“There’s no need for apologies. This isn’t a dressing-down, Mr Day. But I like to acknowledge the reality of a situation, rather than pussyfoot around the way you lot do over here. You have little experience as a police, is that correct?”
“Sir, I acted as constable for four years in Devon.”
“I’m aware. But you have never lived in London until quite recently.”
“I’ve visited many times.”
“And you have no experience whatsoever as a detective.”
“No, sir.”
“And yet you were handpicked by the great detective himself as his replacement.”
“I am as surprised as you are, sir. If you’d prefer, of course, I’ll tender my resignation immediately.”
Sir Edward waved the suggestion away like a bad odor. “That’s not at all what I’m getting at, Mr Day.”
He took a handkerchief from his breast pocket and blew his nose with remarkable one-handed dexterity, tucked the cloth away, and pointed to an umbrella stand in the corner behind the door.
“The brown ivory one,” Sir Edward said. “See it there? Bring it to me, would you?”
The stand was crowded with umbrellas. Day ran his fingers across the bouquet of handles: smooth mahogany with mother-of-pearl inlays, burnished white ivory, brass and silver and semiprecious stones, tortoiseshell, carved animal heads, and scrollwork. One handle was less ornate than the others. It appeared to be of humble unworked wood, but the surface was smooth and buttery, unlike any wood that Day had seen. He assumed it to be brown ivory, and pulled it from the stand, handing it across the desk.
“Have you seen mammoth ivory before, Mr Day?”
“No, sir, I don’t believe I have.”
“It’s worth far less than the ivory we see from elephant tusks, but I place great value on it nonetheless. This was once the tusk of an animal that is long since extinct, an animal that thundered across the land in great herds, larger and heavier and more impressive than anything it encountered. And it’s now as if that animal had never existed, but for this bit of bone. Neither you nor I will ever see a mammoth, but here is the proof of its life, here in this simple umbrella handle. An elephant tusk may be worth more on the open market, but I’ve seen elephants, Day, and to hold an elephant tusk in my hand no longer impresses me.”
“Were there many of them in India?”
“What, elephants? There were some, yes.”
“I’ve never seen one.”
Sir Edward nodded. “Thank you. Yes, it’s easy to forget sometimes just how extraordinary that continent is. I do miss the sun, Mr Day. Since I arrived here, the sky has been grey and my nose has become increasingly raw. I appear to have come down with something or other.”
“I’m sorry to hear it.”
Sir Edward dismissed the sentiment. “I shall improve. Nothing has killed me yet, and a bit of wet weather won’t do the job where bullets, blades, and a scorpion’s sting have failed.”
He smiled and held the furled umbrella up to the light.
“These things, these bones of something that will never be seen again, are dug up by the bushel every day in Siberia. I wonder how many are left under the ice there.”
“I wouldn’t imagine there’s a never-ending supply of them.”
“No, of course there isn’t. So why do we value the elephant ivory so much more?”
“Elephant ivory is a good deal whiter than mammoth ivory, isn’t it, sir?”
“Hmm. Yes, it is.”
He laid the umbrella on the desk between them and leaned forward.
“I value experience, Mr Day.”
“I understand, sir. Inspector March would naturally be of greater value to you than I am. And of greater value to the Yard.”
“You’re not following. Yes, of course Mr March would be of great value to me, but as I said, he’s picked you as his successor. His experience has told him something about you which I have not yet seen. But I must rely on Mr March’s instinct. On his experience. And that means that I must trust you to be up to this job.”
“Thank you, sir.”
“You grasp what I’m trying to get at?”
“I believe so, sir.”
“Good,” Sir Edward said. “Now, you’re at a decided disadvantage here today.”
“Sir, I hope to have more time to prove myself.”
“So you want to continue on this case?”
“This case?” Day had thought they were still talking in broader terms.
“Yes. This is perhaps more than you should have to shoulder so soon after arriving. The murder of one of your fellow detectives. . I can assign someone else and there would be no shame in it for you. Blacker or Tiffany can do it. They knew Little better than you did.”
“Sir, with all due respect, and thank you for your generosity, but it could be that not knowing him might make it easier for me to investigate his death. I have no previous attachment to Mr Little.”
“You have the attachment of a fellow officer.”
“Of course, sir. I didn’t mean. . What I mean to say, sir, is that it might be more difficult for one of the other men to deal with the hard facts of a friend’s murder. I would not be troubled in quite the same way.”
Sir Edward pursed his lips and stared at a corner of the office. Day watched him, growing more nervous by the second. Finally Sir Edward blinked and turned his gaze to Day.
“Perhaps you’re right,” he said.
“Thank you, sir.”
“Is there any indication yet, any evidence, pointing to a culprit?”
“Dr Kingsley found needles and thread at the scene, sir. Obviously, they were used to. . well, to sew Little’s mouth shut. It might be worthwhile to track the manufacturer. And there’s the trunk itself. Kingsley has the body now, and the trunk as well. I’ll be paying him a visit later in the day. Meanwhile, Sergeant Kett and three of the other men are still questioning everyone who was on the platform when the trunk was found.”
“What about the porter who found it?”
“He’s being brought over.”
“Good. Let me know what resources you need. Anything at all. This takes precedence over everything else you may have going. Every man here is to be considered at your disposal.”
“Sir, that may not sit well with everyone. I haven’t proven myself to be one of them yet.”
“I don’t care whether you’re one of them or you’re a Turkish pasha, they’ll jump when you say jump or they’ll answer to me.”
“Yes, sir.”
“One more thing…”
Sir Edward hesitated, and Day braced himself for the question he knew was coming, the question that had plagued his own thoughts since he’d stood looking down at Little’s mutilated body.
“Is it him?” Sir Edward said.
“Sir?”
Day knew who him was, but he didn’t want to be the one to say it out loud.
“Is it Jack? Is it the Ripper again?”
“No, sir. I don’t believe so. Whoever killed Little … Well, it doesn’t match anything we know about Jack or his methods.”
“Good.”
Sir Edward rummaged in a drawer behind his chunk of a desk.
“I nearly forgot. He left something behind for you. For me to pass on to you.”
“Inspector March did?”
Sir Edward nodded and pushed a small, flat black leather pouch across the desk. Day hesitated before picking up the pouch and unsnapping it. Tucked in against the threadbare velvet lining, a dozen long iron keys were held in place with fabric loops. A single smaller key sat loose on top of the others, clearly added as an afterthought.
“His skeleton keys,” Day said.
“He asked me to tell you that these are the most useful tools he could give to you. They served him well in the line of duty. I’m told he had quite a collection of keys.”
“What’s this smaller key? Is it different?”
“It is. One moment, please.”
Sir Edward turned his head and sneezed. He held up a finger for a moment, then turned back to look at Day.
“Excuse me. I thought I might sneeze twice.”