"I'm not sitting beside Conn if he eats like a pig again." Niall made the
announcement from the doorway, casting a suspicious look at his brother.
Conn flushed. "I do not eat like a pig!" His lower lip trembled and he shifted his stuffed kangaroo to his left hand, thus ensuring that his right thumb was available to provide important emotional support.
Elliott Marston put down his cutlery and frowned. "Niall, you will not speak to your brother in such a manner. Come and sit down."
It was a pity there were no guidebooks available for new brothers-in-law, he mused as he ate. He could certainly use one now. While his relations with Liam had improved dramatically, he wished the boy would not look at him with such adoration. Hero worship was not a stable basis for a lifetime bond.
Hero worship was not what he had felt for Cal Torken. He had recollections of pond duckings and practical jokes that were spectacularly unfunny. He grimaced. No, certainly affection was not the right word at all.
"Can we go to the Emporium again, Elliott?" Niall spoke around his oatmeal. Marston averted his eyes. "I want to get another book." He retrieved his escaping breakfast with his spoon.
"Now, look, Elliott is a busy man. You can't expect him to be available every day." Sam took her napkin and cleaned up as much of her younger brother as she could reach.
"Oh. Sorry." The boy looked crestfallen.
"I do have some business this morning, Niall." Marston infused as much joviality into his voice as he could muster in the morning. "But this afternoon should be fine. If there's no more fighting."
The boys sat up straighter. "Yes, sir!" They fell on their oatmeal with renewed enthusiasm. Sam and Marston looked at each other across the table and shared a secret smile.
They were well and truly married now. For the rest of their lives they could look at each other and share memories that no one else could ever know. Like the glowing embers in the fireplace at midnight. He almost laughed. Or the frantic search for his missing vest buttons before the maid came to clean the bedroom.
He was so lost in thought he didn't hear the knock or the door opening. "Morning, Elliott." Melvin Collins stood on the threshold, his briefcase clasped under one arm.
Marston blinked and spilled some tea. "Oh, good morning. Have you eaten yet?" He gestured to the sideboard loaded with chafing dishes.
Collins held up one hand. "No thanks. I had a visit from someone interesting this morning. At my home." He hesitated and looked at the boys, now watching with interest.
Sam understood. "Come on now. Let's go get ready for shopping." She herded her siblings out the door and pulled it shut behind her.
The two men looked at each other. Finally Marston spoke. "Who was your visitor?"
Collins slipped into Sam's vacant chair. "You know, Elliott, we have a very good relationship. More than just lawyer and client, I always thought." He pushed the china aside and leaned his elbows on the table. His voice was somber.
Marston's brows rose. "I always thought so too. What's wrong?"
The lawyer ignored the question. "And that's what I said this morning. But when the chief of detectives comes to my door with information about your activities that I know nothing about.Well, let's just say I have to wonder."
Marston stared. "A detective?"
"No, the chief of detectives. From the police. He investigates murders." Collins shifted in his seat and adjusted his glasses. "You had a talk with a man yesterday in the lobby of this hotel. According to witnesses, you seemed to be quarrelling."
"His name was Hiram Crabbs. He said he had information about Ches Watters and was willing to sell it. We were negotiating." Marston put his cup down very carefully on its saucer. "Unsuccessfully, it turned out. Have the police picked him up?"
"No, they've cut him down." Collins gazed with implacable sternness at his client. "He was found hanging by the neck in the stable behind this hotel just before dawn this morning."
Conn flushed. "I do not eat like a pig!" His lower lip trembled and he shifted his stuffed kangaroo to his left hand, thus ensuring that his right thumb was available to provide important emotional support.
Elliott Marston put down his cutlery and frowned. "Niall, you will not speak to your brother in such a manner. Come and sit down."
It was a pity there were no guidebooks available for new brothers-in-law, he mused as he ate. He could certainly use one now. While his relations with Liam had improved dramatically, he wished the boy would not look at him with such adoration. Hero worship was not a stable basis for a lifetime bond.
Hero worship was not what he had felt for Cal Torken. He had recollections of pond duckings and practical jokes that were spectacularly unfunny. He grimaced. No, certainly affection was not the right word at all.
"Can we go to the Emporium again, Elliott?" Niall spoke around his oatmeal. Marston averted his eyes. "I want to get another book." He retrieved his escaping breakfast with his spoon.
"Now, look, Elliott is a busy man. You can't expect him to be available every day." Sam took her napkin and cleaned up as much of her younger brother as she could reach.
"Oh. Sorry." The boy looked crestfallen.
"I do have some business this morning, Niall." Marston infused as much joviality into his voice as he could muster in the morning. "But this afternoon should be fine. If there's no more fighting."
The boys sat up straighter. "Yes, sir!" They fell on their oatmeal with renewed enthusiasm. Sam and Marston looked at each other across the table and shared a secret smile.
They were well and truly married now. For the rest of their lives they could look at each other and share memories that no one else could ever know. Like the glowing embers in the fireplace at midnight. He almost laughed. Or the frantic search for his missing vest buttons before the maid came to clean the bedroom.
He was so lost in thought he didn't hear the knock or the door opening. "Morning, Elliott." Melvin Collins stood on the threshold, his briefcase clasped under one arm.
Marston blinked and spilled some tea. "Oh, good morning. Have you eaten yet?" He gestured to the sideboard loaded with chafing dishes.
Collins held up one hand. "No thanks. I had a visit from someone interesting this morning. At my home." He hesitated and looked at the boys, now watching with interest.
Sam understood. "Come on now. Let's go get ready for shopping." She herded her siblings out the door and pulled it shut behind her.
The two men looked at each other. Finally Marston spoke. "Who was your visitor?"
Collins slipped into Sam's vacant chair. "You know, Elliott, we have a very good relationship. More than just lawyer and client, I always thought." He pushed the china aside and leaned his elbows on the table. His voice was somber.
Marston's brows rose. "I always thought so too. What's wrong?"
The lawyer ignored the question. "And that's what I said this morning. But when the chief of detectives comes to my door with information about your activities that I know nothing about.Well, let's just say I have to wonder."
Marston stared. "A detective?"
"No, the chief of detectives. From the police. He investigates murders." Collins shifted in his seat and adjusted his glasses. "You had a talk with a man yesterday in the lobby of this hotel. According to witnesses, you seemed to be quarrelling."
"His name was Hiram Crabbs. He said he had information about Ches Watters and was willing to sell it. We were negotiating." Marston put his cup down very carefully on its saucer. "Unsuccessfully, it turned out. Have the police picked him up?"
"No, they've cut him down." Collins gazed with implacable sternness at his client. "He was found hanging by the neck in the stable behind this hotel just before dawn this morning."