Chapter Sixteen

I nspector Liam Ashton

I plopped the last report in the basket on my desk. My job had multiple challenges, but the paperwork tugged on my last nerve. Two inspectors passed by me in conversation, one nodding in greeting. Sitting back in my desk chair, I rubbed a hand over my forehead. After another late shift the night before, I was looking forward to visiting Moran, having a glass of scotch, and perhaps sharing a mutual spunking. My interlude with him hadn’t drifted far from my mind.

Stark cut across the office and headed straight to my desk. The dark blue suit fit his slender frame, and his hair was combed back with pomade. My shoulders crept up near my ears, and I tried to tamp down the unexpected apprehension. Why he still had that effect on me was puzzling. He’d shown himself to be fair-minded. My distrust of his grandfather still colored my opinion of him. Unfair but true. “Inspector Ashton, a word if you please.”

Stark turned on his heel and went back the way he’d come. He hadn’t sounded upset, yet he wasn’t smiling. My stare locked on the back of his head, I followed him into his office. There were countless reasons why he would ask to see me. I was still hypersensitive about Brown’s foundation and the threat it created to Moran. It wasn’t practical to jump to conclusions about the reasons for him wishing to see me. I would find out soon enough.

Stark waved toward the chair across from his desk, and I took the proffered seat. The office was warm after the coolness of the common room where my desk was situated. I unbuttoned my greatcoat, the material falling to the side of my legs, and waited for him to speak.

“I have a personal favor to ask you.” Stark took his seat in the rolling chair, resting his elbows on the desktop. He glanced down, a touch of color flushing his cheeks before he met my gaze. “And do not feel obligated to agree. I understand from your father that your family has been in Cheapside for multiple generations, and you’re very familiar with the neighborhood and its merchants.”

“Yes, I am very familiar with the neighborhood and most of the people who live there.” Before I was an inspector, I was a bobby on the street, meeting the locals and hearing about their struggles, as well as their successes. I missed the simplicity of it. While the job was hard, it wasn’t draining like investigating was.

Head tilted, he nodded. “It’s my understanding that you’re very good friends with Mr. Moran at the T.J. Moran Publishing Company.”

Every nerve inside me jumped to attention. I had to force myself to relax. A cool head would go a long way toward assessing the situation. Panicking would do nothing but rattle me. “Yes, Moran has been a friend of mine for many years.”

With the tilt of his head, Stark leaned forward and, in a conspiratorial whisper, said, “My mother’s birthday is coming up, and she would love to have a personalized copy of Mrs. MH Roth’s newest novel.”

His mother was a fan of gothic novels. I muffled a hysterical laugh. From what I could tell about his grandfather , the man didn’t approve of works of fiction. Not only was the Ambrosia line fiction, but it was also salacious fiction. I nodded, relief shooting through me. “Yes, I can ask Moran if he can get me an autographed copy for you.”

Leaning back in this chair, he nodded. “Excellent, I appreciate it.”

“My pleasure.” His request would give me another reason to seek out Moran. Not that I needed a reason, but he’d be interested in learning of Stark’s request. It was early, and if I played it right, I would call on Moran and see Mrs. Worth. I hadn’t forgotten the evening I had spent with her or the kiss we’d shared. Although I wanted to step out with her again, I would need to step away. She’d made her feelings known, and although I desired her, and her kiss still lingered in my mind, I did not mean it to. Or perhaps I was giving up too easily. Moran had emphasized that he wasn’t interested in her, but I had a sense that he was and thus, I would refrain from being too aggressive.

Stark tapped his pencil against the desktop, a thoughtful gleam in his eyes. “I wanted to check in with you on your investigation. I must say how you handled yourself when we talked to the witness impressed me, and I was curious if you’d found out any more information since then.”

I pulled my mind from Mrs. Worth, needing to pay attention to the conversation at hand. To be caught woolgathering wouldn’t do. “Unfortunately, no. I’ve asked some sources to put their ear to the ground, but so far, I haven’t heard anything.” It was one of the most frustrating things about the job, the waiting. The women who died needed vindication, and I was the man to provide it for them. However, it was slow going, and I had to be patient.

“I understand. It has always frustrated me that things take so much time, and every single clue you get usually leads nowhere.” Stark shook his head and swiveled in his chair, a frown wrinkling his forehead.

“It can be very frustrating. But it’s also gratifying when I catch the miscreant who committed the crime.” Apprehension of the suspect was always satisfying. It was one of the ultimate rewards of a grueling job.

