Under the Dragon’s Tail

“Detective Murdoch is here to investigate a murder, my dear.” The woman looked up at Murdoch, her eyes streaming with tears. For a split second he didn’t know what on earth was the matter, then the corresponding sting in his own eyes made him realize she was chopping onions. She sniffed hard and wiped her runny nose with the back of her hand. Burns went on to summarize what Murdoch had told him. Hannah was unimpressed. No, she had never heard of Dolly Shaw or Annie Brogan. She kept to herself, thank you, like any Christian woman should. They did their own washing, even had an electric tumbler, she said with as much pride as if it were her own. As to the story about Meredith and Annie Brogan’s visit, it didn’t surprise her at all. Actresses were no better than women of the night as far as she was concerned. Murdoch didn’t bother to correct her that it was Annie’s sister who was in the family way. Mrs. Burns had hardly got all this off her chest, which was as tight as her hair, when there was a high-pitched whistling sound from the direction of the door. Burns went over immediately and Murdoch saw a row of small bells, each with a label above them. To one side was a curved tube. The butler pulled off a little lid and put his ear against the end of the tube. He listened for a few moments then he shouted into the opening.

“Yes, madam, right away.”

His wife looked up at him questioningly.

“She wants the carriage brought out. Says she has to go on an errand.”

“That’s awkward. Taylor’s mending the tack and he’s got to get his lordship from the courthouse by four. She specifically said she wouldn’t want the carriage today.”

Burns shrugged. “No use telling me that. She’s changed her mind and she’s in a hurry.” He pushed a button that presumably connected with the stable. “I thought I’d set Mr. Murdoch up for his investigations in my pantry. Out of everybody’s way.” He meant out of her way and Murdoch was grateful. He wouldn’t have liked to be making his enquiries under the cold stare of Mrs. Burns. The butler had ranked Murdoch to own satisfaction and was much friendlier. He ushered Murdoch over to a small room off the kitchen. It was just big enough to hold a desk and two chairs, one behind and one in front. There was a glass-fronted lawyer’s cabinet along the wall stocked with bound registers. Burns seemed to be a tidy man. While he went to fetch the first of the servants, Murdoch took out his notebook and placed it in the middle of the desk. All ready for business.

The questioning took almost two hours, and the most interesting interviews were the ones with John Meredith and Maud’s personal maid, Louise Kenny.

Initially, the young footman obviously thought he was going to be charged with seduction but when Murdoch made it clear he wasn’t interested in Meredith’s love life, he relaxed. No, he didn’t know any Dolly Shaw but he did admit to knowing Annie Brogan, in a manner of speaking. With more bravado than shame he narrated to Murdoch his encounter with the two sisters on Friday.

“You could have tipped my arse with a goose feather when they appeared like that. I mean I didn’t know Millie had got one on the go. Terrible shock it was and the three of us dithering on the doorstep like tarts at the church door. Then out comes the mistress.” He paused and eyed Murdoch shrewdly. “That was very odd, I tell you. You’d think Annie and her knew each other but weren’t having on they did. But God knows where they would have met, given who she is.”

“I take it Annie Brogan is who you are referring to?”

“’Course. Anyways, she is a bold one, that doxie. Before you could wink, she’d asked mistress if she could take Miss Sarah down to the opera house. Show her around! And the missus said yes, sweet as you please. Come for tea and we’ll discuss it, like she was a proper person.”

Murdoch frowned. That wasn’t what Mrs. Pedlow had told him at all.

“Did you see Miss Brogan when she came on Saturday?”

“Not really. She and missus met in the gazebo out in the garden.” He leaned forward and placed his forefinger on his nose. “I was polishing the brasses at the time but I tell you man to man, I considered it in my best interests to keep an eye on the proceedings so I peeked out the window. I tell you they were thick as flies on offal.”

“How long did she stay?”

“Quite a long time.”

“How long? Twenty minutes? An hour?”

“A good forty minutes, I’d say.”

So much for Maud’s “briefest of visits,” or maybe she had a different concept of time from most people.

He changed tack. “Who fetches the mail?”

“I do.”

Murdoch took out the letter he’d found in Dolly’s desk. He folded the bottom so Meredith could see only the first line of writing. No sense in getting rumours started.

“Ever see a letter with this handwriting?”

Meredith shook his head. “Never. Most of what comes is legal sort of things for his honour.”

“You’re certain?”

“Sure as houses. I’d remember.”

Like most servants, Meredith took a lively interest in his employer’s affairs.

“Has anything been hand-delivered?”

“When?”

“I don’t know,” Murdoch replied irritably. “Anytime. Recently. Last year.”