Read Online Ghost of the Thames by May McGoldrick - Free Book Online

I’d
guess the deceased went in the river about the same time you say
your niece fell overboard.”
    The inspector led them down the
stairs, and Hodgson stood at the older man’s elbow, ready to offer
assistance.
    The smell of death was unmistakable.
The cobbled floor was slick, and the three men moved with care
toward the bodies. Two lay on benches and four more lay
unceremoniously on the floors, dingy sailcloth covering
them..
    “Did all of these come in since we
were here last?” John Warren asked, pulling the handkerchief away
from his mouth to speak.
    “ No, sir. We have at least
this many every night, sometimes twice this. These poor devils were
only brought in last night.”
    “Which one is it?” John Warren asked
in a grave voice.
    “This way.”
    “Do you know how she died?”
    “The night surgeon’s opinion was that
the girl died before entering the river. Our morning man says the
deceased clearly drowned after falling. Right now, we are writing
it down as ‘cause of death unknown’. Too much damage, and too much
time passed, if you know what I mean.”
    Hodgson stood at his employer’s elbow,
watching him closely. Before this week, he’d never seen a corpse
dredged out of the river. It was the visible damage that the river
inflicted on the dead that bothered him most. Bloated torsos and
limbs, the ungodly ashen color of the skin, the missing eye or
noses, the flesh torn ragged by feeding fish. After that first
visit, he hadn’t been able to get a wink of sleep unplagued by
nightmares.
    He wished to see an end to
it soon. He wanted this one be Catherine Warren, so he would never have to
return to this godforsaken place again.
    The inspector lifted the cover off the
corpse’s face. Hodgson covered his mouth with the handkerchief
again and tried not to gag. Most of the flesh was entirely gone
from the face. If it weren’t for the shanks of long brown hair, he
wouldn’t even be able to tell this had once been a woman in
life.
    John Warren visibly shuddered, but
stood his ground and studied the face. “What of her
clothes?”
    “Those bits and pieces were all that
were left,” the inspector said, pointing at a small pile lying on
the bench at the foot of the corpse.
    The old man limped to them and poked
at the fabric with his cane.
    “No. No, I am certain of it,” he said
finally. “She is no relation of mine. This woman cannot be
Catherine.”
    The corpse’s face was covered again.
The inspector led the two visitors up to the jailer’s yard, where
he opened an iron gate leading to an alleyway. Even with the river
so close, the fresh air—in Hodgson’s view—was a godsend.
    “Thank you, Inspector, for notifying
me immediately when a body is brought in that fits my niece’s
description.” Warren paused by the gate. “Of course, I am still
hopeful that Catherine was able to swim to shore, even though my
people tell me that possibility is very unlikely, considering the
distance and inclement weather that night.”
    "The inspector walked with them along
the refuse-filled alley to the front of the police station. “I
received notice that the coroner’s inquest is to be held next
week.”
    “Yes, I received that notice, as
well,” John Warren replied. “Will you be there?”
    “More than likely, sir. I very well
could be called in to testify. But maybe by then your niece will
show up at your doorstep, hale and hearty, and we’ll have no need
for judge and jury.”
    “I wish for nothing more, Inspector,”
Warren said with a nod before preceding Hodgson into his waiting
carriage.
    When they were a street away from the
police station, Hodgson voiced his concern. “Beg your pardon, sir.
But in identifying Miss Warren, your opinion must hold sway over
that of anyone else in London.”
    “Naturally. What is your point,
Hodgson?”
    “Well, sir. Just this.” He cleared his
throat, choosing his words carefully. “There is simply no
possibility that Miss Warren could have lived. So why