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.
“Looks that way.”
She slammed her fist on his desk.
“This cull, the nephew? The one who’s been licking his chops around my diddies – is he the one who came after Millie?”
“It’s possible.”
“That’s a big favour to do for your auntie. Almost murder somebody so she can sleep at night. You know what I think, Mr. Murdoch? I’m thinking the frigging nephew is the real baker. The one who stuck my lady high and mighty. She wouldn’t want that little secret in the papers, would she?”
Murdoch remembered the scene at the Pedlows’. The intensity of Henry’s response. He had the feeling Annie was right. And if Henry had chloroformed Millie, he might have gone for Dolly. Same reason.
“If it’s true, would Dolly have known it?”
“She knew everything. Most of the girls lied, about being married mostly. Whenever one of them went into the village, she’d go through their belongings. I caught her red-handed one day. She didn’t care. ‘I have to protect myself,’ she said. I’d bet my life she did the same for Missus.”
Again Murdoch hesitated. She was eyeing him curiously.
“What’s up?” she asked.
“Why did you say the child you bore was hard to place?”
“What?”
He repeated the question.
She looked defiant. “He wasn’t deformed or sick or anything like that. I was clean.”
“Why then?”
“Dolly hammered it home to me. Nobody’s going to want this by-blow unless you pay. Then they might.”
She raised her head and smiled. There was fondness in the smile. “His father was strong and handsome as ever you saw, but he was a coloured man.”
Before he could continue, they heard Crabtree hurrying down the hall. He parted the reed strips.
“There’s a lad out here, sir. Says he saw young Freddie going into the Shaw house.”
“When?”
“Just now. He knew as we were looking for the laddie and he ran right here.”
Murdoch pushed back his chair. “I’ve got to leave. Crabtree, go make sure the messenger doesn’t escape.”
Murdoch waited until the constable was out of earshot.
“Miss Brogan, I’d like you to come with me.”
“Me? Why?”
“I don’t want to raise false hopes but I believe Dolly was lying to you.”
“How d’you mean?”
“There’s a foster son who’s been living with her. He’s about eight years of age and he’s part coloured.”
She gasped and a look of such joy came into her face that he could have wept.
“Do you want to come with me? If he is your son, he needs your help bad.”
All she could do was to nod her agreement.
Chapter Twenty-Two
A gangly youth was out in the public area. He was wearing a tight navy sweater and check bicycle trousers, nipped at the knee. A scorcher if ever there was one. His face was streaked with rain, and he smelled of damp wool.
“You told the constable you’ve seen the boy we’re looking for. Tell me,” said Murdoch but Annie Brogan was at his elbow and, seeing her, the young man looked as if he wasn’t going to utter words again.
“What’s your name, son?” Murdoch asked him.
“Jim McEvoy, Junior, sir. I live at number one-twenty-eight, just down the road from Mrs. Shaw.” He paused. “Er, the late Mrs. Shaw that is – you know the one who–”
“Yes, I know. Pay attention to the business at hand, Mr. McEvoy. Where did you see him?”
“He was sneaking into his house. I was out on my wheel. I deliver things about town, you see, sir. They’ve got a bit of a garden out back. For a minute I thought it was a lost dog or something like that, ’cos he was creeping close to the fence. I took a study because if it was there, might be a reward involved–”
“Get on with it, lad, you’re trying my patience.”
The youth flushed and Murdoch felt sorry he’d been so abrupt with him.
“When I realized it was Fred I just jumped on my wheel and came here as fast as I could.”
Murdoch turned to the constable.
“Crabtree, I’m going right over there. I’ll use my bicycle. Miss Brogan is coming too. Bring her along with you.”
Annie caught hold of Murdoch’s sleeve. “Please! I must get there as fast as I can. Let me come with you.”
Her boots were of soft kid with a needle toe and higher heel. They didn’t look the best footwear for a hurried walk but he understood her urgency.
“Can you ride a bicycle?” he asked.
“Yes. I’ve used one in my act.”
Murdoch turned to the youth. “McEvoy, I’ve just requisitioned your wheel in the service of the police.”
The boy blushed with delight. “My pleasure, sir, er, madam.”
“You can come with the constable. Miss Brogan, let’s scorch.”
Annie, not caring, folded her skirts up and tucked them into her belt. She handled the wheel like a professional, and they got to the Shaw house in minutes. Fortunately, no curiosity had yet been excited and the street was deserted. Murdoch was praying that Freddie hadn’t been alarmed and fled again. He signalled to Annie to dismount at the opposite corner. The rain was glistening on the macadam, sleeting through the drooping leaves of the trees.
“Do you mind the wet?”
She shook her head. She would have stood in fire and brimstone if necessary.
“It’d be better if you wait here, then. I’m going in the back way and you’ll be able to see if he shoots out the front. If he does, grab him and yell for me. He’s a little titch. You can hold on to him if you have to.”
She nodded and he knew that she would risk her life at this point if she had to.
He crossed the road and walked casually in front of the house. There was no sign of anyone stirring, the curtains in the front parlour were still drawn tight. He went through the gate and walked around to the rear garden. The plot was given over to vegetables and well tended. Tomatoes were ripening on the vine, and there were several rows of potatoes and turnips. In the sunlight, the garden would have appeared lush and fertile, now it seemed desolate, the colour washed out by the rain.
When he had finished searching the house previously, he’d barred the back door from the inside and locked the front. Freddie had been forced to climb through the kitchen window. He’d trampled in the earth. The sash was pushed up and the sill muddy.
Murdoch leaned his head in first, cautiously. The window opened directly into the kitchen, where George had died. Murdoch stood still, trying to determine if he could detect the boy’s presence, but the house remained quiet, as if it were holding its breath. He put his leg over the sill, scrunched his body, and slithered with some difficulty into the kitchen. Here he waited again. Nothing, except now he could hear the tick of a clock on the mantel. The heel of the loaf of bread was green with mould, and on the floor was a half-eaten unripe tomato. The cupboard door had swung wide open and he wondered if Freddie had come here in search of food.
He walked through into the hall.
“Hello! Anybody here? Freddie? It’s Detective Murdoch. I’m not going to hurt you. Just come out. We’ve got to have a talk.”
Silence.
He could see the door to the parlour was open. He went to investigate but that room was also empty.
He returned to the hall, which was uncarpeted, and thumped his feet a couple of times as if he were walking. He closed the creaky door to the kitchen with a bang. Then he lowered himself to the floor and leaned against the wall. When he’d gone into the fields as a boy, he’d found the best way to see the wild deer or rabbits was to sit still and wait. He hoped Crabtree hadn’t arrived yet and that Annie could hold out.