Page 14 of Deadly Murder (Angus Brodie and Mikaela Forsythe Murder Mystery #14)
That was over two hours ago he noted by the pocket watch he now carried, a birthday gift from Mikaela, although he didn’t know precisely when his birthday was.
His only memory of it was a small celebration with a piece of sponge cake with jam that his mother had given him along with an unexpected gift when he was young. She had taken the money used for coal in the flat where they lived to purchase a pair of pants and boots for him.
They were not new, of course, purchased from the second’s shop near where they lived. But they were new to him, and there had been sponge cake.
It was slightly stale, purchased from the bake shop at the end of day. He’d paid no mind to the staleness of it with the sweetness of the jam.
Now, he enjoyed fresh sponge cake baked by Mikaela’s housekeeper Mrs. Ryan. With any left after saved for the hound. It was that sort of contrast that caught him unawares at times—how far he’d come. Yet, there were still moments when what and who he’d been were there.
It clawed its way back to the surface, reminding him that he was no better than any other man on the street, with his own secrets, pain from the past, and a darkness inside.
Then, Mikaela was there, filling up the empty places inside him, soothing the darkness with her intelligence, stubbornness and sass, and other things that came with just a look.
It was a reminder that, as much as they came from different places and different circumstances, she understood the dark places that were there inside him in a way no one else could.
He looked up from the table that had been provided and the notepad he always carried.
Aye, sass, he thought with a smile as he waited for the Lord Steward of Marlborough House, a man by the name of Burgess, who had been with the household of the Prince of Wales for several years.
He had been in charge of staff and servants the night of the birthday celebration and had been present throughout the day and evening should a member of the royal family have a need.
It was possible that he might have seen the man whose likeness Lady Lenore had sketched from Lily’s description.
He stood beside the table where he’d placed the sketch so that the man would see it straight away. Much the same as he had when he was an inspector with the MET and placed a piece of evidence where it could be easily seen by those he questioned and perhaps bring a reaction.
It might help Mr. Burgess remember an encounter with the man that evening—that in itself might reveal something important.
He looked up then as the man arrived. He wore a formal suit of clothes: coat, white shirt with cravat and striped charcoal trousers. His face was devoid of expression.
“Good morning, sir,” the man greeted him. “I am Mr. Burgess, Steward at Marlborough House. His Royal Highness has informed me that I am to provide all cooperation for your visit.”
He caught Burgess’s glance at the sketch, then the quick glance at him.
Most interesting, Brodie thought. Had the man recognized the person in the sketch? It perhaps meant nothing. Or something?
“I appreciate His Highness’s assistance in the matter,” he replied. “Shall we begin?”
Speaking with a good number of people was always a tedious, time-consuming task. However, Mr. Burgess was able to shorten the matter by providing a list of servants who were present among the guests on the main floor that night in the usual performance of their duties for such an event.
The hours passed as, one by one, those summoned appeared, studied the sketch and then answered his questions.
Did they recognize the man in the sketch? Do they remember seeing anyone that resembled him that night? Was there anything that night that seemed unusual among the guests? Perhaps someone seen some place where they shouldn’t have been?
The answers were invariably the same. No one had seen anything unusual, although more than one mentioned that it might be impossible to see any particular person with so many guests about.
Yet, more than one mentioned the upset when the young man fell from the balustrade on the second floor.
“Did ye perhaps see anything unusual sometime other than the incident?” he repeatedly asked. It seemed that no one had seen anything other than the reaction among the guests.
He asked the last young man he questioned to inform Mr. Burgess that he wanted to inspect the place where the “accident,” as it was called, had occurred.
He also wanted to speak with the head groomsman who was present the night of the attack on the young man. It was possible the servant might have seen something as the attacker fled the mansion with Lily in pursuit.
As Mr. Burgess was apparently delayed with some matter, Brodie left that small room beside the library. He tucked his notepad with those few notes that he’d made into his coat pocket, then made his way to the hall where the celebration had taken place.
