He ran his palm down a panel of the brown tweed frock coat. “Do you not like it?”
“It’s perfectly fine.” She broke her stiffened posture and headed for the desk where she typed inquest reports for Claude. “I just haven’t seen you in a brown suit before.”
He had no choice but to trust her memory. Leo’s mind was a steel trap, her ability to recall every detail uncanny. If she said she hadn’t seen him in brown previously, then it was so.
He’d purchased the suit secondhand a few weeks ago. The inheritance from his father had been modest, and Jasper hadn’t wanted to spend a penny of it, especially after discussing the land tax for the Mayfair address with Mr. Stockton. He had no idea how he was going to afford it and was even more perplexed that his father had managed to do so.
“Two hundred pounds per annum?” Jasper had repeated after the solicitor had gone over the estate details. “That is impossible. My father couldn’t have afforded such an amount.”
It would have equaled the whole of Gregory Reid’s annual wages, most likely. And yet, Mr. Stockton said it was paid every year without fail.
“You needn’t choose what to do about the house just yet,” the solicitor had remarked with a pitying tone. “You have until next autumn, at the earliest, to make a decision.”
There would be no choice, Jasper had wanted to tell him. The home might have been his, but the government taxed land and property owners, and if he didn’t cobble together two hundred pounds, he’d be in arrears.
“My suit isn’t important, Leo. Can we get back to Mrs. Carter?” he said, taking out his notebook and pencil.
She narrowed her eyes on him but didn’t argue. “Very well. Mrs. Carter and her husband were seated directly behind us at the club. They were already at their table when Dita and I arrived at Striker’s.”
He bit back the urge to chastise her again for patronizing Eddie Bloom’s establishment. Ever since he’d seen her there in January, he’d wondered if she still frequented it. The place was owned and operated by the head of a small syndicate situated around the Lambeth wharves. In comparison to the East Rips, Bloom was small-scale, but he was still dangerous. Unfortunately, Jasper had no control over what Leo did or where she went. If he tried to warn her to stay away from Bloom’s club, she’d likely only want to go there more often.
“Who else were you with last night?”
The time before, she’d been with Miss Brooks and her beau, Constable Lloyd, as well as Constable Drake. PC Drake had taken great pains to avoid Jasper at Scotland Yard since then,even once turning down a hallway that led nowhere and then needing to backtrack. All to Jasper’s amusement.
“It was just Nivedita Brooks and me. She thought I could use a night out.”
“Why was that?”
Leo broke eye contact and fiddled with a few papers on the desk. “It’s been a difficult few months.”
Guilt lanced through him. She’d loved the Inspector too. Losing him would have affected her deeply as well.
“I’m sorry.” He lowered his notebook. “I should have called to check on you more often.”
She shook her head and crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s all right. You’re busy. And I know that Jane Doe last month perturbed you. Have you discovered anything more about her?”
Changing the topic to the Jane Doe case had been purposeful; she clearly didn’t want to discuss anything personal with him. That would be easier, he agreed, especially since he wasn’t sure what the rules were surrounding Leonora Spencer, now that the Inspector was gone.
“Nothing. I’ve had to close the case.”
She nodded, and another silent moment passed before she resumed her recounting of events. “I heard a commotion behind our table. Mrs. Carter had fallen from her chair onto the floor. She was convulsing, and as people closed in around her, I noticed a woman in a black, hooded cloak, embroidered with light blue thread, moving swiftly in the opposite direction. So, I followed her.”
Jasper’s pencil tip skidded off the paper. “You did what?”
“I followed her,” she repeated, more slowly this time as if he was hard of hearing.
“You followed a potential murderer?”
“I wasn’t in any danger.”
“She could have seen you.” His blood began to simmer in his veins. When Leo rolled her eyes, it neared a boil.
“I don’t believe she did. Whoever it was disappeared into the fog on the wharf. A fog I knew better than to enter alone, I’ll have you know. I’m not entirely reckless.”
“Thank God for small mercies,” he muttered, not put at ease in the least. “You are certain it was a woman?”
“Yes. Later, Dita told me she’d seen the cloaked woman sitting in conversation with Mrs. Carter shortly before she fell from the chair and began convulsing. My back was to the Carters’ table, so I didn’t see anything until after the commotion began.”
