“It isn’t my case,” he reminded her.
“As I am very well aware,” she said. “However, there is something more that happened at the morgue, which I couldn’t include in the postmortem report, and Inspector Tomlin will most certainly never listen to me should I try to tell him.”
Jasper fought the sparks of intrigue that she’d successfully stoked. “What makes you think he’ll listen to me?”
“You’re a fellow detective; he must listen to you.”
He chuckled, then took another sip of whisky. Tomlin was a pompous prig who not only believed the main CID was inferior to the Special Irish Branch but that it was poorly managed. After today’s fiasco with Leo barging into his interview with Miss Brooks, he would likely dismiss Jasper just as quickly as he would have her.
When he didn’t reply, Leo let out an exasperated sigh and hurried back to the desk.
“I knew I shouldn’t have come,” she huffed as she pulled the folders she’d brought out from the Inspector’s drawer into a messy pile. She stuffed them away again and slammed the drawer shut.
The unsolved cases stored there were ones that had haunted Gregory Reid. Whenever he started to feel particularly melancholy, he would take them out and read through them again, hoping for some new stroke of inspiration. No case had been more important to him than the Spencer family murders. That thick folder, however, was no longer in the desk. As one of his father’s final requests, Leo had taken it with her to review when she felt ready.
“Leo,” he said softly, but she tossed back the rest of the cherry cordial she and his father had loved, then set the glass down on the desk.
“Don’t concern yourself, Inspector. I thought you might help by passing this information along to Inspector Tomlin, but that’s a mistake I won’t make again.” She started for the door.
“Stop. Leo, please.” He moved to intercept her, but she was too far away. She would reach the door first. “All right, if it is that important, tell me what happened with Lloyd’s postmortem.”
If it would get her to stay, then he would concede. She stilled, though she appeared disgruntled when she turned and crossed her arms over her middle. “If I didn’t think it was important, I wouldn’t have come. There is no other reason I am here.”
He sighed, thinking that she had looked at least a little concerned for him when she’d stood at the top of the stairs, inspecting him for injuries. But now, he kept his mouth shut and gestured with a wave of his hand for her to get on with it.
She did.
“When Constable Lloyd’s family arrived at the morgue, his brother commented that he’d suspected his brother would get himself into trouble. He said John was mixed up with the wrong sort.”
“The wrong sort being Clan na Gael?” Jasper shook his head. “Lloyd wasn’t Irish.”
She let her arms fall back to her sides, and her combative edge softened. “No. I don’t think he was involved with them directly. His brother said that John had recently begun buying new clothing, posh hats, and boots. Things he couldn’t have purchased on a police constable’s wages.”
A man couldn’t purchase much more than necessities on a constable’s wages, Jasper knew. He had lived sparely for some time, too, until he’d been promoted to detective inspector and received a raise in his income. It still wouldn’t be enough to keep a house located on as affluent a street as this, nor a housekeeper. But now wasn’t the time to worry about those things.
“He thought Lloyd was on the take?” Jasper guessed.
“He did. But I also found this.” As she came toward him, Leo reached into her skirt pocket. She opened her palm, revealing what appeared, at first glance, to be a coin. “It was the only item in his pockets. Other than his warrant card.”
It was mandatory for every officer to have their warrant card, enclosed in a black leather case, on hand, even when off duty.Jasper took the coin from her palm. But it wasn’t money. “It’s a gaming marker.”
“I thought it might be,” Leo said. “If Constable Lloyd’s vice was gambling, perhaps that is where he became involved with the wrong sort, as his brother put it.”
Jasper held up the marker. “This is evidence. Why was it in your pocket?”
She lifted a shoulder. “I wanted you to have a look and confirm what it was. You can give it to Inspector Tomlin when you speak to him.”
He was already dreading that conversation. “All right. So he gambled,” Jasper said, dropping the brass marker into his trouser pocket. “That doesn’t account for why he’d be carrying a bomb toward headquarters.”
“Claude found ligature marks on his remaining wrist,” Leo said.
Jasper exhaled, understanding the unspoken detail: The constable’s other arm had been blown to atoms. It turned his stomach.
“Paired with his bruised eye, and the gash on his cheek and upper lip, it’s accurate to say he’d been beaten and bound within twenty-four hours of his death.”
Jasper finished his whisky. “You think he was coerced into bringing the bomb to the Yard.”
She pushed down her shoulders and nodded. “I do. And I might have seen someone who was part of the plot. A man in a brown wool cap was standing just outside the arch. When Constable Lloyd saw me, he turned around as if to leave the courtyard. This other man wasn’t happy. He shook his head as if in warning.”
