Excerpt from The Bricklayer

Excerpt from The Bricklayer's Helper

“I thought this place belonged to a gent called Mr. Gaunt,” Mr. Sanderson asked in an abrupt change of subject. “Do you work for him?”

William’s mouth twisted wryly. “We are associates.”

“Then you work for him. Perhaps you don’t have the authority to take on new cases? Where is Mr. Gaunt?”

So his client was sharp. William revised his opinion of Mr. Sanderson. He was beginning to find him more annoying than interesting. “Mr. Gaunt recently married and is on his honeymoon in Vienna. However, I can assure you, I have complete discretion in the matter of accepting new cases.”

“Then you’re afraid?” There was something in his tone that suggested what he really meant was that he thought William was a cowardly idiot.

“I beg your pardon?” Williams asked, his face becoming a bland mask as his annoyance blistered into low-burning anger.

“Well, you’re dithering, aren’t you?”

He wanted to reply that it wasn’t the danger in trying to find a killer that bothered him. It was the ridiculously low payment Mr. Sanderson offered. However, when he gazed into those gray eyes, he found himself feeling sheepish like a low cit haggling over money.

Mr. Sanderson stood and thrust his hand out. “If you can’t make up your mind, then I’ve no need of your services. Good night to you, sir.”

William waved at the chair. “Sit down. I never said I wouldn’t take your case.”

“But you don’t want to, do you?” His head lifted at the sound of bells in the distance. “And I’m missing my supper.”

“In fact, I do,” William said, leaning forward and clasping his hands on the desk. “Now, let’s start again, and never mind your supper.” He reached behind to pull a bell rope dangling down in the corner next to him.

When Sotheby answered, William ordered a tray be sent in with a suitable meal for the both of them. Sotheby’s prim mouth pursed at the order, but he departed without lowering himself to the indignity of argument.

Facing his client, William found the young man had remained standing. He waved at him again to sit and grew impatient as Mr. Sanderson studied him thoughtfully before sitting down again. “Then start,” he said.

Nonplussed for the moment, William stared back before forcing a smile. “Tell me about the fire. That is as good a place to start as any.”

“I can only tell you want I remember,” Mr. Sanderson replied. “And that isn’t much. If I could remember everything, I wouldn’t need you now would I?”