Page 3 of Deadly Ghost (Angus Brodie and Mikaela Forsythe Murder Mystery #12)

Two

“She was quite certain,” I commented about Lily’s encounter at the bookstore the day before as Brodie and I arrived at the office on the Strand.

He had returned late to the townhouse the previous evening, tired, with a deep frown that had not eased until after a bit of Old Lodge whisky and the late supper Mrs. Ryan had held over for him.

I had learned in the past not to ask my usual questions about the new inquiry case for the Agency. It was best to pick the appropriate moment—when the frown disappeared.

It was over breakfast this morning when he had finished a second cup of coffee that he set his cup down. He explained that the new case had to do with a member of Parliament who had been seen in unusual company. It raised the question that he might be participating in clandestine activities.

The company he was seen with might be a lover or mistress, or someone for an entirely different purpose. However, he was most clever about the relationship, and it would take some time to determine what it was about.

We had then discussed the events of my day on the ride to the office, including that encounter Lily had been so adamant about.

“You are to blame for her determination to pursue something,” I informed him now.

That dark gaze narrowed. “How might that be?”

“You encourage her interest in our inquiry cases— observe, make note of anything unusual, then investigate. ” I quoted what he had once told her about inquiry work.

He sat back in his chair at the desk, pipe in hand as he sent a stream of fragrant smoke that I liked very much into the air.

“And ye would send her off to finishing school in Paris instead,” he replied. There had been more than one conversation about that.

“And what might she learn there?” he asked with another puff on that pipe.

I had to admit I agreed that it might not be time well spent. Lily didn’t want to go to Paris. However, my great aunt thought it would be a great experience for her; she would meet other young people from other parts of Europe, study different languages, broaden her experience.

Recalling my own time there, the word ‘ experience’ had a variety of meanings for a young woman who was too bold for her own good.

I did realize that was a bit like the pot calling the kettle black, as Brodie had pointed out when the arrangements were made.

“Are you saying that you believe that it would be better for her here, in London?” I had replied.

In that maddening way he had, he didn’t reply, but just looked at me. It did seem as if I had answered my own question.

“Perhaps six months, not a full year,” I suggested. Never let it be said that I wasn’t capable of compromising.

“Perhaps, if the place is still standing.”

The truth was that I highly suspected any learning experience would be the other way round. I had visions of Lily entertaining her fellow students with bawdy renditions of songs and stories learned in that brothel in Edinburgh.

The truth also was, I’d been having that argument with myself the past several weeks.

Six months, I thought. Then she could return and ...

That was the question. I knew quite well where her thoughts lay in that regard.

Brodie had gone over the details of the new inquiry case that the Agency had been asked to take in consideration of sensitivity regarding Sir Charles Talmadge, the member of Parliament who was under suspicion.

He had made cursory inquiries when an unexpected piece of information had come to light regarding Lady Talmadge, who was considerably younger than her husband and had been born in Budapest.

It seemed that she had a penchant for older, powerful men after a rumored series of lovers. According to additional information she frequently attended the women’s exercises classes at the German Gymnasium.

“Ye have gone there in the past,” Brodie pointed out. “And yer well acquainted with Herr Schmidt ...”

I knew where he was leading with this. His inquiries might draw suspicion, particularly if Lady Talmadge happened to be present.

I had frequently attended the gymnasium in the past, and it was unlikely that I would draw attention.

It seemed that Lady Talmadge kept regular appointments in the afternoon, five days a week, which did seem a bit extreme.

My recent attendance had been to sharpen my skills with the rapier—no pun intended—as Lily had become quite proficient with the blade in her scrimmaging about in the Sword Room at Sussex Square. The present instructor, Herr Renner, was highly skilled; however he wasn’t available until later, which should be perfect for encountering Lady Talmadge if she followed her usual schedule.

I passed the time until then by making a list on the chalkboard, recording information that Brodie had learned so far in the investigation.

“How old is Lady Talmadge?” I asked as I finished making those notes.

“Somewhere very near yer own age, I would suppose.”

