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 understand.”
Murdoch couldn’t help pausing for a moment for effect.
“This is why I congratulate young Wicken. The woman kept going on as how no girl could have walked by that night. Wicken realizes his questions were a bit too directive and he asks her if had she seen a vehicle, then. Why yes, she says, there were two. A farmer’s wagon and a carriage. The wagon went by close on midnight going south on Sumach but the carriage was earlier, about ten o’clock, travelling east along Queen Street. Unfortunately Mrs. Philips couldn’t really say what sort of carriage it was, but she thought it might be a hired one. The horse was a grey or white.”
“It’s hard for me to see this as useful, Murdoch. It’s like catching spiderwebs.”
“Spiders catch a lot of flies on those same slender lines. You see, Mrs. Philips admitted to seeing Alice Black go by. She hadn’t mentioned it earlier because she knew who Alice was and that wasn’t what we wanted to know. Wicken kept asking about a strange young girl. But she is positive that Alice went by after the carriage.”
For the first time, Brackenreid looked interested. He touched the wall.
“The tart must have seen the Laporte girl.”
“I don’t see how she could have avoided it. She was home by ten and her route from the O’Neil is along Queen Street.”
The inspector was silent for a moment, then he sighed. “The two deaths might be connected, then.”
“Yes, sir. I’ve sent Wicken off to the market to see if a farmer was delivering anything late Saturday night, just to verify, but I don’t really think it’s important to the case. However, I’d say the carriage is.”
Brackenreid glanced around the little room as if it could provide him some sustenance.
“Your zeal is commendable, Murdoch, but don’t forget character. A good policeman is a good judge of character. You can draw your dots and arrows ’til Kingdom come, but you’re not going to find any murderers or abductors there among these people.”
“I beg to differ, sir. Palmer, Lamson and Pritchard were all doctors and young Birchall was a vicar’s son.” He picked up a compass from his desk. “Dr. Moffat says Therese couldn’t have walked far with that much opium in her system.” He stuck the point at the place where Therese’s body had been found. “If she imbibed it half an hour earlier, maximum, she has to have been within this radius.” He moved his pencil in a wide arc. Brackenreid snorted at the extent of the area that covered.
“You’ve got your work cut out for you, Murdoch.”
“I know, sir, we have.”
There was a discreet cough in front of the curtain. Murdoch could see the large outline of Constable Crabtree.
“Miss Bernadette Weston is here to see you, Mr. Murdoch.”
“Who’s she again? Name’s familiar,” asked Brackenreid.
“She was Alice Black’s friend, Inspector.”
“I’m leaving,” said Brackenreid.
At the threshold he paused, holding back one of the clacking strips. “I’d like a complete written report on my desk by five o’clock this afternoon … but you needn’t bother with all that nonsense about arrows and dots. Go and talk to the Papists. She must have got friendly enough to let somebody in her drawers. I’ll bet it was him who slipped her the opium.”
“Yes, sir.”
Privately, Murdoch couldn’t see any good reason why the two things should be inevitably linked, but not knowing who had seduced Therese was an irritant. It was like trying to start a puzzle. If you could get the corner pieces down you were off and running. He grinned at himself. He didn’t even know yet what picture he was trying to put together or even if all his pieces belonged in the same puzzle.
Time to give it a rest. Perhaps Ettie could offer some enlightenment. He went to fetch her.
Crabtree, at Murdoch’s request, had brought them both mugs of strong, sweet tea, and Ettie sipped at hers appreciatively.
“’S good.”
She was dressed in deep mourning, with a long black cheviot coat and a wide veiled hat that a widow would wear. There was a strong smell of mothballs around her, and Murdoch suspected the clothes, which were too large for her, were rented.
She glanced around the tiny cubicle and indicated his map. “What’s that?”
“I’ve been noting everybody’s whereabouts the night Therese Laporte died.”
She was silent for a moment. “You’re taking care about it, aren’t you?”
He nodded.
“What’s the medal for?”
“I won the mile bicycle race last year at the police games.”
“Didn’t know they had them. I thought coppers was always serious. All work and no play.”
He smiled, but she wasn’t joking.
“When you came yesterday, I was what you might call bowled over…”
“That’s only natural.”
“You said you knew what it was like to lose somebody you loved.”
“Yes, that’s right.”
She frowned. “Who was it, then? Your wife?”
“My fiancée. She died of the typhoid fever two years ago.”
“What was she? A lady, or what?”
“She was a schoolteacher.”
“Clever, then?”
“Very.”
Whatever it was he said satisfied her. She put down her mug of tea.
“I don’t want to spend time in the Mercy but if it means you’ll get the cove that did in Alice, I’ll do it–”
Murdoch stopped her. “Ettie, let’s put it this way. I can guess at what happened. Alice got up to use the outhouse, saw the girl’s body just opposite in the lane. Without more ado, she went over there and stole the clothes, hiding them in the outhouse. She kept the boots and the drawers and the rosary. You were asleep in your nice warm bed the whole time. Alice acted alone. Am I right?”
Ettie hesitated, staring at him warily. “Yes, I suppose so.”
“Just one question. Did she confide in you afterwards? What I mean is, did she say exactly what the girl was wearing when she found her?”
“Just what you saw in the shawl.”
“No jacket or gloves?”
“No. We – I mean, Alice – wondered where she’d been. She saw her earlier, you see.”
Murdoch almost held his breath, as if he were approaching a deer in the forest. “Where?”
“When she was coming home from the hotel she saw the girl get into a carriage.”
“Did Alice say whether she saw the driver or occupant?”
“No, the blinds were down. But she said the carriage was a reddish colour, or dark brown, and the horse was light coloured. The coachman had a black greatcoat and a tall hat on.”
Murdoch stared at her, waiting, but she stared back. “Is that all?” he asked.
“That’s enough, isn’t it? You’ll be able to find the sod.”
“Ettie, do you realize how many carriages in this city fit that description?”
“No, how many?”
“Could be over a hundred or more.”
“Well, that’s your job. At least you know now the girl got into a carriage.”
“That’s true.”
Ettie scowled at him. “I didn’t have to come here. I thought you’d be pleased.”
“I am, Ettie. I really do thank you.”
“Alice thought the girl knew the person who was in the carriage.”
“What made her think that?”
“Woman’s intuition. She guessed the girl was from the country and that was true, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. She lived down near Chatham on a farm.”
“I warned Al not to get all leaky but as soon as she heard about a reward she got a gold sign in her eyes. Such a greedy gob and look where it got her.”