Page 24 of Deadly Murder (Angus Brodie and Mikaela Forsythe Murder Mystery #14)

Fifteen

Mr. Hastings delivered us to the office on The Strand after we departed our meeting with Sir Laughton.

I was eager to share what we had learned with Brodie, while Lily was not at all eager to return to Sussex Square.

“The Four Horsemen,” she commented. “His Highness was the fourth member of the club at university.”

And we were no closer to learning who was behind the murders than when we started.

There was another person I wanted to speak with, Lady Walsingham, an acquaintance of Aunt Antonia, regarding the tragic death of her son in that riding accident. Was there a connection?

Mr. Cavendish emerged from the alcove and met us at the sidewalk. The hound appeared to have returned as the weather had worsened, covered with the usual mud and debris from the street, which he decided to share as he loped toward Lily with a toothsome grin.

“Mr. Brodie returned a short while ago,” Mr. Cavendish informed us.

“He was to meet with Mr. Dooley.” I wanted very much to know what the police had learned from their inquiries into the death of Lord Salisbery’s son after he left White’s that night.

Mr. Cavendish nodded. “And there was a gentleman waiting for him across the way, though no gentleman in my book. Sir Avery Stanton.”

He gave me a long look from under the bill of his cap.

“Gave a taste of his boot to the hound. They came to a rather quick agreement in that regard.”

I could well imagine that, as the hound could be quite formidable when provoked. “He seems not to have been injured.”

Mr. Cavendish grinned. “Not at all.”

I looked at the office on the landing. We knew that Sir Avery, with the Special Services Agency, had been called upon by the Queen regarding the incident at Marlborough House.

He had his sources and could be quite thorough, as I had learned. I was not at all pleased that he was there.

“Sir Avery?” Lily commented, as she gave Rupert strokes about the ears. She was most fond of him. As she had once said, they were both orphans.

“What does he want?”

Precisely, I thought.

After a somewhat difficult business in the past where Brodie could have been brought up on charges and imprisoned, he regarded the man with caution and chose not to involve us in any “Crown situations” as they were called.

As for myself, it was quite simple. He was the Queen’s man who had been given a great deal of power when it came to protecting the “interests of the Crown” that might fall outside the usual boundaries of propriety or the law.

He felt that he could do almost anything to achieve his own purposes. To say that I was not fond of the man was a mild understatement. Quite simply, I didn’t like or trust the man.

And now, I could only assume that he wanted something from us, information no doubt. Most interesting.

Lily and I proceeded toward the lift. When the hound would have followed, Mr. Cavendish started to call him back.

“It’s quite all right,” I assured him. “I’m certain a warm fire would be welcome on a day such as this.” Not to mention that it would be interesting to see the reaction from Sir Avery.

He grinned. “Miss Effie said as how it was good and warm at the Public House as well. I believe I do hear a pint calling me name—to warm my bones in this weather. What’s left of them, that is.”

He was not the least impaired after the loss of both legs at the knees in an accident. He wheeled his platform sharply about and launched himself across the roadway in the direction of the Public House, icy rain exploding in clouds around him.

I called Rupert, and we went to the lift and made the slow trip up to the second-floor landing. We arrived just down from the office where a light shone through the glass panes in the door and I could see Sir Avery seated across from Brodie who sat at his desk.

Rupert had run ahead as I opened the gate of the lift. He waited expectantly at the door, ears perked, tail standing up as well in anticipation.

“Should we leave him outside?” Lily inquired. “He is a bit soggy.” She wrinkled her nose. “And after that confrontation Mr. Cavendish mentioned.”

“Not at all,” I replied and opened the door.

Rupert bounded into the warm office. He slid to a stop on the wood floor, in that way I had seen my father’s hounds do as a child when they picked up a scent on the hunt. The hound then launched himself.

Sir Avery came part way out of his chair as Rupert attacked.

The instinct to protect himself was wasted as the chair went over backwards with Sir Avery and Rupert amid much snarling and snapping.

Brodie had come out of his chair as well.

