Page 19 of Deadly Murder (Angus Brodie and Mikaela Forsythe Murder Mystery #14)

Twelve

MIKAELA

Lily and I returned to the office on The Strand after our visit with the director of White’s Gentleman’s Club.

“No women allowed,” Lily commented.

“Only certain women, for entertainment purposes,” I replied.

She drew her own conclusion to that, from her previous experience before coming to London.

“Whores and prostitutes.”

“You could say that.”

“I did say that,” she replied. “Not surprising, it’s just a fancier place than the Church.” A place where she had been employed as a “ladies’ maid”, in that previous inquiry where we first met.

“Has Mr. Brodie returned?” I inquired, evading commenting directly about her comment.

Mr. Cavendish nodded. “Just a while ago, and there was a visit from a gentleman while you were both gone, by the name of Stanton.”

It hadn’t taken long for Sir Avery to learn we were making inquiries into the death of the son of Lord Salisbery, and now the son of Sir Huntingdon.

I glanced up at the office on the second-floor landing.

“And now?” I inquired. I had no desire to see the man.

“He left a note for Mr. Brodie, then said he would return.”

When I would have held the coachman over to take Lily back to Sussex Square, she had disappeared.

“I believe the young miss took the lift,” Mr. Cavendish informed me.

I glanced up to see that she had arrived and had entered the office.

I had hoped that she might be satisfied with the day, had decided that the inquiry business was quite boring, and be done with any further interest. It appeared that I was mistaken.

“We learned something that might be important,” she was saying quite excitedly as I entered the office.

Brodie glanced up from where he sat, the drawing I’d made before him on the desk, along with a note that he’d obviously just opened. He sat back in his chair.

“Is it important?” she inquired.

I was aware that I suddenly had two choices. I could proceed to explain what we had learned in our visit to White’s that included our conversation with the footman from that night when young Salisbery had departed the club.

Or I could let Lily continue, which of course, would naturally encourage her involvement.

I thought of that earlier conversation with Brodie. He was right of course. I couldn’t lock her up at Sussex Square to protect her from the outside world. Point of fact, she already knew a great deal more about that “world” from her years at the “Church” in Edinburgh.

The choice was obvious: Pressing the issue despite my feelings on the matter.

“Please continue,” I told her. “The information may be helpful.”

I must admit that Lily gave an almost perfect account of what we had learned.

She didn’t embellish but gave a thorough description of our visit, our conversation with the director, and then our additional conversation with the footman who had seen the young man off after he left the club that night.

“It seems that he was quite into the drink and had difficulty making his way to the coach that arrived. The footman had called for a coach, as was his usual responsibility. He thought it odd that it arrived rather quickly,” she recounted what he had told us.

“Then, after he assisted the young gentleman aboard, he noticed that the driver stopped at the end of the street and a man stepped out. There was no fog that night, and he was able to see quite clearly.

“He thought it strange that the man did not seem to have any difficulties from having too much to drink, though it did seem as if the man was somewhat impaired with a limp in the left leg. The driver then carried on afterward.

“That is a great deal more than appeared in the police report,” Brodie commented. “There was no mention about what happened after the young man left the club.”

“Mr. Masterson also shared that the following day was his usual day apart from the club and he has not been questioned by the police. When he inquired with the director of the club, he was told that it was a private matter for Lord Salisbery, and he was not to speak of it among the staff at the club as it would only cause rumor and speculation.”

“Ye did well,” Brodie complimented Lily. “It is helpful. Ye might add the information to the notes on the chalkboard.”

I watched as Lily stepped to the board and took out the small notebook she had carried that morning. She was most serious as she began.

It did seem, as Brodie said, that I had very little choice in the matter, no matter what my concerns for her.

I caught that dark gaze watching me.

“And for yourself?” I inquired. “Were you able to meet with Lord Salisbery’s physician?”

“Aye, reluctantly at first on his part until I mentioned that we were inquiring on behalf of His Highness.”

I sat on the chair across from his desk. “You learned something important.”

“Doctor Chapman was verra thorough in his examination of the wounds. He is a surgeon as well as physician, and it was his opinion that any one of the wounds was sufficient to cause death.”

