“The Society refused to endorse his work,” she added. “As a result his publisher declined to publish the book.”
I exchanged a look with Brodie. He knew what I was thinking.
“Do ye perhaps have his notes for that second book?” he asked.
She nodded. “They would be in the library where he often worked until late at night. Until recently…”
“They might be helpful if there was something he wrote about that might assist in our inquiry into his death,” I suggested.
She provided us with the portfolio of Dr. Bennett’s notes, that included his research along with findings for that second book.
“You will tell me what you find.”
I assured her that we would.
Now, I stared out the window of the coach as we left Belgrave Square.
What might I find? Anything that might tell us the reason he had that office in a poor part of London? A clue to the reason he was murdered?
Or perhaps nothing more than a man’s obsession with techniques he wanted to bring to his profession that were frowned upon by others? Was that in itself a motive for murder?
I felt that dark gaze on me from across the coach.
“Ye are a rare woman, Mikaela.”
Not the first time he had said that, and it wasn’t that I didn’t appreciate it. God knows I had been dismissed by a great many others with their opinions about my travels, my books, and now the inquiry cases we shared— an “amusing hobby” more than one had called it. Chief Inspector Abberline came to mind.
“Ye have a care for those we encounter. Not everyone understands.”
Was he perhaps thinking of his own experiences? Or perhaps that first case that had been very personal to me.
“Life is cruel,” I replied. “I cannot help but think of what will happen to her now.”
“Helen Bennett strikes me as a strong person. Much like someone else I know.”
Be that as it may. “I want to be able to give her answers for the reason he was murdered.”
Brodie nodded. “And ye will. It’s one of the things I admire about ye.”
“Admire?” That seemed an odd word, considering his determination to keep me out of it, and the black eye I’d given him.
“Well, perhaps a bit more than that.”
Perhaps. Hewasa man of few words, but I would take it.
With my aunt’s soiree in mind and the day fast slipping away, we returned to Mayfair so that I could change my clothes.
I was not given to obsessing over a new gown to make an “appropriate appearance.” I considered such things to be superficial and extremely annoying. I didn’t have time for it, what with my usual schedule, my books, our inquiry cases, and…
However, Brodie reminded me that this was my aunt’s soiree, and I should dress appropriately. I chose a gown that I had previously worn for some other occasion. When I stepped from my bedroom, Brodie frowned.
Did I sense an objection? “Hmmm,” he made that sound that might have meant anything.
“It occurs to me that I might have to fend off admirers,” he said then.
I did appreciate the compliment, as much of one as could be expected from a man who rarely commented on such things.
We then returned to the Strand so that he might change into something more “appropriate,” with most of his clothes there since we had not as yet resolved the issue of where we were to live.
