He nodded. “Perhaps.”
I heard the hesitation, and with good reason after his experience with former Chief Inspector Abberline during our previous inquiry case. Brodie’s broken ribs had healed according to Munro, but he still carried the scar over his left eye from that encounter.
“Teuch, ye ken?” he replied when I inquired after my return from my travel with my great-aunt and Lily.
“He’s tough,” he translated the Gaelic word. “He’s had to be with our time on the streets, and...other things.”
He had not explained the last of it. There was no need. I heard it in his voice, those other things, the losses he’d been through.
As for the aftermath of the case? Brodie had not shared any of it with me. It was part of that distance between us after my return. Our exchanges were distant, polite, only marginally improved with the case we were now to pursue together.
Still, I knew that something had irrevocably changed.
I did, however, learn from Munro that, after the closing of the case, the Chief Inspector had been immediately suspended from his position over his treatment of Brodie. An official investigation was pending over the brutal beating Brodie received and his incarceration in Scotland Yard, as well as Abberline’s interference in the inquiry case into the murder of Ellie Sutton, and Stephen Matthews ten years earlier.
Abberline was presently awaiting trial on multiple charges at Scotland Yard, the very same place where he had Brodie imprisoned. I personally felt there was no one more deserving.
As for a conversation regarding the case or our parting afterward, there had been no opportunity. Or at least none that he was willing to have with me.
He had been courteous, almost as it was in the beginning with the first inquiry case we shared. There was a distance between us now that I wasn’t certain could be overcome.
I had spent the past months saddened, then angry that he could not understand the reasons I had continued with the previous case no matter the risk rather than see him unfairly prosecuted. He would have done no less.
In the past few days, things between us had almost seemed as they were when we worked so well together, even though there was still that distance. As if there were an invisible wall he kept between us. Although, more than once, I had sensed there was something he wanted to say, yet did not.
“I will send round a message for Dooley and see what he might be able to learn about Herr Schmidt’s brother-in-law.”
Our driver made our way across London toward the Tower.
Then he added, “Perhaps with the information we now have, Sir Avery will be able to continue with others in the investigation, and we may both carry on with other things.”
There it was again, that barrier.
I had to admit that I wouldn’t have minded being released from my agreement with Sir Avery—that other piece of Brodie’s anger toward me. Although, it would also bring to an end our work on the case, and perhaps our personal relationship as well?
Eight
THE TOWER, LONDON
Unlike previous occasionsand in spite of the fact that we had no set appointment, we were not forced to wait to see Sir Avery upon our arrival. It was further emphasis as to the seriousness of the case.
Alex Sinclair met us in the hallway outside of his office. “You have information?”
Brodie nodded. “Aye. What of Sir Avery’s inquiries with the other gentlemen who were present at Sandringham?”
“He has met with all of them, including the Prince of Wales, and only just returned. He will be most anxious to hear what you have learned in the matter. He also has spoken with the physician who inspected the body.”
What was left of it, I thought with a shiver at the memory of that encounter in the forest at the royal estate.
“There were several knife wounds. However, it seems that the fatal wound was across the throat.” Alex explained as he escorted us to Sir Avery’s office.
Sir Avery rose from behind his desk as we entered. His expression was unreadable for the most part and gave none of his thoughts away. He was the epitome of the perfect masterof discretion or, as my great-aunt had said of him, the perfect sort to be a spy—completely unassuming in appearance, short in height, with features that would never draw attention except for that gaze that seemed to see everything.
And according to her as well, behind that unassuming ‘common man’ appearance was a ruthless demeanor and unwavering loyalty to Queen and country.
“There is a reason he was chosen to lead this new agency,” she had said, surprising me as there were few who supposedly knew about it.
“Of course, spying on one’s enemies is nothing new,” she had continued at the time.“It’s been going on for centuries in one form or another. And the fact that the Queen has this secret group to gather information is nothing new either. It all began with her marriage to Prince Albert. He was German, you know. It was no secret there were concerns about the alliance and the need to keep tabs on what was going on not only in Germany, but in other countries as well.
