaze fixed on him. “I have no wish to obstruct your work, Inspector. But neither will I stand idly by while Elsie’s death is dismissed as the unfortunate end of a throwaway girl. She mattered.”
His jaw clenched. For a heartbeat, the tension between us hung in the air like a struck chord.
“Mind yourself, Lady Rosalynd,” Dodson finally bit out. “You may have influence in certain circles, but you’ll find no favor here.” He straightened his coat. “We will proceed as we see fit. I advise you to remember your place.”
I smiled thinly. “Oh, I assure you, Inspector. I knowexactlywhere I stand.”
Without waiting for his response, I turned back to Sister Margaret. “Shall we go speak with the young ladies?”
She gave a small, approving nod. As we passed Dodson, I felt his narrowed gaze trailing me—a warning, no doubt. One I had no intention of heeding.
We ascended the stairs in silence, the tread of our steps muffled by a thin, worn carpet. At the top, the corridor stretched ahead, dimly lit by a series of wall sconces whose flickering glow cast uneasy shadows along the faded wallpaper and scuffedfloorboards. The air felt close, heavy with sorrow, as though the building itself had gone still with grief.
At the far end, Sister Margaret paused before a narrow door. Her hand rested on the knob, but she didn’t turn it immediately.
“They’ve been trying to rest,” she said softly, “but I must warn you—Marie is . . . unwell.”
“Marie?” I asked, glancing at her. “Who is she?”
Sister Margaret’s mouth pinched, her eyes betraying a flicker of pain. “Elsie’s closest friend. She’s in her eighth month, poor thing,” Sister Margaret said softly. “The shock of Elsie’s death has sent her straight to the lavatory. She’s been sick ever since she heard.” Her eyes glistened with worry. “It’s best we leave her be until morning.”
I nodded slowly, though a knot of frustration tightened in my chest. Marie might know something the others didn’t. But pressing her now, in her fragile state, would help no one.
From inside the room came the muffled sound of weeping. A few of the younger girls clung to each other beneath their thin blankets, their faces pale and wide-eyed in the candlelight. My heart ached at the sight. After what they’d endured, it would be far too much to question them tonight.
I turned quietly to Sister Margaret. “I’d best wait until morning. I don’t want to disturb what little rest they have.”
She gave a soft, understanding nod. “Of course. Allow me to walk you to the front door.” Her voice dropped a note, half rueful, half wary. “I wouldn’t want you running into Inspector Dodson on your own.”
As we moved in silence down the dim corridor, I said gently, “Tomorrow, with your permission, I’d like to speak to Marie and the others, after they’ve had some time to grieve . . . and breathe.”