“You’ve seen her?”

“Hmmm,” he remarked, which was no remark at all as he made notes in the small notebook he always carried, a habit from his days as an inspector with the MET.

“And Sir Talmadge must be very near seventy years, the last time I saw him,” I added.

No comment this time.

“It doesn’t seem as if he married her to sit before the fire, holding hands in his dotage, and fifty years difference does make one wonder if he is ...”

That dark gaze met mine with an amused expression.

“Capable,” I finished the thought.

“And ye would have some experience with that?” Brodie inquired, as he took another draw from the pipe.

“You are somewhat older,” I pointed out.

“Is that a complaint, Mikaela Forsythe Brodie?”

“Not at all, Mr. Brodie,” I replied and turned back to the board and added my final thoughts to the list— Age Difference—potential lovers?

After the months of inactivity as far as our inquiry cases were concerned, it was good to be off pursuing information and possible clues. And it was an opportunity for me to polish my skills with the blade, at the same time I might be able to learn something about Lady Talmadge that might be useful in the Agency’s inquiry case.

As far as I was concerned, the sooner Brodie was finished with it, the better. Not that I had anything against the Agency or Sir Avery, other than Brodie being almost killed in a previous case.

The German Gymnasium was in Camden in the north end of London at St. Pancras Street.

It was located in a two-story brick building built several decades earlier by the German community in London. It was well-known, and I had taken lessons there after discovering my great aunt’s sword collection at Sussex Square. Admittedly, a rapier was far different from a broad sword, I quickly learned, perfecting the movements that made a rapier so deadly.

I had then studied further on one of my travels and learned the ways of the deadly Khopesh, an Egyptian curved sword with a sickle-shaped blade. I discovered that it was far superior in many ways when it came to handling a sword. And, as I was reminded in a recent case, extremely lethal.

More than once my great aunt had expressed misgivings when it came to telling me about our ancestors—a somewhat fierce lot, who first arrived on English soil from France eight hundred years earlier—after I had sneaked into the Sword Room at Sussex Square.

I was nine years old at the time and quite fascinated, though hardly able to wield the huge swords that were there. At least not yet.

The fascination was still there years later when my sister and I were sent to private school France.

There, I trained with a fencing master. Of course, a rapier is quite different from a broadsword, however the basics are quite the same. And that training did allow for me to avoid some of the more boring classes of private school.

Brodie accompanied me on the ride to the gymnasium and had the driver stop at the street across.

“Are there any particular instructions?” I asked. There usually were.

“Aye. Best not to approach Lady Talmadge, it might draw suspicion if she has some involvement in this,” he replied in that same circumspect manner.

“Make note of any interactions she might have with anyone, and get the name of anyone she interacts with from the person at the front desk.”

His hand closed over mine. There was obviously more.

“Dinna draw attention to yerself since we dinna know yet how the woman might be involved.”

Of course, dear, I thought but didn’t say it. It wasn’t as if I hadn’t done this very same thing several times in the past.

“Do you want me to follow her when she leaves?” I suggested. “It could be useful.”

He shook his head. “This is only to observe persons she might be in contact with. The gymnasium would be the perfect opportunity. That will be enough fer now.”

He assisted me down from the cab, then handed me the bag that held my walking skirt, a garment that allowed movement about the gymnasium floor, a fitted blouse, and the padded leather vest Aunt Antonia had made for me when I insisted on taking up the sport, along with long leather gloves.

“ I’ll not have you returning minus a hand and bleeding all over the place ,” she had remarked at the time. “I cannot understand where you get such ideas or your fascination with the sport.”

As they say, the apple had not fallen far from the tree.

“Ye are to observe, not follow,” Brodie repeated. “There are enough drivers here about during the day when ye leave afterward.”

I caught the frown. “I will be quite safe, and I do have the revolver.”

“Aye.”

He waited with his driver as I set off toward the gymnasium with a detailed description he had provided earlier of Lady Talmadge.

