Chapter 8

 

With a handful of files tucked under his arm and more than a little trepidation, Ainsley walked up the steps of 4 Whitehall Place and slid through the heavy wood doors of Scotland Yard. Sergeant Fisher was busy speaking with another officer when Ainsley approached the desk with a look of apprehension on his features. He didn’t want any trouble, but he knew his reputation was too well established for anyone to just take his word for it.

The officer and the sergeant turned in unison as he approached. The officer crossed his arms over his chest as Sergeant Fisher leaned over the ledge. “You about-face right now and march out that door and I won’t have to tell Simms you disobeyed his order two days in a row,” he said so only Ainsley could hear.

Ainsley glanced to the officer beside him. He was a large man, half a foot taller than Ainsley and with a scowl so hardened he wondered if people under arrest handcuffed themselves while in his shadow. From the corner of his eye Ainsley spotted Cooper at a desk not too far from the front lobby. The constable spotted him as well, but averted his eyes immediately, pretending to be engrossed by some paperwork. Even as Ainsley approached, the desk sergeant and mammoth officer at his heels, Cooper did not look up.

“File your complaint with Sergeant Fisher,” Cooper mumbled. “I’m sure he cares more than I.”

“I’m sorry, Cooper—”

“Sorry?” After a quick glance about the room, Cooper lowered his voice. “You nearly cost me my job,” he growled.

Cooper was young and a complete greenhorn in a profession where his height and weight mattered more than his abilities. He’d have to hold his own amongst thieves and murders alike, all the while making a good impression on his superior officers. A major gaffe like the one he had made with Ainsley was enough to put his loyalty into question and cause undue scrutiny. The stress of it was already showing by the way he tapped his pen.

“I didn’t intend to make you look incompetent,” Ainsley said. “It was selfish of me.”

Cooper raised his eyes and swallowed. He opened his mouth to speak and then closed it when his eyes darted over Ainsley’s shoulder. “Tell someone who cares,” he muttered as he bowed his head toward his papers.

“I’d like to report a missing person,” Ainsley said, standing in place and alternating his attention amongst them. “Or is this not part of your job anymore?”

After a few unsure glances between the mammoth officer, Fisher and Cooper, Ainsley was escorted to a small room lined with windows instead of solid walls. There was a single table placed in the middle of the room. Even though the noise of the station grew muffled as Cooper closed the door, Ainsley could still see the manic pace of the place and hoped to God Simms didn’t see them before Ainsley could tell them what he had discovered.

“All right,” Cooper said, taking a seat opposite Ainsley. He pulled his chair toward the table and positioned a notebook in front of him. “Who is the missing party?”

The murmur from the opposite side of the glass ended abruptly, drawing Ainsley’s attention to the desks just beyond the room. Simms stood ten feet from the door, hard-faced and furious. He turned to a nearby officer and said something, but Ainsley could not hear what. With an overwhelming sense of unease, Ainsley stood slowly, using the edge of the table to steady his movements. Both he and Cooper moved deliberately, as one would when encountering a bear, never taking their eye from their adversary and incredibly leery of what they might do.

“What the hell happened between you two?” Cooper asked.

It was no secret the contempt Simms felt for Ainsley, but now it was confirmed—Simms had never told a soul what took place.

“It was the biggest mistake of my life,” Ainsley answered.

Simms charged for the door, barrelling in and pushing himself into Ainsley. “You don’t belong here!” he bellowed.

Ainsley felt the edge of the table crunch into him as he tried to back away, wanting desperately to avoid blows. He had no desire to hit Simms. He wanted to repair the damage he had done and despaired at the thought of never being able to heal that wound.

He readied himself for a hit or shove, but Cooper bravely ran to his aid and pushed Simms off him. “He’s here regarding a missing person!”

When Simms stepped back, Cooper placed himself firmly between Ainsley and his attacker. Out of breath, Simms stood silent for a few seconds before adjusting his coat. “Who’s missing?” he asked.

“Julia Kemp, a maid from our house,” Ainsley answered, as Cooper stepped back slowly. Simms’s and Ainsley’s eyes met, each furious and equally heartbroken.

“Take the report and get him out of here,” Simms said.

“There’s something else,” Ainsley called out as Simms reached the door. He knew his voice sounded desperate and shaky. Simms was the Yard’s best man and he needed him to help find Julia. Ainsley gestured to the files sitting in the middle of the table that separated them. “It’s about your man from Belgravia.”

The tension in the room was palpable, even as Simms closed the door to the rest of the office. He didn’t bother looking to the other officers who shared the space. He kept his gaze trained on Ainsley at the other side of the table, studying him and perhaps trying to discern if he spoke the truth.

Moments passed. No one spoke until Simms reached over the desk and grabbed one of the files. “Explain,” he said evenly.

“I found evidence of two women, each housemaids, murdered and deposited in the Thames. Their throats slit.”

Simms’s expression did not waiver as he looked over the morgue reports.

“A woman visited my morgue two days ago enquiring about her daughter, a scullery maid who hasn’t returned home from work. I said I would look through our files.”

Simms looked up suddenly, his face expressionless, causing Ainsley to falter. Simms said nothing.

Ainsley swallowed. “If my theory is correct, she will be found within the next three days.”

“How does this connect to our man in Belgravia?” Simms asked, arching his eyebrow.

“I believe he was killed by the same person,” Ainsley explained. “You’ll notice in the morgue reports that the wounds sustained by the women were jagged. There were tears in the dermis that resemble more of a rip than a cut.”

Cooper went pale as Ainsley spoke.

Ainsley licked his lips and suddenly remembered who he was speaking with. Simms was a seasoned officer but Cooper was yet to be hardened by the streets.

“Continue, Dr. Ainsley,” Simms said.

With an inhale of breath, Ainsley proceeded. “I observed a similar pattern on the body found in Belgravia—”

“A body that you were not permitted access to,” Simms reminded him.

“Yes.”

Thankfully, Simms did not press further as to why Ainsley felt compelled to intercede with the crime scene.

“If our man is related to these maids, why was he not found in the Thames as well?” Cooper asked.

“I believe he was meant as a message, a warning,” Ainsley said.

A sudden breath escaped Inspector Simms as he slapped the files back down on the table that separated them. “Here’s a warning for you, Peter,” he said, using Ainsley’s first name for the first time in a long time. “If I ever find you interfering with an official investigation again I won’t be as understanding as I have been until now.”

“But Miss Kemp?”

“Go home, Peter,” Simms said more determinedly. “My holding cells are at capacity, but for you I could always squeeze in one more.” The inspector turned his attention to Cooper. “Take the information regarding the maid and make sure he leaves. Sergeant Fisher should know his shadow isn’t permitted on our front steps.” He turned for the door.

“Wait. You know there’s a connection here. I saw it in your face,” Ainsley pleaded. “You can’t just dismiss me.”

“I just did.”

The door slammed as Simms left.