Page 90 of Deadly Murder
As for the marks that had been made on each victim’s body, perhaps a crude image of a cross, meant to be a symbol of absolution for a sinner?
So much that would never be known for certain.
The Prince of Wales had been informed that the case had been resolved with the threat ended. Not surprising there was no mention in the daily newspaper the day after, nor today.
I had sent a note the day before, as promised, to Lady Walsingham. I briefly explained that the case had concluded, and the person responsible for her son’s murder was dead. I had received a note in response just this morning that simply read—Thank you.
Perhaps there was some comfort to be had in the knowledge that the man had been found and was now dead.
I would call on her when it was appropriate, as I liked her very much.
After Sir Avery left, Brodie stepped to the cabinet and poured us both a dram of whisky.
He handed a tumbler to me and slowly sipped from his own glass.
Not a man of many words or grand gestures, still he reached out and lightly brushed his fingers near the cut on my neck.
“Ye should have left the bandage on a day or two more.”
Care and concern in a comment about wound care.
How could a woman possibly resist such words? The truth was that I could not.
However…
I took a sip of whisky. It was warm, with just a hint of heather; earthy, musky, and slightly floral, with hints of honey and lavender, according to Mr. Hutton who oversaw the distilling of it at Old Lodge in the north of Scotland.
“There is one part of the case that we have not yet discussed,” I commented.
That dark gaze was a bit distracting.
“What might that be?”
“You fired three shots when one obviously was sufficient.” I added. “The physician was quite certain of it after he examined the body.”
He took another sip of whisky, that dark gaze warm as the color of the drink in his hand.
I waited as he emptied the tumbler, then reached out, his fingers gentle on my cheek, that dark gaze, darker still.
A man I could trust.
