A Murder in Time(89)

Alec scowled, crossing his arms in front of his chest as he regarded them. “Wait a bloody moment. I think everyone needs to remember that this is still conjecture. We can’t be certain these girls are dead, or that they didn’t leave by their own accord, despite their apparently rather abrupt departures.”

Aldridge shook his head. “No, Alec. The odds suggest the disappearances of these women are related.”

“Mr. Kelly admitted that he didn’t go to every brothel. There could be even more missing girls in the same months or different months than the ones we know about,” Kendra conceded with a frown.

“We covered a lot of ground, miss, including a few of the lower establishments. Not every academy had missing lasses. Just them here.” Sam lifted the sheaf of papers he held.

“If this pattern is correct,” Alec began, and by the tone of his voice, he wasn’t buying it completely, “then the assailant broke it with this girl, as the month is August—not October.”

Cold dread shivered up Kendra’s spine. “You’re right. His cooling-off period just became shorter.”

“Whatever does that mean?” Rebecca asked, frowning.

“Three girls per year aren’t enough anymore. He’s escalating.”





31

Kendra wrote down each missing girl’s name, accompanied with the pertinent information of their ages, and the month they’d gone missing. Afterward she stood back and surveyed the slate board. She might not have each girl’s photograph pinned up on a murder board, but the names, filling one entire column, were eerie reminders that lives most likely had been lost.

Everyone seemed to feel the same. For several minutes, no one said anything.

Then Kendra looked to the Duke. “Could we get a map of London? I’d like to identify the location of the brothel where each of these girls worked.”

“That can be arranged. I assume you are looking again for patterns?”

Cluster analysis, she thought wistfully. In the twenty-first century, sophisticated computerized models would replace paper maps and pushpins. But nothing was stopping her from using the old-fashioned approach.

“If a pattern emerges, we could learn his comfort zone.” She shrugged. Every bit helped. She shifted her gaze to Sam. “Did you find out anything about the maid killed on Sutton Street five years ago?”

“Five years is a long time, Miss Donovan. And London is fair ter burstin’ with cutthroats. I had one of me men talk ter the local watch, but . . .” He shook his head. “Nobody much recalled the maid who died.”

It had been a long shot, she knew. Since there was no official police force, there’d be no official police files. She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose as she thought about the next step. She knew what it was. She also knew no one would like it.

“The Duke and I have compiled a list of men fitting the profile who live within a ten-mile radius,” she finally said. “It’s a starting point—”

“Pardon, miss, but why?” Sam interrupted. “Why ten miles? She got caught in the river’s current. She could’ve floated a long way.”

Kendra shook her head. “Jane Doe had sustained considerable damage, but I believe it would’ve been much greater if the body had traveled farther downstream. In fact, I don’t even think the body floated ten miles. I decided to err on the side of caution when I developed that parameter. I think we’re actually looking at a fairly tight parameter, probably much closer to where Jane Doe ended up in the lake.”

She waited for Sam to object. But the detective nodded. “Aye. That’s sound thinking, miss.”

She continued, “As I said, we considered men that fit the general profile—affluent, between twenty-five and forty-five. That’s when this type of killer hits their prime. The Duke and I then eliminated anyone who is not a landowner or doesn’t have access to property. We further narrowed the field by removing all the locals who never or rarely visited London. Finally, we crossed off any men who aren’t currently in residence because they’re traveling abroad. That leaves us with eight possibilities within the ten-mile radius. We need to find out where they were on the night of the murder.”

“’Tis a process of elimination—a logical approach.” The Duke nodded in approval.

Sam gave Kendra a thoughtful look. “’Tis an approach that’s worked well for the Runners.”

“Since Mr. Dalton has no alibi for the time in question, I assume he must remain on your list of suspects,” Rebecca commented, earning a surprised glance from Sam.

“You actually asked the guv—er, the gent where he was on the night of the murder?”

“No. Miss Donovan made the inquiry. I fear he was displeased.”

“Imagine that,” Alec murmured.

Kendra ignored the sarcasm. “I’d like to check into Mr. Dalton’s background. His wife left him for another man—I’d like to learn more about that, and about what she looked like.”

Sam eyed her curiously. “You think she may resemble the lasses?”

“May have, past tense. Mr. Dalton’s wife died—another thing to be explored. How’d she die? And when?”

“I’ll have one of me men look at Mr. Dalton’s background,” Sam agreed.