“I am convinced Aunt Antonia cheated,” I insisted.
“Is that so?”
“Absolutely.”
He had stepped into the adjoining bedroom and returned with a folded cloth that he’d obviously soaked in water.
“Hold this against yer head.”
“It’s cold,” I pointed out.
“Aye, hot water is not yet available with the improvements.” He pressed the cloth against my forehead, then added my hand over it as I sat at my desk.
“And I do not snore,” I emphatically informed him.
“Nor make demands on the man ye keep company with?” he added.
“You seem quite well recovered,” I pointed out.
“There was a moment when I was in fear for my life.”
I burst out laughing and immediately regretted it at the pain that shot through my head.
“I shall be more considerate in the future,” I replied and wondered if all married couples had such conversations.
“Please, do not be. It was most interesting.”
“For someone who thought he had nothing more to learn regarding such things between a man and woman?” I inquired.
“Interesting in the manner in which ye learned such things.”
I ignored that. He could be such a devil.
As the dram steadied me and the coffee cleared my head, I went through the mail that had been delivered earlier.
“There is an envelope from Mr. Peterson.” I handed it to Brodie.
We had just concluded a case for the man regarding missing payroll from a recent deposit for his trading company.
It had been resolved after questioning bank staff where the substantially reduced payroll deposit was made.
When Brodie was able to determine that there was no involvement by the bank clerk, he then questioned Mr. Peterson’s son who had been tasked with delivering the payroll to the bank.
Brodie was able to trip the young man up over his excuses which were quite inventive and then proceeded to retrieve a gaming ticket from the location where it had been hidden—in the heel of the young man’s boot. It did seem as if Brodie might have used that particular hiding place himself at one time.
Young Mr. Peterson had stopped over at a well-known gaming parlor on his way to the bank. Usually quite lucky in such things and not his first time—it seemed that he usually won enough to cover his bets.
However, in this particular instance, he had lost a considerable portion of the week’s payroll. He had hoped to disguise the loss by claiming that the number amount written on the accompanying deposit ticket from the warehouse manager was incorrect.
However…never attempt to outwit someone who has perhaps used every scheme possible in his past life on the streets, not to mention that experience with the Metropolitan Police.
Brodie opened the envelope.
“Our fee for solving the case of the missing payroll,” he commented as he handed me a bank cheque.
I had been doubtful there would be payment considering the thief turned out to be the client’s son, resulting in the usual reprimand for the young man and then the obvious effort to simply move past the issue.
Somewhat surprisingly, Mr. Peterson paid our fee in full, along with an additional amount for our discretion in the matter and a note of gratitude.
