“As if what?” I asked.
“As if it isn’t important,” she said with a note of disgust. “It certainly hasn’t been given any priority. And there have only been two mentions of it and then…” She looked over at Brodie.
“It has been followed up that the case is now closed.”
“Of course. Chief Inspector Abberline is certain he has already found the murderer,” I replied with another look at Brodie.
While Lucy searched the police reports, Alex had spent the day also searching their files, specifically their records of known criminals, for someone that fit the description of the man with the bowler hat.
“They keep fingerprints now, and descriptions of known criminals, along with photographs. That doesn’t include how a man is dressed and not all their files included photographs. That is a rather new aspect for them.”
He had then searched through files the Agency had compiled over the past several years, but had found nothing.
“The man does seem to have skills that most persons wouldn’t have. On a suggestion from Mr. Brodie, Sir Avery has provided me with permission for access to military records. The office of military records was closed by the time I returned today,” Alex informed.
“I will be following that up tomorrow with Lucy’s assistance.”
I was beginning to think that those who claimed to have seen the man might be mistaken.
Except for Brodie. He had a keen eye for detail from his training with the MET and his earlier life on the street learning how to survive. He had often come upon a clue in an inquiry that no one had yet discovered.
“Aye,” Munro commented. He had been quietly listening to what each had to say about what we had learned that day.
“Matthews has a reputation for bein’ a hard man for those who work for him.”
A hard man, but not unusual, I thought as I wondered what he might have seen the night Stephen Matthews was murdered.
“He might be able to tell us something from that night.” I had no more finished the thought than Brodie objected.
“Ye’ll not go to speak with the man!” He winced at the effort that took, seized with a fit of coughing that doubled him over.
When I would have gone to him, he waved me away.
The coughing subsided, and I was relieved that there was no sign of blood, in spite of Dr. Watson’s assurances that he didn’t seem to have any internal bleeding from the beating he’d taken or the broken ribs.
“Are ye quite through givin’ orders to everyone then?” Munro asked in a manner that only a very good friend would dare to risk.
“Pian anns an asal,” Brodie muttered in Scots Gaelic that conveyed a great deal just the way he said it.
Munro merely shrugged. Obviously not the first time he had heard it, and undoubtedly not the last.
“Aye, and ye are a horse’s ass as well,” he replied as he slipped an arm about Brodie’s shoulders, the only place that hadn’t suffered injury. “Now, do I have to throw ye over my shoulder to get ye to return to the infirmary before ye do yerself more harm?” Munro asked in a tone that suggested he would do just that, no matter the pain it caused.
Brodie leaned against him as they left the office, looking very much like two men who’d had a bit much to drink. Their progress was slow and measured with more than one curse between them.
I had updated Lucy and Alex on everything that I’d learned and made notes on the chalkboard. I then hurried to catch up with Munro and Brodie.
I hadn’t seen Brodie alone since he was brought to the Tower two days earlier, barely conscious and mostly incoherent, and wanted very much to see him.
I was grateful for Dr. Watson’s care, however I wanted to see for myself that he was recovering. And I wanted to discuss the case with him.
I had missed our conversations and while I was confident of my abilities, the truth was that I missed him terribly—the exchange of ideas, our conversations...
“Ye let her go alone?!” I heard Brodie say only a few yards ahead in the hallway. “Ye know what I told her!”
“She wasna alone,” Munro replied. “And there was no danger.”
What Brodie said next stopped me in the dimly lit hallway.
