A Lady's Guide to Mischief and Mayhem (A Lady's Guide #1)(3)
Caro tilted her head, a grin widening on her face.
“A sort of lady’s guide to murder, you mean?”
“Yes, but I think we should call it A Lady’s Guide to Mischief and Mayhem.”
“A tribute to Sir Horace?” Caro tittered.
“Exactly right.” Kate glanced over to where that gentleman was holding forth on more of his notions of propriety. “He deserves it, don’t you think?”
Chapter One
One Week Later
And this is my office,” Kate said, ushering Caro into her refuge at The London Gazette.
It was unusual for a woman to spend time in what was generally considered to be a male sphere, even more so for her to carve out space there. But she’d made it clear to the publisher, managers, and editors when she’d assumed ownership after her husband’s death that she intended to write for the paper and to give her input when she thought it necessary.
“Have a seat,” she continued, gesturing toward an upholstered chair, then moving to take her own seat behind the large cherry desk that grounded the room. A thick Aubusson rug covered the floor, and gas lamps abolished the gloom of the fog beyond the window. “My secretary, Flora, will bring us some refreshments in a moment and then we can discuss our ideas for the column.”
Caro, who was outfitted in a deep green silk gown with a matching hat perched rakishly atop her dark curls, looked around her with wide-eyed interest. “You’ve created a refuge for yourself here. I approve.”
They’d started the morning with a tour of the premises, moving from the basement, where the printing presses and typesetters were housed, and making their way up to the floor where the executive offices were located. Kate’s office was a corner one and offered a view of the city that was unparalleled—or it would have done if the fog ever lifted enough to allow it. “It wasn’t without controversy.” She leaned back in her chair. “I may have been the new owner, but none of the men in positions of authority were keen on having a lady on the premises day in, day out. But they eventually came around.”
She was understating things a bit. The manager and several of the editors had expressed their disapproval of her plans in no uncertain terms. When she’d made it clear that they were welcome to find employment elsewhere, however, these objections had mysteriously evaporated. After a few years they’d all learned to work together, and if the men still had complaints, they at least kept them away from her ears.
“I can only imagine.” Caro frowned. “There is little men dislike more than having a woman disrupt what they consider their own personal territory.”
Kate removed a notebook from a desk drawer and took up the fountain pen lying on the blotter. “Now, let’s talk about our first column. It should be about the Commandments Killer, yes?”
Removing her own notebook from the little purse she carried at her wrist, Caro agreed. “As two of the victims have been women, I think it’s more important than ever that we offer a female perspective on the case. Women are frightened. And rightly so.”
Deciding they’d better get a handle on the case itself before they wrote about it, Kate asked, “What do we know about the investigation so far?”
“There have been four victims, two men and two women.” Caro read the names of the victims from her notebook, where she’d already written them down. “Each has been left in a conspicuous location, with a note bearing one of the Ten Commandments left somewhere at the scene.”
“Here.” Kate moved to where a slate like those found in most schoolrooms lay propped against the wall. Lifting it, she hung it on a blank bit of wall from a hook on the back. Taking a piece of chalk, she neatly wrote the names of each victim in one column, the location of the body in another, and the Commandment that had been left with each body in the last. “Now, what can we conclude from this list?”
“The Commandments are out of order,” Caro said after staring at the list for a moment. “Nate Slade, the first victim, was marked with the Tenth Commandment, ‘Thou shalt not covet thy neighbor’s goods,’ but the second victim, Martha Peters, was left with the Fifth, ‘Honor thy father and thy mother.’ And so on.”
“Good point,” Kate said thoughtfully. “I wonder why.”
“It’s possible the killer selects his victims based on things they’ve said or done and so chooses the Commandment to fit the victim and not the other way round,” Caro said. “I read in an article about Slade that he was known for his jealousy of his brother’s boots, which he himself could never have afforded on his wages. He’d complained rather vocally about them in his local pub the day before he was found dead.”
“Oh!” Kate began shuffling through a stack of newspapers on her desk. When she found what she was looking for, she said with triumph, “Here it is. The fourth victim, Betsy Creamer, was overheard at a chophouse, near where her body was found, declaring that she’d not been to church in over a year. She was marked with ‘Remember to keep holy the Sabbath.’”
It took them some time, but after the two ladies had read through the accumulated stories about the four victims, they found associations between each of the victims and something they’d done or said that went against the Commandments that had been left with their bodies.