“Yet there were several,” I recalled from the notes in the report.

“Aye. To quote the good doctor, it appeared that the wounds were made out of rage, not the sort of thing a thief would take the time for in a robbery.” He pushed the sketch across the desk toward me.

“He recognized this. According to what he observed, a mark very near this was made on Salisbery’s chest. It wasn’t deep and wouldn’t have caused his death.”

I stared at the sketch. A mark made by the murderer, almost identical to the mark I’d made a sketch of during our visit to St. James’s Mortuary.

“He described it as looking like a cross.”

“I thought the same when I saw it.” Lily had stepped away from the chalkboard and now stood at my shoulder.

“I’ve seen that sort of thing before,” she continued. “At the ‘Church’, in Edinburgh on the wall of one of the old chambers. According to stories told on the street, the sick and dying were taken there.

“I found it when the ‘Church’ was all quiet during the daytime, when the girls were asleep and I had finished my chores. I went exploring in the rooms below that had been locked off before Madame set up the ‘Church’ for business.”

I caught Brodie’s amused expression and chose to ignore him.

“I took a lantern with me. Some of the cots were still there and I saw marks on the walls beside them. As if the poor souls there had made the sign of the cross as they were dyin’.”

It was dreadful to listen to it. She had been quite a bit younger then, and I could only imagine the horror of it.

It perhaps explained her fierceness when she had discovered the sword room at Sussex Square and insisted that I show her how the weapons were used.

Or perhaps it was there in her sudden silences that had eventually grown fewer when she simply chose not to discuss the memory.

It was another glimpse into who Lily was before I brought her to London. It did seem that things we experienced in the past were always part of who we were, no matter the education or care from others, as Brodie had reminded me.

I looked at the sketch again, and then at the one Lily had made that was tacked up on the wall beside the chalkboard.

A cross? If so, what did it mean?

There was more, of course. That envelope and note on the desk in front of Brodie. It was from Sir Avery Stanton of the Special Services Agency.

“It seems that he has been made aware of the inquiries we have been making. He has requested a meetin’,” Brodie explained.

“Will you agree to meet with him?”

“Perhaps, but first we need to meet with His Highness. With what we have now learned it does appear there is more to this than he has shared with us. And now, with the information from the good doctor about young Salisbery’s wounds and this…”

He reached across the desk and retrieved the sketch.

“I am not willing to continue until we know all of it.”

Pressing the issue, of course, was easier said than done.

He had me write out the brief message he wanted sent to Marlborough House.

I modified the language somewhat. The Prince of Wales was known to have a rather “strong” temperament. Still, it clearly set out that we would not continue the case until His Highness agreed to meet with us.

“It is not a suggestion,” Brodie pointed out as he stood over me while reading the note.

“I thought it best to be more diplomatic rather than make a demand. Honey to bees for instance?” I suggested.

He shook his head then departed for the office of the courier service.

“What about bees?” Lily asked after he had left.

It was something Aunt Antonia had once explained to me. However, her version was somewhat different.

“You hear it from time to time; however, I’ve never believed in it,” she told me at the time.

I might have been about the age of ten or twelve, after she had taken Linnie and me to live with her.

I explained the old saying to Lily about bees being attracted to honey rather than vinegar as far as attempting to persuade someone to do something.

“Vinegar is foul and nasty,” she agreed. “However, it would bring far quicker results.”

I made no comment on that as we added notes to the chalkboard regarding our meeting at White’s and Brodie’s meeting with Lord Salisbery’s physician, most particularly his impression regarding the mark that had also been made on the first victim’s body.

Brodie quickly returned from the courier office. He had been assured by the clerk that the message would be delivered straight away once the man saw where it was to be delivered.

A response, from the Prince of Wales, arrived barely more than an hour later, and we prepared to depart for Marlborough House with my notes, and the sketches that Lily and I had made.

“I would like very much to accompany ye,” she commented. “I believe that I have contributed adequately with my sketch and information we learned today.”

She was correct, of course. She had shown enormous intelligence, poise, and tenacity, as now.

“Of course,” I replied.

I could have sworn that little voice inside that made itself known from time to time, suddenly laughed.