Chapter 8

Eight

"Will you agree to join the investigation with the Metropolitan Police?" I asked after we arrived at the townhouse in Mayfair that same morning, to dress more appropriately after the meeting with Mr. Dooley at the office on the Strand only a few hours earlier.

Brodie had agreed to meet with Chief Inspector Graham at ten o'clock out of courtesy, given his respect for the man who had been given an almost impossible job. He was now the temporary replacement for Chief Inspector Abberline during his suspension.

"He's a good man, in an impossible situation. And now with two murders, one victim bein' the daughter of a prominent barrister, the other the daughter of an equally prominent Judge of the Court."

Mrs. Ryan provided breakfast, then we both dressed for the appointment. Brodie insisted that I attend the meeting as well, since the original inquiry case for Lily, if one could call it a case, was in the matter of Charlotte Mallory's murder.

"And?" I prompted him. I could tell there was more to the thought behind the frown and that hooded dark gaze, as I pushed his hands aside and proceeded to tie his tie for him.

"I dinna know how ye figure the damned thing out," he grumbled. "It makes me think how ye might have learned it."

He does have a habit of grumbling when he's deep in thought, particularly in the matter of an inquiry case.

"A bit jealous, are you?" I teased.

"That has nothin' to do with it."

Oh, really, I thought, as I wove the end of the silk tie—he did loathe them—under, over, and through, then smoothed the silk.

"It's not proper for an unmarried lady to know such things. And ye were unmarried when ye first tied me own tie."

"Then you are complaining that I knew how to tie one, and you didn't," I concluded.

"I have no use for the damned things!"

"I am well aware of that. Still, it does make you look…"

There was that frown again.

"Quite handsome, especially with the glare. As if you were some brigand who might carry me off and have his way with me."

That stopped him. "Brigand?"

"A man of dubious reputation," I translated.

The glare slowly melted. His hands closed around mine.

"I'd much rather carry ye off than meet with the ‘Interim' Chief Inspector of the Metropolitan Police."

"It won't hurt to listen to what he has to say."

"That he wants me to join their investigation—ye know my feelin's in that regard."

"Of course, dear," I replied. That dark brow with the scar through it arched at my reply.

"Wot is yer meanin'?"

"Chief Inspector Graham sent Mr. Dooley with a request for you to meet with him. He knows you from past experience. He also obviously knows that you may very well have information regarding Charlotte Mallory's murder."

"Wot else?"

"I would imagine that he's being watched very closely, with Mr. Abberline set aside for the time being."

"Go on."

"It seems to me that you are in a position to name your own rules and requirements, and still proceed as before. After all, you are no longer under the authority of the MET."

"Has anyone ever told ye that ye have a curious mind for such things?"

"I believe that I may have heard that once or twice before."

We arrived promptly for our meeting with Chief Inspector Graham. I say we , as Brodie insisted that I was to be included.

We walked into the old building of Great Scotland Yard police quarters, and I immediately experienced a sense of déjà vu. I had read about it previously, proposed by a French philosopher, that sense of having done something exactly the same or being in a place where one had been before.

I very definitely felt that now, upon entering the Great Scotland Yard, which would eventually be moved to new headquarters very near the Tower of London. But for now, as in the recent past, the sounds, the smell, and the cloying feeling was there as it had been when I had first come there during the investigation into my sister's disappearance.

And then there was what Brodie had suffered at the hand of Chief Inspector Abberline, a most despicable man. I was hopeful that he might not return to the position.

"What is it?" Brodie asked.

"It's just that...being here again, after what happened."

That dark gaze met mine. "Aye."

I tried to push back the memory of the last time I had been to this place, yet it was impossible—the sight of him imprisoned in a cell at the back of the building, beaten and bloodied.

"If ye'd rather go some other place and wait until I've met with the man, I understand."

I shook my head. "We do this together."

I could only imagine what it took for him to return here.

He frowned. "Aye. We'll hear wot the man has to say. Then decide what's to be done."

I had not previously met Mr. Graham. Yet, Brodie seemed to at least have an admirable opinion of the man. Fair and reasonable, he had described him on the coach ride to the series of buildings at Whitehall Place that comprised Old Scotland Yard.

Still, I thought it couldn't be demolished soon enough. Not that I was one to hold a grudge over Brodie's experience there. Not bloody likely!

Mr. Graham was a pleasant-looking man, in his late forties by Brodie's estimation, with greying hair that had receded somewhat, side whiskers, and quite neat in his appearance. The smile that greeted us was cordial.

"Mr. Brodie, thank you for agreeing to meet. And Lady Forsythe. Your successes in your inquiry cases precede you. But of course, I am not surprised, Brodie. You have shown yourself most admirable in the past in service to the MET in spite of… certain circumstances."

Did I detect an apology in the greeting? Not in so many words, as evidenced by the chief inspector's careful glance at the young constable who had accompanied us to his office.

