Chloe.
“Tuesday afternoon. He came home for lunch. It’s the one meal we always share together, because he sometimes works so late. He’s often not home till after I’ve gone to sleep. I woke up yesterday morning and reached over to his side of the bed, but he wasn’t there. The covers were undisturbed, and it was obvious his head had never lain on the pillow. I knew immediately that something was wrong.”
“Did he happen to mention what he would be doing later on Tuesday?” Will asked. “Where he might be headed?”
“Colin doesn’t talk much about his work, not the day-to-day specifics of it, but I do know that he spends most of his time in the North End. Fort Hill sometimes, and other areas, but mostly the North End. It’s his job to deal with vice, and that’s where the worst of it is. And it’s only the worst of it that he troubles himself over, not the routine things—drunken sailors, pickpockets, street girls. It’s the beat cops and watchmen who keep them in line, or try to. Colin goes after bigger game—gangs of thugs, slashers, rapists...”
“Dangerous work,” Will said.
“I fret about him constantly.” Chloe closed her eyes and shook her head. “Constantly. I wish to God he hadn’t gone to work for the state constables. He didn’t really want to. After that awful business in February, the hearings and all that...” Chloe’s gaze lit on something over Nell’s shoulder; she smiled. “Maureen. You’re early today.”
Nell and Will turned to find a moon-faced young woman in an apron and head rag unlatching the garden gate, a market basket over one arm. Eyeing Nell and Will with a kind of dull curiosity, she said, “They stayin’ fer lunch?”
“Oh. Um...” Turning to Nell and Will, Chloe said, “That would be lovely, actually.”
“Thank you all the same,” Nell said, “but we can’t stay. We’ve a great deal to accomplish this afternoon.”
“Just you, then, missus?” Maureen asked.
“No, set two places,” Chloe told her. “Out here, if you don’t mind.”
“Two?” Maureen stopped walking. “He ain’t back, is he? Detective Cook?”
“No. No, he, er, he’s not back. Mrs. Booth will be joining me for lunch.”
Maureen nodded and entered the house through the back door.
Chloe sighed. “I’m not used to having help, but I don’t think I like it very much. Or perhaps it’s just...I don’t know. I just never know what that girl is thinking.”
“You’d mentioned the hearings in February,” Nell prompted.
“Oh, those blasted hearings.”
“Constable Skinner claims that there were secret sessions at which your husband testified,” Nell said. “They seem to have made him even more of a pariah among his colleagues than he’d been before. I don’t suppose you’d know anything about that.”
“No, all Colin would tell me about the hearings was that he wasn’t in any trouble and everything would turn out all right. It was his way of keeping me from worrying, but it had the opposite effect. I kept imagining the worst possible outcomes.”
“Does your husband have any enemies?” Will asked. “Aside from Skinner. Someone who might want to see him hang for a murder he didn’t commit?”
“Just Skinner’s colleagues, the other city detectives. I can’t think of anyone else.”
“What about friends?” Nell asked. “Someone at City Hall, perhaps, who could tell us what really went on in those secret hearing sessions.”
“Or who might have been privy to his dealings in the North End,” Will added.
“Well, there’s Ben Shute,” Chloe said. “Ebenezer, really, but Colin calls him Ben. He’s Superintendent of Pawnbrokers. A few years younger than Colin, mid-thirties, I should think—a bachelor. Lost an eye and a leg at Fredericksburg, poor fellow. Colin got to know him when he joined the Detectives’ Bureau in City Hall. Their offices were on the same corridor.”
“Are they just casual acquaintances,” Will asked,
“Tuesday afternoon. He came home for lunch. It’s the one meal we always share together, because he sometimes works so late. He’s often not home till after I’ve gone to sleep. I woke up yesterday morning and reached over to his side of the bed, but he wasn’t there. The covers were undisturbed, and it was obvious his head had never lain on the pillow. I knew immediately that something was wrong.”
“Did he happen to mention what he would be doing later on Tuesday?” Will asked. “Where he might be headed?”
“Colin doesn’t talk much about his work, not the day-to-day specifics of it, but I do know that he spends most of his time in the North End. Fort Hill sometimes, and other areas, but mostly the North End. It’s his job to deal with vice, and that’s where the worst of it is. And it’s only the worst of it that he troubles himself over, not the routine things—drunken sailors, pickpockets, street girls. It’s the beat cops and watchmen who keep them in line, or try to. Colin goes after bigger game—gangs of thugs, slashers, rapists...”
“Dangerous work,” Will said.
“I fret about him constantly.” Chloe closed her eyes and shook her head. “Constantly. I wish to God he hadn’t gone to work for the state constables. He didn’t really want to. After that awful business in February, the hearings and all that...” Chloe’s gaze lit on something over Nell’s shoulder; she smiled. “Maureen. You’re early today.”
Nell and Will turned to find a moon-faced young woman in an apron and head rag unlatching the garden gate, a market basket over one arm. Eyeing Nell and Will with a kind of dull curiosity, she said, “They stayin’ fer lunch?”
“Oh. Um...” Turning to Nell and Will, Chloe said, “That would be lovely, actually.”
“Thank you all the same,” Nell said, “but we can’t stay. We’ve a great deal to accomplish this afternoon.”
“Just you, then, missus?” Maureen asked.
“No, set two places,” Chloe told her. “Out here, if you don’t mind.”
“Two?” Maureen stopped walking. “He ain’t back, is he? Detective Cook?”
“No. No, he, er, he’s not back. Mrs. Booth will be joining me for lunch.”
Maureen nodded and entered the house through the back door.
Chloe sighed. “I’m not used to having help, but I don’t think I like it very much. Or perhaps it’s just...I don’t know. I just never know what that girl is thinking.”
“You’d mentioned the hearings in February,” Nell prompted.
“Oh, those blasted hearings.”
“Constable Skinner claims that there were secret sessions at which your husband testified,” Nell said. “They seem to have made him even more of a pariah among his colleagues than he’d been before. I don’t suppose you’d know anything about that.”
“No, all Colin would tell me about the hearings was that he wasn’t in any trouble and everything would turn out all right. It was his way of keeping me from worrying, but it had the opposite effect. I kept imagining the worst possible outcomes.”
“Does your husband have any enemies?” Will asked. “Aside from Skinner. Someone who might want to see him hang for a murder he didn’t commit?”
“Just Skinner’s colleagues, the other city detectives. I can’t think of anyone else.”
“What about friends?” Nell asked. “Someone at City Hall, perhaps, who could tell us what really went on in those secret hearing sessions.”
“Or who might have been privy to his dealings in the North End,” Will added.
“Well, there’s Ben Shute,” Chloe said. “Ebenezer, really, but Colin calls him Ben. He’s Superintendent of Pawnbrokers. A few years younger than Colin, mid-thirties, I should think—a bachelor. Lost an eye and a leg at Fredericksburg, poor fellow. Colin got to know him when he joined the Detectives’ Bureau in City Hall. Their offices were on the same corridor.”
“Are they just casual acquaintances,” Will asked,
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