He was right of course. As much as I disliked Burke, he had quite the reputation for gossip and the kind of scandal that people seemed addicted to, not unlike a narcotic.
“It could be helpful to visit his office at the Times,” I suggested. “There might be a clue there that would tell us something. I’ll go early in the morning when there are fewer staff about before the other reporters arrive for the day.”
“And then there is this,” Brodie held up the gold button with that unusual, embossed design that I had found in Adele DeMille’s bedchamber.
“Might ye have seen it before? Does it mean anythin’ to ye?”
I admitted that it did not.
“It’s not unusual to find them on a gentleman’s waistcoat. The Prince of Wales has a penchant for them with the initials HRH embossed on them. I suppose in the event someone needed to be reminded who he is.”
“That information no doubt from yer friend, Templeton?” Brodie commented.
“She was quite amused by it. It seems that all of the buttons on his great coat and waistcoat were gold and embossed with those same letters. I did wonder if his underdrawers might also have gold buttons.”
“Ye have an interest in His Highness’s drawers?” he inquired with that smile at one corner of his mouth.
“I suspect it might be quite an ordeal to be rid of them when necessary,” I replied, ignoring the obvious smirk.
“Although I suppose they could be quite valuable to a collector of such things—such as Fabergé eggs, a bauble Marie Antoinette might have worn, or some other rare gemstone.”
“Ye are a wicked woman, Mikaela Forsythe.”
I smiled to myself. “I do try.”
“There are no initials on this button that might tell us something,” he commented, inspecting it under the light from the electric lamp on his desk. “But it does have what looks verra like the image of an animal, possibly a dog.”
I had noticed that as well when I found it. It had reminded me of something, although I couldn’t quite remember what or where I might have seen something like it.
“Perhaps the man who owns the coat considers himself a hunter, like those ye know who chase around after a poor fox,” he speculated.
Perhaps.
There was someone who might recognize it. My great aunt.
I would call on her and see if she had seen that embossed image before.
“What of Inspector Dooley?” I asked. “You did promise to let him know if we learned anything. “
“He’ll be gone by now at end of day,” Brodie replied. “I’ll pay him a visit in the morning. He may have something that could be useful with our inquiries as well. And there could be something to be learned from the patrons at the Old Bell at night.”
“The police did question them,” I pointed out.
“Aye, but they might remember something more with one of their own, there for a pint or two.”
Such as a man who was very accomplished at blending in, sharing a drink, picking up gossip on the street or in a tavern?
There were occasions when Brodie and I worked separately on an inquiry. As I knew well enough, two could be far more efficient than merely one person following leads and clues.
I rose early; however, Brodie was already gone, with the intention of meeting with Inspector Dooley before he began work for the day. As for myself, I was determined to visit Burke’s office at the Times early as well, when there would be fewer about who might question my presence.
I dressed, collected my bag with pen and notebook inside, then set the lock to the office. The hound greeted me on the sidewalk with a lick of the hand, no doubt in search of a biscuit—cheeky fellow.
“Morning, miss,” Mr. Cavendish greeted me. “Mr. Brodie said you were to have this.” He handed me the morning edition of The Times newspaper.
“Will you be needing a driver?”
I nodded as I opened the paper and immediately turned to the crime sheet and quickly scanned it. There was nothing about the attack on Burke. I then turned to the scandal page and discovered the same.
