August

Loki Odinson was a fairly respected merchant, as far as merchants went. He was known to be a bit short in demeanor, much taller in stature. The gossip was that his father had deposited him in Asgard to shut him up and keep him well away.

The irony of the situation wasn't lost on the more educated in the area. Asgard, the name of the Norse Realm, unattainable to mortals. Books, for these folk, were almost as unattainable.

No one in the Odinson family desired the shop, and so Loki got it. Loki was a troublemaker for his family, testy and spoiled. Entitled. Jealous. Especially of his older brother.

Though it must be maintained that Loki was playful, and to many, harmless enough. He went about his business with a dignified air. Resolved, as it seemed, that this was to be his station; some even compared him to the Scrooge of Dickens's fame, but most thought that too severe a correlation. Honestly, Loki appeared to care for money only insofar as it afforded him basic things. He wasn't vain in that sense.

He was an intellectual snob.

And that was off-putting to the inhabitants of Eastern London.

Most of the women in Spitalfields felt sorry for Jane Foster when he began to show her attention. Poor thing…she had never asked for it.

But then it appeared that though the young Apothecary was annoyed by Loki, she didn't mind the attention, as such. So they all shook their heads and mumbled…"There'll be wedding bells soon enough." "Old Lord Odinson won't be liking that, to be sure."

It never happened. For well over a year the two sparred with one another, and the locals gave up the speculation as a bad job. They were friends. Sort of…

The few people who knew Loki really well knew the truth of it.

He was attracted to Jane.

Perhaps he didn't even know just how much.

But he was as stubborn as he was tall, and there would be nothing to it unless she made a move.

And knowing Jane that was hardly likely.

Poor Fandral was the harborer of most of this information, and he carried it with some snark. He had tried to hint at his boss asking her out, but he was answered forever with a "Nonsense." If, however, anyone was said to be showing interest in Jane Foster, Loki was soured for at least a day.

It got to the point that he didn't even attempt to mask his attraction for the young Apothecary around Fandral…but he never admitted that it was anything more than that. And of course, many men found her to be so. Why shouldn't he? He had blood in his veins, did he not?

Fandral had made mention of Loki not finding other ladies attractive so much…there was something particular about Miss Foster.

He was then told to shut up.

So it was, this tedious dance Fandral was subjected to witness day after day. It exhausted him as much as it amused him.

The day following the crime inflicted upon Martha Tabram dawned bright and sultry. Loki walked along the thoroughfare as the merchants opened their shops. There was some talk of the incident, but it had subdued substantially. There was money to be made, and the death of a prostitute did not alter that fact.

Loki arrived at Asgard around seven thirty for his eight o'clock opening. He should change his operating hours. No one entered the shop before noon.

But he was a fairly early riser, and his schedule demanded that he be home by six to read and such.

So, eight to four it was.

The Apothecary, he recalled, was open until well past six…Jane had a long day in the market.

Perhaps he should hold ten to six hours. He'd discuss this with Fandral.

The windows were thrown open, the lamps out…he went to the back to see to his ledgers.

And the bell tinkled in the front.

He went out to find a smiling young Apothecary standing in his shop.

"Jane. You're here…" she didn't visit him ordinarily. "Is everything all right?"

"Yes," she replied, and fidgeted a touch. This was awkward. "Loki…I've been thinking about what happened yesterday. And I think…I think…"

"Out with it Jane. I cannot abide waffling." It was true. One of the reasons he liked her: her bluntness.

Her chin lifted with resolve. "Very well. I think that someone besides the authorities should be investigating the murder."

His face betrayed confusion. "What do you mean?"

She dropped her gaze and went over to the bookshelves, procuring a book and flipping through it. "I mean the police are inept in the extreme, and I think someone more competent should be looking into this."

He crossed his arms in front of him. "Someone…? Someone such as you, perhaps?"

She put the book back and looked at him, smiling broadly. "Since you suggest it…"

"No. Absolutely not. What are you thinking? It's enough that you are a woman who keeps long and late hours in a suspicious area. You are not going to go gallivanting about in search of a murderer."

"But…if I had someone else…a man perhaps…" she side eyed him covertly as she made her way across the shop. "Then the likelihood of any mishap is greatly diminished."

"Mishap? Such as…oh I dunno…your violent death? Look, I don't care about people ordinarily. Those few people who I like, even a little, I don't care to see murdered."