Someone knocked on the door, and we both looked over to see a thin man with a balding pate. Stark’s secretary. Unlike Moran’s, his was not very appealing. I suppressed a laugh at my own internal joke. Mrs. Worth seemed to constantly be planting herself into my thoughts. I liked her cheek, and her kiss had incited my passions. Kissing Moran also stripped away my inhibitions, and to have both of them in my bed would be the ultimate fantasy.

“The commissioner is here to see you.” The little man nodded to me in greeting.

Detective Chief Inspector Stark met my gaze once more. The tension was back in his jaw. “I guess our time is at an end. If you could do that favor for me, I would gladly compensate Mr. Moran for the time.”

“I will let him know.” Lately, the Met had been cracking down on bribery amongst its members. It was moving into a new era and changing with the times. I stood and nodded to him, bypassing the secretary on my way out. I had to stop being so paranoid while around him. Eventually he would notice, and then there would be questions I didn’t want to answer.

In the short time I was in his office, most of the men in the common area had cleared out. It was time for me to leave as well. I usually exited through a side door leading to an alley that skirted the building, however, that access was closed, and I was forced to go through the lobby proper.

My footsteps echoed in the empty corridor until I approached the lobby entrance. I rubbed at my forehead and tried to will the encroaching headache back. Too little sleep had finally got to me. While Moran had slept after our encounter, I had written most of the night. Even now, my fingers itched to get back to my story.

The main character was loosely based on Moran, although he was adamant that he was nothing like the lothario. Indeed, in reality, he was not. However, he was who I imagined Moran would be if he let go of his strict control over his actions.

A flash of white caught my attention, and I noticed a woman outside the door, the feather in her plumed hat whipping in the wind in a jaunty manner. She had midnight black hair and a slender figure. My heart began to race, and I hastened my stride. Suzette.

Surely she hadn’t returned after three months of being away?

A crowd of people were on the streets, heading home after a busy day. The woman disappeared from my eyesight. Frantic, I quickened my steps, all but running to get out of the building.

When Suzette had originally told me she was leaving the country, I hadn’t believed her. Alberto, the man who kept her as his mistress, had treated her decently enough, but he was thrice her age and married.

The sun had almost disappeared, and I searched frantically for Suzette along the street. Several women were wearing hats similar to hers; thus, it was hard to distinguish her.

I had begged her to marry me, but she insisted on following Alberto to France instead. She claimed that her continued association with me wasn’t sustainable. Her past was rough and she had no desire to attach herself to law enforcement. Suzette clawed her way from the poor house by using her looks and keen wit. Her lightness of spirit drew me in from the beginning. I pushed past several gentlemen walking at their leisure, using my height advantage to look for the white plume.

After a breathless few moments, I saw the feather. Relief and renewed determination quickened my feet. A carriage was up ahead, the black lacquered exterior polished to a shine. Whoever was getting into that was quality.

Suzette had told me that she aspired to be a lady. I thought it was na?ve. One didn’t just wish to be a lady. They were born into it or married into it. I didn’t have the pedigree she needed, and I was glad for it. I scorned the aristocracy because every time I dealt with them, they scorned me. Moran was of the same mind, and his dislike was even stronger than my own.

A bobby was directing traffic with a whistle.

The sidewalk proved hard to navigate with so many pedestrians, so I took to the road to finish my pursuit, dodging several horse-drawn carriages. The shiny one pulled into traffic where the bobby was directing it. I ran faster.

One of her reasons for not wanting to be with me was my job. Her stepfather had been a bobby and had been abusive. Nobody said anything about it because of his position. Not that they would have said anything anyway. It wasn’t unusual for a man to beat his wife and children. “Suzette, stop.”

If she heard me, there was no indication. I had almost reached the carriage when the officer blew the whistle, and the carriage turned left. I caught another glimpse of a delicate profile. In the same instance, she looked over, and our eyes locked.

My stomach sank. The woman staring at me wasn’t Suzette. My footsteps slowed, my heart still racing with disappointment.

A coach driver yelled at me to get out of the road, and I stepped back. Suzette had left the country for her own safety. A maniac was out there, wanting to kill her because of what she had witnessed. She had made her decision, and I was forced to live with the consequences.

The lightness I had felt after my night with Moran seemed to leave me in a wave. I turned in the other direction to begin to walk home. Every time I thought I was over Suzette, something triggered her memory. The only thing left for me was to pick up the pieces yet again.