Upon entering the gymnasium, I signed in at the desk. A large, stout woman I would not have wanted to meet in a dark alley introduced herself as Gerta and asked my name.

“Are you joining the ladies’ exercise group? They’re about to begin their morning session.”

“I will be joining Monsieur Bertrand this morning,” I replied.

“The fencing instructor?” She was somewhat taken aback.

I nodded. “I made an appointment earlier.”

She checked the log book, then muttered an acknowledgment.

“It will be near the boxing ring,” she informed me.

Which was across from the fencing floor, I noted, and would provide a prime location for watching the ladies who had begun to gather for their class from the fencing piste.

I thanked her and crossed the floor toward the dressing room. It gave me the opportunity to glance among the ladies as they prepared to begin their morning exercises. I caught sight of a young woman in the second row who matched the description Brodie had provided.

She was full-figured, pretty, with thick blonde hair gathered back from her face, and high cheekbones. I made note of the color of her costume—magenta with black trim—so that I would be able to easily observe her when I returned to the floor.

I quicky changed, then left the dressing rooms and joined Monsieur Bertrand at the piste . He bowed in acknowledgement.

“I thought there must be some mistake when I saw your name this morning, Lady Forsythe. I am intrigued that it is not a mistake.”

“I have visited several times.”

“You are familiar with the rapier?”

I nodded. “It has been some time, and I hoped to improve my skill.”

He appeared to be quite amused.

“You would do well to take care with this one, Bertrand.”

I recognized that deep baritone accent as Herr Schmidt crossed the floor and joined us.

“She is known to show no mercy. To myself included.”

He was exaggerating, of course, yet I made no attempt to correct him.

“I am grateful that you could accommodate me on such short notice,” I told Herr Schmidt. “I will have the need of one of your rapiers, as I did not bring my own.”

“Of course,” he replied and made a gesture toward the stand that contained several different dueling blades.

I selected one I was most familiar with, that also contained a tip blunted with cork.

“As I said, monsieur,” he repeated. “Be careful. She is most skillful.” He nodded curtly, then departed.

“You are familiar with how to proceed?” Monsieur Bertrand inquired.

I replied that I did as I donned the epee mask, then checked the weight of the rapier and assumed the appropriate stance on the floor as the ladies across the way moved into their next set of exercises.

Monsieur Bertrand was quite skillful, yet I sensed that he took great care with each parry and thrust so as not to overwhelm me. Even though it had been some time since I had made the basic moves, I found my counter-moves quickly returned. Our moves about the floor provided the opportunity to observe the ladies on the exercise floor, Lady Talmadge in particular.

Shift, deflect, attack. Then shift again, parry, as I pushed off my right leg, lunged and made contact with monsieur’s shoulder, well-padded by his vest.

He acknowledged the contact and took a step back as I glanced across to the group of ladies as they finished one exercise series and took a moment to catch their breath, speaking with one another before beginning again.

The next point was his. I circled, then lunged and took the next point. He nodded, and we began again.

It was very near the noon when the ladies finished their exercises, and began to gradually make their way toward the dressing rooms while chatting amongst themselves.

I took a step back and raised the rapier in a salute, the usual signal that I yielded the floor. Monsieur Bertrand also took a step back and acknowledged the end of our training session.

“My compliments, Lady Forsythe. A most pleasurable encounter. You must return so that we may take up our next bout.”

“And you as well, monsieur.” I returned the rapier to the stand, then made my way to the ladies’ dressing room.

The sound of conversations and laughter greeted me as I stepped into the room with the lockers where the women changed out of their exercise costumes.

I took a small towel from the stack on a table, then deliberately took a great deal of time as I wiped the dampness from my face and neck.

“I have never seen a woman handle a sword.”

The comment came from a woman who had been part of the exercise class.

“Have you ever been injured?”

I turned and handed her one of the towels from the table. “A few close encounters, but nothing serious.”

I used those moments of conversation to change my clothes as I watched Lady Talmadge change into a dark green gown and jacket.

There was no conversation between her and any of the other ladies, yet I did see a small piece of paper she removed from the pocket of her jacket as she turned to leave.

