“When a man has a family, those he cares about, it changes things.”
Was it possible that Inspector Morrissey had been threatened as well?
“He left the MET some time after and went to work with his wife’s brother at a tobacco shop near Piccadilly Circus. I havena spoken with him since. I thought it best to leave the man be.”
“Why did Ellie return after all this time when she was safe?” I asked.
He hesitated, then tossed back the rest of the whisky in his glass.
“There was no life for her where she was, and she felt it was important for the boy to know his family, though I warned her against it.”
I sensed there was something more he might have said, but then decided not to speak of it. He picked up that piece of dark blue wool again and studied it.
“The hound?” he commented.
“He does have a particular dislike for the police. My guess would be there is a constable with a sizeable wound that needed a bandage,” I replied.
Rupert was presently on the floor beside the chair, snoring. Although there was twitching and a sudden movement of the legs as if he was chasing down some victim in his sleep.
“There was someone else at the townhouse after ye left,” Brodie said.
“I saw him across the way. I couldn’t see him clearly, but enough to know it was not the police. He wore a suit with a bowler hat, and he was there long enough to smoke several cigarettes.”
A description that might have been anyone, except that it also fit the description of the man Maisy told me about.
Sent by Abberline after the encounter of one of his men with Rupert? Or, by someone else?
I made a note of that.
“I want to speak with the writer for the Times who wrote the original newspaper article about Stephen Matthews’ murderten years ago,” I said then. “There might be something that he learned afterward, or some piece of gossip from that night that could be useful now.”
Before he could object, I continued. “Might Sir Avery be able to intervene in the matter now? So that you’re not arrested?”
He shook his head. “I willna involve him or the Agency.”
I tried again. “What about staff at the club? Other guests that night,” I suggested. I assumed they were questioned at the time as well.
“I spoke with them at the time,” he replied. “And as for other guests…”
I knew the answer to that. Most would have responded as far as it didn’t involve them in the scandal of the young man’s murder.
“Did Ellie describe the person she saw that night after Stephen Matthews was murdered?”
“No. She was young, terrified by what happened, as if she was in shock when she found me.”
There was more I wanted to ask. Where had he been the past days? Where was he staying at night, was anyone helping him? How could I reach him if I found something important…?
All of that had to wait as Rupert suddenly leapt up, fur up on his back, his head cocked, as he went to the door.
When I would have said something, Brodie warned me to silence as he came out of the chair and followed the hound to the door.
“What did ye tell the landlady when ye came here?” he whispered.
“Nothing...I gave her a false name.”
“Wot name?”
“Emma Fortescue.” Perhaps not a good idea, as I now thought about it. Yet, I hadn’t wanted to use to my real name, which would only have brought undue attention
