Chapter 1 #2
He was older than the constable I had first encountered or the desk officer, pleasant enough with brown hair greying around the temples, moustache, and brown eyes with a congenial expression, no doubt meant to put me at ease.
“I am Detective Inspector Landry,” he introduced himself. “It seems that it has been a difficult day for ye,” he commented.
“Ye are newly arrived in Edinburgh,” he added as he studied the report that had been made earlier when I arrived.
“Not wot we usually see when this sort of crime has been committed.”
Not what they usually saw? Once not very long ago, I was exactly the sort they might see on the street.
Had I changed so very much? My manner of speaking? The clothes I wore? Like a costume that I had put on, disguising who I really was?
Who was I?
An orphan abandoned years before? The young girl who worked in a brothel in order to survive? The real person I was hidden behind an education and fine clothes?
“I chose to be who I am a long time ago. It’s not a matter of wealth or title. It’s about fighting against the expectations of other people. You can be exactly what you choose to be, my dear,” Lady Antonia had told me when I first arrived in London. “Not that it is ever an easy thing.
“An education is merely the means of making that happen. The rest of it is up to you. Mikaela is an example of a young woman who simply refused to accept what others thought she should be. Good heavens, but the girl was challenging from time to time.
“I’m quite proud of her. Times are changing for young women, if somewhat slowly. Still, you have the opportunity to discover what you can be.”
I had already explained twice that I was there to see an old friend. First to the constable I had encountered at Dory’s flat, then to the constable who made the official report after I was ‘escorted’ to the police station.
Inspector Landry looked up when I did not respond, with an expression of what might have been sympathy.
“I realize that it must have been most difficult to find yer ‘friend’ in such a manner. How did you know the woman?”
The woman. Now dead, little more than a few details in his report. To be filed and then no doubt forgotten, merely another murder in a place where it was all too common. That had not changed in the time I had been gone.
“She has a name,” I replied.
He looked up, that dark gaze softening. “I apologize Miss Montgomery. You are quite right. I know this must be difficult. Can ye tell me how you were acquainted with Dory Brown?”
My hands were cold in spite of the fact that it was not cold in the room. I clasped my hands together.
“We met several years ago. We continued to stay in contact with letters.” I left it at that. I had learned from Mikaela that very often the less said was often best.
“It seems that you have read them,” I pointed out what had been taken from me when I arrived. I had been allowed to keep the portmanteau with me.
That dark gaze returned to mine, not unkindly.
“I apologize. There are things we are required to do on behalf of a victim when a crime has been committed.”
“Ye are acquainted with Sir McQuarrie, a man of some reputation,” he commented. “It was mentioned in one of the letters.”
“We have not yet met. I hoped to call on him when I arrived.”
“The letter was provided by Sir Laughton, a well-known member of the legal profession in London.”
“They are acquainted from university,” I replied. “I would appreciate it if you would return that letter as well as the others.”
“Of course.” Inspector Landry handed me Sir Laughton’s letter for Sir Alastair, as well as the bundle of letters from Dory.
I tucked them into my bag.
“Ye are lookin’ for someone. The name Jacobson was mentioned in two of the letters from yer friend.”
Jacobson, the name I had given Dory. It was the only thing I remembered from years before as a very young child.
A connection to my family? It was all that I had, and I had asked Dory to learn what she could.
“It is a private matter.”
He nodded, but did not pursue further questions regarding the letters. However, there were other questions.
“How long were you in the room after you discovered Miss Brown’s body?”
“Only a few minutes before the constable arrived.”
“Did you see anyone else while you were there? Or about the building?”
Only the rats in the room.
I shook my head. “Only the old woman I encountered when I first arrived. I saw no one else.”
“Had Miss Brown mentioned anyone she was afraid of, or an encounter she was concerned about?”
I shook my head as I stared down at my clasped hands.
“What will happen now?” I inquired.
His expression softened. “It has been arranged for the body to be taken to the police mortuary while we make inquiries. Are you aware of any family the woman had who might need to be notified?”
Family?
A man. The way she spoke of him, they might have been married. Or not. Then, he was gone.
‘He’s dead, ye know,” she said at the time. “Leastwise to me, he is. And good riddance.” She never spoke of him again.
I shook my head. “There is no one else.” I had other questions.
“What will happen after you make your inquiries?”
“There are means provided by the city of Edinburgh for burial in such situations.”
A prostitute’s grave that I had heard the ladies at The Church speak of before—nameless, and then simply forgotten.
“I would like to know when that happens...” I had no way of knowing what a headstone might cost, but I would make certain that she had one, some way of knowing that she had lived. That she was important, at least to me.
“I will see that you are notified, after we finish gathering any evidence that might be found in her room.”
“Would it be possible for me to accompany someone there?”
“That is a bit unusual,” Inspector Landry replied, not unkindly.
“Nevertheless,” I insisted. I was determined in this. “I’m certain Sir McQuarrie can make the necessary arrangements,” I added. “If there is any issue with my request.”
As I had learned from Mikaela Forsythe, when in doubt insist on what you wanted.
“I can make the arrangements,” he replied. “You might recognize something that could be important.”
I thanked him and stood. “I would like to leave now.”
He nodded. “There are no further questions for now.” He closed the folder, the writing on the tab simply stating that it was in the matter of the death of a prostitute in Fleshmarket Close. Not even Dory’s name.
“Where will ye be stayin’ when we need to contact ye?” he inquired. “Do ye have family in Edinburgh?”
Family.
Inspector Landry had no way of knowing that he had discovered the real reason I was there: to learn what the name Jacobson might mean in my search for information about my true family and the reason I had been abandoned at the Foundling Hospital.
“I will find a room for the night,” I replied.
I had arranged for a loan of funds through Sir Laughton before leaving London. However, the funds were to be wired to the bank after I arrived in Edinburgh.
I had brought the money I’d saved, but it was hardly enough to afford a room in the hotel where I usually stayed when I travelled to the north of Scotland with Lady Antonia and Mikaela.
“It is not usually recommended for a young woman to be about the city alone at night.”