Alex Grecian - The Yard

“Good-bye? I don’t understand.”

“Perhaps I’m assuming things I shouldn’t, but it felt as if there was something between us.”

“How could there be? You’ve been a widow for less than a day.”

“And you would never presume, would you, regardless of my feelings for my husband? Or, I should say, my lack of feeling for him.”

“I don’t understand why you’re here.”

“I told you.”

“And yet I still don’t understand.”

“That’s the problem, isn’t it? So I’m going to marry your Inspector Blacker.”

Hammersmith’s eyes widened and he cast his eyes about the room, looking for Blacker. “What did he do?”

“Michael? Why, nothing at all.”

“He’s proposed marriage already?”

“No. He doesn’t know.”

“What do you mean, he doesn’t know?”

“When enough time has passed so that it seems proper, I will let him know of my intentions and then he will propose to me.”

“But he doesn’t know?”

“No.”

“Then how do you know that he’ll propose?”

“Because I do.”

“You can’t have feelings for him. You’ve only just met him.”

Penelope looked away. “I have a child, Mr Hammersmith. I have responsibilities.”

“I don’t understand.”

“How will I care for my son by myself? How could I possibly afford to keep Elizabeth on?”

“You’ll get by.”

“I don’t want to get by. I want to be taken care of.”

“I’ll help you find a solution. Marrying Inspector Blacker solves nothing.”

“It solves everything. And besides, I like him.”

“You don’t love him.”

“I like his jokes.”

“But you don’t love him.”

“He makes me laugh.”

“You like his jokes?”

“I do.”

Hammersmith blinked. “Huh.”

“My son smiled for the first time since … well, for the first time in a very long time. Michael made my son smile, Mr Hammersmith.”

“I see.”

“Do you?”

“I think I do. But I would ask that you give this more thought.”

“It would never have worked between us. With you and me.”

“I haven’t even considered the idea.”

“Yes, you have.”

He rubbed the back of his neck and looked away from her. “Well, obviously you have,” he said.

“You are already married to your job, Mr Hammersmith. You have no time for anything or anyone else.”

“I don’t think that’s true.”

“It is. And my problem is that I can’t be alone.”

“And so you want to be with Inspector Blacker.”

“He is attentive to people.”

“Well, you like his jokes.”

“Yes.”

Hammersmith shrugged. Penelope reached out to touch his chest, then drew her hand back. She turned and walked away. Hammersmith waited for her to look back at him, but she didn’t.

He felt as if he’d gone another round with an enraged bartender.

“Constable?”

Hammersmith turned to see Sergeant Kett hurrying toward him.

“The commissioner wants to see you in his office soon’s you arrive. Looks to me like you’ve arrived.”

“Yes, sir.”

He swung open the gate to the squad room and made his way across to Sir Edward’s office. He noticed that Inspector Day wasn’t at his desk. Blacker nodded to him as he passed and Hammersmith returned the gesture. He knocked on Sir Edward’s door.

“Come.”

Sir Edward was looking through a sheaf of papers and laid them down on the desk when Hammersmith opened the door. He motioned for Hammersmith to close it behind him.

“Mr Hammersmith.”

“Yes, sir.”

“A commendable job. You helped subdue the murderer and his accomplice. And you rescued the boy that set all this in motion. I am impressed.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“The boy may be called to testify, but Inspector Day has amassed enough evidence against the tailor that he may not. It would be good if the boy were left alone now. His family’s been through enough, I think.”

“Where is Inspector Day, sir?”

“There was an emergency at home. I’ve given him the rest of the day. And I’m giving you the rest of the day, as well.”

“That won’t be necessary. I’m ready to work.”

Sir Edward chuckled and shook his head. “You are ideally suited for police work, Hammersmith.”

“Thank you, sir.”

“But…” Sir Edward hesitated and scowled at the top of his desk.

“Sir?”

“You also acted beyond the pale, overstepping your responsibilities at every turn, disobeying the spirit of my orders, and displaying a remarkable amount of independence.”

“Yes, sir.”

“It is fortunate for you, Sergeant Hammersmith, that I admire a certain degree of independent spirit in my men. But in the future, you will exercise better judgment and find ways of applying your zeal that do not step over the bounds of your proper duty, do you understand?”

“I do, sir.”

“Good. How’s the arm?”

“The wound was shallow. My hand’s broken, but should knit well enough.”

Sir Edward nodded. “Go easy on it. I want you back in fighting form sooner rather than later.”

“Yes, sir. But, sir?”

“Yes, Mr Hammersmith?”

“Didn’t you call me sergeant just now? I mean, I believe you may have misspoken.”

Sir Edward nodded. “It is certainly possible. But in this case I did not. As of today, you are promoted to the rank of sergeant within the Metropolitan Police Force.”

Hammersmith stood absolutely still.

“Hammersmith, are you quite all right?”

“I don’t know what … Sir, this is most unexpected.”

“I imagine it is. Beginning tomorrow, I would like you to assist Inspector Day on his cases. We need to begin filling the void left by poor Inspector Little.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I believe you and Mr Day will balance each other nicely. I have high hopes.”

“I won’t let you down, sir.”

“No, I don’t think you will.”

Sir Edward picked up the sheaf of papers from his desk and studied the top page. Without looking up, he said, “You are dismissed, Sergeant.”

You needn’t trouble yourself, Doctor,” Day said. “I’m sure everything’s fine.”

“It’s no trouble at all. Your house is on my way home.”

“Well, I appreciate your company,” Day said.

Walter Day opened the front door and Kingsley followed him inside. Mrs Dick greeted them in the parlor.

“She’s upstairs, Mr Day. The doctor’s in there with her. It’s bad, sir.”

Day didn’t bother to introduce Mrs Dick and Dr Kingsley. He took the stairs three at a time with Kingsley right behind him. Claire’s bedroom door was closed, and Day knocked. The door was opened almost immediately and a stout white-haired man in shirtsleeves and vest stood there, barring entry. Day craned his neck to see past the stranger.

“Claire?” Day said.

“I’m sorry,” said the old man. “Who are you?”

“I’m her husband. Who are you?”

“I’m her doctor.”

“She doesn’t have a doctor. We’ve only just moved to the city and we have no doctor yet.”

“I am Phillipa’s doctor. She summoned me when your wife took sick.”

“I don’t know who Phillipa is.”

“Phillipa Dick. Your housekeeper. Surely you’re aware of your household staff.”

“I didn’t … I didn’t know her first name. What’s wrong with Claire?”

“Your wife is gravely ill. I fear the worst.”

“Let me in.”

Day pushed past him. The room was dark. It smelled stuffed-up, acidic, and smoky. There was a row of small glass jars on the vanity across from the bed, along with a pile of squat candle stubs. Claire lay on her bed, propped up by pillows. She smiled weakly at her husband.