Jane knocked on the door of #6 Watery Lane the next morning. Harry warned her about Tommy Shelby. He wasn't the kind of man she'd get away disputing with or punching. He wasn't like Arthur and she could tell that much. She'd seen the way the room suddenly stopped. It was as if even time slowed down for him. Nobody dared move in his presence. They didn't speak. They only watched him watching her. She saw the worry in their eyes. People thought he might explode in anger. They thought he'd defend his brother. He didn't. He barely acknowledged Arthur. She guessed he agreed with her.

A young woman answered the door. Her eyes widened at Jane, her smile bright and excited. From her light eyes and dark hair, she must've been their sister. "You're Jane Dawes," she stated.

"I am."

"I read all about you in the papers," she said. "I've read all your cases! I'm Ada Shelby. It's so good to meet you!"

"Nice to meet you too," Jane said.

"Please, come in," Ada said.

Ada led her inside and Jane looked around. They had a comfortable home surrounded by pictures and family heirlooms. Their furniture wasn't worn or in disrepair. It wasn't grand or spacious, but it was nice. The Shelbys lived better than those in their neighborhood. They made their money off the pockets of the poor. She imagined they never went hungry or cold at night. They weren't as wealthy as Jane's family, but they were rich compared to everyone else. Ada brought her into a dining area where she spotted large curtains on the wall. She assumed they put these as decoration. Jane knew better. They didn't want anyone finding the door to their gambling den.

"I never thought I'd actually be meeting you," Ada said. They sat down at the table, and she stared at Jane. "Nothing ever happens around here that's worth investigating. I couldn't believe when I heard you were coming. You're amazing."

"Not really," Jane said.

"You are! Like how you solved that string of robberies in Leeds. They used some kind of powder on the shopkeepers so they could rob them."

"It was a hallucinogen," she explained. "The police thought it was dust."

"See? You think of things they didn't bother looking into! Then there were those girls who'd been kidnapped and murdered in some sort of ritual? It sounded so scary."

"It wasn't when we found out their magic was a bunch of cheap tricks and science," she said.

"How do you do it?"

"Observation and deduction," she answered. "I take in something about someone and then deduce. Like I know you had toast and jam for breakfast by the little jaw spot on the corner of your mouth or how you didn't sleep here last night due to the hickey on your collarbone. You might want to cover that up."

Ada gasped softly and then lifted the neck of her dress. "Those don't sound so difficult." Another woman walked into the room, placing her handbag and hat on the table. She wore a high collar blouse and form-fitting skirt. Older than either of them, she kept her hair back with a jeweled hairpin. "Give her something else."

"You just came from a bakery. One of the nicer ones that are too expensive for you." Jane said, giving her one glance over. "You came specifically from the bakery on Kensington because they're the only one who puts cinnamon in their bread. You also have mud on your boots from the large puddle up the street. That hairpin you wear is specially made because I don't think they make hair pins with pointed edges on them, which tells me you use it for protection. Speaking of protection was that snub-nose in your handbag a gift or did you buy it yourself?"

The woman appeared impressed. "You are good."

"Thank you," she said.

"This is my Aunt Polly," Ada said. "Pol, this is Jane Dawes. She's a detective."

"So I've heard," She sat down at the table with them. She took out her cigarette case and match box. "You're here about those murders?"

"I am. I came hoping your nephew can give me some more insight into what's happening."

"We have nothing to do with what happened to those women," Polly said, narrowing her eyes. "We don't run our business that way."

"I know the Peaky Blinders aren't responsible," she said. "You're more direct."

"What makes you think Tommy knows anything then?"

"I have it on good authority that he's the law around here," she answered. "A psychopath is killing people on his streets and he hasn't done anything about it? I find that hard to believe. Hardly anyone has come forward with information and I think it's because they're telling Tommy."

Polly hesitated. "We have had people in and out of the office," she said, "But I don't know what for."

"I think he knows more than he says," she said. "I only want the truth, Ms. Gray. The truth is what is going to help the women who are still alive."

