Except the Dying
- Автор: Jennings Maureen
- Серия: The Murdoch Mysteries #1
- Год: 1997
- Язык: английский
- Год: McClelland & Stewart
- ISBN: 9780771043208
- Жанр: Полицейские детективы
Электронная книга - «Except the Dying». Краткое содержание книги:
In the cold Toronto winter of 1895, the unclad body of a servant girl is found frozen in a deserted laneway. Detective William Murdoch quickly finds out that more than one person connected with the girl's simple life has something to hide. From the Paperback edition.
“I don’t know much more than I’ve already said.”
“What were the exact contents of the note?”
“What?”
“The note that your cook found – what did it say?”
“Didn’t look at it myself, but apparently it was about wanting to return home. She was from the country, you see. Got quite homesick. Often do these, these … they often do, these girls.”
“Indeed. Toronto must be a big change for them. When did you yourself last see Miss Laporte?”
“Hmm. I suppose it was shortly before the evening meal. Fiveish on Sat-Saturday. She was setting the table.”
“Did she seem herself?”
“How do you mean?”
“Did she seem ill in any way?”
“Not that I noticed, although she didn’t serve that night. Mrs. Foy said she was indisposed. Seems now as if that wasn’t true. She was probably planning her getaway. Dratted inconvenient. My wife spent considerable time training her. She seemed most suitable. Now we’ve got to start all over again.”
“So you do.”
Murdoch thought he’d kept his voice neutral, but the doctor glanced at him sharply and blushed suddenly like a boy. He was not quite so self-centred and impervious as he seemed.
“You d-do … you don’t understand,” he said.
“Understand what, sir?”
Rhodes waved his hand. “No m-matter. It is not relevant.”
He patted his coat again, which seemed to be a habitual nervous gesture. “I do have appointments to meet…”
“Of course. I will need to come to the house and talk to your servants afterwards.” Murdoch thought this was a good time to give out some more information, and he explained about the body being naked. Rhodes seemed suitably shocked.
“We’ll need a description of her clothing,” added Murdoch. “I don’t suppose you could help us in that regard, could you, Doctor?”
“I’m afraid not. She was the, er, maid … after all.”
“She wore a uniform, didn’t she, sir?”
“Yes, of … of course. A dark skirt, or dress rather, white apron, white cap. The usual sort of thing.”
There was another knock from the hallway and Crabtree came in and handed Murdoch a cardboard box.
“The postmortem report, sir. Just delivered.”
Murdoch hesitated for a moment. “Do you mind if I take a quick look at this, Doctor?”
Rhodes pulled out his watch again and studied it. “If you must…”
Murdoch was already reading the report.
Toronto. February 11, 1895
This is to certify that I, Robert Moffat, a legally qualified physician in the city of Toronto, did this day make a postmortem examination upon the body of a woman, not yet identified. The body is that of a well-nourished young woman about fifteen or sixteen years of age. There were no clothes on the body when it was brought into the morgue. The abdominal organs, kidneys, and liver are normal in size. Bladder is contracted and empty.
The immediate cause of death was asphyxiation. This was brought about by the extreme cold weather, which caused the lungs to go into contraction and therefore no oxygen reached the brain and heart. There were injuries to the left elbow, which was dislocated, and the left ankle, which was severely bruised. These injuries may have occurred after death and are consistent with limbs being displaced while in the grip of rigor mortis.
Murdoch finished reading while Rhodes fidgeted.
“Bad news, is it?” he asked finally. “She wasn’t, er, wasn’t attacked, I hope?”
Murdoch put down the paper. “No, she froze to death. However, as I’m sure you know, Doctor, a person doesn’t just lie down and take a nap in freezing weather.”
“Great heavens, she wasn’t inebriated, was she?”
“Apparently not. Did she have a history of drinking?”
“Not that I know of. Young g-girl, after all.”
“It’s not unusual. Anyway, that’s beside the point….” He looked Rhodes squarely in the eyes. “She was with child. About six weeks along.”
Rhodes recoiled. “Dear Lord!”
“I gather this is a surprise to you, sir?”
“Of c-c-course it is. I mean, she d-didn’t seem that sort of girl, not at all. Good gracious, my wife will be very upset.”
“Perhaps that was the real reason Miss Laporte left your house so abruptly.”
“I … well, I suppose it could be.”
“Did she have a sweetheart that you know of, sir?”
Rhodes blinked. “Mr. Murdoch, I am dreadfully sorry for the girl but she was only my maid. I do not concern myself with the private lives of my servants.”
“Did your wife ever mention it?”
“No, she did not.”
Murdoch picked up his pen. “Would you give me the names of the other members of the household?”
“Are you only interested in the males?” There was an unexpected note of sarcasm in Rhodes’s voice, but Murdoch liked him better for it.
“Everybody, if you please,” he said politely.
“There is my wife, Donalda, my son, Owen. The butler, John Foy, and his wife, Edith. A stableboy, Seaton, er … I don’t recall his Christian name. Those are all the servants we keep. We live quite simply.”
“How old is your son?”
Rhodes raised his eyebrows and looked as if the question were too forward, but he answered. “Twenty-t-two.”
“And the stableboy?”
“I have no idea. About thirteen, I would imagine.”
Rhodes patted his watch pocket. He was going to wear a hole in it at this rate.
“Doctor, you said you saw Miss Laporte at the dinner hour. Were you at home for the rest of the evening?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Murdoch, I fail to see … Why do you ask?”
“Answer the question if you please, sir.”
The doctor flushed at his tone. “Well, let me see … In fac-fact I was not at home that evening. Miss Shepcote was not well and the evening ended fairly early. I had some important work to do at my consulting rooms so I went there afterwards.”
“Miss Shepcote?”
“She and her father, Alderman Shepcote, were our dinner guests. She and my son are, er, well, we, er, hope they will be betrothed fairly soon.”
“What time did you leave your house?”
“I don’t know exactly. Somewhere after nine. Owen took Miss Shepcote home in our carriage and I left a little later with Mr. Shepcote, who let me off at my office.”
“And when did you return home?”
“Detective Murdoch, I must say these questions are s-starting to sound impertinent. What does it have to do with the girl’s death?”
“Allow me to read this section of the doctor’s report:
I was suspicious about the state of the deceased’s pupils, that is to say they were contracted to the point of pinpricks. There was a distinctive odour to the organs which I recognised as that of opium. When I examined the bruise on the right forearm under a glass my suspicions were confirmed. There was a tiny puncture in the vein consistent with the mark of a syringe. I then tested blood samples and found significant residue of the drug opium or a derivative such as morphine…”
Rhodes gasped, but Murdoch kept on reading.
“My estimate is that there was not sufficient amount of the drug to bring about death but certainly enough to have induced unconsciousness. It is diffcult to say when this would have occurred but might have happened anywhere from ten minutes to half an hour after injection. If she lost consciousness on the street, as seems to be the case, she would have been unable to withstand the freezing temperature. The stomach was empty. She had not eaten recently, which would also contribute to the power of the drug. There were what looked like bruises from a hand-grip on her arm as well. My surmise is that she was held forcibly while the injection was administered. Some person or persons is criminally culpable for her death.