Under the Dragon’s Tail
- Автор: Jennings Maureen
- Серия: The Murdoch Mysteries #2
- Год: 2008
- Язык: английский
- Год: McClelland & Stewart
- ISBN: 9781551992815
- Жанр: Исторические детективы
Электронная книга - «Under the Dragon’s Tail». Краткое содержание книги:
Women rich and poor come to her, desperate and in dire need of help – and discretion. Dolly Merishaw is a midwife and an abortionist in Victorian Toronto, but although she keeps quiet about her clients' condition, her contempt for them and her greed leaves every one of them resentful and angry. So it comes as no surprise to Detective William Murdoch when this malicious woman is murdered. What is a shock, though, is that a week later a young boy is found dead in Dolly's squalid kitchen. Now, Murdoch isn't sure if he's hunting one murderer – or two. From the Paperback edition.
“Call up one-three-seven-eight for me, will you, Phillips.”
The constable plugged in his wire and dialled the number. The call was obviously answered immediately.
“Just a minute please, a caller for you from number-four station.” He indicated the telephone to Murdoch, who put the receiver to his ear and bent down to speak.
“Hello?”
“Yes,” said a female voice. “What can I do for you?”
“I’d like to speak to Dr. Ogden.”
“This is she.”
Murdoch felt a flash of impatience.
“Nurse, please put me through to the doctor. I’m in a hurry.”
“And so am I, sir. Will you state your business? This is Dr. Ogden to whom you are speaking.”
Murdoch shot a quick glance at the sheet of paper in his hand. He’d not paid attention to the preamble. The physician’s name was Julia.
“I, er, beg your pardon, madam, er, doctor–”
She cut him short but there was amusement in her voice. “That’s quite all right. I’m used to it. Dr. Stowe and I are a minority of two in this city. We are constantly being mistaken for our nurses. However, I assume you have not called to discuss the challenges I face being a lady doctor.”
“Not today, ma’am, although I’m sure it is a fascinating tale. My name is Murdoch, William Murdoch, and I’m acting detective at number-four station. I just received your report on the post mortem examination of Dolly Shaw.”
“Yes?” The doctor’s voice was wary, expecting criticism.
“You mention a small contusion at the back of the head. Do you think it happened before or after she was smothered?”
There was a pause at the other end of the line, then she said, “What is your point, Mr. Murdoch?”
“If Mrs. Shaw fell, hit her head on the fender, and then was suffocated, it wouldn’t be that hard to do. But she was a heavy woman. If she was overpowered, suffocated, then dragged to the fender in an attempt to disguise the murder, her assailant would have to be strong.”
“A man, then.”
“Possibly, although some women are equal in strength to men.”
She laughed. “A hit, sir, a palpable hit. Frankly, it is impossible to determine whether the injury occurred very shortly after death or very shortly before. There is little bleeding.”
“Could the blow have rendered her unconscious?”
She sighed. “I wish I could be more definite but I’m afraid I cannot say. She had so much liquor in her stomach, I would think she was staggering drunk. An easy pushover – literally. She may have fallen and banged her head on the fender, been dazed, and…well I suppose her assailant could have taken advantage of that. Her gown, by the way, was splattered with beer, but from the pattern, I’d say the liquor was thrown down on her rather than she herself spilling it. Perhaps to reinforce the notion of her inebriety.”
“Dr. Ogden, if you get tired of medicine you could be a consultant for the police force.”
“Not very likely, Mr. Murdoch. I’ve met Colonel Grasett. I don’t think he would believe a word I said.”
Privately Murdoch thought the police chief had difficulty accepting anything anybody said, other than himself, but he didn’t say so. He didn’t want to overstep the mark and get too comradely with the lady. He was enjoying the conversation so far.
“Mr. Murdoch? I’m sorry I’ve not been of much help.”
“You have, ma’am. Whatever the sequence, this was deliberate murder.”
“That I concur with.”
She said her good-bye and hung up. Murdoch replaced the receiver on the stand. She must be quite young because it was only recently that lady doctors could be licensed. He wondered what she looked like.
Chapter Nine
Constable Robert Wiggin was the only officer available to assist, and Murdoch wasn’t happy about it. He didn’t like or respect the man. Wiggin was sallow-faced and lanky, with a caved-in chest that no amount of reprimand from Seymour the duty sergeant could straighten. He bullied the unfortunates who ended up in the jail, but was smooth as butter around his superiors. If the inspector were to ask for an arse wipe, the constable would have done it.
Murdoch set a brisk pace over to River Street, and he took a rather mean pleasure in the fact that the constable was quite winded when they reached the corner.
The house looked abandoned, all the curtains drawn, the black ribbon on the door drooped.
“Stand back a bit, will you, Wiggin, don’t want to scare them into next year.”
Murdoch thumped hard with the knocker and after a few minutes the door was opened a crack. A pair of frightened eyes peeked out at him.
“Hello, Freddie, isn’t it? Can I come in?”
The boy nodded and stepped back. George appeared behind him. He too looked afraid, although he had more air of bravado than the younger lad. Murdoch entered the hall, which reeked of cigars.
“We’ve got to have a talk, my bravos. Kitchen?”
Freddie glanced quickly at George, who nodded. Both boys were even more unkempt than before. Murdoch followed them into the kitchen, which was lit by a single candle on the pine table. The stub end of a cigar sat in a used plate. He wondered how they had been taking care of themselves and he felt guilty that he hadn’t given them more thought.
“Has Miss Lily come back yet?”
George answered. “No, we haven’t seen hide nor hair of her, have we, Freddie?”
The boy shook his head.
Murdoch paused. He didn’t know how to proceed. He didn’t want to shock them unnecessarily.
“Boys, I want you to tell me the truth. No con do you hear? On your honour, so help you God.”
They stared at him.
“The night your foster mother died, was there any kind of barney? Did she and Lily have a set-to, for instance?”
They both tensed but George said, “They was always having rows. Never stopped, did it, Freddie? She went at Lily terrible.”
“Did Lily fight back?”
“Sometimes.”
“Did they go at it Thursday?”
“Don’t remember.”
“Freddie, what about you?”
“Don’t remember,” he whispered.
“Did anybody else come in to visit? A neighbour for instance? Late I mean.”
“We was in bed, sir. Fast asleep.”
“So your answer is no or don’t know?”
“Don’t know, sir.”
Murdoch pushed aside the plate with the cigar. “I’m asking because we’ve got new information about the way Mrs. Shaw died.”
“She fell didn’t she, sir? And topped her noggin.”
“That’s what we thought, George, but it’s not true. I’m afraid somebody killed her.”
“Done in?” George gasped.
“Yes, done in.”
“How?”
“She was suffocated.”
“On purpose?” Still uncomprehending. Or pretending to be.
“Yes, on purpose. Probably with some kind of pillow. That’s why I’m asking you if anybody had a barney with her. If you heard anything.”
He gave them a chance to answer but they both stared at him, looking frightened, especially Freddie.
“I’m going to have a look in the parlour in a minute. See what I can find. Have you been in there?”
Again the vigorous shaking of heads. Believable this time. Murdoch stood up. “If you do remember anything, I want you to come straight down to the station and tell me. And when Lily comes back you’ve got to make her understand that we need to talk to her. Can you do that?”
“Yes, sir. We will, won’t we, Freddie?”
At the door Murdoch hesitated. “How are you boys managing? Have you got work yet, George?”