"Oh, so I'm on your short list of likable people, and shouldn't attempt to discover this fiend because you might lose one of the few people you condescend to like?" she spat. "Is there no end to your ridiculousness?"

He stopped himself from commenting further. He was in danger of saying too much…he swallowed to steady himself. "Do listen to reason, Jane. Allow the police to attempt their job. You'd likely just be in the way of the investigation, and slow it even more than it already is. And think of your father! What of him? You are being irresponsible."

"How dare you mention my father!"

"Someone needs to think of the poor fellow. His own daughter forgets him."

She was livid. She was nearly ready to strike him, and she advanced upon him…"You…"

But they were interrupted by the door. "Erm…boss? Should I come back later?" He saw his employer and the woman he was practically in love with glaring at one another in close proximity. She looked as though she might slap him.

"Not at all, Fandral," he stepped away from the heaving Jane and looked at him. "Our Apothecary here was just telling me of her plans to discover poor Martha's murderer. What are your thoughts on that subject?" and he took off his suit jacket and took it to the back office. He was overheated.

Fandral looked at Jane. "Pardon?"

She huffed and clamped her mouth shut.

"Indeed, yes," Loki returned. "Quite a mess, this business. You see, Jane? Even Fandral is rendered speechless at this information. Do reconsider your plans."

"It wouldn't be so ludicrous if you weren't being so stubborn and consent to aid me in this venture."

"Hang on," interrupted Fandral. "You want Loki to help you?" and he laughed.

Loki glared at him. "And why is that funny?"

"Well…it's just…" he laughed some more. "I can't really see you chasing some wretch with a knife around London…" he bent over in hysterics. "You'd try to reason with the lunatic…" he stood upright and looked at Jane. "On second thought…it's a fine idea. But only if I can tag along. I must see this."

Jane smiled at him. "Maybe you and I could attempt…" she began.

"Enough!" Loki exclaimed, waving his arms about. "I'll hear no more of this madness. And if you are now attempting to recruit Fandral, then I daresay you have lost your mind. The fellow cannot find his house key most days, how is he expected to discover a murderous villain?"

"I feel as though I should be offended, but since I am saved the trouble of losing my life in a bloody pool, I'll leave it at that," Fandral then went to the back of the shop to set up for the day's business.

Loki then looked at Jane with a hint of desperation. "Please, Jane. Do think about what you are suggesting."

"I have, Loki," she replied solemnly. "No one cares about these people. No one advocates for them. I am somewhat more respected than most of these women…I can do something for poor Martha and those effected by her death," she paused. "Will you help me?"

She searched his face.

"I cannot support this. I won't help you. Besides, I honestly believe that interfering will impede any attempt at an investigation the authorities are mounting."

"Very well," she said, and turning on her heel, went out the door.

He was left there, wondering if he had inadvertently sent her to her death…

Perhaps he should help her.

"Has she gone?"

Loki nodded.

"And she's really going to do this thing?"

"Evidently," replied Loki, turning toward him.

"You should help her. Shut her up. She'll tire of it," and Fandral sat behind the counter.

"Oh Fandral. You have no idea who you are speaking of. A more stubborn creature never existed," and he went to the back.

Fandral smiled to himself. "Oh…I dunno about that."

Jane went out into the morning air, heavy with humidity and thick with scent. She had no idea where to begin…but she thought she had better start with opening the shop.

Infuriating man! He was awful, just awful. He thought of no one but himself, really.

Well…he did seem to be genuinely concerned about her. He did seem to care about her welfare.

But that, she surmised, was because she put up with him when no one else would.

Why did she…?

Jane entered her shop and began to see to opening for business.

She put up with him because he challenged her. He was unlike most men among her acquaintance. He was quick witted and very intelligent. He was almost funny.

She opened the windows, propped open the door, began opening the cabinets.

Jane sighed as she readied the salts. She could conduct some investigation from work…ask people. She enjoyed a fairly steady business.

Loki had a point about her father, which was why she had such a reaction. But no harm could come from asking a few questions to a few customers…

And she set out to do just that...

"Martha was a quiet sort…'cept when she drank."

"Martha's man…he kept to 'imself. Didn't bother with no one."

"Martha was desperate that night for her doss money. She 'ad drank it all…"

Jane had reached the conclusion by the end of August the ninth that Martha didn't want to hear from the man she was living with, and probably felt some guilt about Henry, as the two of them had split just a few weeks ago. She had hit the bottom, and likely felt rather helpless.