The look he gave me was most interesting as he rounded the desk as though to come to Sir Avery’s aid amid a good number of curses.

Oh my, I thought. Whoever would have thought this might happen?

“You might want to call him off,” Brodie strongly suggested as Lily broke out laughing at the conflagration at the office floor.

Or not?

Still, I suppose it might be considered a serious attack on someone of importance—at least in his own mind.

And more to consider, I did not want some punishment to come down on Rupert, who had come to my aid more than once. Not to mention that I was very fond of him. Particularly at moments like this.

I called him back. Eventually he let go of Sir Avery’s pant leg, then came and sat at my feet.

“I have no idea what got into him,” I commented as Brodie assisted Sir Avery to his feet.

“He is usually quite docile, though he is fond of food,” I added pointedly as Sir Avery inspected himself for any wounds. “Did you perhaps have luncheon before arriving?”

There are times when one’s station, family connections, and even greater wealth than that of the Queen—my great aunt’s—could be advantageous.

And although I have never been one to flaunt any of it, I did take particular pleasure in the expression on Sir Avery’s face. He was, as Aunt Antonia would have described, quite white around the mouth as he sputtered and cursed.

Lily went into the adjacent room and returned with a towel. She proceeded to wipe mud and debris from Rupert’s coat.

“He doesn’t seem to be injured,” she announced.

“Injured?” Sir Avery roared, quite indignant.

“Another towel might be called for,” I suggested, though I didn’t give a fig if the man was injured and bleeding.

She brought another towel from the room and handed it to him, with an innocent expression.

“I do hope you are not badly injured, sir.”

There was a tear in the sleeve of his coat, and he was quite disheveled. Although, he appeared otherwise unharmed except perhaps a few bruises that would appear later.

Good dog, I thought.

I would have a warm meal brought for him from the Public House for his reward. Mr. Cavendish would be highly disappointed to have missed this second encounter.

Sir Avery straightened his clothes and smoothed a hand back through his hair. He seized his long coat from the coat stand and fumbled as he struggled to pull it on.

“I expect you to be forthcoming in the matter, Brodie,” he said then. “I know you well, and I refuse to believe that you have no information in the matter,” he snapped.

I glanced at the chalkboard where I had made notes about our progress so far in the case. The board had been wiped clean!

It did seem that Brodie had removed my notes.

Brodie briefly met my gaze as he went to assist Sir Avery with his coat.

“The lift is at the end of the hallway,” he informed him. “The stairs can be treacherous in this sort of weather.”

No sooner had the door snapped shut behind him and he made his way to lift, than Lily burst out laughing.

Brodie turned to me. “Did it occur to ye that it might have been unwise to let the hound accompany ye? Ye know well enough what the man is capable of. It’s usually best not to poke the bear. Although,” the smile was there, “it was most entertainin’.”

I crossed the office and knelt in front of the hound and rubbed his ears. He licked my hand and grinned.

“For a ‘bear ,’” I replied. “Sir Avery screamed like a fish monger at market.”

“You’ve erased Mikaela’s notes?” Lily commented as she sat on the chair that Sir Avery had occupied before he was attacked.

“In the best interests of our client,” Brodie replied. “There was just enough time after Mr. Cavendish announced his arrival.”

“It must have been a most interesting conversation,” I commented. “Did he share what he has learned about the incident at Marlborough House?”

“It appears that he is not aware of the possible connection to the riding accident at Hyde Park this past April. Or if he was, he did not share it with me.”

“Of course not.” I didn’t bother to hide my sarcasm. “Was he able to provide any insights from his own inquiries on behalf of the Queen?”

The answer was, not surprisingly, “ no .”

“There was the not-subtle reminder I might find it advantageous to make certain that he is informed of anything we learn. It was just about that time that you arrived.”

“Advantageous in what way?” I inquired with no small amount of suspicion.

“The advantage of working with the Agency in the future.”

We shared a look. I came out of my own chair.

“Bloody hell! The man is a snake. He would sell his mother if he thought it would gain him anything.”

“Tell me, wot ye really think of the man,” Brodie replied.