"You may go now, Mr. Hughson," he dismissed the constable.

The careful smile broadened after the man had gone.

"It is damned good to see you Brodie. After certain things, mistakes that were made…"

"Best left in the past, sir," Brodie replied somewhat formally.

"We have both walked the streets and apprehended some fairly dangerous sorts. I believe that we can dispense with formalities."

Brodie merely nodded an acknowledgement in a way I had seen before, and now here as well. He was after all a Scot.

"Please sit, both of you." He offered to have coffee brought. Brodie declined.

"Perhaps best to get on with the point of yer request to meet."

"Yes, I do understand," Graham replied, and I did sense that he understood very well Brodie's guardedness.

"You have taken an inquiry case in the matter of a young woman who was found dead several days ago, Miss Charlotte Mallory. May I ask who your client is?"

"You may ask," Brodie replied.

I looked over at him with some surprise. We had not discussed the need to keep Lily out of this. I need not have been concerned.

"That is a confidential matter," Brodie then added.

"I understand. However, in the interest of finding the person or persons responsible…" Mr. Graham suggested.

Brodie's silence was his answer.

"Very well," the chief inspector continued. "She was the daughter of…"

"Sir Edward Mallory, barrister," Brodie finally replied. "The dailies published the information."

He said nothing of the copy of the police report, and I did wonder if Mr. Graham was aware that it had been made available to us.

He nodded. "Yes, of course, the dailies. That brings us to the matter regarding my request for this meeting. As you are aware from Mr. Dooley's call on you in the middle of the night, there has been another murder of a young woman under somewhat similar circumstances."

Brodie merely nodded. He was deliberately letting the chief inspector continue, to reveal as much as possible about the latest murder in an attempt to learn what we could from the meeting.

"As I'm certain Dooley shared with you, the new murder victim, Margaret Cameron, is the daughter of Judge Harold Cameron. The circumstances are frightening and quite similar.

"It does seem that the two murders may have been committed by the same person, which brings us to my request for this meeting.

"With your experience, I don't need to explain the high importance of these two cases and the urgency to find the one responsible. In that regard, I'm proposing a joint investigation.

"You have resources from your time with the MET as well as in your private work, which is commendable," he continued, "while I have the resources of the Metropolitan Police and the vast experience of many years of service. Not to mention that you are one man, and the MET is well over thirteen thousand constables and inspectors who are on the streets of London daily. A collaboration of efforts could be highly successful."

Collaboration? Joint investigation?

I could only imagine what that might look like.

How would new clues be handled?

The MET might have several thousand constables, however the rampant crime that still plagued the streets of London spoke to their efficiency. Or lack thereof. And then there was the question of authority in the joint investigations.

There were dozens of questions, none of which solved the murder of either young woman. I could only imagine the paperwork that would be required, perhaps daily filing of reports. And precisely how were we to obtain information from those working the cases at the MET?

I looked over at Brodie. His expression was unreadable in that way that gave nothing away of his thoughts. Yet, I could imagine what some of them might be.

The chief inspector, temporary that he was, was suggesting an alliance that would put Brodie back in partnership with the very organization, under the authority of Chief Inspector Abberline, that had caused Brodie to leave the MET some years before. And recently, he had been imprisoned by Abberline under false charges and brutally beaten during a private investigation.

I knew precisely what my answer would have been, under the same circumstances, something polite but very direct.

Still, I was fully aware that certain connections Brodie had within the MET had been valuable in the past. Maintaining those relationships was a delicate balance as it was.

Most certainly Mr. Dooley, who had recently made inspector. And Mr. Conner as well. Although now retired, he had no great affection for the MET after over twenty-five years of service.

All three had seen a great deal on their time on the streets. However, Brodie's experience had exposed a darker side of the MET that included unscrupulous tactics, even revenge against fellow inspectors.

"Yer proposal has merit," Brodie tactfully replied. "However, there are several questions to be answered. Who would be in authority? What sort of structure between the both of us do ye propose?

"As ye well know time is often crucial when investigating a crime and gaining the trust of those on the street most critical as that is where information comes from. I do understand the urgency in particular in this matter, with the deaths of the daughters of two prominent members of the legal system who want answers."

"I understand that you might need some time to consider this, and to discuss it between you," the chief inspector commented.

"As to the authority in the matter, you would, of course, have authority over your own part of the investigation, including any sources you rely upon, with the provision that there would need to be a sharing of that information."

"And from the MET as well," Brodie replied.

"That would be the purpose of such an arrangement," Mr. Graham acknowledged. "I do realize that you have reservations about such an arrangement considering past issues. However, in the interest of finding the person who has committed these horrible crimes, perhaps…"

"I appreciate the consideration, sir," Brodie told him. "And I do understand the important nature of the situation. However, joining the two investigations might hinder as well as help in the matter."

