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.
“People who are Roman Catholics use them to say prayers. Each bead marks a prayer. It probably belonged to Therese Laporte.”
“God, you’re not going to start up again, are you?”
“How did Alice come to have it?”
“Bleeding hell, you’ve got a short memory. I just told you. She found it. I suppose that girl must have dropped it.”
Murdoch got up, went over to her and grasped her by the shoulder, forcing her to face him. He could feel the bone beneath the thin cloth of her wrapper.
“Ettie, listen to me. Alice has been murdered. Brutally. Therese Laporte died in a strange, unnatural way. It is possible the two deaths are connected.”
She moved away from his touch as if his hand was hot. “How could they be?”
“You tell me. A strange man shows up at the hotel. He takes off with Alice and next thing, she’s dead. Maybe the man knew Therese. She was expecting, after all. Maybe it was him as got her that way and he didn’t want anyone to know. Maybe Alice saw something when she was coming home on Saturday night.”
She winced again, almost imperceptibly. “Of course she didn’t.”
“Maybe she found something incriminating on the body when she stripped it–”
“Oh God, stuff it, will ya.”
“Come on, Ettie, this rosary belonged to Therese Laporte and it ended up around Alice Black’s neck. Just like those clothes ended up in your outhouse. Tell me the truth, for God’s sake.”
He was shouting at her in his frustration, but she became stubborn and sullen.
“How many times have I got to sodding well say it? Are you deaf or just plain stupid? Alice found the bloody necklace.”
He took a deep breath, trying to calm down. Yelling at her wasn’t helping. “There is a crucifix that hangs from a rosary. Do you know what that is?”
“No.”
“It’s a cross with the figure of Jesus Christ on it. This one might have been done in silver or brass. Did you see it?”
She shook her head emphatically. “No.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m telling you, the necklace was just like it is now. No Jesus.”
“Could Alice have removed the crucifix and put it somewhere else?”
“No.”
“How can you be so certain? Could be that she just didn’t tell you. She might have thought you would want to take it.”
“Sod off. We were like sisters. I wouldn’t take anything of hers. Nor her either. I tell you there weren’t no bloody cross on that thing.”
He tried an abrupt shift. “Did Alice mention to you that she had seen Therese before she died?”
There was a quick flicker of doubt across her face. “What are you getting at?”
“The girl died so close to here. Alice said she was coming home about ten o’clock Saturday night. Perhaps she saw her? Maybe even talked to her? Did she?”
Ettie shook her head.
“Look, Ettie, I am giving you fair warning. If I’m thinking that you and Alice were thick as thieves, the murderer is probably doing the same. You could be in danger.”
“Go on,” she scoffed. “I can look after myself.”
“That’s what you said about Alice, and–”
At that moment the curtain to the kitchen was pulled back and Samuel Quinn came in, all bundled up in greatcoat and cloth cap, a long muffler wrapped around his neck. Princess was close at his heels, and on a thick leather leash was another dog. It was a big heavy creature, white with brown patches. The skull was wide, set off with long floppy ears, and the eyes were doleful. Princess launched into a few yelps of pleasure at the sight of Ettie, while the other dog gave one deep-throated bark and sat down, drooling copiously. Quinn saw Murdoch and stopped abruptly in the doorway.
“Er, sorry. Didn’t know you … er…”
Ettie bent down, allowing the bitch to cover her face with enthusiastic licks. “Good girl. Did you miss me?”
Murdoch raised his voice. “Can you stay a minute, Mr. Quinn?”
Quinn looked uneasy. “I’m just off to work, Sergeant, er …?”
Ettie silenced Princess by putting down some crusts of bread and patted the second dog on its wide forehead.
“Big old bastard, aren’t you? Where’d you come from?”
“My pal’s,” said Quinn to Murdoch. “Taking care of him for a couple of days.”
“Another friend on his honeymoon?”
“What?”
“You said the last dog you were taking care of, the man was on his wedding trip.”
“Oh, right. Just forgot for a minute.”
Quinn began to twist both ends of his full moustache.
“What’s this one’s name?” asked Murdoch.
“Titch. His name’s Titch.”
The enormous dog licked its lips, scattering saliva on the floor.
“What’s up?” Quinn asked.
Still stroking the dog, Ettie said, “Alice has been murdered, Sam.”
“What!”
“That’s why he’s here.”
“When? Murdered …?”
“Her body was found this morning,” Murdoch said. “Over by the Gooderham Distillery.”
“What was she doing down there?”
“We don’t know as yet. Any ideas?”
“What? No, er, no. Tarnation, I’m sorry, Ettie. The Lord love me, I don’t know what to say.”
“Were you at the John O’Neil last evening?” Murdoch asked him.
“I was that.”
“Did you know the man who Alice left with? The sailor? He was calling himself Jack.”
“Not me. Never seen him before. Why d’you ask? Was he the one did her in?”
“Let’s say he must have been one of the last people to see her alive. Ettie says she didn’t like the look of him. Was that your opinion?”
“Can’t say as I had an opinion to speak of. He seemed a quiet sort of bloke, really. He was only at the table for a short bit, then they left.”
“Can you give me a description of the man?”
“Sure. He was fairish, short hair, a beat-up sort of face like you’d expect for an outdoor fellow.”
“He was ugly as the Devil’s arse, if you ask me,” interrupted Ettie. “Eyes like dead fish.”
“One thing I can tell you, Mr. Murdoch,” added Quinn, “he had some nobby togs. Best worsted, I’d say, wouldn’t you, Ettie?”
She nodded. “Another reason to believe he weren’t no Tar. Where’d he get the darby to buy clothes like that?”
Murdoch turned to Quinn. “Where were you last night? After you left the O’Neil?”
“Me? The usual.” His fingers kept going at the moustache. “I was working all last night. I went in at eleven. Just got off this morning. You can ask them.”
“Sod it, the tea will be like mud,” said Ettie. She brought the teapot to the table and plonked down three chipped mugs. Unasked, she poured the strong black brew for Quinn as well. She sat down and he came over and placed his hand on her arm.
“I’m terrible sorry, Ettie,” he said again. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
She shrugged. “Nothing to be done, is there? She’s gone.” Suddenly she slammed down her mug, splashing hot tea on her hand. She put her scalded fingers to her mouth. “Sod it, sod it,” she said. With her unburnt fist she started to pound on the table. “Sod it, sod it,” she kept repeating.
Mrs. Kitchen added a spoonful of sugar to the tea and handed Murdoch the cup and saucer. He took a cautious sip. “Wonderful, Mrs. K. As usual.” She beamed. Making his tea exactly how he liked it was a source of delight for her.
“Ready for your tonic, Arthur?” she asked her husband.
“Now?”
“You’ve only had seven. We should try to get in at least two more tonight.”
There was a jug on the sideboard and beside it a bowl of eggs. She poured thick cream from the jug into a glass, cracked one of the eggs into it and gave them a thorough stir. She brought the yellowish mixture to her husband, who downed it in a couple of gulps and wiped his lips with gusto on the back of his sleeve.