Princess of the 19th Century Department Store - Chapter 6

Chapter 6

A thin veil of white mist hung over the busy, dark streets of Jude Road.

Every factory along Jude Road had started up, mechanical clamor ringing from every direction, and the street was packed with people.

Most of the snow on the road had been trampled into slush. Everything was damp, and fine snow had begun drifting down from the sky again.

White flakes whirled through the air, and the wind howled. A thin wool coat clearly offered little protection from the cold, and Daisy kept quickening her pace as she shivered.

She and her grandfather returned to Clark Alley, passing Piero’s Grocery once more. This time, she saw the two clerks from the shop standing at the mouth of the alley, peering toward Clark Street.

The two clerks seemed about to say something to the pair of them when Mr. Piero, dressed neatly in a suit and leather shoes, stepped out. He cleared his throat and called the clerks back with an indifferent expression.

Daisy and her grandfather had no idea what was going on and walked into the alley.

In the narrow lane stood a gleaming two-horse police carriage. The emblem of Metropolitan Police Headquarters was printed on its side.

Two stern-looking officers stood guard beside the carriage, right outside her home.

At the other end of the alley, the owner of Lobit Grocery was also craning his neck from the entrance, curiosity written all over his face.

The other neighbors in the alley were peeking at the police carriage through cracks in their windows as well, most of them wearing wary expressions.

Clark Street was the turf of immigrant laborers from Ireland. Most of the people here spent their days drinking, fencing stolen goods, selling their bodies, gambling, or dealing in contraband. It had every vice imaginable.

Under ordinary circumstances, outsiders would not linger here, and regular beat cops could not be bothered to come.

The senior officers from Scotland Yard would be even less likely to lower themselves by setting foot in a place like this-unless something major had happened.

Seeing this, Mr. Nash and Daisy quickened their pace and headed home.

At the door, the two officers stopped them and asked a couple of questions.

Each of the two officers wore badges on their shoulders, one from Metropolitan Police Headquarters and the other from The City of London Police.

Mr. Nash expertly fished a few shillings out of his pocket and tried to slip them to the slightly older, long-faced officer to find out what was going on.

The long-faced officer made a token show of refusing before accepting the money. He cleared his throat and said,

“Last midnight, someone died near Tower Bridge. The way he died was exactly the same as the victim near Whitechapel last time.”

Mr. Nash immediately asked who the dead man was, and why the case was being taken so seriously.

“The deceased was a bank manager from The City of London. He was involved in a lawsuit.”

The long-faced officer said that in the Whitechapel murder case, Lisa had been among the first people to witness the scene.

Now that the bank manager was dead as well, Scotland Yard was treating the matter very seriously. They had sent Inspector Canning, who was now specifically in charge of the case.

An inspector from The City of London had accompanied him to investigate from the beginning, which was why they had come to ask questions.

Hearing this, Daisy and her grandfather both relaxed. They carried their things back into the shop.

Inside, Mary was holding a neighbor’s child and soothing them while watching the door. She pursed her lips and gestured upstairs.

“Two policemen came. They’re upstairs asking questions.”

Mr. Nash lowered his voice and asked a few questions.

“Who are they?”

“I don’t know them.”

Whitechapel had its own district police station, located on the commercial street beside Albans Street.

According to the jurisdiction of Commercial Street Police Station, the police boxes around Dorothy Street and Jude Road had always fallen under Inspector Barjob’s management.

Cases that happened in this area were usually recorded and investigated by Barjob as well.

If someone died near Tower Bridge, the Tower Bridge beat officers would usually be responsible for the investigation.

In Whitechapel, death was an extremely common thing. An ordinary beat cop could generally close a case on the spot.

Only major cases, important cases, or cases drawing public attention would be transferred layer by layer from the various branch stations up to Metropolitan Police Headquarters, commonly known as Scotland Yard.

After entering the room, Daisy first took the goods out of the sack, laid them on the counter, checked them over for damage, and then placed them one by one into the cabinet.

She dusted the shelves with a feather duster as well, tidying everything up without letting the police visit affect her in the slightest. She even went to the kitchen and brought out a basin of water.

Whether in the original novel’s setting or in the history she had personally witnessed, London in this era was a true city of crime, especially the East End.

Countless murders happened here, large and small. There was no need to make such a fuss.

As long as it had nothing to do with her family’s business, she did not care.

After a while, the interrogation seemed to end, and the wooden stairs began to creak.

Daisy moved into a corner ahead of time, wiping the cabinet with a damp rag.

Mary carried the neighbor’s child back into the storeroom.

Her grandfather dusted off his clothes, then went humbly to the stairway to see the guests out.

