“When he allows it,” I explained.
“Oh, it’s the Scot in him,” she replied with a faint smile over at Brodie. “Stubborn.”
“Oh, yes,” I replied.
“Do ye have wot ye need here?” Brodie asked then.
“I don’t need anything, except…” Maddy replied. Her voice caught.
I knew what she would have said, that she needed her husband.
“I will bring round food that ye’ll need,” Brodie said. “Wot of the rents?”
She shook her head. “We had money saved for after he retired. It will carry me a while, and everyone here has been more than kind and brought food, as you can see.” She was quiet then.
“I’ve always known the work could be dangerous, but I want to know what happened. I want the person responsible found. Do you hear what I say, Angus Brodie?”
Steel wrapped in silk. I thought of that saying. I was hearing it now, sadness and determination.
“I know the men will do their best,” she said. “But I know from him, there are places they cannot go and things that simply get swept under the rug. He spoke of it, and you know as well.” She took a breath, calm, measured when she spoke again.
“I know your services must be very expensive. But you can make inquiries in those places. I will work the rest of my life to pay your fee if you will find the person who did this.”
I knew what his answer would be before he spoke. He would take the case and make inquiries. And there would be no fee.
“I promise ye. I will find the one responsible.”
Two
Our rideback to the office was quiet except for sounds from the street.
I knew his thoughts were already filled with questions over Constable Martin’s death, as well as the inquiries he would now make among those he knew.
Along with that was the sadness and grief over the loss of a man he had respected and worked with, who had given of himself to a young man new to the Metropolitan Police, and had become a friend.
I had not met Constable Martin, but I had heard him mentioned in conversations between Brodie and Mr. Dooley. A colorful story shared over a dram or cup of coffee in that way of mutual experiences had provided me another glimpse of the man I had married. And now his care and respect for Maddy Martin.
I let him have his silence and his thoughts.
“I thank ye, lass.”
I looked back from window of the coach and the congestion on the street. That dark gaze softened as it met mine.
“For the care ye took with her, someone ye dinna know and beneath ye, as most would see it.”
“She is quite extraordinary and so very strong,” I replied.
“Aye, like yerself.”
I shook my head. “I cannot imagine what she must feel. To have been married to her husband for so long, and now…”
“Ye canna imagine being with someone for over twenty years?”
I knew what he was thinking.
“I can,” I replied, with no small amount of surprise at the thought. “As long as you don’t get yourself killed. I would be very angry, Mr. Brodie.”
The hazards of the inquiry business, still perhaps no more dangerous than that of a constable with the Metropolitan Police.
