“Well, well, well,” he murmured as he drew the man’s cravat away from his neck and found dark, mottled bruising around the throat that had clearly been the cause of death.
That rules the woman out, he mused with no small measure of satisfaction. Once again he had to stop and think about the quiet thrill of relief that surged through him. Rather than acknowledge any form of attraction to the intriguing bundle of trouble beside him, he buried his interest behind a deep scowl.
“What is it?”
Luke glared up at her. “Well, given these bruises are around his throat, I think it is safe to say it is the reason he is dead,” he said sarcastically.
“You don’t have to be so rude,” she declared with a sniff. “I don’t know as much about dead bodies as you apparently do.”
There was a hint of accusation in her voice that irked him. He pushed to his feet and glared at her. “Are you hinting that you think I had something to do with this?” he asked with one longer finger pointed at the corpse.
Poppy shifted warily. Maybe it hadn’t been such a good idea for her to raise her suspicions about his innocence right now, and with him directly.
“I am just saying that it is an odd time of the morning for a gentleman to be taking a stroll.” She glanced pointedly at his suit that was more befitting for a gentleman trader, maybe a shop owner, who should be at work by now rather than in a park. Sensing he was about to scold her, she tried to reason out her deduction. “You seem to be completely disaffected by that, him, and, well, you are tall enough, and strong enough to, well, you know.” She lapsed into silence, not entirely sure if she knew where she was going with this. She watched the cold flash of fury flicker in the depths of his eyes and shivered with a deep sense of foreboding.
“Well, you had better hope and pray that I am not the killer, my dear, or you are in serious trouble. You have seen me run after those street urchins not long ago. What makes you think that I can’t catch you, especially as encumbered by those long skirts as you are?” He studied the said skirts meaningfully for several moments before he allowed his insolent gaze to roam freely over her until he met her somewhat horrified gaze.
Poppy swallowed and stared at him. “I-I-I shall scream,” she threatened in a voice that shook with fear. She took a step backward. He took a step forward.
“Well, go on then,” Luke declared, holding his arms out wide to indicate the empty pathways. “I don’t think many people will be able to hear you, but feel free if it makes you feel better.”
“I am not saying you k-killed him,” Poppy countered. She wished now that she had kept her mouth shut.
“No? Really? It is better for you if I didn’t,” Luke retorted flatly.
He swore beneath his breath and decided there and then that he had pandered to her delicate sensibilities enough for one day. She had been stupid enough to wander around a park unchaperoned; so anything that happened to upset her was just her tough luck. He pierced her with a glare and pointed toward the body. “Do you know him?” He demanded when she didn’t seem inclined to say anything else. “Are you here to meet him?” His question lashed across the silence.
Poppy hated to do it but she looked at the body. She squinted until her eyes were nearly shut but peeped down at the pale face of the dead man. It was something of a relief to be able to declare quite pointedly:
“No, I do not know him.”
“Did you see him in the park this morning?”
Poppy shook her head. “The only people I have seen in the park have been you and those pick-pockets. I take it that’s what they were?”
Luke nodded. “Did they snatch anything from you?” Given the way she was clutching the handle of her bag with white knuckles he suspected that nobody was going to get that bag away from her and was unsurprised when she shook her head.
“They tried but then you turned up.” Poppy gulped. “Do you think they did it?”
“The pick-pockets?” Luke was already shaking his head. “The urchin who ran at you barely came up to your waist. I cannot see him having the capability of strangling someone of this size, can you?”
Poppy shook her head. If the only people in the park had been her, Luke, the pick-pockets and the dead man, and the pick-pockets hadn’t been responsible; she knew she wasn’t responsible. That left only one person. Not only did Luke have the size, he also had the strength. She gulped and took another step backward.
Luke watched her study his arms and turn her gaze back to the mottled bruising still darkening around the dead man’s neck. He knew from the look in her eye what was going through her mind and was as stunned as he was disgusted by it.
“Don’t think for one second that I am responsible for this. I was just walking through the park when I came across you and the pick-pockets.” He cursed again when she merely stared at him in silence that was more accusatory than anything she could have said.
He heaved a sigh and wondered where his colleagues were. While he hoped they had continued to chase the pick-pockets across London, he also hoped that someone would have been close enough to come to his assistance by now. At the moment, he needed as much help as he could get. The woman, as intriguing as she was, was next to bloody useless, mainly because he suspected she had an entirely different set of problems completely unrelated to the corpse. He suspected that her problems had more to do with the precious contents of her bag she was protecting as though her very life depended on it. He tried to decide whether it was worth pursuing; to find out what was in the bag, but then wondered if he was involving himself a bit too much. He had enough problems to contend with already. The last thing he needed was to get involved in some foolish woman’s idiosyncratic issues.
“Should we say a prayer or something?” Poppy asked suddenly. She had never found a dead body before and wasn’t sure what the correct thing to do was. Should she cross him, or say a prayer, or just run for the magistrate?
“Look, if it makes you feel better then yes, say a prayer. I don’t really care right now,” Luke groused.
Before he lost his temper with her completely and did something he would regret later, he turned his attention back to the contents of the man’s pockets. He tried to open the sodden mess that had once been a piece of parchment, but it was too wet to be of any use. Anything that had been written on it had long since been washed away by the river water. The coins were just loose change Luke himself usually carried in his pocket and, apart from a fob watch and chain there was nothing else on the man that gave any hint as to where he came from.
“He is aristocracy,” she said quietly. The fine quality of the shirt he wore, together with the small, gold cravat pin was an indication that this man had once been a gentleman of leisure. “Who lives around here?”
Luke snorted. “This is London. At this time of year it is packed to the rafters with the wealthy. He could be from anywhere. Just because he has been found here doesn’t mean he came from here.”