I didn’t dignify that with a response.

“What else were you able to learn from the conversation?” I then inquired, knowing how very persuasive he could be when he wanted information.

“I did happen to mention the similarity of the marks on the two bodies. He was unaware of them.”

“And what of the ‘Four Horsemen?’”

“I made no mention of it. He may not have been informed of that, if in fact the Queen was even aware of that private club of theirs before His Highness was removed over that incident.”

“What of your meeting with Mr. Dooley?” I inquired as Lily poured coffee for all of us against the cold in the office in spite of the fire in the coal stove.

“It seems there was another potential witness the night young Salisbery was murdered, a woman who is part of the cleaning staff.

“She works the late hours after most of the members and the entertainment for the evenin’ have departed.

“Dooley provided her address near the Garden, and I was able to speak with her. She had hired a cab that night to take her and another one of the women to the club as the weather took a turn.

“When they arrived on the side street, down the street from the club, she saw a man make his way to a coach, one of the hired drivers that are near the park. He had a limp in one leg.”

“Did she see him clearly?”

“She described him as perhaps no more than thirty years old or so, with fair hair.” Brodie paused. “More than that she couldna see. The driver set off and pulled round the corner and stopped.”

A driver who waited for the son of Lord Salisbery to leave.

We spent the rest of the afternoon retrieving the notes I’d made from my notebook while Lily typed them on the portable typewriter, adding what we had learned that day as well as what Brodie had learned from the woman who worked at White’s.

Mr. Cavendish returned to make certain Rupert hadn’t experienced any further “indignity” as he put it. Well aware of our habit of staying over at the office when on a case, he brought food cartons for supper.

“And to make certain Mr. Brodie hadn’t pitched his guest into the street. Gettin’ rid of a body is always a tricky proposition. Although there is always the river,” he suggested. “I know people.”

I did not question that.

Before the accident that had taken his legs, he had spent years aboard a merchantman. It was not the first time he mentioned pitching someone overboard.

“And I see the hound is no worse for the experience.”

“Ye should have been here,” Lily chimed in. “He was magnificent. Sir Avery will have more than a few bruises.”

“Good lad,” he replied, then spun about and headed for the lift.

“I’ll be at the Public House,” he called out as he entered the lift. “It’s cold out tonight.”

No explanation needed there.

After sharing supper, I telephoned my great aunt to let her know that Lily would be staying with us, then returning to Sussex Square in the morning.

“So good of you to let me know,” she exclaimed through the earpiece.

She did hate the thing and much preferred an embossed formal note sent round—possible evidence she had once commented, should it be needed.

She hadn’t provided details of that and I didn’t ask. However, with true Montgomery fortitude, she used the “damned thing” as she called the telephone.

She then went on to tell me that she had spoken with Lady Walsingham whose son had died in that riding accident and the grieving mother would be expecting me to call on her.

“I have asked Madame to inquire with her sources in the matter as well,” she added. “No stone unturned.”

Oh my.

“Who the devil is Madame?” Brodie asked when I explained that I would be meeting with Althea Walsingham after ending the conversation.

I had not previously spoken of Madame Sybille, as I knew Brodie’s thoughts regarding such things.

“She is the lady who speaks to spirits,” Lily explained. “She has been to Sussex Square several times.”

“Speaks to spirits?” Brodie commented as he set more coal in the box of the stove. “Is she perhaps acquainted with Miss Templeton?”

It was not that he didn’t think it was possible. I had to admit that my good friend, Templeton, who was currently off on tour with her latest play, was a trifle eccentric. Yet, then, many people considered Aunt Antonia to be eccentric. Precisely what she let them believe.

As she had once explained it to my sister and me, people were often very accommodating, and one could get away with a great deal if they thought one was eccentric or a bit off as she put it. I had seen her use that to her advantage more than once. And it was possible the same was true of my friend.

“You have to admit,” I told Brodie, “Templeton has provided information in the past that we might not have learned otherwise.”

Lily smiled as Brodie slammed the iron door shut on the stove.