“Where have you been? I was worried.”
“I’m sorry. I was walking in the Crystal Palace Park and lost track of time. I stopped at a café for tea,” she stumbled over the lie.
“I see,” her grandmother spoke.
“I have exciting news! I saw one of the buildings Father’s estate agent sent him. It’s perfect for my plan. And not only that, the estate agent may want to invest in my project!” She said happily.
“That’s wonderful news, darling,” Malvina told her.
“Are you all right Gran? You look tired.”
“I haven’t been sleeping that well,” she admitted. “Not since—“
“I’ll have Cook heat up some milk or do you prefer brandy?” Caroline asked.
“Milk tonight. The brandy left a bitter taste in my mouth last time I had it before bed.”
“I’ll bring it up to you when it’s ready,” Caroline told her.
Malvina patted her hand and sighed. “You are such a good girl.”
Caroline watched her grandmother take the stairs slowly and looked to the fire. She closed her eyes thinking about the afternoon. She had been excited to see the Inspector at the park. It was a favorite place of hers and reminded her of the innocent times as a child, when she and Irene had romped the green lawns and under the trees.
But when he had invited her to supper with him, she had wanted to join him, if only to forget about the sorrow of the death. She had never dined out with a man, or been alone with a man, even though she had visited him at his home, which was shocking. Her state of mind had been the reason for that.
But she knew that he was taking pity on her. She knew that as the sister to the recent victim he had a job to do and looked upon her as part of the job. They didn’t discuss the case and she was relieved, but she could see it in his eyes. When he invited her to the concert, she had decided that she would not see him again. She did not want to be pitied and looked upon as someone he must be kind to. No. That would not do.
She wasn’t interested in that sort of thing anyways. She had plans and dreams to renovate the slums of London and that was her passion. It would have to be enough. She went into the kitchen and placed the glass of warm milk on the tray. She hoped it would help her grandmother sleep.
???
Val took the cab to his room and paid the driver. When he entered his room through the private entrance, he realized his room was cramped and tight. He liked the convenience of meals and a housekeeper but he also wanted something larger. When this case was over, he must look about for a different lodging. He was getting older and this room was too small.
He removed his coat and hat and thought of the afternoon and evening. It had been in a word, delightful. He had left the office needing time to think and clear his mind and went to the park to sketch. He had not expected to see Caroline Derry there as well and had spontaneously invited her to supper. He had spent much of the dinner watching her face, which was sweet to behold, and her lips, which he ached to kiss.
In the cab ride home, he had remembered the concert tickets and had asked her to join him. He should not have. It had been impulsive. He had wanted to see her again. He wanted to touch her hand, hold her tightly and tell her it would all be all right. But more than that he wanted to be with her. He wanted to look at her from across the table, see her face, look into her eyes and just sit with her.
But he had not realized that as much as he felt in her presence, she did not reciprocate his feelings. He should not have been so selfish. She was still reeling from her sister’s death and he had a job to do. He had been surprised by the feelings as well. He had been engaged to Aida and her death had left a hole within him. But there was something strong yet protective that he felt with Caroline. He knew there was a part of him that wanted to protect her, but he also wanted her.
He shook his head. He must not allow his feelings to interfere again. He must not be swayed. He must find the killer. That was his path. Nothing else mattered.
???
The rain had begun to come down again as he made his way to the tavern. It was an out of the way tavern frequented by men of the lower classes. No one would ever know or recognize them here.
He settled into the dark back room of the tavern ordering himself an ale. He knew the others would be along soon. He tried to remember all the rules that they followed. He wanted to be accepted. It meant everything to him and their patronage would ensure his business’ survival. That was what really mattered in this life. Success. Money. Everything else was unimportant. Prestige and acknowledgement were what he craved above all else.
As he took a chair inside the dark paneled wood room, he tried to remember their names. They each had a pseudonym that was to be used at all times. He was to be known as Mr. Cypress.
Another man arrived after him and he greeted him politely. “Mr. Sage.”
The man nodded to him in turn, “Mr. Cypress.”
Mr. Sage sat across from him and ordered a whiskey, glancing only briefly about as he removed his hat and gloves.
“Cold evening isn’t it,” Mr. Cypress said.
“Indeed. Quite cold.” Mr. Sage returned.