Daisy could faintly hear someone speaking in a low voice on the stairs…

“Both victims were connected to the lawsuit involving Chablis Bank and Ute Shipping Company.
This matter is of great importance. It may even involve… In short, it isn’t something we can investigate.

Besides, finding the killer would be like searching for a needle in a haystack…”

Judging by their tone, they did not seem to have gotten any useful clues out of Lisa.

A moment later, two police sergeants in uniform lifted the cloth curtain and emerged from the cramped staircase of the Nash family home, walking toward the door in silence.

Neither of them paid the slightest attention to anyone else here. They only cared about matters related to the murder.

Even if this house might be full of illegal smuggled goods.

From the corner of her eye, Daisy caught a glimpse of the two policemen, one old and one young.

The younger policeman had a well-proportioned build and looked as if he might be over six feet tall.

Beneath the brim of his police cap were dark-brown sideburns. His eyes held a trace of gray silver, and the bones of his face looked sharply defined in profile, giving him a very stern air.

He wore a pair of tall riding boots. Just from the steady rhythm of his footsteps, Daisy could tell that this policeman had probably served in the army.

As for the older policeman, he wore a badge from The City of London police and wore spectacles. As he walked, he gave a helpless sigh.

Daisy lowered her gaze and withdrew the sidelong glance she had been using to observe and deduce.

In London, the police force was divided into two parts.

One was the Metropolitan Police Headquarters, commonly known as Scotland Yard, which was responsible for public order, criminal investigations, and the security of the royal family and officials throughout London. Under it were the various divisional police stations across London.

The other was The City of London Police, responsible only for that little patch of The City of London and not under the jurisdiction of the Metropolitan Police.

After watching the two policemen leave, Daisy went back to cleaning the counter.

Then, all of a sudden, her ears caught the name of a supporting character from the original novel.

It was the old policeman speaking to the young one.

“Christie, let’s go.”

Daisy’s fingers paused on the towel. She turned on the spot and looked outside.

Beyond the door, the young sergeant named Christie had stopped in front of the long-faced constable beside the carriage.

Daisy had no idea what he said to him.

The long-faced constable flushed crimson. At a complete loss, he took the few shillings he had collected from Mr. Nash out of his pocket and returned them to Mr. Nash.

Mr. Nash, who was seeing them off, also stood there bewildered as he received a couple of warnings from Christie.

Once he was done warning them, Christie stood in the snow-filled alley and looked around. His gaze swept with precision over the slightly opened cracks of the windows along the lane.

The old sergeant glared awkwardly at the long-faced constable beside him a few times.

Then he followed Christie’s line of sight and noticed those window cracks closing one after another. With a disdainful snort, he said,

“Just look at these people from Ireland. So wary. Must be because they’ve done too many things they don’t want seen…”

With that, the old sergeant climbed into the police carriage first. Christie followed after him. Only when the carriage curtain slowly fell did the constable drive the horses out of the alley.

All that remained in the lane was a line of wheel ruts and fine white snow swept up by the wind.

Daisy stared down the alley, narrowing her eyes in thought for a long while. Then, suddenly recognizing him, she quietly withdrew her gaze and continued wiping things down with a calm expression.

Mr. Nash returned to the shop and muttered a few words. He had never seen such an arrogant policeman before-wouldn’t even let him ask around.

Daisy shrugged, expressing her helplessness.

She had recognized him. That young policeman was Christie Canning.

Like the original owner of this body, Christie Canning was a supporting character in the original novel with barely any lines.

Unlike the original owner, he had no father, no mother, and no relatives at all. He was an orphan with only a godfather, an official on Downing Street.

According to the current timeline, he should have just returned from the battlefield after fighting the Afghans. After coming home, he became a policeman under his godfather’s direction.

Right now, he was only a sergeant. But in the original novel, by the time the protagonist grew up, became a notorious thief, and was sent to prison, Christie had already climbed step by step to become the commissioner of the Metropolitan Police.

Daisy could no longer remember much of the plot in between.

She only vaguely remembered that this character later fell out with his godfather and became his enemy.

His godfather, that high-ranking official on Downing Street, was the protagonist’s greatest protector in the later stages of the original novel.

By the end of the story, this policeman finally uncovered all the evidence of the protagonist’s crimes and even sent his own godfather to prison.

However, after solving the serial case tied to the protagonist-a case that shook London’s nobility, political circles, academia, and business world alike-he resigned soon afterward and disappeared without a trace.

In the end, the original novel never explained whether this character lived or died.

Come to think of it, he was like a stubborn, cool, aloof little white flower of a righteous character. Daisy tugged at the corner of her mouth.

She turned, went to the kitchen to change the basin of water, then came back out and tidied the shop shelves again, preparing to officially open for business.

…