Page 6
“What’s happened to Eames?”
Braithwaite offered Gideon an uncharacteristically bashful smile. “He’s to put his head into the parson’s noose next week.”
Eames was one of the station’s desk sergeants and did his job with scrupulous aplomb, but Gideon hadn’t known the young man was due to marry.
“Thank you for the offer, Braithwaite, but I’m afraid I have a prior commitment.”
At Electra’s urging, he was dining out to mark his birthday, a day he rarely wished to give much thought to.
“Please give Eames my well wishes for his nuptials.”
Gideon couldn’t help a grin as the young man departed. Marriage was something he rarely pondered, yet he had always imagined having a family one day. A rogue and, likely unadvisable, thought came as he set his pen aside and stood, then went to retrieve his coat and hat from the hook near the door.
Did Electra ever plan to marry?
Before he could slip an arm into the satin-lined garment, Constable Thacker appeared in the frame of his open door, expression grim.
“A body’s been found, sir. Lying on the pavement in Mount Street. A well-dressed gentleman, according to the patrol constable’s report.”
The Mayfair thoroughfare was a respectable one, the townhouses along it claimed by the wealthy and titled. News of a body found on its streets would be in the papers within hours.
Gideon donned his coat and glanced at the towheaded constable, who clutched his rain-speckled helmet in his hands and watched him expectantly.
“Lead the way, Thacker.”
“Since it’s less than half a mile, sir,” the young officer said once they exited the station, “thought a walk would get us there quicker, sir.”
Gideon nodded and felt a trickle of rain slide down his neck and catch on his collar.
“I also had the desk sergeant send for a carriage to collect the gentleman’s body once you’ve seen it.”
“Good. Who found the body?” Gideon asked.
“Patrol Constable Clegg. He’s waiting for us.”
Gideon asked nothing more, but his mind had already begun arranging itself around the series of questions that he sought to answer at the start of any investigation.
By the time they reached Mount Street, the rain had slowed to a few errant drops, and Gideon was grateful to see that Clegg’s presence had not caused any onlookers to gather. Perhaps the rain kept them at bay.
The uniformed officer turned at the sound of their approaching footsteps.
“Evening, guv. Thacker.”
“When did you first come upon the body?” Gideon asked as he looked down at the dead man.
“A little before six, sir. I had just commenced my top-of-the-hour patrol.”
Gideon lifted his pocket watch. It was not quite half six now. He was due to meet Electra at the Redmaynes’ to escort her to dinner, but that would all need to be postponed.
The body at their feet was sprawled, face up, arms akimbo, and with one leg caught on the other. And, oddly, a rain-soaked and blood-stained kerchief had been arranged over the dead man’s face.
“Did you arrange that handkerchief, Constable?”
“No, sir. It is as I found it.”
Gideon bent down on his haunches to get a better look. The kerchief appeared well-cared for, with neat creases and a monogram stitched in gold thread on one edge. It looked to be double Ps with an interlocking decorative swish around them.
He lifted the edge of the damp cloth, noting that the man’s eyes were closed. His drenched clothing was seemingly undisturbed upon first glance. He looked to be middle-aged and was clean-shaven and wealthy, judging by the rings on his fingers and a diamond cravat pin glittering in the gaslight. This was no robbery. Even if it had been thwarted by a pedestrian interrupting the attack, why kill the man and then stop to cover his face?
