Sam stirred in his seat. He had on his cop face, impassive with a thousand-yard stare. “If Lady Dover was playing fast and loose with her charms, as we suspect, there are likely other men who could’ve fathered the babe,” he offered.
Kendra made an effort to shake free of the strange sense of malaise that gripped her. She needed to focus. “Yes. We’re looking at anyone Lady Dover may have been involved with in the last three months. As Dr. Munroe said, learning about the pregnancy could’ve been the trigger that set off the killer.”
It was, in fact, the number one reason pregnant women wound up dead in her own time, Kendra knew. The dark side of the twenty-first century.
“Miss Donovan, surely you don’t believe that my nephew . . . that Alec is capable of that barbarism—”
“No. You misunderstand. Sutcliffe could have fathered Lady Dover’s child, but I don’t believe for a minute that he killed her.” She’d seen Alec run hot and cold. He could kill, she was certain. She’d heard that he had been involved with the war effort against Napoleon, even if the details were ambiguous. And war tended to push people over lines that they never thought they’d cross. So maybe Alec had killed, just as she had killed. But not in the manner that had been done to Lady Dover. Never like that.
Aldridge relaxed, and nodded. “Excellent. Then we are in accord.”
Kendra wondered how long that would last during the course of the investigation. Alec’s involvement made it too personal. Emotions were already running high. Disagreements were inevitable.
She shifted her gaze to Sam. “I still need to go to the crime scene.”
“Aye. I can bring you ter the house tomorrow morning, when it’s light.”
Kendra flicked another look at the curtained windows. She didn’t like waiting, but she understood that without electricity, she’d have a hell of a time seeing anything. Candlelight couldn’t compete with a lightbulb. Even in the bright light of morning, what would she really find? Trace evidence like fiber and fingerprints was rendered useless here, with no state-of-the-art laboratories filled with shiny, taxpayer-funded equipment to process it.
Still, it was procedure. Both her instinct and her training compelled her to follow it.
“Is the house secure?” she asked.
Sam gave a shrug. “’Tis secure enough. We only had a few folks coming through this morning ter look around, but—”
“Wait. What?” Kendra stared at the Bow Street Runner, not sure she heard correctly. “Folks. What do you mean, folks?”
Sam frowned. “Curiosity seekers. The usual lot. It seemed like half of London Town tramped through the Marrs’ household after those murders. I don’t hold with the practice meself,” he added defensively. “But it ain’t against the law.”
Kendra pinched the bridge of her nose in amazement. Was she really trapped in an age where people—civilians—were allowed to walk through crime scenes for fun? So much for procedure.
“My dear, things are done differently here,” Aldridge reminded her gently.
“I’m aware,” she retorted, and had to bite back a more scathing reply.
“We didn’t have near as many people come through Lady Dover’s residence,” Sam offered in a tone that was meant to soothe. “Her returning staff, servants from neighboring houses, a few merchants. Mostly common folk and urchins who’d got word about the crime.”
“Children?” Again Kendra couldn’t control her shock. “You’re telling me that children walked through the crime scene?”
“Aye. Bloodthirsty, the lot of them. But Dr. Munroe already got hold of the body, so no one saw nothin’. They’ll learn more from the broadsides, if they can read.”
Broadsides were oversized single sheets of paper printed with the news of the day. The Declaration of Independence had even been published on a broadside and posted in a public square. While some broadsides contained news, the majority could give twenty-first-century tabloids a run for their money, with their lurid headlines, salacious gossip, and crime reporting.
“The premises are locked,” Sam added. “I’ve got a few Charlies . . . er, night watchmen keepin’ an eye on the place tonight.”
Kendra acknowledged his words with an unhappy nod. It wasn’t like she could do anything about it. “Tell me about the staff,” she said instead. “How many, and who are they?”
“Mrs. Pierson, as you know, is the housekeeper. Then there’s Mr. Sayers. He’s the butler. Her Ladyship employed a cook, Mrs. Mason, and two footmen—one who served as her coachman—and two maids. Her personal maid’s Miss Marat.”
“And they have alibis?”
“Aye, we checked them out and got their stories verified by others.”
“They didn’t mention any of Lady Dover’s other admirers besides Lord Sutcliffe?”
“Nay. Like I said, folks know how ter keep their silence about such things when it’s about the gentry. But I think they really do believe it was His Lordship that their mistress was waiting for last evenin’. He’d been a frequent guest, and they all knew that Lady Dover had set her cap for him.” He paused, then scratched his nose as he eyed her. “Maybe you should talk ter Miss Marat, Miss. Ladies share secrets with their personal maids, don’t they?”
“It depends on the secret, I suppose.”
“Maybe you’d get more outta her, being you’re a woman, and all.”
“Finally an advantage to being a woman here,” Kendra muttered.
Aldridge smiled, then said to Sam, “Miss Donovan is being sorely tested by the restrictions of Town. Would you be able to arrange to bring Miss Marat to my residence tomorrow? It might be easier for Miss Donovan to conduct the interview there.”
“Aye. If you’d give me your address, sir, I’ll make arrangements.”
“Grosvenor Square, Number 29.”
Sam gave them a startled look. “Is that right? ’Twould appear that Lady Dover was your neighbor, sir. She was murdered in Grosvenor Square. Number 8.”
Aldridge’s eyebrows rose, equally startled. “But that is an excellent neighborhood! I cannot believe she was attacked there . . .” The Duke’s voice trailed off as he apparently recognized the foolishness of his own statement. A month ago, he’d learned that evil wasn’t restricted to the lower classes, or the undesirable neighborhoods. Safety was an illusion.
He knew that now. Unfortunately, Lady Dover had found that out too late.