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.
Murdoch fingered the calling card he’d put in his pocket. You never knew, maybe a little dirt from this case would rub off on his lordship.
There was a large mechanical piece on a marble stand next to the hearth, and curious, he turned to have a look at it. He’d heard about these things but had never actually seen one before. Inside a glass cover, two monkeys dressed in blue and red satin were seated at a table in a saloon surrounded by mirrors. One held a cigar, the other an ornate box. Presumably when the piece was wound up the monkeys moved and music played.
He was saved from temptation by the entrance of Mrs. Pedlow.
“Mr. Murdoch, I’m sorry if I kept you waiting.”
The woman greeting him was younger than he expected, slight of build, with light brown hair curled around her forehead and cheeks in the latest style. The startling thing about her, however, was the lumpy wine-coloured birthmark that covered her right cheek. Her voice was rather haughty, an impression heightened by the slight upward turn of the corner of her lip.
She indicated one of the chairs.
“Do sit down.”
She took a chair across from him and at an angle. He could see she was adept at seating herself in such a way the disfigurement of her right cheek was partly obscured. She was handsomely dressed in a cream-coloured satin gown trimmed at the bodice and skirt with narrow bands of purple. The sleeves were full and puffed at the top, which also masked the naevus. There was as much lace at the neck and cuffs of the sleeves as his bishop wore on holy days. If this was how she dressed when she wasn’t receiving, he wondered what her gown was like when she was “at home.”
“May I offer some refreshment?”
“No, thank you, ma’am.”
Hands clasped tightly in her lap, she waited for him to begin.
“I’m conducting a police investigation, ma’am, and I wonder if I could ask you a few questions?”
“Of course.”
“Would you happen to know, or have you ever heard of, a woman named Dolly Shaw? She lived at River Street at the corner of Wilton.”
Maud Pedlow managed to indicate slightly offended surprise.
“Not at all, Mr. Murdoch. I cannot imagine why I should.”
He took the calling card from his pocket.
“This is yours, I presume, Mrs. Pedlow?”
She took it from him as gingerly as if it would crumble at the touch. “Yes, it is mine. Why do you have it?”
“I found it in Mrs. Shaw’s desk.”
“How strange. I assure you it is not because I paid her a call.”
Mrs. Pedlow spoke as if the notion was utterly absurd, knowing Dolly Shaw to be riff-raff. However, he couldn’t make too much of that. Most people of Maud’s standing would make the same assumption. The better class of people wouldn’t be involved with the police in life or death.
“Is something the matter that you are enquiring? Does it have anything to do with Mr. Pedlow’s being a judge?”
“I don’t know about that, ma’am. But yes, I’d say there is something very much the matter. The woman was murdered.”
Maud jumped at his emphatic tone and her hand flew to her damaged cheek. He waited for questions but none came, and once again he was at a loss to know if this was typical behaviour in polite society or because she already knew the answers.
“I’m sorry, Mr. Murdoch. What you’ve told me is shocking but I don’t see I can be of any help. One of my cards must have come into her possession by chance.”
“The dead woman’s daughter takes in laundry to wash. Could there be a connection that way? Her name is Lily.”
“I don’t know her either but it sounds likely she could have picked up my card from somebody’s house. One of her customers. Perhaps she was intending to approach me for work.”
Maybe, but he wasn’t prepared to give up yet. He hesitated, searching for the appropriate words. “I have been told that Mrs. Shaw was once a midwife and that she served women in all aspects of their pregnancy.”
She stared at him. “I see. Are you suggesting one of my servants might be, er, involved?”
He shrugged.
“It is highly unlikely,” she continued quickly. “None of them have given any, er, sign. His lordship has very high standards of behaviour, thinking that any immorality in his own household would reflect adversely on his position and example.”
“And rightly so, ma’am.”
He had to admit she’d shifted the focus most adroitly but whether that was from cunning or the arrogance of her class, he couldn’t tell. He was aware this woman was uncomfortable and nervous and did not want to appear so.
“Would anybody have received a letter from Mrs. Shaw?”
“No.”
“You are speaking for yourself, I assume, ma’am?”
“Yes, of course, but the servants do not receive mail. Burns would tell me if they did.”
“Do you know a Miss Brogan, ma’am? Miss Annie Brogan. She is an entertainer. An internationally acclaimed chanteuse.”
“No, I don’t.” She paused and her eyes met his. “Is she implicated?”
“I’ve not come to any conclusions yet, ma’am. I’m just following up every possibility.”
There was a silence and he waited until her attention returned to him.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t help more. Now if you will excuse me…we will be serving tea shortly. My husband likes us to be punctual.”
“I would like to speak with your servants, if you please, ma’am.”
“Is that necessary? How could they know any more than I?”
“As you have implied, ma’am, a woman like Dolly Shaw would be more likely to associate with your servants than with yourself.”
“I do think you are carrying your zeal too far, Mr. Murdoch. I don’t want the servants disturbed. I have two young maids. Who knows if this will throw them into hysterics.”
“I shall be most tactful and I must remind you I am investigating the most serious of crimes. A woman murdered in her own home. Come now, Mrs. Pedlow. You are married to a judge. You must value the law, surely? Besides I doubt your maids will take a conniption over some poor old woman they’ve never heard of. And if they are as pure as you say, the other thing will not trouble them. I’m afraid I have to insist, ma’am.”
Before she could answer, there was a soft tap at the door and the butler entered.
“Shall I prepare tea soon, madam?”
“Thank you, Burns.”
Murdoch got to his feet. “Your permission, ma’am?”
Not looking at him, she said, “I don’t seem to have much choice in the matter.” She turned to the butler. “Burns, will you take Mr. Murdoch to the kitchen and fetch in the servants. He is a detective. He would like to talk to everybody.”
The butler’s eyes flickered over to Murdoch. He tried to act as impassively as if she’d been talking about introducing the new rector but he didn’t quite succeed.
“What does it have to do with us here, if I may be so bold as to ask, madam?”
“I’ll explain all that,” said Murdoch.
“You’d better start with Susan,” said Mrs. Pedlow. “Where is she?”
“She’s turning out the upper bedrooms, madam.”
“Go and get her will you? I’ll direct Mr. Murdoch to the kitchen.”
Burns left, his curiosity hovering on the air like a smell. Maud turned back to Murdoch.