The Body in Seven Dials by H L Marsay

Author:H L Marsay [Marsay, H L]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction
Publisher: The Tule Publishing Group, LLC
Published: 2023-06-06T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twelve

The next day, Dorothy was on patrol alone. Nina was meant to be with her, but her restless friend was becoming increasingly bored with the regular routine of patrols. She’d begged Dorothy to let her spend the morning writing an article she was working on instead. Dorothy didn’t mind being on her own. As she walked, she could think about Elsa Dubois. Inspector Derwent had seemed to accept the doctor saying her death was suicide, but Dorothy couldn’t believe it any more than she believed Edith Devine would be distraught over Muller. Would anyone choose to end their life because of a skin rash? And if she had wanted to kill herself with poison, surely she would have swallowed it, but that obnoxious man had said there was no trace of cyanide in her stomach. How else could it have happened? And why was there cocaine on her face? Then there was the spilt gin she apparently hadn’t drunk. None of it made sense.

The streets were quiet. Despite the time of year, there was a chill wind blowing, shaking the cherry blossom from the trees. It almost looked as though it was snowing. Anyone she passed had their collars up and their heads down as they hurried on their way. On every corner, the newspaper vendors were shouting about the casualties from the Zeppelin raid. The death of three more children in the East End had briefly taken attention away from the hundreds of soldiers who had lost their lives on the other side of the Channel. Death seemed to be everywhere.

As there was little else to keep her busy and she was alone, Dorothy decided to pay another visit to the house in Seven Dials. No doubt Inspector Derwent had ensured the place was secured after his search, but it couldn’t hurt to take a look. Perhaps she might even find Elsa’s elderly neighbour. It was still bothering her that she hadn’t found out her name. She’d been proud of working alongside the regular police and thought she and the other Women’s Police Volunteers acted just as professionally, but she’d felt like an utter amateur talking to the inspector.

She walked purposefully through Covent Garden, ignoring the drunken soldiers on leave and the gaudily dressed women plying their trade. She was almost at Elsa’s house, when a small man hurrying by caught her attention. She’d recognise that ferrety face anywhere. It was Archibald Abbey, the man she’d seen in Mead’s courtroom, accused of abusing the girl from Horseferry Road. She stopped and strained her neck to see where he had gone, but her view was blocked by a cart piled high with sacks of coal. After it had trundled by, he had disappeared. She turned to the two women sitting behind her on the steps of the Royal Opera House, smoking.

“That man who went by just now, do either of you know him?”

“Yes, more’s the pity. Filthy creature. They should string him up.”

“He won’t hang about if he knows what’s good for him.

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