Southampton Row - Anne Perry [25]
“Who is the victim?” he asked as soon as they were moving.
“Maude Lamont,” Grenville replied. “She’s supposed to be a spirit medium, sir. One of them what says she gets in touch with the dead.” His tone and the expressionless look on his face conveyed his opinion of such things, and the fact that he felt it inappropriate to put it into words.
“And why does Mr. Narraway think it has anything to do with my case?” Pitt asked.
Grenville stared straight ahead.
“Don’t know that, sir. Mr. Narraway never tells nobody things as they don’t need to know.”
“Right, Sergeant Grenville, what can you tell me, other than that I am late, I am going to walk in on my erstwhile sergeant and take away his first case, and I have no idea what it’s about?”
“I don’t know either, sir,” Grenville said, glancing sideways at Pitt and then forward again. “Except that Miss Lamont was a spiritualist, like I said, and ’er maid found ’er dead this morning, choked, it seems. Except the doctor says it wasn’t an accident, so it looks like one of ’er clients from last night must ’ave done it. I suppose ’e needs you to find out which one, and maybe why.”
“And you have no idea what that has to do with my present case?”
“I don’t even know what your case is, sir.”
Pitt said nothing, and a moment later they pulled up just beyond Cosmo Place. Pitt climbed out, closely followed by Grenville, who led the way to the front door of a very pleasant house which was obviously that of someone in most comfortable circumstances. A short flight of steps led to a carved front door, and there was deep white gravel along the frontage to either side.
A constable answered the bell and was about to turn them away until he looked beyond Grenville to Pitt. “You’re back at Bow Street, sir?” he said with surprise, and what seemed to be pleasure.
Before Pitt could reply, Grenville stepped in. “Not for the moment, but Mr. Pitt is taking over this case. Orders from the ’ome Office,” he said in a tone which cut off further discussion of the subject. “Where’s Inspector Tellman?”
The constable looked puzzled and interested, but he knew how to read a hint. “In the parlor, sir, with the body. If you’ll come wi’ me.” And without waiting for an answer he led them inside across a very comfortable hallway decorated in mock Chinese style, with lacquer side tables and a bamboo-and-silk screen, and into the parlor. This too was of Oriental style, with a red lacquer cabinet by the wall, a dark wooden table with carved abstract designs on it, a series of lines and rectangles. In the center of the room was a larger table, oval, and around it were seven chairs. Double French doors with elaborate curtains looked out into a walled garden filled with flowering shrubbery. A path curved away around the corner, presumably to the front of the house or to a side gate or a door to Cosmo Place.
Pitt’s attention was drawn inevitably to the motionless body of a woman half reclined in one of the two upholstered chairs on either side of the fireplace. She seemed in her middle to late thirties, tall and with a fine, delicately curved figure. Her face had probably been handsome in life, with good bones, and framed by thick, dark hair. But at the moment it was disfigured by a terrible, gasping contortion. Her eyes were wide and staring, her complexion mottled and a strange white substance had bubbled out of her mouth and down over her chin.
Tellman, dour as always, his hair slicked back from his brow, was standing in the middle of the room. To his left was another man, older, thicker-set, with a strong, intelligent face. From the leather bag at his feet Pitt took him to be the police surgeon.
“Sorry, sir.” Grenville produced his card and held it out to Tellman. “This is a Special Branch case. Mr. Pitt will be taking over. But to keep it discreet, like, it would be better if you were to remain ’ere to work with ’im.” It was said as a statement, not a question.
Tellman stared at Pitt. He tried hard to mask his feelings, and the fact that he was taken by surprise,