Felix nodded. “Yes.”
“And so now we have Irene Derry who is pregnant. Whose child is it? The artist who is a clerk by day or the mysterious man who no one seems to know anything about,” Val mused. “My gut tells me the mysterious man is the one we need to speak to. He had the motive to kill Irene. There’s no motive for the doctor or the artist, the psychology is wrong.”
The young clerk came to the office door. “A young woman is here to see you, Guvnor,” he addressed Val.
Felix looked across the way at his boss and bit back a smile.
“Did she give her name?” Val asked the young clerk.
“She did, Sir. Caroline Derry.”
Felix smiled widely at Val and then excused himself from the office.
“Show her in,” Val directed to the clerk.
The clerk soon returned with Caroline Derry in the familiar black frock with a small purse at her wrist.
“Miss Derry. An unexpected pleasure,” he told her closing the door behind her when she entered.
He watched as she sat across from him and he took the chair opposite hers rather than place the desk between them.
“I’m sorry for coming here at your place of work but I need to ask a favor of you,” she began, not making direct eye contact with him.
“A favor?”
“Yes. It’s not much but it means a great deal to me.”
“Then ask.”
“There’s a young woman I became friendly with. She lived in Whitechapel. She was to be one of the tenants at the housing project. I became quite fond of her little boy, Dickie.” Caroline smiled. “Today I went to her room—“
“You went to her room at Whitechapel? Alone?” He asked.
“Yes. I had to see her.”
“You take great risk of your person, Miss Derry.”
“It’s not your concern, Inspector.”
“I am concerned for your safety. Granted I have no legal reason to be concerned—“
“Legal reason?” She frowned.
“Well you aren’t my wife,” he stated the last word softly.
“No. I’m not your wife. And as such, you don’t need to concern yourself.”
“Very well, Miss Derry. I’ll keep my concerns to myself.”
“As I said, I went to her room to speak with her and the new tenants told me she was dead,” she said steering the conversation back to the reason she had paid him a visit.
“I’m sorry,” he said.
“Can you please find out what happened to her? Her name is Annette Gardiner. And equally important, find out what happened to the boy. Her son.”
“It means that much to you. To find out what happened to her?” He said, his voice low.
“Very much. If her family can’t pay the funeral costs, then I will. And the boy, I need to know what happened to him. I need to know he’s safe.”