I thanked him and quickly left before any questions could be asked.
When I arrived at the Strand, Mr. Cavendish rolled out from the alcove in spite of the downpour of rain that had set in.
“Rupert is not about?” I inquired as I paid the driver and made my way into the shelter of the alcove.
“Took himself off toward the Public House a bit earlier.”
“Has Mr. Brodie returned?” I glanced toward the windows on the second-floor landing.
“A short while ago with Mr. Dooley. Took themselves up to the office in a bit of a hurry and without a word, like before a storm out at sea.”
And I did suppose that Mr. Cavendish should know, as he had spent a good many years aboard ship at sea before the accident that took his legs.
Had there been a development regarding the murder of Constable Martin or Chief Inspector Dawes?
I thought of the letter I had discovered and turned toward the lift.
“It’s not working at present, Miss Mikaela,” Mr. Cavendish informed me. “A bit of water might have gotten into the electric.”
I thanked him as I turned toward the stairs that led to the second-floor landing and the office.
“A bit of caution, miss. Mr. Brodie asked where you were and didn’t much care for the answer when I told him you didn’t say.”
I had not left a note.
“It’s just that he worries about you.” He gave me a wink. “It seems to be a common affliction. I worry about my Effie when she takes a notion to go out and about on her own.”
I thanked him again for the warning and made a quick dash up the stairs.
‘Hadn’t cared for Mr. Cavendish’s answer’seemed to be an understatement, as I entered the office and was met with a dark glare.
“What is it?” I inquired. “Has something happened?”
The two men exchanged a look. Brodie said nothing.
“There’s been another murder,” Mr. Dooley replied.
“Where?”
“At the law courts, one of the judges, Judge Cameron, was found murdered in his chambers early this morning before others arrived.”
There were dozens of questions.
How was it possible someone was able to get inside?
Were there any suspects?
Three murders in less than a handful of days?
I remembered the letter and retrieved it from my bag. I handed it to Mr. Dooley.
“From the Commissioner of Prisons? How did you come by this?” He handed the letter to Brodie.
“That is somewhat difficult to explain.” I deliberately avoided looking at Brodie.
“Perhaps ye better explain.”
There was something in Brodie’s voice, something different than the usual frustration at something I had done without making him aware.
