Love Makes Us Monsters

Intuition, Inspector

Chapter 3

Intuition, Inspector

The police station was three blocks over from The Gallant. The station seemed meager, dull, and would have been easily overlooked if it weren’t for the officers standing at attention outside the entrance, as well as a small group of three. They chatted and smoked, taking a break from their duties.

I marched up the front steps. A woman on a mission. I threw open one of the doors and walked inside. Curious and startled glances greeted me from the personnel. Men in uniforms sat at desks or stood in the walk-in area. At the desk nearest the front door, a younger man sat. I stomped over to him.

“I demand to see the inspector overseeing the murder of a colored woman from yesterday morning,” I said with conviction. The young man paled at my tone. He also avoided eye contact. Then again, it would not be the first time I had this reaction from a man. They often found me intimidating.

“Y-yes, ma’am,” he stuttered as he stood.

He stood, shaking, and scrambled as he headed to and disappeared into one of the back offices. Moments later, he reappeared, seemingly more nervous. A tall, well-groomed man on his tail. The man’s steel gray eyes were on the lad but drifted to where I stood. Meeting my scornful glare. Did he just roll his eyes? At me? The boy was still stammering as they came to where I stood.

“Th-this is th-the one, Inspector D-Daniels.”

“Thank you, Terence. That will be all.” The man’s voice was as gruff and chilled as I had remembered. “What may I assist you with, ma’am?”

“Firstly, the name is Charlotte Webster.” I took a momentary pause to allow the name to sink in. A handful of officers around us looked up with stunned faces and awe. As they should. It was Father’s funds that helped build this very station. The Inspector did not seem to care about this trinket of information, though. “Secondly, I have come to retrieve the property that you stole from me yesterday.”

“I took nothing but evidence, Ms. Webster,” he stated with an icy, pointed tone.

“You forcefully took Gallant property under false pretenses,” I stated with annoyance.

“Keep your voice level, ma’am.” He came close and in a hushed voice said, “your false accusations could be heard and cost me my reputation.” A glare accompanied this statement.

“Give me back the notepad that you stole,” I said in an equally hushed tone, “and I shall forget there was ever such a situation, Inspector.” I could hear venom resonate in my voice. It made me proud. This man was not so amused.

“Follow me,” he said as he turned to head back to his office. He did not stop or wait to see if I followed; simply walked on through the desks to his office door. Seemingly without a care. I hurried after the arrogant man. He held the door open for me. The first gentlemanly thing he had every done in my presence. The plaque on the door read “Inspector Daniels.” I committed the spelling to memory. After walking past him and into the bland office room, he closed the door. The click of the hinge the only sound. No pictures or trinkets decorated the room. A study desk, a chair, and coat rack in the corner were the only furniture. The desk itself was littered with scattered papers. Interesting. A decent sized window on the far wall showed a dingey view of the back alley.

The Inspector walked around me, around his desk, then reached for what I imagined to be a drawer. From it, he pulled out my notepad. He shut the drawer soundlessly.

“Ma’am, if you would mind keeping your trap shut about things you know nothing about, it would be much obliged. I do not need some spoiled girl tarnishing my reputation.”

I gaped at him.

The nerve of this man!

“I do not need to be bullied by some egotistical and arrogant man that feels he can push people around due to his position in law enforcement.”

“How did you know the things in your notes?”

“What does that matter?” I asked, baffled at how quickly he changed the subject.

“You knew details. Details of the victim that you could have no knowledge of unless you had been looking over the body in the alleyway. I find that curious. For example, not a glimpse of her skin was showing outside the alley.”

“Perhaps your fellow officers are too loose lipped.”

“I have already followed that line of inquiry.” He sat at his desk, then, playing with the notepad as he continued to speak. “It was simple to see which officer had spoken to you, as you stated in your notes. There were seven officers and me at the scene. I questioned them separately. Found the officer. To which he told me, you asked if it had been a colored woman that lay on the cobblestone. So, I ask again, how you knew such a detail?”

A smirk crossed his lips.

“Intuition, Inspector,” I stated with a matter-of-fact tone.

My mother had made sure to teach me, once she realized my gifts of seeing spirits, to not speak of it to anyone. She told me people would not understand it; they would not understand me; that they may fear me for it. To tell them intuition was the reason I knew things was the way to play it safe. It was the best way to avoid a hanging noose or pyre.

The man before me was not convinced, though, it would seem.

