“Been that way since before the fire.”
“You receive a stipend to watch over the site, after all these years?” Brodie asked him.
“It’s not much, but the least I can do for all the years I worked for Mr. Harris.”
“How does that work?” Brodie then asked
Mr. Martins shook his head. “I don’t know anythin’ about that. The attorney takes care of it.”
“Mr. Harris’s attorney?” I inquired, knowing something about that sort of thing.
“By the name of Winslow. He came to me after the fire and said that it was somethin’ Mr. Harris put in place to take care of those who worked for him.”
It appeared that was all Mr. Martins knew, or was going to tell us. And he certainly wasn’t about to provide access to that storeroom. Loyal to the end, even after death.
Constable Nolan needed to set off for his shift in another part of London, and it was clearly obvious that Mr. Martins wasnot about to allow us to continue any sort of inspection of the charred remains of the warehouse.
Brodie, polite as ever, merely a disguise for other things that stirred in his thoughts, bid the man good day, and we departed.
The tide had lowered substantially, dock workers now off-loading the two cargo ships we had seen upon our arrival even in the pouring rain. Out beyond, the wharf water swirled and churned murky gray with white caps that appeared, then disappeared as if hiding.
I had experienced ship travel on my adventures and encountered different waters in the Mediterranean. It was said that nowhere else was the water as unpredictable as in the River Thames. In the past it had flooded the city several times.
“What are you thinking?” I asked as we left the wharf and found a driver.
He was thoughtful.
“How might it be possible that Mr. Martins continues to receive payments all these years after the fire and the death of the owner?”
“Perhaps through a trust,” I replied as he gave me a hand up into the coach.
“A trust?”
“It’s a legal arrangement with documents that places one’s properties—jewelry, funds, a residence or perhaps a business—into a status that can continue on even after their death, with others appointed to handle certain matters.”
It was something I knew a little about.
“Our mother placed certain things in a trust for Linnie and me. There weren’t many things—an heirloom ring and a few other pieces of jewelry that she inherited from her mother.” I smiled at the memory.
“A doll with a porcelain head that one of us might pass on if we had a daughter. Along with a portrait of her as a child with her father that was important to her.
“Certainly not our family home,” I added, “as it never belonged to her, and the bankers claimed it after… our father’s death.”
He knew the details of that sordid affair from my great-aunt, one of those things I preferred not to think about but raised its ugly head from time to time.
“Our mother did what she thought best. The trust she set up still pays a few pounds every month. And the jewelry is there for Linnie, along with the doll for her daughter, if she should have one.”
“Where are those things now?” Brodie inquired.
“The portrait is at Sussex Square in one of the upstairs rooms so that Linnie and I could see it from time to time as children. Particularly Linnie, as she was so very young when our mother passed and barely remembered her. It’s a way for her to at least see what she looked like. The doll is there as well.”
“Aye, I don’t imagine ye were one to play with dolls. What of the other things?”
“They are kept at the bank for safe keeping. The bank sends the funds to Mr. Laughton each month, and he sends them on to each of us.”
“I have married a woman of means,” Brodie said with a faint smile.
He had of course. Our great-aunt had made it understood that my sister and I, as her only heirs, were to inherit her properties when she passed on, which I hoped she would put off for a least a few more decades.
