“Your suspicions are right. The church is no longer used for religious purposes,” he said. It sickened him to think of what this former house of worship might be the scene of nowadays.
She walked to the nave and stood there for a moment, her face as solemn as a hired mourner’s. “She was murdered here.”
“You can’t know that.”
“I feel it.”
“Then I suggest we invoke the scientific method, and . . .”
“Look for clues.” She began to walk toward the miniscule sanctuary. There was no longer an altar at the front of the church. With each step, she looked left and right, paying particular attention to the rough stone floors covered in dirt.
He moved behind her, duplicating her actions and looking in the same places she had already looked. When they reached the sanctuary, she went to the right, he to the left.
Almost indiscernible in the church’s dim light, especially in the dark corner, a scrap of red fabric was gathering dust. His stomach sank. Ellie often wore a red dress when working at Mrs. Starr’s.
He moved to the corner as if he were approaching a poisonous viper and bent to pick it up. The red was still vibrant, proving it had not been there for long. It was a moment before he could trust his voice. “Did the newspapers say what Miss Macintosh was wearing when they pulled her body from the river?”
He had not been able to read the accounts. Having known the victim, it was too disturbing for him to see her tragic death sensationalized, to know that every person in Bath had access to every morbid detail of her murder.
Dot whirled toward him. “You’ve found something!”
His voice was as grim as he felt when he said, “Perhaps.”
She raced to the other side of the church. “The newspapers said she was wearing a red dress.”
His breath hitched.
When she saw what he held, her eyes shut tightly. “This is one time when being right brings no satisfaction.”
He put an arm around her and drew her close. “I know. It’s wretched.”
He hated being here, knowing this was where poor Ellie had been lured to her death, knowing this was where she had drawn her last breath.
He didn’t like Dot being here. For the first time since he and she had begun their inquiries, it occurred to him he was putting Dot’s life in jeopardy. What if the killer learned that they might be able to identify him? The murderer would hasten to permanently silence them.
And the monster had already proven adept at overpowering the fairer sex.
All Appleton could think of was getting Dot out of there. “We need to go.”
“We most certainly are not leaving yet. If we found something to indicate Miss Macintosh was here, we might just as easily find something that may point us to her killer.”
That was the reason they had come. He hated to acknowledge that he’d gotten so alarmed at finding the location of Ellie’s death that he’d forgotten what their initial quest had been. “A pity the light in here is so poor.”
“But you’ve already had great success—as sad as it may be.” She looked up hopefully at him. “I pray we can be as fortunate in locating something that belonged to the killer.”
He looked down at the torn piece of red fabric. “This proves there was a struggle.”
She nodded somberly. “If she were fighting for her life, it stands to reason she might tear off something of his.”
He agreed.
“What size was Miss Macintosh? Was she tall, per chance?”
“No. She was average size. Neither small, nor tall.”
“So if the killer were taller than average—as that old woman described the man in Sydney Gardens with Ellie—she would have been overpowered fairly quickly. Unfortunately.”
He nodded solemnly. Not finding anything else in that same corner, Appleton moved toward the very back of the sanctuary and began to walk the perimeter. This was the darkest part of the church. He went slowly and stooped over. It was difficult to clearly see the dull stone floors because they were covered with dust and dirt and droppings from assorted creatures he dared not mention to Dot.
He found nothing of interest along the entire interior perimeter of the church and began to move toward its center. Something shiny and small caught his eye. He bent and picked it up and examined it. He knew at once what it was and where it came from.
A smile swept across his face. “Success!”
She raced to him. “What did you find?”
“Something that can possibly lead us to the killer.” He opened his palm to reveal a shiny brass button.
“A button?”
He nodded. “Not just any button. This is a button exclusive to coats fashioned by the London tailor Redmayne.”
She frowned. “I was hoping it would be the killer’s monogram.”
“I will own, this isn’t as good as a monogram, but it does tell us the killer has to be a wealthy man because Redmayne is one of the most expensive haberdashers in the Capital.”
“So it’s a safe assumption that the killer is likely a man who knew Miss Macintosh from Mrs. Starr’s?”
“It would be a sound guess.” Appleton placed the button in his pocket. “Come, love, let’s get out of here.” He wanted to get Dot into the sunlight and away from this grisly place which even smelled of decay. “We can discuss this on the way home.”
Neither of them spoke until they were well clear of the old church and far from the River Avon. It was as if they were trying to purge themselves of the stench of death associated with the rotting old church.
“How do you know about the buttons? You’ve used Redmayne before?”
“I have.”
“What of your friends?”
He shrugged. “Most of my friends use Bath tailors. I’m one of the few who spends time in London because my father—then my brother—served in Parliament and always kept a house there.”
“What about the other
