I brushed his hands aside and noticed that the lines at the corners of his eyes and about his mouth slowly eased as I tied the strands of silk.
“I knew there was some reason that I keep ye about,” he commented, the smell of soap mingling with that of pipe tobacco, and possibly some other fragrance that was vaguely familiar.
Such endearing sentiments.
“Mr. Cavendish mentioned that ye finished yer inquiries regarding Lady Ambersley’s missing necklace.”
“With some assistance from Aunt Antonia and Bitsy.”
“And that would be?”
“My aunt is acquainted with Lady Ambersley. It seems that she has a habit of losing her necklace. She recalled a similar incident. And then there is Bitsy.”
Dark brows arched. “I’m almost afraid to ask. Is it anythin’ like Miss Templeton’s lizard?”
He was referring to Ziggy, my good friend’s iguana, a gift from a ‘friend’ on one of her tours.
“Bitsy is a purse pet, a very small dog. Lady Ambersley takes her everywhere.
“It seems that Bitsy has made off with things in the past and hidden them about the manor. The night the necklacedisappeared, Lord and Lady Ambersley hosted a supper party.” I then explained how the necklace became displaced in Kitty Ambersley’s soup, that retrieved and wrapped in a linen napkin, then set aside.
“It seems that Bitsy made off with it when no one was aware and added it to her collection of treasures under Lord and Lady Ambersley’s bed. A horde that included a pair of his silk underdrawers, a dead bird from the gardens, and the necklace.”
Those dark eyes narrowed.
“Lord Ambersley’s underdrawers?”
“Silk and quite large,” I explained as I finished tying his tie and laid my hands against the front of his shirt. I blocked out the image of Lord Ambersley and his overlarge drawers.
“I am most appreciative of yourself,” I complimented him.
“Is that so?”
“Yes, and now I may be of assistance with your inquiries,” I added.
“I appreciate that,” he told me. “I truly do, but I’ve already had to go into places and speak with a good many disreputable persons I would not want ye to be around.”
“Someone who wears rather cheap cologne?” I commented regarding that ‘other’ fragrance that lingered about him.
It was something I had encountered a few years earlier on a particular lady in a chartreuse gown who had been escaping his office rather early on the morning when I first sought his investigative services in the matter of the disappearance of my sister.
“Wot are ye blatherin’ about, woman?”
“I made the acquaintance of the woman when I first inquired about your services,” I suggested.
I caught the confusion in his expression, which I suspected was probably genuine. He shook his head and laughed.
“Are ye jealous, lass?”
“As someone we both know once told me…” And to quote the particular ‘someone’ standing before me, “I do not share what is mine.”
“That would be Maudie,” he replied. “She is an old friend, and she knew Constable Martin as well. He relied on her for information from time to time. I thought she might know something that could be useful.”
“So you say,” I teased.
He pulled me against him. “And where might yer travels have takenyethis afternoon, Mrs. Brodie? Now that Lady Ambersley’s necklace has been found.”
“I went to the Times this afternoon and spoke with Mr. Burke regarding an article he wrote for the crime sheet in this morning’s edition. It seems he has a friend within the MET who contacted him after the call came in about the chief inspector’s death.”
