Madman's Dance (Time Rovers #3)(165)

“I’d like the company, my friend, and the income will help as well.”

“I see.” Keats puzzled on the offer for a few moments. “It would be quite pleasant. I’ve missed our talks.”

“Well then, why not?”

“We’d be like Holmes and Watson,” Keats said impishly.

Alastair frowned. “I am no Watson, and you are most certainly not Sherlock Holmes.”

“Why not?” Keats challenged. “I just helped solve a most baffling case.”

“You’re smarter than Holmes, for one.”

“That remains to be seen. Yes, I shall accept your offer. If you don’t mind, I shall move in tomorrow afternoon, if that will suit.”

“That will be fine. Mrs. Butler will help you as I shall be out. Evelyn has invited me for tea.”

Keats leaned forward. “How’s that going?”

“Slowly. We have a lot unsaid between us.”

“So don’t say it. Just kiss her,” Keats urged. “That always does the trick.”

“You’re sounding more like your old self, my friend.”

“Maybe.” Rising, Keats tucked away the medal and the check in a trouser pocket. “I just realized—after I move, I shall have to find a case. I’ve never had to do that before. They just came to me.”



“I’m sure you’ll be kept busy.”

“I hope so. I’m fond of eating regularly.” Keats awkwardly stepped forward and offered his hand. “I owe you so much, my friend. Not everyone would want to be associated with someone once accused of murder.”

Alastair waited for him to make the connection.

Keats colored in embarrassment. “Oh, I’ve put my foot it in now. We are birds of a feather, are we not?”

Alastair rose and shook his hand in a firm grasp. “I cannot think of a better friend than you, Jonathon.”

“Well, either way, we’re stuck with each other,” Keats said. As he marched down the hallway, he called out jauntily, “Good evening, Watson!”

“Go away, Keats.”

~??~??~??~



Monday, 12 November, 1888

Scotland Yard

Fisher looked up as Ramsey entered the office. “Ah, there you are, Chief Inspector. Congratulations, Martin. I hear it’s official.”

“Thank you, sir.” Ramsey shook his head. “I kept thinking you’d change your mind. Not that it would have troubled me if you had.”

“No. I’m ready to go. I may have always been partial to Keats, but I knew in my heart you had the potential for this job. These last few weeks you withstood immense pressure and conducted one of the most thorough investigations of your career. You are worthy of becoming Chief Inspector, Martin. I have no doubt of it.”

Ramsey looked away for a moment and then back, his eyes glassy. “It was a damned nightmare.”

“One of the darkest I’ve ever seen,” Fisher agreed. “We nearly hanged an innocent man just to keep a sybaritic few safe from public condemnation. That’s not why I became a copper.”

“What will you do, sir?” Ramsey asked.



“Jane and I are moving to Brighton, near her family. I fancy a house near the water. It’s idyllic there. No Home Office toadies or police commissioner watching my every move.”

“Your good wife will be,” Ramsey quipped.

Fisher chuckled. “Yes, she has already said that I must acquire a hobby, a pursuit that keeps me occupied. She is accustomed to running her own household, and would not appreciate a retired chief inspector’s interference.”

Ramsey quirked a bushy eyebrow. “So how long will it be before they start pulling my chain?”

“Not long. It’s been embarrassing for them, what with Warren’s resignation and the prince putting pressure on them about Keats. You’ll have a lot on your plate.”

“Do you think Hulme killed himself?”

Fisher shook his head. “No, but that’s one avenue of investigation you should not pursue.”

“I don’t like the notion that someone can murder a copper and get away with it.”

“Or frame one, for that matter.”

Ramsey sighed. “Where will I find someone to take my place when the time comes?”

Fisher smiled. “That’s your problem, Chief Inspector, not mine. Not anymore.”

Ramsey offered his large hand and Fisher shook it earnestly.

“Watch your back, Martin. If you need advice, contact me. Visit me sometime during the next week. We’ll dine together. There’s a private conversation we must have. You don’t know all the players in this game, but I’ll tell you what I know. Just not here.”

“Does it have something to do with those coins?”

“Those remain a mystery.”

Ramsey nodded. “What about Keats?”

“I suspect you and he will bump heads soon enough.”

“That I don’t doubt,” the new chief inspector replied.

“Let me clear out my things and you can move in.”

“Take your time, sir. I’m in no hurry. The sooner I’m in that chair, the sooner they’re at my throat.”