Page 129 of Disturbing the Dead
That only makes the situation worse. Emmett was in danger of expulsion, and Sir Alastair had tried to help. This wasn’t a cold professor cruelly refusing to hear Emmett’s pleas after he was caught cheating. It was an ally, and yet one with a strong set of ethics that could not condone the cheating.
“There is more,” Gray says.
He leads me to the far wall and then waits. Apparently my educational advisor is testing me. I can grumble, but I’d be grumbling more if he always pointed out what he sees without giving me a chance to develop my skills.
I touch marks in the plaster. Most are old, as if dented by previous tenants. Then I see a few recent dents, including one so new it still has plaster dust hanging from it.
I’ve seen walls like this before when I’m investigating a certain type of call. Dents in the drywall. Chips in the paint. All just above the height of my head. With these plaster walls, they’re divots. Same pattern, though.
I’m backing up for a better look when something crunches under my boot.
“I should have picked that up,” Gray says, “but I remembered you do not like me handling evidence.”
I give him a hard look. “Then you can warn me before I step on it.”
I lift my skirts and crouch. I find a sliver of rough china that I’ve crushed under my boot heel.
Gray sighs. “You do realize you are doing that entirely wrong.”
I look up at him.
“You are supposed to bend over with your posterior in the air.”
I snort. “You try doing that while wearing a corset. Now, would you hand me that lamp?”
He does, and I crouch lower to get a floor-level view. I can make out a few more slivers of china, along with drops of something.
“Can you help me up, please?” I say, lifting a hand.
“You really do need a lot of assistance today.”
“It’s the damn corset and skirts, okay?”
He sobers as he lowers his hand. “If you would prefer to dress like Jack, we could manage that. I know you were accustomed to trousers in your time.”
I heave myself up. “Tempting, but it means I need to pretend to be a man, and I’m not sure I want to wear trousers badly enough for that. With this body, I’d need a serious binder to pass as male. It’d be nice to wear trousers now and then, though. Maybe at the town house, when no one else is there? If that would be acceptable.”
“That would be absolutely acceptable. We will find you trousers and inform the others of your choice. They will not question it.”
Which is, again, why we need a very particular sort of housemaid, one who won’t be scandalized by a woman lounging in trousers… or won’t run around telling others.
I remember that I’d noticed some spilled liquid, which is why I’d needed to get up in the first place. As tidy as this apartment is, I wasn’t about to crawl over the floor.
I crouch again where I saw the spot. Then, when I’m pretty sure I know what it is, I reach down and touch it. My fingertip comes back red.
A drop of blood on the floor, still wet, along with several more that have already been absorbed by the wood.
From there, I find the trash and look inside. Right on top are the remains of a broken cup and a bloodied rag.
“Shit,” I say. “I really did not want to see this.”
“Hmm.”
“Marks on the wall in the kitchen area. Right at what would be roughly head height. Someone routinely throwing things at another person, the latest being a cup, very recently. They cleaned up the big pieces but hadn’t swept yet. Blood on the floor, and a bloody rag in the trash.”
“I had not noticed the blood myself,” Gray says. “Just the broken cup and the wall, the marks suggesting a pattern of behavior.”
“A pattern of domestic violence by one partner against the other.”
