Cold foreboding shot down Fanny’s spine. “Someone was watching you, perhaps following you, but how does that tie to this case and the others?”
“I don’t know.” Worry lined his face beyond the pallor. Before her eyes, he seemingly withdrew into himself, perhaps to protect himself. “I want you to take my carriage and go home, Francesca. It’s not safe for you here.”
“We’ve been over this—”
“Damn it! For once in your life, please do as I ask!” Fear twisted through the words. He’d no doubt hoped she’d be cowed by them or else have her dander up and leave in a huff.
Well, not anymore. If there was to be a future between them, she’d meet him toe to toe. “Calm yourself, Inspector. I won’t let you drive me away due to perceived danger.”
“It’s not perceived. This is raw and real.” His eyes were haunted as he looked at her. “I barely spoke to this woman and here she is dead because of me. I won’t let that happen to you.”
Her heart broke for him and the responsibility he must feel. “I’m quite capable of taking care of myself. We’re a team, you and I, and that means we stick together.”
“But, can’t you see—”
“Enough.” She chopped the air with a hand. His need to protect her was flattering but inconvenient. “Focus on the body, William.” A wad of emotion stuck in her throat, and she forgot herself enough to use his given name instead of his title. “We shall talk about everything else later.” With a trembling hand, she drew down the bodice of the unfortunate woman’s gown at the shoulder. The initial W or M was there, as expected. “The same killer.”
“Yes.”
When she peered at him, he struggled with emotions. The man would break soon. “We need to solve this. For good, and take this person off London’s streets. It’s now beyond our hands and the press will pounce. If there’s one thing the papers salivate over, it’s dead bodies gruesomely killed.”
“I know.” He nodded and continued to examine the body. “No bruises or cuts. No sexual defiling.” He pointed at one of her hands. “Defensive wounds indicate she fought.” Then he frowned and leaned closer to gaze at the carving on her shoulder. “What’s this?” He drew her attention to a tiny silver triangle embedded in one of the down strokes of the carving.
“Interesting.” Fanny kneeled, careful to avoid the pooled blood. She took her pencil nub from her reticule and gently dug the metal out. “Why, it’s the point of a blade. Scissors perhaps.” Once the triangle stuck to the pencil lead, she held it up to examine it in the light. “Now we know why the initial carvings were thinner than the stab wounds.”
“The point of scissors? That’s difficult to believe.” He frowned as he examined the nub.
“True, but think smaller. A pair of lady’s sewing scissors.”
“Why?”
She shrugged. “Why not? Perhaps the killer used what was available.”
Understanding dawned in his eyes. “Our killer is a tailor.”
A trace of excitement went through her belly. She put the scissor tip back on the body and left her pencil nub beside it. “Or a modiste. We need to start assembling lists and find any of those folks who’ve crossed our victims’ paths.”
“I’ll assemble a few agents for the task once I return to Whitehall.”
“Good. The sooner the better.” At least it was a plausible lead. Fanny stood and with another glance at the body, added, “Or we’re looking for a woman who enjoys embroidery.”
He snorted. “Which would be most of the female population?” When she narrowed her eyes, he sobered and rose to his feet as well. “It doesn’t exactly scream killer.”
“Madness sometimes doesn’t. It goes about instead on silent feet.” Something niggled at the back of her mind, but she couldn’t grasp it to bring it forward.
Chief Inspector Pryce entered the shop at that moment. “What’s your theory, Storme?”
Quickly, William brought him up to date with their findings and assumptions.
“Interesting angle, and one we haven’t chased down yet.” A grudging respect clung to the other man’s voice. “Good job.”
“Miss Bancroft came up with it.” He shot her a look that brimmed with pride.
“I’m impressed.”
A blush infused Fanny’s cheeks from the men’s praise. “It’s just a matter of thinking differently while investigating.”
When William frowned and the shadows returned to his eyes, she was immediately on alert. “Is your ballgown finished for tomorrow night’s event?”