If she didn’t acknowledge his help in freeing her from the upstairs holding room, she’d only look and feel churlish. “Thank you,” she said, trying to meet his eye with difficulty. “For your help.”
She left before he could say anything in response.
Chapter Nine
“Wipe your feet.” A hatchet-faced maid stood in front of Jasper, preventing him from taking another step into Sir Elliot Payne’s kitchen until he abided her command.
He’d first gone to the front door of the enormous townhouse, but one look from the footman and he’d been ordered to the service entrance used by tradesmen before having the door shut in his face.Bloody aristocracy.Even the servants were snobs.
“Better still, you can remove your shoes,” the maid said after Jasper had made perfunctory swipes of his soles on the bristled floor mat. “The floors have just been swept, and I won’t have you dropping dirt all over the place.”
He stood tall and met her haughty stare. “I am not removing my shoes, madam. Take me to your employer. I’ve questions for him regarding one of his aides.”
She sniffed and, though standing a full head shorter than Jasper, managed to look down her nose at him. He could only imagine the reception she would have given him had he not gone home first to bathe, shave, and put on a change of clothes. There, he’d given his ruined coat to Mrs. Zhao and asked her to buy him another with the pound note that had been left in his pocket. Shehad not been pleased to see that a perfectly good suit coat had been treated so poorly.
“Wait here,” the maid said.
He remained where he stood for several minutes while she whispered to a footman, who then disappeared into the main house to announce the detective inspector to Sir Elliot. Jasper would have rather gone to Niles Foster’s bachelor’s rooms near Parliament to search through his belongings than come to this fine home on Park Lane. Questioning a knighted member of Parliament, however, was a task for a lead inspector. And considering Elliot Payne had been set to give a speech to the WEA on the same night his aide drowned, Jasper was curious as to why Sir Elliot had canceled on short notice.
After receiving Jasper’s update that morning, Detective Chief Inspector Dermot Coughlan had agreed that an inquest was warranted on the drowning case, and while they awaited word on the postmortem findings, they were to begin their investigation.
The footman returned to the kitchen, his white-gloved hands clasped behind his back. “This way,” he directed solemnly.
Jasper followed him through the home’s corridors, noting similar features to his own home on Charles Street. Ornate crown molding, thick Aubusson carpets, intricate woodwork and paneling. This home, however, had a fresher appearance, with touches of elegance and wealth that Gregory Reid had not been able to lavish upon his own home. A copper’s income, even that of a Chief Superintendent, would not have allowed for it. How the bloody hell a detective inspector’s wages were supposed to maintain a house and servant often kept Jasper awake at night. But that tight spot was something to think about some other time.
The footman entered a small study, and Jasper followed on his heels.
“Ah. Detective Inspector Reid from Scotland Yard,” an older gentleman said as he stood from behind his desk. He was somewhere in his fifties, agile and distinguished in appearance, with a head of thick, silver hair, free of the pomade many men used.
“Sir Elliot,” Jasper replied. “Thank you for seeing me.”
The knight dismissed the footman and gestured toward a pair of leather club chairs in front of a hearth. He came out from behind his desk to take one. Jasper didn’t like to sit but relented, perching on the edge of the seat cushion.
“What are your questions about, Inspector?”
“Your aide, Niles Foster.”
Sir Elliot settled his elbows on the arms of the chair and laced his fingers. “I do hope he hasn’t gotten into any trouble with the police.”
“Would it come as a surprise to you if he had?”
He would inform the man of Foster’s death momentarily, but here was a small window of opportunity for him to glean something about the aide before the revelation was made.
“It would, yes,” the MP replied thoughtfully. “Oh, I know he is young, and young men are prone to trouble, but Niles has been professional and dependable. Of course, what he gets up to when he isn’t at work…” He opened his hands, palms raised, as if to say,who is to know?
“When was the last time you saw Mr. Foster?” Jasper asked.
He laced his fingers again and frowned in thought. “Yesterday. Early afternoon. Inspector, how has my aide come to your attention?”
There was no reason to delay the news any longer.
“Niles Foster was found dead this morning. I’m investigating his death.”
The knight dropped his hands to the armrests, his expression opening with genuine astonishment. “My God. Are you certain it is him?”
“He’s been identified.”
Sir Elliot stood. Paused, as if not quite knowing what to do next. Then, he retook his seat. “The poor man. How did he die?”
