Ten Days in August Read Online Free PDF Page A

took over as president of the police commission.”
    â€œNever let it be said you are hollow-headed. But really only since this damned appointment to Acting Inspector. One of these days, they’re either going to fire me or officially promote me to a position in which more eyes will be on me all the time.”
    Amelia nodded. “This crime bothers you because it involves men like you, and you’re worried investigating it further will put you into some places that will garner the attention of one blustery, mustachioed police commissioner, and therefore you are afraid to investigate lest it end your career even as your greatest desire is to find this killer. Have I got the right of it?”
    â€œYou could be Watson to my Holmes.”
    She grinned. “Try not to worry too much, Hank dearest. I believe things will turn out for the best in the end.”
    â€œI can only wish I had your faith.”
    â€œWell, in the meantime, you might want to practice your soapbox speeches, because the promotion is a bit of a political one, is it not?”
    Hank felt grim about the prospect. “Indeed. I’d have some discretion over which cases I pursue, at least, but it is a much higher-profile position.”
    â€œYou’ll be fine. I’ve never met a smarter man. Aside from Jonathan, of course. That is, you are both intelligent, but in different ways.” She laughed and put her glass down. “Jonathan would, of course, excel at a position in which he had to give speeches. You, perhaps not, but I feel certain you will make the most of the opportunity.”
    â€œOr I’ll get myself fired.”
    â€œSuch an optimist.” She approached him and took the snifter from his hand. “Please do stop by more often and talk to me if you need any help. You know I am always available to you.”
    â€œThank you, I appreciate it. I should probably go now, though, and let you attend whatever business you have with your husband.”
    She waved her hand as she put the whiskey snifters on a side table, presumably to be collected by a servant. “Oh, it is just Jonathan’s horrid friend Mr. Knight. He brought him home with him from the club this afternoon and now they are laughing together like old friends. Would you like to meet Mr. Knight?”
    â€œWould I? Not if he’s horrid.”
    Amelia clucked her tongue. Hank extended his arm to escort her and she tucked a hand into his elbow. “He has an unfortunate habit of commenting on my fair bosom whenever Jonathan is out of the room. I don’t care for it. I mentioned it to Jonathan, but he laughed it off, calling Mr. Knight an eccentric.”
    â€œMen.”
    â€œIndeed. I’ll let you make your own judgments before you depart for the evening. They’re in the parlor down the hall.”
    Hank walked Amelia down the hall and entered a grandiosely decorated sitting room. Jonathan Cooper, who was thin and neat with wire-framed glasses sitting at the end of his nose, sat primly in a lushly upholstered chair. The other man in the room was burlier, with curly dark hair and a broad chest. He had a body that seemed better suited to cutting down trees than to being a captain of industry, as Hank assumed he was if he sat in Jonathan’s parlor.
    â€œOh, Amelia, there you are. And Mr. Brandt,” Jonathan said. “Nice to see you.”
    â€œLikewise,” said Hank. He meant it; he’d always liked Jonathan.
    Jonathan motioned toward the burly man. “Allow me to introduce you to Brigham Knight. He’s an up-and-coming architect with Daniel Burnham’s firm.”
    â€œA pleasure,” said Hank.
    â€œMr. Brandt is a police inspector,” said Jonathan.
    â€œAre you?” said Knight, practically oozing with condescension.
    Hank kept himself from rolling his eyes. He knew the moneyed residents of upper Fifth Avenue had little time for such vulgar professions as police work.
    â€œMr.