"I heard you punched Arthur last night," Ada said.

"He was being rude," she said. "I've been running into a lot of rude men lately. There must be something in the water."

Polly snorted, "It's because they don't like a woman who asserts herself so strongly. They're used to compliant women. They like women who know their place. Though, I've gotten the sense you don't care what they like."

"Because I don't," she said.

As she suspected, the doors behind the curtain opened and a man appeared. He told her Mr. Shelby was ready for her. Jane nodded at the two women and followed him into the betting shop. It was louder than the rest of the house. Men sat at tables counting bets and writing down names. Others came in throwing down their money for horses. She saw a man by the chalkboard writing down the odds for each horse as they came in. 'Kempton' was in white across the board. There were betting on horses.

The man led her into a small office to the side where Arthur and Tommy sat waiting. Arthur eyed her as she walked in, but ignored him. His bruise healed overnight, being only a small mark on his cheek. Tommy leaned against a sideboard with his arms crossed. He lit the cigarette between his lips and then took a drag from it. "Ms. Dawes," Tommy said, "I'm glad you could come. I've been waiting to talk to you."

"And I've been looking forward to talking with you," she said.

He gestured to a chair and poured her a drink. Jane turned the chair towards Tommy. He was the one she would talk with, not Arthur. Tommy handed her the drink. "I've never met anyone who makes an impression so quickly," he said, "All the coppers and men on my payroll say you definitely know how to assert yourself."

"You have to when you deal with difficult people," she said. She sipped her drink and said, "You see, Mr. Shelby, I've been stumbling around for answers since I first got here. I don't like stumbling. I only know the basic information that's in my files, but I need to know more. Most of the reports are sloppy, biased theories that don't help. One report says she was with a shabby-looking man, and another says he was richly dressed. There's no medical report because a proper examination wasn't done. The medical reports only state the obvious. There are dozens of people in the streets at night, yet nobody has come forward. I find that unbelieveably, don't you?"

"You think we know something about this?" Arthur asked.

"I know you do," she replied. She drank some more, and then said, "You're the boss around here. I don't imagine people will feel comfortable telling the police what they saw. They don't trust them to do their job. You, however, give them what they want. You come through for them. They'd go to you because they know you'd give them the kind of justice they want."

"If that was true, why haven't we caught him then?" Tommy said.

"Because you can't catch a ghost, Mr. Shelby."

Tommy's jaw clenched. "People have come to me."

"Tommy!"

"What did they say?" She finished her drink and set it down.

"They said exactly what you know. They say they saw Mary-Anne with a tall man in a dark coat the night she died," he said. "Kelly was with a man of the same description. Nobody's told me about Elizabeth, but I assume she serviced the same man. My men look about when they're out at night, but they haven't seen anything."

"They won't," she said. "He's not afraid anymore. He knows he can kill someone and get away quickly. The longer he is on the streets, the better he will be."

"He's developing?"

"Very quickly. He's already killed three women, and he'll kill more if he's not stopped. What else?"

"A girl I know told me about a customer who was rough with her," he said. "He hit her and called her a 'no-good, filthy whore'. She didn't know his name and she didn't see his face."

"When was this?"

"Before the murders started."

A breath caught in her throat. "What's her name?"

"Lizzie Stark," he answered. "You ought to talk to her about it. She wouldn't answer my questions." He then said, "I'm a businessman, Ms. Dawes. Business can't thrive if there's a lunatic out on the streets. It's why I asked you to come."

"I thought your business was horses?"

"It's one of them," he said. "We own The Garrison. A lot of men go there for the girls we pay to visit. The girls won't visit it now because of what's happening. If the girls aren't there, the men don't come."

"They come for the drinks."

"But stay for the women," he added. "The women convince them to spend more. They bring in more money. They give us a small portion of their earnings for protection."

Jane smirked, "And you're doing a fabulous job."

"So you can see why they don't come," he said.

