“Daughter of the woman who got shot at that dinner,” he answered, still sulking.
“Paula Blickson?” Leo asked, brightening.
“If that’s her name.”
She could take it no longer. “Constable, what is the matter with you today?”
He blinked and lifted his cheek from his knuckles. An imprint had been left behind. “With me? What are you on about?”
“You’re not yourself,” she replied. “Not that I’d like you to return to your unfriendly ways, but there is clearly something bothering you.”
He scowled at her, then returned to his slouch. “Mind your own business,LeoMorga.”
She rolled her eyes. That was more like it.
Across the department floor, Jasper’s office door opened, and Leo stood at attention, ignoring the ache of her feet. A man and woman emerged, the woman wearing mourning black, including a stylish hat dressed in dark purple flowers, with black lace billowing from the narrow brim. The veil obscured most of her face, though she had shifted it aside to press a handkerchief to her nose, exposing her smooth, pale cheek, an artful curl of black hair, and a noticeable mole on her cheek, close to her bejeweled earlobe.
At her side, a tall man in a dark suit and bowler kept his arm around Paula’s shoulders, leading her toward the departmentexit. Leo stood aside as they approached. The man guiding her maintained a stoic expression. His sapphire eyes met Leo’s as they passed. He gave a polite, detached nod, a greeting one might give a stranger passing by on the street. He might not have known Leo, yet she knew him. It was Esther Goodwin’s son, Felix.
They turned into the narrow corridor and were gone.
“You can see the inspector now,” Constable Wiley said.
They were words Leo had never heard him say before. She eyed him curiously as she started for Jasper’s office. The detective inspector stood in the doorway, watching her with clear admonition for having come to the Yard.
The ache of her feet and the soreness of her calves dissipated with each step she took toward him. For a fraction of a second, his expression opened, revealing what else he was thinking of: last evening. Their thwarted kiss.
But then he blinked, and he was once again the irritable inspector from Scotland Yard.
“What is the matter with Constable Wiley?” she asked, trying to deflect whatever scolding he had in mind. “I’ve never seen him so morose.”
“He requested a secondment to Liverpool,” Jasper answered as they moved into his office. “It was denied.”
Leo felt sorry for it, though not for Wiley in particular. It would have been lovely to have someone else as desk constable. “Maybe you could put in a good word for him in the telegraph room. Or in some other department far from here.”
He stepped behind his desk to close a folder. “Leo?—”
“That was Paula Blickson?” she asked, cutting him off again. “And her cousin, Felix Goodwin.”
Jasper sighed. “Yes. She decided to come in.”
“How did she seem?”
He crossed his arms. “Upset. Leo, you know that it would be better if you did not come here any longer.”
She peeled the gloves from her hands, the cotton damp. “I know, and I’m sorry, but this was important. It couldn’t wait.”
His chest expanded as he dragged in a fortifying breath. “Close the door.” She did as he bade, shutting out the rest of the department.
“Tell me what has happened,” he ordered next.
On her walk from Bloomsbury Square, she’d tried to organize what she would say once she arrived at her destination. The only conclusion she’d reached, however, was that nothing would adequately protect her from Jasper’s wrath.
Leo held up her palms. “You might be angry with me, but hear me out.”
Tucking his chin, he practically growled, “What have you done?” with such vehemence, the small hairs on her arms stood on end.
She lowered her hands and clenched them into fists. “I believe Mrs. Stanley Hayes was at Martha Seabright’s home on Well Street. She was inside the house, alone, and she most certainly did not want to be seen there.”
