It had the expected effect—Lewis went still in his chair, staring. The leftover crumb clinging to his mustache accentuated the sergeant’s dumbfounded expression.
Quickly, Jasper explained about the matching wrist ligature marks, indicating they’d both been bound in the hours before their deaths; the similar gashes on their left cheeks; their swollen, blackened left eyes; and their shared connection to Bloom’s backroom casino.
Lewis drummed his fingers on the pitted desktop. “You really don’t want to get involved in Tomlin’s bombing case, guv.”
“You don’t need to convince me of that. But it might have some bearing onourcase and cannot go ignored.”
The detective sergeant exhaled. “Tomlin won’t like it.”
Jasper thought of the surly detective inspector and found he quite enjoyed the idea of being a thorn in his side. “All the more reason to press forward.”
The laborers began to reconvene at the hole in the exterior wall of headquarters, and Jasper and Lewis gathered their coats and hats to leave. Their natural next step was to pay a call on Eddie Bloom’s club across the river on the Lambeth wharves.
The long, rambling structure built upon a pier had a distinct air of neglect during daylight hours, while at night, gasoliers and brackets throwing off golden light disguised it as a posh place. Though it wasn’t yet early evening, Bloom already had muscle guarding the entrance. Jasper and Lewis opened their warrant cards for the man to see. He barely looked at them.
“Mr. Bloom is busy.”
Jasper didn’t have the patience for stonewalling today.
“I’m sure he can find a minute to speak to us,” Jasper said. “Unless it is more convenient for him to be escorted to Scotland Yard for an interview.”
The sentry held firm his unimpressed glower for a moment longer, then went inside. A minute later, he returned and gestured for them to follow him.
They found Bloom at a table with three liveried waitstaff, white gloves on as they handled a variety of glassware.
“Back again, Inspector?” he said jovially. “I’d say it’s a pleasure, but I’ve been told not to lie to the police.”
Bloom might have been in his mid- to late forties, but he exuded a youthful vigor that most men his age tended to have already lost. He dressed well, slicked back his full head of jet hair with pomade, and wore a consistently bemused expression. It made him appear affable to those who were less aware of his true nature. Although his syndicate was not as far-reaching as some of the others in London, it was still strong. Eddie Bloom was not a man to be crossed.
“We have questions about two of your regular patrons,” Jasper said. “John Lloyd and Niles Foster.”
Bloom set a wine glass down and stripped the white gloves from his hands. “I have many patrons. Am I supposed to know all their names?”
The last time Jasper had been here, questioning Bloom after one of his patrons had been poisoned, he’d certainly seemed to know a lot about Leonora Spencer. Her family’s brutal murders sixteen years earlier. Her closeness to Jasper’s father, Gregory Reid, and of course, to Jasper himself.
“John Lloyd was often here with Miss Spencer and her friend, Miss Brooks,” he provided.
Bloom’s expression lightened. “Ah, Miss Spencer, is it? I remember now. Lloyd was that PC that got himself blown up a couple days back.”
He’d known the constable’s name all along. Eddie Bloom didn’t miss much.
“What can I possibly tell you about him, Inspector?”
Jasper reached into his waistcoat pocket and retrieved the gaming token Leo had given him the other night. He hadn’t delivered it to Tomlin as he’d intended.
“Is this one of your markers?” He showed him the face of the marker stamped with the heron and the fox. Most establishments kept their gaming markers consistent, with some even customizing the cast.
Bloom gave it a look. Deliberated. Then nodded once. “It is.”
To deny it would have been folly; they could easily prove otherwise with a look at his casino room.
“Was John Lloyd here three nights ago?” Lewis asked.
“I couldn’t say for certain. This here is a busy establishment. I don’t keep tabs on all my patrons’ comings and goings.”
Jasper knew Bloom wasn’t going to like his next question, but he didn’t have time or patience for finesse.
“I think you’d remember a police constable at your gaming tables. Especially if that constable was turning a blind eye to anything he wasn’t meant to see.”
