“Sticky and sweet,” he commented as he exchanged a look with Mr. Dooley.
I added the note as he then continued his inspection, including the boots.
He picked up one then the other. “Smooth, no marks.”
I had no idea what that might mean, but added it as well.
Brodie stood back from the counter, deep in thought, as he finished his inspection of the garments.
“That will be all,” he said then and thanked the attendant for his assistance.
I returned my notebook to my bag, and we followed Mr. Dooley from the examination room, past other examination rooms and offices to the main entrance of the building.
“I will call on you later to discuss everything,” Mr. Dooley informed us rather abruptly.
I then saw the reason for his hasty farewell as Chief Inspector Abberline rapidly made his way toward us.
One of the advantages of being very near the ‘Yard’ was that there were several coaches on the street, either arriving or departing. Brodie waved down a driver and we climbed inside.
“Are ye all right, lass?” Brodie asked as we departed Scotland Yard and Chief Inspector Abberline.
“The look on yer face was concernin’ when the attendant first pulled back the sheet.”
“Quite all right,” I assured him.
I wasn’t about to admit that it was a bit of a shock compared to other bodies I had seen in the past. Not so much the wounds, which were dreadful. Not surprising, considering the description Mr. Dooley provided, but other…things.
“Other things?” He inquired.
Oh, for heaven’s sake!
“The poor man did seem a bit lacking in certain parts.”
“Certain parts?” he repeated.
He was deliberately being difficult. I saw it in the amusement in that dark gaze.
“Manly parts,” I blurted out, since it seemed he wouldn’t be satisfied until I explained.
“And ye are an authority on this?” he commented with straight face.
He could be such a devil.
“I do appreciate that you are not similarly afflicted,” I explained. “Although, perhaps it is a condition that sets in when one is dead.”
He coughed through laughter and finally brought himself under control once more.
“I will remind ye of that, Mikaela Forsythe.”
He continued to use my titled name when making a point.
“I look forward to it, Mr. Brodie.”
It was late in the afternoon when we arrived back at the Strand. Neither of us had eaten, and the first order of business was early supper at the Public House.
The meat pie was delicious and warmed me through.
I chatted briefly with Miss Effie, now Mrs. Cavendish. She was a cheerful woman with round cheeks, eyes that sparkled, and a demeanor that tolerated no nonsense from her customers, the workers that arrived at end of day.
