Jasper followed behind them, slightly envious of his friend as he helped Leo into a cab, then climbed up to sit beside her.
“Guv,” Lewis called as the cab rolled away into traffic.
The detective sergeant stood outside their waiting carriage. Warnock had seated himself next the driver on the bench to guard the ride back to the Yard. “Mrs. Blickson says she’s ready to talk.”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Leo lit the lamp on her desk in the morgue’s office, illuminating the sheet of paper in the typewriter she’d been working on. It wasn’t her account of her conversation with Esther Goodwin and Paula Blickson, as Jasper would no doubt have preferred, but a death certificate. At least a dozen had been backlogged while she’d been out the last handful of days, helping to solve Martha Seabright’s murder. Connor, who’d been patient with her absences, would appreciate the certificates being finished when he arrived the next morning.
After leaving the Epoch, Leo had asked Viscount Hayes to bring her to the morgue instead of to Duke Street. Her limbs had still been trembling after the tumultuous events at the theatre, but the notion of going home to rest had made her even more jittery. The viscount, who successfully had pleaded with her to address him as Oliver rather thanmy lord, dropped her off at the Spring Street Morgue.
“I hope you’ll forgive me, Miss Spencer,” he’d said while handing her out of the hansom cab.
She’d been puzzled. “For what offense?” He’d been nothing but gracious since leaving the Epoch and had thanked herfor her help in locating George. But a reticent expression had crossed his face just the same.
“I misjudged you,” he said.
“How so?”
Oliver cringed in embarrassment, and Leo braced herself, suddenly uncomfortable. “I considered you to be…somewhat…odd.”
“Oh.” His blatant confession made her grin. “You weren’t entirely wrong. I am a little odd. I must be, I suppose, to enjoy working here.” She’d gestured toward the morgue’s entrance.
But Oliver shook his head. “No, I now understand what Jasper meant when he said your temperament is different from that of other women. Your nature is quite admirable. “
“He said that?” She wanted to know when, and what more he’d had to say about her, but Oliver had only smiled and tipped his hat before returning to the cab.
Inside the morgue, the quiet stillness had been a balm to her senses. It was all over. Martha Seabright’s killer, as well as Nurse Charlotte Radcliff’s, had been caught. The mystery surrounding Edward Seabright’s supposed death as an infant was solved. And George Hayes was home with his family—even if he was now aware of all the secrets Stanley and Melanie Hayes had kept from him. They had much to repair, and Leo didn’t envy them the hardships that still lay ahead.
She felt a distinct dip in her spirits when she considered that the case was now closed. Of course, she was relieved. Jasper had made the necessary arrests, which would surely boost his standing at the CID. He had needed that victory, especially after the reprimands he’d received the last many months—mostly because of her.
That she’d played a role in solving this case but would not receive credit for her assistance didn’t bother her. Leo didn’t need it the way Jasper did. Even Oliver’s praise, though kindand thoughtful, had not been necessary. It hadn’t filled her with triumph—unlike how she felt when misaligned pieces of information finally came together and made sense. It was the act of answering a question, of solving a crime, or of bringing about justice that gave Leo a sense of contentedness. Not the acclaim that came afterward.
It was time to return her focus to the morgue. She fixed herself a pot of tea at the cottage range and got to work on the pile of folders and papers that Connor had left for her on her desk. If she was to be his assistant, she’d best not fall behind in her duties. She worked diligently, stopping only to let Tibia outside for a short caper. Rather than pausing to make a fresh pot of hot tea, she drank the cooled dregs of the first one.
She was pulling the final certificate from the platen when the grating chime of the front door’s bell reached her in the office. As it was Sunday, the front door was locked, and the morgue closed to new corpses. But when the bell rang again, Leo set down the completed files, crossed the postmortem room to enter the lobby, and answered the door.
“Miss Hayes,” she said after staring at the caller for a baffled moment.
Constance stood on the narrow portico, her fashionable Gainsborough hat angled in such a way that her face was partially blocked from passersby on the street. Visiting a morgue was not reputable, and by all appearances, she was alone.
Leo stepped aside to allow her in, and she entered with all haste.
“I didn’t know to expect you,” Leo said as she closed the door.
“I wasn’t sure I would call.” Constance held herself rigidly, as many people did when entering a morgue. Being near corpses unnerved many, and not just women.
“Oliver told me he brought you here,” she went on. “I was on my way to see Jasper and thought I’d stop by and see if you were still in.”
Leo couldn’t imagine why Constance would wish to speak to her. They remained standing in the lobby, the next few seconds drawn and awkward.
“Has Jasper summoned you for an interview?” Leo asked, breaking the silence.
“No, I have some materials my mother believed Jasper should have. Letters.”
To Martha Seabright from Caroline Radcliff, Leo imagined. Mrs. Hayes must have discovered them inside Martha’s home and taken them.
Another few moments ticked by in which Leo remained uncertain why Constance had come. “Is everything all right with George?” she tried next.
