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He'd been baffled…and slightly aggravated. As he’d told Leo while on his way out of the morgue, he was already pressed for time with his caseload—both official and unofficial. The idea of taking a leisurely hour or more to dine with the Criminal Investigation Department’s superintendent made him itch.

Jasper gave his name to the host, uncertain why Monroe—a man he didn’t know well—had invited him to a fine restaurant rather than to the Rising Sun pub next to the Yard, where most officers stopped for a pint or something to eat. Soft strains of a violin floated through the air as he was led through the restaurant toward the center of the dining room. Round, white linen-draped tables held crystal glasses and silver cutlery, along with vases of hothouse flowers. Jasper’s dark wool suit wasn’t on par with the refined threads the other patrons were wearing. It looked especially shabby in comparison to the starched suit the superintendent wore.

Monroe was already at the table, though he wasn’t alone. A young man, no older than twenty, and a young woman, perhaps a few years older than that, were seated with him. They were both dark-haired, like the superintendent, and possessed his same arrow-shaped chin. His children, Jasper presumed. He recalled that the superintendent’s wife had passed away a handful of years ago.

“Ah, Inspector Reid, I’m pleased you could join us,” Monroe said jovially as the host pulled out the last chair at the small, round table for Jasper.

“Thank you for the invitation,” he replied as he sat. “It was unexpected.”

There was no reason to pretend it wasn’t.

A waiter poured champagne into a fluted glass at Jasper’s place setting. The superintendent was seated directly across from him, while Monroe’s daughter was to Jasper’s right, and his son to his left.

“Allow me to introduce my children, Christopher and Rose.”

Jasper gave them each a tight grin and nod. While Christopher didn’t bother to meet Jasper’s eyes or respond, Rose smiled gamely.

“I’ve heard much about you, Inspector,” she said. “Father has been singing your praises for months now.”

The invitation to Verrey’s had surprised him, but this statement set him back in his chair. He hadn’t known the superintendent gave him any thought at all, let alone enough to speak to his children about him.

“Resolving that counterfeiting case in Liverpool made the Yard look good, Reid, and as you well know, good press is not easy to come by,” Monroe said. “I think Gregory would be proud of you, son.”

Jasper nodded his thanks, even though he was, again, unsettled. His father had been superintendent at the CID until his illness had become too debilitating. Monroe, a detective chief inspector from Birmingham, had moved into the position and had only met with Gregory a few times. Claiming to know what the late superintendent would feel and addressing Jasper as ‘son’ raised his hackles.

“Following in your father’s footsteps is an admirable thing,” Monroe went on when Jasper remained quiet. He glanced toward his son. “As I’ve been telling our Christopher, there are futures to be made in policing. But for now, he is attending Cambridge.”

The young man picked up his glass of champagne. “My father has not given up in his mission to see me follow in his footsteps.”

“Now, now,” Monroe said with a tense chuckle. “Let’s not bore the inspector with family politics, son.”

“You were the one to bring them up, Father,” Christopher replied in a bored tone.

“Inspector Reid, I hear you solved a case concerning the murder of a viscount’s granddaughter recently,” Rose said in a smooth, yet obvious attempt to interrupt her father and brother’s squabbling.

“My Rose does not shy away from the topic of murder, Reid, as you can see,” Monroe said with a doting glance toward her.

“Viscount Cowper’s granddaughter, yes. Mrs. Helen Dalton,” Jasper said.

“Do tell us more,” Rose said.

“I would rather not, Miss Monroe. The details are unseemly.”

Murder had been only one part of that case. The incestuous lust the viscount’s son felt for Helen, a niece close in age to him, and his choice to kill her, to cover up his previous murder of Helen’s younger brother, would surely ruin appetites around the table.

Rose raised a thin, dark brow. “I see. You’re quite the gentleman, Inspector.”

The simpering grin she formed was artful. It reminded him of Constance Hayes. Like Constance, Rose had likely been trained in refined comportment and social graces from a young age. Monroe, Jasper knew, was a wealthy man, with ties to a successful manufacturing family in Birmingham.

As they ate their lunch, he found that like Constance, Rose had a cheery, confident exterior and the ability to encourage those around her into lighthearted conversation, even if the topics were ultimately shallow. Still, Rose adeptly kept the conversation flowing, in turn preventing her father and brother from making sniping remarks at one another.

They were nearly finished with their meals, and Jasper still couldn’t be sure why he’d been summoned to dine with the Monroe family. He suppressed the urge to glance at his pocket watch, but he could not restrict his eyes from wandering toward the tall case clock across the room.

As he’d told Leo he would, he’d paid a call to Augusta Lawlor’s home after leaving the morgue. As expected, she had refused to permit him entry. So, instead, Jasper had told the butler, Hastings, the news of Mr. Lawlor’s death. Hastings relayed the information, and only then had Mrs. Lawlor allowed Jasper to enter the home. But she had been inconsolable, and ultimately, unable to answer any questions without devolving into gasping hysterics.

The sketch of Henry Gray that Mr. Gibbons had been creating with the aid of the housekeeper, Mrs. Vincent, hadn’t been finished when he’d left Hill Street, but by now, it was surely completed and waiting on his desk back at the Yard.

The superintendent cleared his throat. “So, Reid,” he began, taking Jasper’s thoughts away from the Lawlors. “I am told you are attending the Home Secretary’s dinner this Saturday?”