Page 39 of Solving Sophronia

The boy glanced behind him again, then turned back and folded his arms as if waiting for something.

Detective Graham slid a coin across the table.

Freddy snatched it up. “The lads and I were gathered down the street, sir, and I seen a wagon stop outside the alley. Thought it was a laundry delivery for my ma, so I hurried over to help her carry it inside. But it drove away quick. And that’s when I saw the dead lady.”

“You think the wagon brought the woman?” Sophie asked.

“Don’t know, ma’am,” Freddy said. “Ran for the police as soon as I saw her lyin’ there.”

“Must have been around seven thirty,” Detective Graham muttered to Sophie. He turned to the boy. “Can you describe the wagon?”

Freddy pursed his lips to the side. “Like the laundry wagon... dark color, maybe black or brown with a door in the back. But the sign was different than normal.”

“What did it say?” Sophie asked.

He shrugged. “Dunno, ma’am. Can’t read.”

Sophie blinked, surprised. The boy was certainly old enough to attend school.

“Do you remember anything about the sign?” Detective Graham said. “What made it different? What color was it?”

“The sign was white with black words.” Freddy pursed his lips again, and then his eyes lit up. “And a blue bird.”

“That is very helpful.” Detective Graham tossed the boy another coin.

“Thank you, Detective. And please don’t tell Ma I talked to you.”

“Of course. And thank you for your information.”

Freddy took a deep gulp of Sophie’s drink and swept the back of his hand over his mouth as he plunked it back onto the table. He gave a cheeky bow, put on his hat with a grin, then hurried out of the pub.

Sophie stared after him, shocked at the boy’s audacity.

Detective Graham leaned back in his chair and laughed.

Chapter 11

When Jonathan left the courthousethe next day, after giving testimony against a burglary gang, he was met by a constable with a report of another body discovered near Wentworth in Spitalfields.

An hour later Jonathan and Sergeant Lester crouched in the shadows, studying yet another murder victim in what was becoming an almost daily ritual. Today, however, the body hadn’t been left in a public alley but at an abandoned worksite. The location was not one Jonathan had frequented, but it was known to him. They were in the burnt husk of an old workhouse. Fire had destroyed the building over a year earlier, and apparently city planners and parliament couldn’t reach an agreement over what should become of the property. Months of disputes had resulted in a stalemate.

The owners wished to tear it down completely, as well as some of the surrounding buildings, to accommodate an inner-city railroad. The local council hoped to raise funds to rebuild the workhouse, and the latest party to join the fray was a group of philanthropists petitioning for a finishing school that catered to underprivileged young ladies.

Since no decision had been reached, the city had enclosed the area with a temporary wooden fence in a pathetic attempt to keep out vagrants and criminals. The remains of the massive stone building were blackened, one wall completely collapsed.

As they waited for a photographer and Dr. Peabody, Jonathan and Sergeant Lester were careful not to disturb the crime scene. Neither man touched the body—no need to check for a heartbeat. The man was clearly dead and had been for some time.

Jonathan sat back, pressing the back of his wrist to his nose in hopes of stifling the odor. Animals had found the corpse long before a constable had smelled it, and Jonathan feared there was little hope for identification. Thank goodness Miss Bremerton had not accompanied him today. The young woman did not possess a weak constitution, but this... The sight was disturbing, even to a seasoned police detective.

“A pity Lady Sophronia didn’t come today,” Sergeant Lester said, swatting away a slow-moving fly.

Jonathan’s gaze snapped to the sergeant, and he wondered if the man had developed overnight the power to read minds. “Why do you say that?”

“She’d have already drawn the scene, and we could be finished here.” Sergeant Lester shrugged. “Not the most pleasant body we’ve come across.” He glanced around. “Nor do I fancy the location. Bit eerie, if you ask me. Lady Sophronia would at least provide the opportunity for pleasant conversation.”

“AndIdon’t?” Jonathan snorted. He rose, walking toward the gate to wait for the photographer there. He nodded to the constables posted at the crime scene entrance.

“No offense to you, Detective,” Sergeant Lester said, catching up to walk with him. “Nice change of pace, having a lady around. That’s all I meant.”

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