Mr. Graham turned to me.

"Surely you see the advantage, Lady Forsythe. Particularly in consideration of the past inquiry into the disappearance of your sister."

"You may not have fully known the situation, sir," I told him. "I was forced to turn to Mr. Brodie for assistance when it became obvious that I could not rely on the Metropolitan Police. The only reason she was found safe was through his efforts."

"I wasn't aware, Lady Forsythe. Nevertheless," he turned back to Brodie. "We need your assistance in this… I need your assistance."

The chief inspector came out of his chair and rounded the desk.

"You are no doubt aware of recent events here at the MET, regrettable events, and I do not blame you for your reluctance. The truth is my position in the office is temporary. I have no ambitions for higher position as others do. I know of your recent experience here."

I looked over at Brodie to see his reaction, but there was none, only that dark, steady gaze, while I felt anger all over again just at the memory of it.

"The truth of the matter, just between those present, is that if it is left in the hands of others… I have no confidence that the murderer will be found.

"It is sad to say that the MET is in disarray. Men perform their shifts with many looking the other way from things they see on the street while others—good men—are put in harm's way. I want the person who has committed these horrible murders caught, and I will do whatever is necessary to see the matter done."

I did not know the man, even though Brodie had spoken highly of him. He was in an unenviable position no doubt. However, I believed him.

He seemed, much like Brodie, one of those ‘good' men, forced to beg in order to find the person who had murdered Charlotte Mallory and now Margaret Cameron, for it did appear that it might very well be the same person.

"There would be conditions for sharing the investigation," Brodie said after much consideration.

"Very well. What are your conditions?"

"If we are to participate, we are to have access to all reports submitted to you, along with any in the past regarding the murders. We will provide a report as necessary."

Mr. Graham nodded.

"Lady Forsythe is to be included in this."

Once again there was a nod, which surprised me, considering the usual objections about a woman taking part in such things, even outright contempt.

"Most particularly, Inspector Dooley is to be part of this, and he will answer only to me."

Mr. Graham slowly nodded once more.

"Is that all?" he asked.

It was not.

"Most important," Brodie replied. "Lady Forsythe and I will make every effort to find the one responsible for the murders. But we answer to no one in this. Not even yerself. That is not negotiable."

I fully expected the chief inspector to object, or in the very least to make his own conditions. I was surprised when he did not.

It may have spoken to the seriousness of the matter and expectations that the murders be resolved as quickly as possible. Or possibly something else between the two men.

If Brodie was surprised that there was no objection, he gave no indication.

"You drive a hard bargain," Mr. Graham eventually replied.

"That is the only bargain I will accept," Brodie replied.

"What you're asking for violates several rules and regulations of conduct and procedures of the MET."

Brodie's response was in his expression. There would be no compromise.

"Very well," the chief inspector finally said. "Agreed." Then, in a slightly sarcastic tone. "I suppose that you want this in writing."

I stood as Brodie rose from his own chair, the meeting very obviously at an end. He paused at the door to the chief inspector's office.

"Ye are a Scot, Mr. Graham."

"My father and mother as well." He watched Brodie with open curiosity.

"Yer word on our arrangement will do," Brodie told him as we turned to leave. "And I will hope to see Mr. Dooley with the police report. Then we will begin."

The chief inspector took out a pen and wrote something on the back of what appeared to be a calling card.

"You may need this." He handed it to Brodie.

"Will he keep his word?" I asked as we reached the street and Brodie signaled for a cab.

"He will."

Or? I thought.

The answer to that was obviously in that comment: ‘ Ye are a Scot.'

I knew what it meant between Brodie and Munro, a loyalty that was bone deep between the two of them. A promise once made would never be broken.

It was part of who they both were, that Scottish background, relying upon each other to survive on the streets as young boys. Even now.

If one was to need the other, that one would be there, no questions asked. And the secrets they shared?

I was somewhat new to the arrangement. Yet I was learning what that loyalty meant and grateful for it.

Bone deep. That brought all sorts of situations to mind that I might not want to question too thoroughly about the past.

As far as the here and now, it did seem that initially Mr. Graham intended to keep his word about those ‘conditions' Brodie had told him.

And that calling card that Mr. Graham had given him. It declared that Brodie was to be given every consideration and full cooperation, along with Mr. Graham's signature.

Within an hour of our arrival back at the office on the Strand, Mr. Dooley arrived with a large envelope in hand.

"I don't know what you told the man." He handed the envelope to Brodie. "He said ye were to have the report in the matter of the Cameron murder, anything else that you ask for, and that I am to consider myself part of your investigation for the time being."

Mr. Dooley shook his head as he sat across the desk while Brodie opened the envelope and read through the police report on the Cameron murder.

"Forget I said anything about it," Mr. Dooley added. "It's probably best that I don't know the reason."