Page 14 of Solving Sophronia

Jonathan rubbed his eyes ashe and Sergeant Lester walked toward H Division station house after another long day. The two had been called back to Spitalfields in the early hours of the morning with the discovery of another victim—a young man this time. By the time they’d investigated the scene and Dr. Peabody had taken away the body, daylight had come, and they’d spent hours interviewing potential witnesses and following weak leads, with no luck. Two unidentified victims in fewer than ten hours.

Jonathan sucked on a peppermint and scowled at the frustration of an entire day of dead ends. How was it possible that not one single person saw anything in either case? He shook his head. Of course that wasn’t true. The rookery was overpopulated to the extreme. People lived thirty to a room in the crumbling tenements. There were eyes on every inch of Spitalfields. The reality was people were afraid. And Jonathan knew that fear firsthand. Though they were no guarantee of survival in the dangerous city, remaining silent, minding one’s own business, increased the odds.

Sergeant Lester stopped in his tracks. He crouched down, leaning close to study something in the gutter. “Will you look at that?” he muttered. “The poor dear.” He shook out the folds from his handkerchief, then used it to gently lift a dead bird. He brought the carcass close to his face to examine it. “And her feathers are pristine.”

“Delightful,” Jonathan said. He’d been hopeful for a moment that the sergeant had discovered a clue that pertained to the case, or at least something of interest. He opened his pocket watch, glancing at the time. The hour was nearly five thirty—much later than he’d thought. He closed the timepiece, slipping it back into his waistcoat, and watched with growing impatience as Sergeant Lester extended the bird’s wings one at a time. The sergeant’s obsession with small-animal taxidermy was something he’d never understand. But Jonathan knew better than to rush him.

“Know just the place for this one.” The sergeant wrapped the bird carefully and slipped it into his coat pocket. “I’ve an avian choir in need of a soprano.” He stood, wiping his hands on his trousers.

The two had walked only another block when the smell of jellied eel reached Jonathan, and he realized he’d not eaten anything but sweets since the evening before. “Hungry?”

“Famished,” Sergeant Lester answered, looking toward the eel cart.

The men turned their steps in that direction, paid the street vendor, and waited as the man dipped cups into his bucket, scooping out servings of the gelatinous mixture.

Jonathan splashed a bit of vinegar into his cup, then slurped up a bite of cold meat. The sour taste made his tongue recoil for a sharp instant.

“The only lead we’ve not followed is the gown,” Sergeant Lester said, pouring in his own splash of vinegar.

Jonathan grunted and chewed on the rubbery eel.

“What was her name again?” Sergeant Lester wiped jelly from his mustache with a swipe of his thumb. “The lady in the fancy clothes? Miss Bremerton, wasn’t it? If she could help us discover where the dress was purchased...”

Jonathan grunted again. He shook his cup to loosen another chunk of eel. The thought of asking that woman for help rankled him. “We’ll call on the dressmakers tomorrow.”

“Call on the dressmakers?” Sergeant Lester stared, disbelief pushing up his brows and creasing his forehead. “Have you any idea how many dressmakers there are in London? And what would we ask? ‘Pardon me, madam, do you happen to know who purchased a blue gown with frilly bits here and here and a backside that only fits with the correct bum contraption?’”

Jonathan gave him a flat stare. “We’ll think of something.”

“Why not just ask Miss Bremerton?” The sergeant tipped back his head, shaking the rest of the jelly into his mouth.

“Because this doesn’t concern her.”

“She would know which dressmakers to speak to. If we—”

Jonathan held up a hand, cutting him off. “Involving a civilian in a criminal case is a bad idea.”Especiallythatcivilian.“I’ll not consider it.” He ran a finger around the inside of his cup to scrape up the last bits of jelly, then handed the cup back to the seller. His pride was the motivating factor in the decision, but asking that woman for help—though she’d probably be thrilled at the chance of further adventure—felt like a failure. And he didn’t care to give her the satisfaction of knowing the Whitechapel Police Force could not solve the case without her.

As they drew near the station house, the streets became more crowded with workers headed toward their homes at the end of the day. The feeling of exhaustion as well as relief at the few hours of respite gave the journey a more satisfactory feel, rather than the resigned feeling that came with the morning travel.

Jonathan kept an eye on the crowds, watching for any disturbance or thievery. Pickpockets didn’t only prey on the wealthy.

Upon reaching the station house, Sergeant Lester opened the door.

But as Jonathan entered, he heard his name called from behind. When he turned, he found a group of three children on the street and smiled, knowing exactly what they were after. The urchins of Whitechapel often sought him out, and he recognized two of the boys he’d met before. He nodded a farewell to the sergeant and stepped closer to the children. “How can I help you lads this evening?”

“Have you a sweet for us, Detective Graham?” the oldest of the boys asked.

The other children watched with hopeful faces.

Jonathan put his hands in his pockets and pulled together his brows thoughtfully. “You’re after a sweet, are you? Well, that depends, of course. Have you done a good deed today?”

“I helped my da sharpen knives at his cart,” the boy said.

“Well done.” Jonathan nodded. He reached into the sack in his pocket and drew out a piece of peppermint, tossing it to the boy.

The boy caught it with a grin. “Thank you, Detective.”

“I tended to my sister while my ma fetched the mending,” another of the boys said. “And I only got cross with her once.”

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