Derrick leaned back into the cushion. “What do you want to know?”
“Everything. Start with the woman before Ella.”
“Jane Porter?” Derrick hesitated, gathering his thoughts. “It happened about six months ago. She worked as a barmaid at the Laughing Raven. According to witnesses, she kept to herself and didn’t have a close circle of friends. No family I could track down. Her body was found in an alley. She’d been strangled, but what set her apart from similar crimes was the rose between her fingers. The detail of the rose was kept out of the papers, but a barmaid’s death, at night, in an alley…” He paused for effect.I rolled my eyes. “Doesn’t exactly make the front page. Ella’s murder changed that. It was public, almost taunting in nature, and on castle grounds. It’s been impossible to keep things quiet.”
Familiar frustration tinged his voice. I experienced the same deep-seated defeat when I failed a spell, knowing someone was counting on me, and there was nothing I could do about it.
“No one knows about the missing slipper.”
“Except for you.”
I shrugged. “Perks of seeing a ghost. Trust me, there aren’t many other perks.”
Derrick looked skeptical. He wasn’t ready to believe my ghost story. Thankfully, Prince Marcus had an open mind to the occult and deemed me… What was that glorious word he’d used? That’s right. An asset.
“What about the first victim?”
Derrick scrubbed a hand over his face. Talking about the victims was difficult for him. It was obvious he cared about his cases.
“Her name was Sophie. She was young, just turned sixteen, when she died three years ago. I was out of the kingdom training for the agency. All the information I have is secondhand.”
Our knees brushed as I scooted to the edge of the carriage seat. “What happened to her?”
“Sophie was the daughter of a wealthy merchant. Her family traveled to their country estate every fall to attend festivities at the royal hunting lodge. She went missing during one of the king’s deer hunts.”
“Hundreds of people must have been in attendance. The king used to invite all the affluent families to attend his fall feast.”
“That’s right. Villagers scoured the forest for days. There was no sign of her until one of the hunting dogs located her body partially submerged in the marsh. Her hands had been placed over her middle, with a long stem rose tucked between her fingers.”
“How did she die?”
Derrick’s voice grew hoarse. “Strangulation. There were ligature marks on her neck, mud and scratches on her feet, and defensive wounds on her hands. She fought hard.”
I tried to imagine that kind of fear. Those final moments, knowing you couldn’t win, yet fighting to the end. It left a cold ball of dread in my chest.
“What do you make of the roses?”
“To be honest, I’m not sure. My guess would be a relationship gone sour, but there’s no evidence to support any of the girls had romantic attachments. There was a rumor Sophie might have shown interest in someone, possibly even exchanged letters, but I wasn’t able to substantiate that claim. The murders happened years apart. They knew different people, lived at opposite ends of the social spectrum, and there was an age difference between the two. My superior wasn’t convinced the roses linked the two women, and there were times I wasn’t sure either. Maybe I wanted them to mean more than they did.”
“Until Ella?”
He nodded. “Until Ella. It’s too much of a coincidence. There’s a link between all of them, we just need to find it.”
The carriage rolled to a stop in front of a stately manor nestled between a copse of trees. Tangled vines climbed the walls, spreading like gnarled fingers around the window frames. Overgrown topiaries flanked a circular drive littered with fallen leaves and crumbling brick. Nature was doing its best to reclaim what was once a magnificent property.
Derrick exited the carriage and held out his hand to help me down the step. He spoke with the driver, instructing him to wait, and the carriage pulled off the lane to park. We traveled over the cracked walkway toward the door and used the brass knocker clenched between a bronzed lion’s mouth. A servant in black livery answered.
“Detective Chambers to see Mrs. Lockwood and her daughter, please.”
The servant ushered us into a small sitting room. Heavy brocade curtains tied back with golden tassels allowed the afternoon sun to spill onto the polished parquet floors. Dark wood paneling lined the walls, emphasizing the richly colored furnishings. The difference between outside and in was startling. Every surface gleamed, and the room smelled like fresh lemons. I remembered my first meeting with Ella and how I’d thought she was a scullery maid, but that made little sense given the state of her home and family lineage.
“Have you interviewed the staff?” I wandered toward the edge of the room to examine a marble chess set.
“Yes, but most won’t speak out against their employer for fear of losing their jobs. The Lockwood staff are no different.”
“I see.” I traced my finger over the beveled edges of a rook and wondered why Ella had been wearing a servant’s uniform the night of the ball. Had she stolen it to sneak out of the house, or was there something more there?
“Detective, thank you for coming.” A woman wearing a satin mourning gown sailed into the room. Tendrils of silver hair framed her face, slipping from the coil on top of her head where a wispy black veil hung down her back.
