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.
“You take Princess and keep her quiet. Give me Tsar.”
Quinn did as he was told. With the bulldog’s leash in his hand, Murdoch entered the front room. There was a thin rush covering on the floor which effectively deadened the sound of his boots, but he wished he had some weapon. Then he heard a thump from above and the sound of heavy footsteps across the floor. They were up there.
He held Tsar’s jaws closed so he could hear better. He made out two voices, one male, the other female. Relief swept through him as he realized she was alive. Quickly, he crossed to the rear door and as lightly and as fast as he could mounted the stairs, the dog beside him.
“You’re going to crash me, aren’t you?”
The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. She felt dizzy but it was a relief to tell the truth. It gave her a strange kind of strength. He stared at her, then stepped away as if she’d violated an unspoken taboo.
“What a fly mort you really are, Ellie. I was wondering when that would occur to you.”
This time a wave of anger shot through her body, burning hot but as brief and ineffective as the striking of a match.
“You did for Alice too, didn’t you?”
“That’s right. She was too leaky for her own good. She told you she saw us pick up the girl, didn’t she?”
“Yes.”
“So there we are, then, Ellie. Too bad for you.”
He yawned like a nervous dog and for the first time she realized he was afraid too.
At that moment, she heard a sound from the landing, a creak.
He also heard it.
At the top of the stairs, Murdoch hesitated. The voices had ceased and everything was completely quiet. Slowly, he turned the doorknob. The door wasn’t locked and yielded easily.
With a fervent prayer he flung it open and jumped into the room, dropping at once into a crouch.
Canning was waiting for him.
His left hand was covering Ettie’s mouth and at her throat he was holding a short sailor’s knife. He had pricked her skin and a trickle of bright blood was running down her neck. She was not struggling, but her eyes as they saw Murdoch were wide with terror and pleading.
“Let her go.”
Canning scowled. “Nothin’ doing. She’s my ticket of leave. Now get out of the way. I’m coming down those stairs.”
Tsar licked his lips and whined softly, sensing the emotion.
“And don’t think of letting that brute go ’cause I’ll slit its throat right after I slit hers.”
“Turn yourself in, man. You can’t get away.”
“Wrong. I was a sailor, don’t forget. I’ve got escape hatches you’ll never know about. Now move away. Over there! Now!”
Ettie flinched at his voice in her ear.
“Please,” she whispered.
Slowly Murdoch obeyed, trying to sense the moment of weakness, the moment when Canning would give him an opportunity to act. He regretted bringing the dog, who had suddenly sat down, panting. Mild-mannered fellow indeed. Unobtrusively he dropped the leash.
“Let go of the girl and I’ll give you time to get away.”
“The fig you would. Come on. Get over to the corner. If you don’t hurry up, I’ll start on her now.”
The blade dug deeper. Ettie gasped.
Suddenly from the stairs came a deep-throated baying. The door banged against the wall and Quinn burst into the room. Princess was at his heel, howling. Canning turned, momentarily distracted. At the same time, Ettie twisted out of his arm and dropped to all fours, scrambling away. Quinn ran over to help her but as he bent down Canning’s boot connected with his jaw, felling him instantly. With a howl, Princess went for the offending leg but Canning landed a blow on her side that flung her in the air. Murdoch lunged forward to grab him but he wasn’t fast enough. Canning jumped backwards behind a sewing machine, waving his knife in front of him. Ettie was screaming obscenities at the top of her voice as, still on her hands and knees, she crawled to the injured dog.
It was then that Tsar woke up. He growled deep in his throat, then hurled himself past Murdoch and went full-speed at Canning. The sailor tried to kick at him but the blow glanced off the dog’s shoulder. Tsar leapt on Canning’s right arm, clamping his jaws around the wrist. With a scream of pain, the man tried to punch the dog in the head with his other hand. He might as well have thumped a pillow for all the impact it had, but it gave Murdoch the chance he needed. He caught hold of Canning’s left arm and twisted it backwards, at the same time bearing down with all his weight.
They fell to the ground, the two men and the dog tumbling and rolling among the tables of the sewing room. Neither Tsar nor Murdoch would let go. Dimly he was aware of savage bumps as his spine and shins connected with the iron legs of the sewing tables. Canning was not a big man, but he was strong. Murdoch could not hold him down, and Canning managed to butt him so hard under the chin that Murdoch almost lost his grip. The din was horrific – Tsar was snarling ferociously non-stop, Ettie was screaming and Canning was yelling. Then Princess ran back into the fray, but she didn’t distinguish between friend or foe and gave Murdoch a nasty bite on the calf. He tried to protect himself at the same time that he attempted to get his arm around Canning’s neck. Then, with a Herculean heave, his assailant staggered to his feet. The bulldog hung on, his stubby paws waving in the air. Blood was streaming from Canning’s arm.
“Get him off!” he screamed.
He swung around and Murdoch, who was still behind him, was almost crushed against the shelves. It was only the softness of the cloth bolts that saved him. Canning might have escaped, but at that moment the little hound moved in for another attack and got Canning right above his heel, severing the Achilles tendon. He fell to his knees and Murdoch rolled off to the side. The breath had been knocked out of him and he was gasping for air.
Canning was closer to Ettie and, seeing what was happening, she aimed a savage kick at his ribs, the pointed toe of her boot catching him in the solar plexus. He went white and fell flat on his stomach like a marionette whose strings were cut.
She would have gone on kicking but, panting, Murdoch managed to pull her off.
“Ettie, stop. Stop. Leave him to me.”
She struggled for a minute but Princess ran to her aid and she was forced to hold the dog off Murdoch. Canning was retching and gasping on the floor. Murdoch left Ettie, dragged out his handcuffs and snapped them around the fallen man’s wrists.
The crimson satin cloth had got wrapped around Canning’s legs, and his own blood was making ribbons on the floor.
Epilogue
Sunday, March 17
EVEN AFTER A MONTH, the parlour still reeked of kerosene. When Murdoch had finally limped home, a shocked Beatrice Kitchen had soaked pieces of flannel in kerosene oil and applied them to the multitude of bruises on his arms and legs. The dog bite she had bathed in a solution of carbolic acid, and the initial pain was worth it because no infection had developed. Canning had not been so fortunate.
The Kitchens and Murdoch were sitting in the parlour after Sunday Mass. Arthur had accompanied them to St. Paul’s for the first time in almost a year. The egg-seller’s cure seemed to be working and although he now looked exhausted his strength was generally much improved. Without complaint he downed his twelve eggs and cream a day.
Beatrice poured Murdoch some more tea. He could see she was dying to tell him something but with the instincts of the born storyteller she was saving the news until the right moment.
“What’s on your mind, Mrs. K.?” he asked her finally. She put down her teacup, her eyes bright with excitement.
“I have been wanting to chat about my little encounter yesterday but there simply has been no opportunity. You were out.”