“If you are telling me any falsehoods, I will find out. Social station or not. No one can hide or run from the law, ma’am.” He reached out his hand holding the notepad to me. His eyes bore into me as if daring me. Challenging me. I held his gaze as I walked up to his desk. I reached out and placed a firm grip on the notepad.

“A woman’s intuition is a better tool than an inflated ego, Inspector Daniels,” I told him. Then, I proceeded to rip the notepad from his fingers. I turned away with a triumphant smile and threw open the door, trying not to laugh as I heard the door crash against a wall of his office. I stopped in the doorway, turning back to the man. “Good day, Inspector.” I attempted a seething smile.

The bastard smirked!

I continued my leave. Once outside the station and on the street, I took a glance at my notepad. My very empty notepad. Panicked, I ruffled through all the pages. Not a single one had any writing. I wanted to throw the notepad.

“Bastard!” I yelled right there in the street.

∞

Later that afternoon, I sat in my office, knocking over in my muddled brain what my notes had said. My fury was being my downfall, though. Inspector Daniels’ smirk and rude insinuations replayed like a horrible loop.

Fowlers distressed at scene

Woman found

Pool of blood/fluid around upper body

The next move I should take would be to visit the Fowlers. Reginald was a good friend of sorts with Father, otherwise he would not have been at any of Father’s get togethers. He was even more so good friends with Nathaniel.

“My dear Charlotte, what has you so deep in thought?” a voice sounded from the door.

“Nathaniel! I was just thinking about you. How did you know?” I could not help but smile at the man. A look of surprise came over his features, a slight pink to his cheeks. Hardly noticeable to the average person. It took him a moment to gather himself again before replying.

“Only good things, I hope.”

“Of course.”

He grinned at that.

“I wanted to stop by and tell you that I shall be leaving London for a short time. In the morning I will be on a ship off to do my father’s bidding. There is some business with his partners that he would like me to take care of personally.”

My smile fell.

“So soon? But you only just got back to the city.”

He removed his hat and focused on it as he fiddled with the brim. Instead of browns, I noted, Nathaniel’s suit and trousers were a gray sheer fabric. A silk gray bowtie at his neck. Sleek black shoes shined from the light cascading through the windows. However, it was the expression on his face that caught my attention most. I had seen it too many a time.

“Nathaniel, what troubles you?”

The distress was set in his features.

“I wanted to speak with you before I left. I did not have the chance last evening.” He paused, as if trying to put the words together properly. “I spoke with your father on the true reason behind my visit. My reason. I asked your father if I may court you properly, in the prospect that we would marry in the future.” His blue eyes peered at me, searching my face for some reaction. For some answer.

“You want t-to marry me?” I was befuddled.

“Yes. We have always been close, so it would make sense. Our families are close. You always cheered on my success.” He took cautious steps across the room to my desk. I still sat, the shock of his words settling in. “I could provide a very comfortable life for you. You would not have to work in this place where you are underappreciated as a writer. You would have no trouble from law enforcement. Father has influence over them. You could live a comfortable, quiet life with no problems. We would spend our days together. Happily, as man and wife.” He reached his hand slowly across the desktop for my hand, my hand that was gripping a lead pencil as if for dear life, as if he needed the contact. As if craving the connection.

I could feel the need, knowing it was not my own. It felt primal, urging, and sent shivers down my spine. Before his fingers grazed my skin, I pulled away my hand and tucked it under the desk on my lap. Nathaniel’s face fell.

“Nathaniel,” I spoke softly, “I enjoy my job here. As underappreciated as I may be. I get to share my voice with the people of London. I enjoy the excitement here, doing this. I have no need for a quiet or comfortable life.”

“You put yourself in danger by doing this. You are a woman, Charlotte- “

“Yes, I am a woman. I have made feats for my fellow females by simply fighting to be here. Fighting to stay here. By doing what I do.” By the end of that, my voice was raised and agitated. He did not understand. I had spent my life up until then being told all the things I couldn’t do due to being born a female. Nathaniel had never told me before to abandon my rebellious ways. Until now, that was. He had sent me words of encouragement each time I would send him with news of Father being adamant and stubborn about a woman’s place in society. Now, he asked me to give up all the progress I had made.

“Charlotte, I meant no ill will by saying that.” He reached for my face. Abruptly, I stood from my desk and backed away. Out of arms reach from him.

“Is there a problem here, Ms. Webster?” a cool voice asked from the doorway.