Munroe smiled. “I shall begin my work shortly. First, though, I have a few questions. I have been informed that Miss Donovan has a rather unusual expertise in this area, but my topic of discussion may be rather gruesome. I would protect your delicate sensibilities, your Ladyship. Perhaps you ought to retire from the room until it is concluded?”
Kendra hid a smile as she watched Rebecca’s eyes narrow.
“I do not see why I ought to do any such thing. I have been involved in these proceedings much longer than you have, my good man!”
Munroe lifted a dark brow.
“Lady Rebecca is progressive in nature—as are we all,” Aldridge remarked mildly.
“Does that offend your sensibilities, Dr. Munroe?” Rebecca inquired pertly.
“Many of my colleagues are advocates of Aristotle’s theory of human development,” Munroe replied, “which purports that women’s energies are concentrated in their reproductive organs rather than their brains.”
Rebecca gave the doctor a stony stare. “You ought to find better colleagues, Doctor.”
He grinned suddenly. “Aye. I agree with you, your Ladyship. Sadly, too many of my esteemed colleagues are stuck in the past. We are living in a dynamic time. New discoveries are made daily. To move forward, I believe, one must keep an open mind.”
“Excellent. Now that that’s settled, I suggest we get down to business.” Aldridge sat down behind his desk, turning his gaze to the Bow Street Runner. “I have not had the chance to ask Mr. Kelly what transpired in Town.”
Sam grimaced, and shook his head. “None of the birds at the academy could identify the devil. But I did get a name for the lass in the lake. Lydia Benoit. Not her true Christian name, I suspect.”
“Ah, yes,” Munroe said. “A nom de guerre. Lady birds enjoy a touch of the exotic. They believe it enhances their appeal. In this case, terribly ironic.”
Rebecca glanced at him. “How so, Dr. Munroe?”
“‘Benoit’ means blessed.”
A grim silence settled over the company. Then Sam cleared his throat. “She’d worked at the brothel for a year. The other birds liked her well enough. Seemed proper shocked that she’d cocked up her toes. They remembered that the bawd—Miss Duprey—had hired her out, which was a rare thing. Miss Duprey tended ter be cheeseparing with the lasses, so whoever it was had ter be plump enough in the pockets ter get the bawd ter agree.”
“But they have no idea as to his identity?”
“Nay.”
Kendra frowned as she sipped her coffee. The niggling sensation was back. Something . . . something . . . what was it? It brushed at her consciousness with fragile butterfly wings, before fluttering away. She had to let it go.
“April Duprey had to contact the killer somehow. Is there any way to track that?”
“I don’t see how,” Sam said. “She had her footman post the letter—an unusual enough occurrence for him ter take note. But as he can’t read, he had no way of knowing who was on the receiving end.”
Kendra let out a frustrated sigh. Would every lead turn into a dead end? She set her coffee cup down, and walked over to the slate board. Picking up a piece of slate, she crossed off the name of Jane Doe, and wrote Lydia Benoit. It didn’t matter that it probably wasn’t the name that the girl had been born with. Anything was better than the anonymous Jane Doe. Maybe Rebecca was right; it was important for a soul to be identified.
“Captain Harcourt has an alibi for the time April Duprey was killed,” she said. “I don’t think he and Gabriel are telling the truth about their whereabouts on the night Lydia was killed, but for the reasons I’ve already stated, I think we can cross them off the list and focus elsewhere.”
Munroe joined her at the slate board. “’Tis an unusual assortment of observations you have written here, Miss Donovan. Yet I have to ask: are these facts, or conjecture?”
Kendra considered that for a moment. “You could say it’s conjecture based on facts.”
“I see.”
“It is most unusual, but Miss Donovan takes a scientific approach to crime,” said Aldridge. “One that involves deductive reasoning.”
“That is unusual, sir.”
Kendra couldn’t tell if the doctor believed in the process, but she wasn’t going to try to convince him. She had the Duke’s support, and that was all that mattered.
She looked at Sam. “Did you find out anything about Dalton’s late wife?”
He gave her an incredulous look. “I only dispatched a man ter ride up north ter make inquiries. ’Tis several days’ ride. Me men in the area here are still questioning servants. Maybe someone’ll have something ter say.”
No matter how complex an investigation, it always boiled down to the basics, Kendra thought. Canvassing the neighborhood, questioning colleagues, friends, family, neighbors. The techniques changed, but the approach remained timeless. There was something comforting in that.
Munroe set aside his teacup. “’Tis time for me to meet April Duprey. God willing, she will have something to say as well.”