She didn't think that it was her man or Henry.

She thought, by the fifteenth of August, that someone had hired her services, and went mad.

"Yes, thank'ee. I'll have those two there," Jane was purchasing potatoes for dinner, as Darcy requested the day off.

"You're getting a raw deal, Jane. The purveyor just there is selling them for two pence."

Jane turned to see Loki standing behind her. He hadn't made an attempt to see her since that day in his shop a week ago. "Loki."

He smiled and took a bite of an apple. "And how is our amateur detective fairing this evening?"

She paid her pence and began to walk away. "I'm fine. And you? How are things in the world of books? Obviously quite important since the fate of your fellows is so trivial to that of the pages of a book."

If she only knew that he followed her every night since their spat…she wouldn't be so quick to dismiss him. "Things are well enough. Have you discovered who our mad murderer is yet?"

"No. But I don't think that she knew him. I think that he had hired her."

"Brilliant. That eliminates…what…five suspects of five thousand? Excellent work. We should have the culprit by the turn of the century."

"You know, no one asked your opinion. You made it perfectly plain that you had no desire to help…you should hold your tongue."

He chuckled as they walked toward Algate once more. "Have you alerted the authorities to your compelling hypothesis?"

"They don't care," she muttered.

"Well, that is a bit of a harsh assumption. They haven't any idea who might have committed the atrocity. Their reputation and credibility depends upon it."

"Of course. But they would just as soon forget the whole business."

Loki shrugged. They were nearing her street. "So…we are friends again, then?"

"Oh, friends are we?" but she was smiling.

"That is to say, we are fellows in the business of commerce."

Jane stopped and turned toward him, a very serious look about her. "Of course, Loki…but you must understand…there is so much violence in the world…so much of it is directed toward women. I felt compelled to do something to help."

He smiled at her, nodding…"Understood."

"I'm afraid," she whispered.

"Of?" his brow was furrowed.

Jane's eyes skirted around her street, then she began to walk toward her house once more, clutching the potatoes close to her person. "I have horrible dreams…and I often fancy that I'm being followed at night after I close the shop."

He cleared his throat. "Now Jane…you are letting yourself get carried away in this investigation of yours."

"I'm through investigating it. There was talk," and her voice dropped even lower once they reached her door. "…of strangers about recently…foreigners…"

"There is always talk of that nature. Do not allow yourself to become afraid of such idiocy of prejudices against foreigners…"

"But…they coincide with the recent violence. Maybe as far back as last winter. I think that I may have exposed myself…"

He was taken aback by her choice of words. "Exposed?"

"Yes…through my questioning of various people. I think that I may have tipped off the murderer."

"Well, now Jane…"

She grabbed his hand, and he panicked momentarily. He had never seen her thus. She wasn't a fearful person. "I'm in earnest, Loki. It would set my mind at ease if you'd agree to see me home for the next few days," she wasn't looking at him as she said this.

"Of course," he swallowed.

She looked at him, smiling.

He wretched his hand from her grasp. "You…you know, don't you!"

"I'm so glad that you didn't agree to help me. I would have been discovered within hours."

She needed a good smack. "You, Jane, are a cad."

"No…I'm a good detective," she returned.

"Heaven help us all. This is what we are all coming to."

"What is that?"

"Amateur detectives fancying themselves proper sleuths."

"I am a proper sleuth!" she crossed her arms in defiance across her chest. "A far sight better than Scotland Yard! Martha has been dead for ever a week and what has the Yard to show for it? A corpse with no one responsible, a murderer who will likely strike again."

Loki rolled his eyes. "Best not to get involved, Jane."

"Thank ye, my fellow entrepreneur, for your fierce concern. I think I'll be just fine," and she began to ascend the stairs.

"Jane Foster, you are something."

"'Tis true. So happy you recognize that," she clicked the door shut.

And Loki walked back down the road, his mind full of just how something this woman really was.

August was coming to a close, and no one was suspected of Martha Tabram's murder. Scotland Yard had all but abandoned the investigation.

Jane Foster, though she hadn't given up hope altogether, had mostly ceased her questioning.

Loki had resumed visiting her a few mornings a week.

In other words, by the time the sun rose on August the 31st, things were almost normal.

Until it was quickly realized that they weren't.