Free Mayhem by Sarah Pinborough Page B

better spirits. I found myself missing Juliana and her young man, who had gone to Bath for a few days; the young woman’s company was charming, and the exuberance of youth, much as a small part of me envied it, was good for the soul.
    As it was, I had spent only three night of the past ten in the opium dens of Bluegate, where I satisfied both my urge for the drug and my need to search for the dark-coated stranger – though on no occasion did I see the man. After my recollection of him at the Rainham inquest, this left me frustrated.
    Moore coughed suddenly, just one quiet expulsion,but I jumped slightly. It was only a small movement, but enough to draw Inspector Andrews’ attention to me.
    ‘Are you all right, Doctor?’ he asked. ‘You look pale.’
    Even in the gloom I could see him studying me with a mixture of concern and curiosity, and I forced a smile. ‘If I’m truly honest, I, like the dog, am no great fan of small spaces with no natural light.’
    He returned my smile and the answer appeared to satisfy him, but his eyes still rested on me, and I wondered what he was thinking. Had my behaviour become unusual? Did my increasing itch for the poppy show?
    ‘He’s digging,’ Charles said, breaking the moment, and we all turned to look. It was true: the dog might have been unsettled, but he couldn’t fight his nature.
    ‘That’s where the leg was found,’ Andrews looked at Moore. ‘Perhaps there’s still a scent there.’
    Moore said nothing. His gaze was intent on the terrier, who had lost all interest in everything except what secrets the ground might hold. The earth looked hard, only small pockets of dirt flying up with each scrabble of his claws, but he continued to dig, determined.
    We stood in silence and watched, anticipation growing. This was not an animal who was simply confused by a scent; the dog was digging with purpose. My own heart thumped in my chest. There was more ofour mystery woman to be discovered here, I was sure of it. After several minutes of mounting tension, a flash of something other than darkness appeared in the light of the candle Moore was holding over the animal: fingers, bent as if clawing their way out of the ground.
    ‘He’s got something!’
    Suddenly, where there had been stillness and silence, there was a flurry of activity. The dog was eager to retrieve his prize, but he was dragged away and back upstairs to where the newsman was waiting for him. Moore and Andrews crouched by the broken earth and excavated the rest of the limb: an arm, removed at the shoulder, just like the one pulled from the riverbank.
    ‘How much further down?’ Andrews asked after we had stared silently for a few moments.
    ‘Ten inches or so,’ Moore said.
    I looked at the earth around me. It was hard, and trodden down. ‘Then it’s been there for quite some time.’
    ‘We need to confirm it matches the rest,’ Moore said. Charles stepped up.
    ‘I’ll take it back now. Get it done.’
    ‘Thank you,’ Moore said.
    ‘No need for you to come, Thomas,’ Charles said. ‘We all know what the outcome is likely to be. This won’t take both of us.’
    He was right of course. We did all know that the matching of the limb to the body was likely to be a mere formality.
    ‘Get more men here,’ Moore growled. ‘I want to find the damned head.’
    *
    As it turned out, Smoker refused to hunt any more once more men arrived at the scene. Instead, he sat stubbornly beside his master. I wondered if perhaps he had found all the treasures the ground had to give up; I certainly didn’t think that the killer would have left the head here: a head was a clue, and whilst this man might be taunting the police with his choice of location for the body parts, I doubted very much whether he wanted to get caught just yet. After I had examined the ground from which the limb had been pulled, we headed back up to the dank night air, leaving the new body of men to continue scouring the ground once again. Andrews and