A door clicked shut as feet shuffled around on wooden floors. Jack drowsily came back to consciousness, raising his bowler and craning his neck as he stretched in the chair. Barry had vanished at some point, taking any promise of rum with him. The muddled light filtering through the windows indicated it was still early morning, and by the sounds of things only a few other people seemed to be in the building. One of the four office doors leading to the front desk was open, but it wasn't Sir Bembridge's so he still had time to gather his thoughts.
A quick look at his pocket watch said 7:59 so he wouldn't have long at all. Just as Jack's feet dropped off the table the front door opened again. Even out of sight Jack knew it was the boss. His heels always clicked in long, confident strides. A contact cane tapping in rhythm at all times. Jack had just enough time to straighten up and dust himself off before he came into sight, a posh aristocratic voice echoing down the hall as someone was told to "fetch some tea". Gerald Bembridge was a tall man, slightly taller than Jack at a shade over six foot. He was thin like his greying hair, but remained sprightly for a man in his late fifties. He often stayed perfectly still for long moments in contemplation, before twitching his head back to life in a fast but fluid motion.
"Mr Ballentine, I hear you have some interesting news for me." Bembridge opened the closest office door, entering without pause for reply. Jack took his hat off and wearily shuffled in behind him, standing behind one of the two chairs in front of a large mahogany desk. The room and desk were both immaculate, devoid of any clutter or distractions save a large portrait of the king hanging on the wall. Sir Bembridge sat down first before motioning for Jack to follow suit.
"Well Mr Ballentine?"
Jack detailed his night from the moment he first noticed the shot to arriving back at the office with the body. As usual Bembridge stared right through him the whole time, a drawn out silence ensuing when Jack had finally finished. That was odd, Jack would have thought the news of a weave being compromised by pistol shot would have inflicted at least some reaction.
Bembridge craned his neck as if listening for something before finally breaking the silence, snapping to with a smack of his lips.
"So, my reports were right. And here I was hoping it was all some sort of hoax. But no one saw you or the body?" His voice had no hint of concern whatsoever, taping the desk absently.
"No, just Barry and the boy. Sir, what reports? I haven't mentioned any of this."
"Come now, you think you're the only eye's I had out there last night. This boy, do we need to worry about him repeating what he saw"
Jack was a bit taken aback. Someone had been watching him that whole time? And he hadn't noticed. He responded absently as he rifled through his memory, searching for some sign of a tail he missed.
"No, no. Just a street rat, no one would believe him anyway."
"Good, do we know the identity of the deceased? Ah, come in."
Jack hadn't turned to look until the newcomer was level with him, reaching across the table to put a cup and saucer down in front of Bembridge. A dark blue vest hugged a slim waist, as matching pants stretched taught over slightly wider hips before tucking in to knee high boots. The effect was extremely distracting, drawing attention away from a long sheath down the right boot, and the thin blade tucked inside. Burnt orange hair curled round a slim neck as the woman sat down, a strong contrast to stark white skin and a black collar.
The woman turned her porcelain face to Jack and bright green eyes swamped his soul. As one eyebrow rose quizzically he became away he had missed something, slowly peeling his eyes back to Bembridge and asking.
"Sorry sir?"
"I said this is Reed Taylor, you are going to be helping her get to the bottom of this matter."
"This matter, as in the murder?"
"Is there another? Ms Taylor is more than capable, and when dealing with those of a higher class her...finesse, will be required."
"I believe you were talking about the identity of our victim Mr Ballentine?" Reed's voice rolled melodically off her tongue, while her pronunciation reeked of a wealthy upbringing. She managed to not sound condescending, but was clearly here to complete a task and move on.
"No idea. No markings on his billfold or watch, and I wouldn't recognise one toff from another" The slang escaped from Jack's mouth before he could reel it in, Bembridge clearly not happy with the familiarity.
"Well, you can start there. Mr Ballentine, you will be reporting to Ms Taylor until further notice understood?"
Jack didn't really like the thought of taking orders from a younger woman, especially one he didn't know. But it wasn't like there was a choice involved.
"Yes sir"
"The body is down stairs?" Asked Reed, receiving a nod in return. "Then let's go take a look, maybe it's a 'Toff' ill recognise." The smallest curl of her lips hinted Reed was more amused than offended.
"Well, keep me informed Ms Taylor." The task handled, Bembridge dismissed them with flick of his hand. He instantly went about his business, opening a ledger before they had even risen from their chairs. Reed didn't wait to be shown the way and immediately made her way to the basement, Jack all too happy to follow and enjoy the view.
"What time was he shot?
"I didn't check my watch but around 1am I'd wager"
As they approached the body Reed didn't hesitate to start pulling away the tarp, only a slight wrinkle of her nose indicating any displeasure at the grisly task ahead. Jack had been a so exhausted at the end of last night's events he hadn't been paying attention. He helped roll the body over, having been laying face down for the last few hours.
"Well I think I'd recognise a nose like that, wouldn't you?" The joke accompanied by a look that said 'Not the brightest are you'. The man's nose had been somewhat flattened by the weight on it all night, and it now looked like he had been up a tree when he was shot, having hit a branch or two on the way down.
"Sorry."
"Not to worry, open caskets are out of fashion these days. Besides, wouldn't know him anyway. He was at a bordello?" Reed was pulling back the man's weave as she asked, running a finger over the hole and noting how his shirt had been melted onto the skin near the wound. "Must have been bloody hot, the lads at Cambridge might find this interesting. I'll have the body sent over to them, they love playing with the dead."
Jack wasn't sure he was talking to the same person.
"So not such a rich girl after all then?"
"Ha! The only thing I have is Lord Bembridges 'Charity', which comes at the bargain price of a life of servitude. However, one must learn to speak properly in polite company Mr Ballentine, lest they mistake one for a commoner and treat one thus." Reed's voice switching from a relaxed smooth flow to high posh and back with practiced ease. "Do try and keep up Jack. Now, let's go take a look at this bordello shall we. What's its name?"
"The Cat full of Nines, maybe not right now?"
"And why is that Jack?" Reed resting one hand on her perfect hip "Should a woman not be seen entering such a place?"
"No. Because they aren't open till 6 tonight and I'm bloody knackered."
"Oh. Well then Jack, why don't you go rest your weary little head and we can worry about national security later tonight then." Jack couldn't figure out if Reed was berating him or just pulling his leg. But all things considered he was too tired to care.
"Don't mind if I do."
Reed gave him a quick smile "Meet you back here at six then, you can show me the way."