There hadn’t been an opportunity to inspect the location the evening of the incident.
The stairway and the landing were carpeted over marble, as was the hallway that led to other rooms where some guests had gathered that night. The balustrade where the young man had fallen looked down over the saloon below which had been filled with other guests that night.
The railing had held but had been loosened as the young man obviously struggled with his attacker, with several places where the wood post had splintered and threatened to give way.
The area had obviously been cleaned since that night, with traces of a carpet sweeper on the carpet that lined the hall, though repairs to the balustrade had obviously not been made yet.
He frowned at what appeared to be a stain on a decorative ironwork crossmember that connected an elaborate design to the wood.
He pulled his handkerchief from his pocket and wiped it across the ironwork. Although the stain had long since dried, it very much appeared to be blood.
“Do be careful sir.”
An older man in that same uniform of royal staff cautioned.
“His Highness has ordered it repaired. The carpenter and his men were to see to it this morning, but they were needed elsewhere first. Repairs will be made today to prevent any further accidents.”
An accident? An interesting choice of words. It did seem that, as far as the servants were concerned, that is what the situation was to be considered.
“Were ye here the evening of the accident?” Brodie inquired as he had not previously spoken with the man.
“I am steward of the second floor, sir. It is my responsibility to see that the servants complete their daily tasks at Marlborough House for His Highness and his family.”
Brodie introduced himself and the reason he was there.
“Of course,” the head steward replied. “We were informed that you would be arriving and making inquiries.”
“When was this area last cleaned?”
“The morning after the celebration for His Highness’s birthday, sir. Upon instructions by her Highness, the Princess of Wales.”
Brodie nodded. That was not unexpected.
“Were ye present that evenin’ when the accident occurred?”
“Only afterward, sir, when it became known what had happened, as there was quite an upset among the servants.”
No help there if the man was telling the truth, which he had no reason to doubt.
“Did ye see anyone about who might not have seemed to be one of the guests and then fled after the accident?”
The man shook his head. “As I said, I was not present. It took me several moments to arrive after I heard sounds from the saloon below. A dreadful situation, if I may say, sir. Is there anything else?”
“That will be all. I thank ye for yer time.”
Brodie slowly inspected the landing and the hallway at the balustrade where the “accident” had taken place.
The presence of dried blood would seem to be from that night. It was unfortunate, but not surprising, that nothing else was found that might tell him something since the area had already been cleaned.
He imagined what had taken place there, from the description Lily had provided—the startled guests as young Huntingdon had struggled with his attacker, the moment he had been overcome and had fallen, and the attacker had fled to the end of the hallway, then down the servants’ stairs to the main floor.
Lily had gone after the man and followed him across the green to the stables and carriage park. Only one other person, a servant who served champagne to the guests, thought he might have seen the man in the sketch.
“It was just a glimpse and then he was gone.”
A chance encounter that lasted only seconds, and then the man was gone.
What were young Huntingdon’s thoughts as they struggled? Had he recognized his attacker. Was the other man injured in the confrontation?
Lily said that the killer seemed to favor his left leg. Or was it from a previous injury?
As Brodie knew from his own time on the streets, when it was over and he’d managed to send young Huntingdon over the balustrade to his death below, there would have been a moment, perhaps two, afterward when the attacker might have hesitated.
That was when Lily had come upon him.
Had he been afraid then that he might be caught? Or had there been no emotion at all, no remorse for the young man he’d just sent to his death?
There was one thing Brodie was certain of, the murder hadn’t been random, for robbery or some other injustice. It had been deliberate. But for what reason? To send a message with that note? What did it mean?
There had been two deaths, apparently connected with those notes.
There was most definitely more to this than the Prince of Wales had shared with them.
He took a long look about for anything he might have missed, then returned downstairs to call on the head groom at the stables who might be able to tell him something about that night.