“We understand each other,” I replied as I finally stood. Rupert immediately flattened himself across the toe of my boot and angled a sad-eyed look up at me.
“Come along then,” I told the hound and headed for the stairs that led to the office on the second floor with Brodie.
It had not changed since I was last there some months before. The chalkboard on the far wall still contained the notes I had made on the last inquiry case we took together.
“I keep forgetting to clean the board. It was something ye took care of when ye were here makin’ yer notes about a particular case...”
That dark gaze met mine.
“That is more than obvious,” I replied.
I picked up a small piece of chalk in the chalk rail.
“It does appear that I will need more chalk if I’m to make them.”
I heard the distinct sound as one of the desk drawers was pulled open. He came up behind me, and held out a new piece of chalk.
“I could show you the proper way to make the notes,” I told him. I didn’t trust myself to look over my shoulder at him. “The order is chronological and usually best as one piece of information often leads to another. It’s really quite simple.”
“Yer far better at such things. Ye can hardly read my writing,” he replied, a bit of an exaggeration. This from a man who had taught himself how to read and write, and had at one time written lengthy police reports.
The jangle of the office telephone interrupted. Brodie cursed softly as he lifted the earpiece. An hour later, a courier from the Agency brought round a sealed message along with that letter Sir Avery had spoken of.
As for our visit to the Collingwood residence, it had been arranged for us to call on the residence at one o’clock in the afternoon, which was several hours away.
“I want to speak with Templeton beforehand,” I announced after the courier had left. “I thought that it might be useful to learn if she knows anything about Angeline Cotillard, as they share the same profession and have both toured extensively.”
Brodie agreed. “Take the hound with ye.”
There it was. That protective nature of his that had led to that nasty argument and our parting months earlier.
It had not resolved itself then. Now, it seemed necessary, if there was to be any reconciliation, even if it was limited to our partnership in inquiry cases.
“The theater is near and safe enough this time of the day,” I added, remembering something of our companion’s words of wisdom during our initial trip to Norfolk—compromise.
“Aye,” he finally replied. “Perhaps ye are right. I suppose it is safe enough.”
I did wonder if I had heard that correctly and looked up from across the desk. It was a small thing under the circumstances. However, no small thing for Angus Brodie.
I would have made a comment but decided against. It was best to simply take that small victory.
“I will meet you back here to make our appointment with the servants at Sir Collingwood’s residence.”
I then put my notebook and pen in the bag, and left.
As I made the short ride to the Theater Royal, I wondered if my friend had acquired any new pets. She did have a penchant for bringing them with her to the theater. Ziggy came to mind, a four-and-a half-foot iguana that had been a gift from an admirer on one of her tours.
Her admirer spoke no English, she spoke no Spanish. She was forced to learn a few key phrases in Spanish since it appeared that Ziggy only understood that language.
After more than one performance that I attended with Ziggy on the loose, she could be heard attempting to persuade him back to the captivity of her dressing room with words she’d learned courtesy of one of the stage hands at the time.
It rapidly became apparent that the vocabulary was quite colorful and perhaps not what Templeton intended. In any event, Ziggy was finally persuaded back to her dressing room with...red roses.
I’d had luncheon with Templeton after my return from safari. When she completed her current commitment at the Theatre Royal she was to depart for Europe. She would be gone for several months and had chatted on about the play she would be performing, her fellow cast members, then none too subtly slipped in a question about Brodie.
It seemed that she had seen Munro from time to time while I was gone. In his stoic manner, much like Brodie’s, he had shared nothing of our difficulty. Which, of course, left her to imagine all sorts of things.
“I will not ask you about your relationship with Brodie,” she had announced at the time, and I had thanked her.