“My husband wouldn’t approve,” the woman commented as I grabbed my bag and turned to follow others who were leaving, including Lady Talmadge. “But maybe I could take lessons.”

It did seem as if I might have created more business for Monsieur Bertrand.

I quickly left the dressing room and followed the ladies as some chatted while others moved purposefully toward the entrance of the gymnasium with Lady Talmadge among them.

Others followed as we stepped out on the street, and crowded the sidewalk to find a cab as a light rain set in. A private coach rounded the corner as the other ladies began to depart afoot in several directions.

It was only a glimpse and it was quickly done, as one of the older women brushed up against Lady Talmadge. She begged pardon as Lady Talmadge reached out, that slip of paper quickly passed between them.

I made a mental note of the woman to whom Lady Talmadge had passed that note. She was dressed in a dark blue gown of considerable quality and a black coat, her hat pulled low over dark hair, the brim not quite shielding her face from the rain.

There was only a brief acknowledgment from Lady Talmadge, then she stepped from the curb and entered the private coach that had arrived.

Lady Talmadge stepped up into the coach.

My first instinct was to follow one of them, and none the wiser unless they might have been looking for it as I had. But what of the other woman? Who was she and what was on that piece of paper Lady Talmadge had passed to her?

My efforts to obtain a driver were unsuccessful at the moment with the other ladies scrambling aboard the cabs and hacks available to get out of the rain. I could only watch the direction the other woman had departed.

I returned to the gymnasium to speak with Gerta at the front desk, and described the woman I had seen Lady Talmadge pass that note to.

“I thought that I recognized her, an old friend from school,” I invented as I went along. “If you might have her name, or where I might reach her. It would be so good to catch up with each other.”

I will admit that Gerta looked at me as if I might have taken a step away from sanity, yet with a grumble she scanned down the list of names for the morning class.

“Doesn’t your conscience bother you?” Linnie had asked, after the inquiry case when she had been abducted, and there had been more than one small lie to find her location

“Not when lives are at stake,” I had replied. That had ended the conversation.

As far as I was concerned, the end justified the means, something I had learned from Brodie in the course of that first inquiry case.

“ I may have led ye astray ,” he had commented over one of my more creative endeavors. “ And a lady at that. Are ye ashamed of yerself?”

I assured had him that I wasn’t.

The truth was that I didn’t care where he led me as long as we were together. And that had led to some very interesting encounters.

Gerta had found the woman’s name. “She has been here a few times. Miss M. Holcomb.”

“Of course ...” I replied. “Of Milford Square in Sussex,” I replied with absolutely no idea where she was from, but it accomplished what I was after.

“Not Sussex,” she replied in that thick accent. “Waverly, according to the address when she signed for the class. She receives the bill and pays on time. No trouble.”

‘Miss M. Holcomb of Waverly Place,’ if that was her real name, who had received that note from Lady Talmadge.

I thanked Gerta, then gathered my bag to leave.

The last of the women and several men who had finished their exercise session had clustered under the awning at the sidewalk as they waited for drivers to arrive.

They were a mixed group—some of the women wearing the costume of a housekeeper or seamstress as they took time away from their work to attend the gymnasium, the men wearing wool day coats over trousers, mostly German spoken among them.

As other drivers arrived and passengers crowded round, a young woman stepped from among them and quickly crossed the street as a private coach arrived. I might have paid no attention if she hadn’t looked back.

She was slender and wore a long coat in a deep shade of gray, with a black ship-boat hat over dark auburn hair tucked under.

It was not her clothes that caught my attention, nor the fact that she appeared a great deal younger than the other ladies of the exercise class who crowded the sidewalk in the pouring rain, as she ran toward a coach that waited.

She hesitated, then looked back over her shoulder, her gaze briefly meeting mine. In that moment, it was very much like looking into a mirror.

I started across the street, but the coach was already pulling away from the curb, and quickly disappeared into the traffic of cabs, carts, and hacks that filled the street.