Page 41 of Solving Sophronia

As he contemplated, he continued through the motions of looking through the man’s pockets and from inside the jacket pulled a leather billfold. He stood as Sergeant Lester joined him and the doctor.

“Identification?” the sergeant asked.

Jonathan opened the billfold, finding a few pounds in an inner pouch. The other pouch contained slips of paper. Delivery orders from Bluebird Furniture Emporium.

“May I take the body?” Dr. Peabody asked.

“Yes, thank you,” Jonathan said.

Bluebird Furniture. That must be the source of the wagon Freddy had seen. Was this man the murderer of the other two victims? Was he an accomplice?

Once the doctor and his students had taken away the body and Jonathan had set the constables to searching the scene and looking for witnesses, he and Sergeant Lester started back to the station house.

They stopped at a vendor’s cart for bloaters, and as they ate the herring, Jonathan filled the sergeant in on what he and Miss Bremerton had learned the day before.

The sergeant’s interviews at the Greys’ household had turned up nothing, though he did find a cabbie who’d transported a lady in a blue dress from Hyde Park to Chelsea Monday evening.

Sergeant Lester picked fish bones from his teeth. “You suppose this delivery driver was an accomplice and his partner turned on him?”

“Possibly.” Jonathan looked through the delivery receipts and pulled one out. “The final delivery Monday night—a pair of velvet-upholstered armchairs—was made to a Mrs. Kettle of South Kensington at five thirty.” He pointed to the company’s address on the receipt. “Bluebird Furniture Emporium is located on the road directly behind the assembly hall. I’d wager the two share a service lane.”

“The dead man made his final delivery of the night and returned in his wagon just as the killer was looking for a way to transport the other bodies.” Sergeant Lester snapped his fingers. “His was a murder of opportunity.”

“Or necessity, depending on how you look at it,” Jonathan muttered, thinking through the scenario. The theory made sense.

“Poor bloke was in the wrong place at the wrong time.” Sergeant Lester shook his head.

The pair crossed the road to the station house in silence, and Jonathan contemplated the latest developments. If their theory of the crime proved true, the killer—or killers—had murdered three innocent people. But why? What did they hope to conceal? And why move the other bodies to Spitalfields? He was missing something.

Sergeant Lester reached for the handle but paused before opening the door to the station. “I heard what the doctor said about Lady Sophronia, about her buryin’ those poor souls.”

Jonathan raised a brow, waiting for the sergeant to continue.

“Haven’t met many noblewomen,” Sergeant Lester went on. “Those I have were rude or dismissive or bothered to have to deal with the police at all. But not Lady Sophronia. I like her.” He gave a sharp nod. “She’s a good one.” He pulled open the door. “Wonder how she’d like a stuffed mouse. Maybe with a wee sketchbook and pencil... ”

Jonathan stepped past the sergeant without comment. He didn’t think one was warranted. He picked up his mail from the desk sergeant, hung up his coat and hat, and sat in his chair, pulling a stack of files toward him.

He opened a folder and started to write but stopped as a thought occurred to him. One he’d never have expected. He liked Miss Bremerton too.

Chapter 12

The green in Hyde Parknorth of the Serpentine was filled with spectators when Sophie arrived with Elizabeth Miller and Dahlia Lancaster. The air balloon wasn’t scheduled to ascend for at least another hour, weather permitting, but crowds had already gathered, eager to watch the spectacle. Vendors taking advantage of a waiting company on a warm day sold flavored ices and sweets. Some enterprising merchants sold miniature balloons, silken fans adorned with balloon paintings, and even brooches in balloon shapes. Ladies and gentlemen wore their finest clothing and strolled among the booths, greeting acquaintances and enjoying the sunny morning. Working-class folks gathered as well, their clothes less fancy but every bit as carefully groomed. Children laughed, running throughout the chatting groups. The mood was festive and had the feel of a fair or a holiday celebration. Sophie couldn’t help but smile in anticipation, opening her parasol as she stepped from beneath the trees of the footpath, into the sunshine.

In the center of a treeless expanse of lawn, the main attraction, a silken mass, striped blue and yellow, was being filled with gas. Over the colorful bladder stretched a netting of rope, attaching the balloon to a large basket. Bags filled with sand surrounded the basket, anchoring it to the ground.

“Oh, there is Vivian.” Dahlia pointed toward the balloon.

Sophie spotted Vivian Kirby right away. Her scientific-minded friend was bent over, peering at a contraption of gears and speaking to the men operating the large pumps that distributed the gas.

“I must say I’m hardly surprised,” Sophie said.

Elizabeth squinted toward the men. “In a perfect world,shewould be directing the operation, andthe menwould ask the questions. I’m sure she understands the workings of a hydrogen balloon much better than they do.”

Sophie smiled, pleased with the way her friends spoke about one another, even when the object of their discussion wasn’t near. The behavior was not something she had formerly been accustomed to. She had no doubts that the Blue Orchid Society would defend her name as well, and knowing it, being able to trust this group of women, filled her with a warm comfort.

“Do tell us more about your new story, Sophie,” Dahlia said. “Are you really investigating a murder?”

“Two murders, actually,” Sophie replied, still surprised to be speaking so comfortably with Dahlia Lancaster, the most sought-after debutante in high Society. After the words were out of Sophie’s mouth, she winced. “But I shouldn’t say any more. I promised Detective Graham I would not disclose details of the case—not yet anyway.”

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