"At least he's not killing horses," she said, lighting her own cigarette now, "Then you'd really be in trouble."

He then said, "We've met before, you know."

"Sorry?"

"In France," he said. "I was a Sergeant Major at the time. I was reporting to my superior in his tent when you and some Colonel walked in."

Jane remembered Colonel Calloway. He was her father's old school friend and had hired her. Winston Churchill sent via a wire that German spies were posing as English soldiers and giving information. He said some of them even stayed in England, working in the low ranks of the government. Jane was hired to find them.

"You told him the Germans planned an attack, but that wasn't anything new to us. Then you said that they knew about our preparations and attack plans. You said the Germans over the wall knew where we were digging under them. They planned to meet us halfway and cut us off. They'd kill whoever was in the tunnel and then climb their way into our camp; kill us while we slept."

"It was true," she said. "I don't recall ever seeing you."

"I was against the wall, covered in mud and dirt. You didn't see me, but I saw you," he said. "I wondered how a woman ended up being an English spy? I never thought about it until I saw you. You wore this expensive dress with diamond earrings. You didn't look like a spy. I thought you were his wife at first until you said you'd been spying on them."

"Germans love ze' French girls, no?" she said in a mock French accent. She smoked her cigarette and then said, "Zey never suspected a woman of being a spy."

"I suppose not," he said. "My superior didn't believe you. He said there was no way a German would simply tell a woman about it."

"Not when they're awake," she said normally. "I waited until they fell asleep before waltzing into their offices. A lot of them were surprisingly good lovers."

"I ended up in one of those tunnels," he said. His face became stony and his jaw clenched. "You were right."

"Of course I was," she answered. "I didn't enjoy working for them, but they paid well. I'm not very fond of government figures." She thought of Arnold's snide smile and instantly felt irritation.

"I didn't think you would be," he said. "It doesn't seem to be about praise or ambition for you. You don't think like them."

"I don't think like anyone," she added.

"I also heard you're something of a fighter," he told her. "I asked a man I have in London," he answered her questioning look. "He goes to the fighting clubs a lot. He told me about this woman that fights there. She's very good, he said, lightning fast and hits where it hurts most. Is that how you got that cut on your eyebrow?"

"It is. There are just some things make-up can't cover." She asked, exhaling cigarette smoke. "Have you beenlooking into me, Mr. Shelby?"

"A bit" he said. "The papers hardly say anything about you."

"My brother keeps it that way," she said. "Despite being a total twat, he does care for my privacy."

"Who is your brother?" Arthur asked.

"Arnold Dawes," Tommy said. "He's a government official who works closely with Winston Churchill."

"My father and Churchill attended university together," she told them. She watched him carefully. She never thought a cut-throat gangster would get so much on her. She didn't like it. Arnold would laugh at her for not doing the same. Ignoring the dislike burning within her, she said, "Give me Lizzie's address and I'll pay her a visit. Perhaps she knows more than she said." She stood up and fixed her hat on her head, "Anyone who comes to you about Copycat, send them to me."

"Why should we?" Arthur spat. "This is our city. Not yours."

"It's my case," she retorted. "Even if you two did put your heads together, you still wouldn't find him." She could find him. She will find him. She met Tommy's eyes, "Where does Lizzie live?"

"She lives on Terrance Street," he said, "4th house on the right."

"Thank you. Good day, gentlemen," she turned to leave but he came up beside her. "Let me walk you out?"

She looked at his face. She noticed the thin scar above his lip. By its thinness and faded color, she called it an old injury. She saw the long, curled lashes that blinked at her. Her mother would be envious of them. Generally speaking, Tommy Shelby was handsome. It didn't stop her from slightly disliking him. "Fine," she said.

Jane followed him out of the office. They stopped by the door when he said, "The coppers I pay say organs were missing. They said he slashed up their breasts and cut them open like pigs. Is that true?"

"It is. It's kept out of the papers for now."

"For now?"

"Everybody reads the newspapers, Mr. Shelby."