“Ellie Sutton,” I commented. He nodded.
“I told her to stay at the hotel, but she refused because of the boy. He was alone at the flat on Charing Cross.”
He continued to explain that he had gone there, but arrived too late. Ellie Sutton was already dead. And the boy?
“It had just happened, the police hadn’t arrived yet. He was hiding there.”
I tried to imagine what that was like for the boy, the horror of what he must have seen.
“I needed a safe place for him, and took him with me,” he continued.
I waited, yet he didn’t say where that safe place was. He seemed to know my thoughts.
“It’s best ye not know, lass.” He fingered that piece of wool. “Ye can see that Abberline willna stop to get at me, even through you. Not even you can stop him. Where the boy is now, even if I shouldna return for him, he will be safe enough.”
That could have only one meaning—if he was unable to return.
“And his mother?” I asked.
“She was verra young when I first encountered her on the streets, near Lily’s age,” he continued.
“There was a difficulty with her father, and the mother turned her out.” The frown deepened. “Not uncommon on the streets,” he added, then paused.
“A woman I knew took her in, then found her work in one of the taverns.”
According to Brodie, that same woman worked in one of the private gentleman’s clubs—the Clarendon Sports Club. Ellie Sutton soon went to work there.
In the way that a pretty young girl might quickly be noticed, it was not long before she came to the attention of one of the club’s prominent members, Stephen Matthews.
“I didn’t see her for some time, and then she appeared at the flat that I had at the time.” He stared into his glass as he swirled the whisky.
“There had been some difficulty with the young man, and she was forced to leave the club. She had a little money, but no place to go. She stayed for a while, then I returned from my shift one night and found a note.
“The young man had come for her with the promise of marriage.”
“Stephen Matthews,” I replied and explained the article about the first murder that I had found, written by Mr. Burke.
As I had learned from our inquiries such promises rarely came to pass, particularly if the young man was from a wealthyfamily, and the young woman was not. The scandals of the rich were swept under the carpet. She had returned with him to his private apartment at the club with devastating consequences.
She had witnessed his murder and fled, terrified. She went to the one person who had helped her before. She swore that she had nothing to do with Matthews’ death, however she had seen the man who had murdered him.
Brodie was called in to investigate the murder. There were employees of the club who saw Ellie flee that night.
Rumors and speculation mounted. There was no other suspect. It was obvious that Ellie Sutton was going to be arrested.
Brodie needed time to find the murderer. He knew only too well what she would face if she was jailed.
“And she was going to have a child.” I concluded the obvious.
“Aye.”
Brodie refused to give her up to the police and helped her leave London. He left the MET shortly thereafter, amid accusations that he had tampered with evidence, namely the only person who saw what happened that night. Equally important, Abberline’s efforts to solve the case and receive that coveted promotion disappeared as well.
“What about Inspector Morrissey, who was also part of the case?” I asked of the name I had read in the archives.
“Was he able to learn anything more after you left?”
“A good man.” He poured himself more whisky. “With a family.” He looked at me.
