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“Alright,” he said, his courage bolstered. “Before we begin, there’s something we need to come clean on.”
He glanced at Edgar, who’d finally raised his chin. Both men stared at each other before coming to a silent understanding.
“Something you really need to know…”
Sixty-Six
MADISON
We were at the gatehouse when the inspector finally arrived. He was nearly two hours late. Two hours past the window he was scheduled to have arrived, at any rate.
Julian dropped the beam he was holding. Chase, his mallet. Noah stood beside me, dusting hands on his legs as Thomas Burrell strode across the inner bailey, clipboard tucked neatly under his arm.
“Good morning Madison,” he said, not bothering to extend a hand.
“Good morning, Thomas.”
I could see the inspector’s face cross with disdain at being referred to so casually. Maybe he was supposed to be more important than me. Or maybe, and much more likely, he was just used to everyone kissing his ass.
“Good afternoon, actually,” I corrected myself. “You were supposed to be here this morning, but I guess not. That’s too bad, because it was a really nice morning here. We had coffee up on the battlements. With the sun coming up over the trees, you can see—”
“As much as I’d love to chit-chat,” interrupted Thomas Burrell, “I’ve got way too much work to do.” He glanced around, trying to look casual. “And I can see you’ve still got work to do also. Too much of it, I’m afraid. Enough at least, that if I were in your shoes I certainly wouldn’t be having coffee up on the battlements.”
Noah chuckled. Chase shook his head at him. Julian stood leaning against the nearest wall, looking only mildly amused.
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” I asked.
The man issued a dejected sighed, rather than answer. He scribbled on his clipboard for a good minute or so, while he expected us to stand there in silence. Which we did.
“You’ve finished eighteen out of the twenty-two things we asked for,” said the inspector, “which is sort of remarkable. But you still missed four of them. The gatehouse isn’t up to specs, and although the courtyard is finally level, some of the stones don’t quite match the existing cobbles. Not one-hundred percent, anyway.”
“Uh huh,” I said. “Is that all?”
“Madison,” the man laughed. “I’m not sure you realize the seriousness of—”
“She asked you if that’s all,” sneered Chase, cutting the man off mid-sentence. He shrugged non-comittally. “You might want to answer the lady.”
“You might also want to call her Ms. Lockhart,” offered Noah. “Rather than ‘Madison’.” He threw the inspector a sarcastic smile. “You know, one professional to the other.”
Julian shambled forward, moving two steps closer to the man. Burrell cleared his throat and took one big step back.
“Well,” he said, a little less haughtily than before. “I’m sorry to be the bearer of bad news, but it seems to me you’ve missed your final deadlines.”
I crossed my arms. “Is that so?”
The inspector pulled at his beard and stared back at me suspiciously. “Er… yes. Yes it is.”
I raised an eyebrow. “And?”
“A—And I’m afraid I have little choice but to recommend that Midlothian begin immediate reclamation actions,” he said carefully. “You’ve defaulted on your original renovation agreement. Failed to complete the outlined repairs within the signed, designated timeline, so…”
“So the property goes back to the county,” I finished.
Thomas Burrell nodded slowly, adding his best pretend sad face. “I’m afraid so.”
“Ah, that sucks,” sneered Chase, throwing down his mallet. “No more breakfast up on the battlements.”
“No more battlements,” Noah pointed out.
