And she had not been in favor of funds kept for her, instead of paid directly to her.
“What if I need something? How am I to pay for it?” she had asked.
I had explained that anything she needed would be provided if the request was reasonable.
“Sounds more like being sent off to prison,” she had replied.
I had then explained what the future might look like with her previous work versus the opportunities that might be available to her if she agreed to my proposal.
“Ye have to remember, livin’ as she has with what she sees daily on the streets, it’s hard to put her trust in a stranger’s word,” Brodie had reminded me.
He knew something about that.
I had been disappointed but realized that it had to be her choice. Then, the week before, she had sent a telegram all on her own— resourceful girl that she was.
She was willing to try my proposal, as long as I agreed that she could leave at any time if she chose to do so.
Negotiations— resourceful indeed.
I had agreed and Munro had agreed to return to Edinburgh to make the arrangements and return with her— if she had not changed her mind again.
It appeared that she had not. They were to arrive in London that next afternoon!
I thought then of Brodie, with his warnings and no small amount of caution about taking the girl on.
“She reminds me of yerself,” he said. “A bit headstrong. Ye might think on that.”
At the time I preferred to think that somewhat strong-willed, even prickly manner was a result of what she had been through, with no family, forced to survive by her own wits. Very much like someone else I knew.
I had to admit that I was very much excited for her and this new beginning.
Five
“You’re a mite preoccupied this morning,”Mrs. Ryan commented with a glance at the contents of the coffee carafe on my desk. “And that’s three cups of coffee already. Bad night, was it?” she added.
I knew well enough from being raised in my aunt’s household with her army of servants, there was little that went unnoticed. And that seemed very much the case this morning.
“And you’ve not touched your breakfast either,” she added.
It was a bit like being scolded by one’s mother I imagined, or nanny as it were. She was right of course, and that made it all the more aggravating.
“Will you be going out then? Perhaps to Mr. Brodie’s office?”
As I said, very little went unnoticed.
“We have that new case. I need to make some inquiries.” And there was now the matter of Lily who was to arrive with Munro on the afternoon train.
Brodie was to contact Mr. Dooley regarding anyone else who might have been seen in Hyde Park the night Amelia Mainwaring was murdered, while I would undertake the task of trying to find who might have taken those photographs.
“I have a telephone call I need to make,” I added. My sister might be a place to start.
Linnie was well connected into the London art scene with her own pieces being shown since returning to her work with Mr. Warren’s encouragement. She was also at present quite involved in the preparations for our aunt’s All Hallows party.
The important question was— who had taken those photographs? The actual murderer? Or someone else?
Was it a professional photographer? The same man who had taken the photograph of the four women? What then was the motive? Some slight on the part of the Mainwaring family? Perhaps against Sir John for some reason? But that did not explain the note that was sent with that second photograph.
While it seemed unlikely that the murder was linked to something involving Sir John, it was not a possibility to be ignored.
