I did, however, like Alex Sinclair very much, and trusted him. And it was obvious that Brodie was at least willing to use the Agency in matters that had proven difficult or almost impossible.
Case in point, that cryptic message that was intercepted and seemed very much connected to the death of Dr. Joseph Bennett.
“According to Templeton the color one wears conveys certain messages to anyone they encounter,” I explained as the smell of Mrs. Ryan’s roast chicken beckoned.
It had, after all, been some time since those biscuits and ham…
“And the source of her information?” Brodie asked as he pulled my chair out for me, then took the one at the opposite side of the table.
“She had it on good authority,” I replied as Mrs. Ryan appeared with said chicken and set it on the table.
There were advantages to having her at the townhouse and I told her so.
“Someone has to prepare the food,” this with a baleful look in my direction. “And with the two of you now, it makes it a pleasure. The saints know that you might starve with the lack of skill in the kitchen.”
Brodie thanked her for her efforts and the fine meal as she returned to the kitchen.
“Good authority?” Brodie commented as he cut off a portion of the chicken for my plate then his.
I did hesitate on that, knowing what his reaction would be.
“A dead poet, perhaps?” he added.
William Shakespeare to be precise, whom Templeton claimed communicated with her on a regular basis, and with somewhat surprising accuracy in the past. It did make one consider the possibility.
“Playwright, not a poet,” I clarified.
“And ye believe such things?”
“I believe in thepossibilityof such things,” I replied.
The chicken was most delicious, quite different from my last efforts when I had abandoned undertaking such things in the future.
“It is not impossible,” I continued. “According to Templeton, the afterlife is not at all what we have been led to believe.”
“The man… spirit, whatever she thinks she hears… had some thoughts on that as well?”
I knew when I was being indulged, something along the line of—“let her get it out, she’ll be all right in a few moments.”
“Supposedly the soul returns into a new life, oftentimes somewhat similar to the previous one.”
“Returns? From where?”
“From the spirit world,” I gestured about, as if there was something stirring in the air about us.
“There are those who believe that is where the memory of things quite unexpected comes from, and other aspects.”
“What other aspects?”
I did hesitate with this one, knowing him quite well with his somewhat cynical way of looking at things. However, there was always hope for enlightenment— with those experiments and surgical procedures that he had scoffed at in mind.
“There is every possibility that two souls may be destined to find one another.”
“Such as Templeton finding Mr. Shakespeare? Munro should find that theory of yours most interesting.”
There was a hint of amusement in reference to Templeton’s past relationship with Munro. Actually, more than a hint. He was enjoying the conversation.
I didn’t respond, but let him think on that, trusting that insightful intellect of his that I found so fascinating. For a man.
