Vices of My Blood (22 page)

Chapter Thirty-Eight

L
OUISA
H
OWARD WAS PALE AND HAGGARD
, her eyes red-rimmed from lack of sleep and too much weeping. The drawing room where she received Murdoch was oppressive in the fading afternoon light. All of the mirrors had been soaped and the pictures turned around to face the wall. Black crepe ribbons festooned the fireplace and the window frames.

When he showed her the watch, she clasped it and kissed it. “Does this mean you have apprehended his murderer?”

“Not quite. It was in the possession of a tramp in police custody, but he swears he found it in the greenhouse of the Horticultural Gardens. This may or may not be true. We also have Mr. Howard’s boots. I showed them to your maid, Doris, and she is certain they were your husband’s. They were almost certainly worn by a tramp, but again we have as yet no definite proof which man this was or if he was indeed the person who murdered your husband.”

Louisa was twisting a black silk handkerchief round and round over her fingers.

“But you say you do have a man in custody?”

“Yes, ma’am, I do.”

She frowned at him. “But not yet charged?”

“No.”

“I fail to understand why not.”

“Mrs. Howard, I promise you we are doing everything we can. But I cannot arrest a man unless I am certain he is guilty.”

“He had Charles’s watch and his boots.”

“We know he had the watch, but we don’t know if he had worn the boots.”

Louisa compressed her lips into a tight thin line. “Mr. Murdoch, our Lord Jesus taught us to love our enemies, but I tell you in all honesty, as each day dawns and I see my fatherless children and I feel my fatherless child stir in my womb, I am less and less able to obey those teachings.” She tugged on each end of the handkerchief. “I want to see Charles’s killer hanged. I will have no peace until I know this has happened.” Her eyes filled with tears and she wiped them harshly away. “I cannot weep any more.”

Murdoch hesitated, searching for words that wouldn’t hurt her anew. “Mrs. Howard, I understand how you feel and I would never persist in my inquiry if it weren’t necessary, but there are some more questions I need to ask you.”

“What questions, surely you know enough?”

Her voice was harsh, but Murdoch also thought he detected fear. She had gone curiously still, watching him. Oddly enough her expression reminded him of the one he’d seen on Traveller’s face. She was seeking to avoid the place where the trap was set. “Did his sins catch up with him?” Bettles had asked.

“On Tuesday, when I was here with Dr. Ogden, Mr. Drummond came to call on you. You refused to admit him. Why was that, Mrs. Howard?”

She glanced at him in surprise. This was not what she thought he was going to ask. “Mr. Drummond is no friend of mine. He was strongly opposed to Charles’s appointment as pastor of this church. I could not bear the thought he might be coming here to gloat. He can have whomever he wants now.”

“I understand Mr. Swanzey was the candidate Mr. Drummond supported.”

“Yes, he was. Fortunately, Matthew is a man of humility and piety. He was quite reconciled to the choice and was most generous in his support for Charles. Unlike Mr. Drummond, who made it plain for all to see that he despised my husband. That is why I did not admit him and have no desire to do so even now.”

“It must be difficult for you that his house is so close to yours.”

“It is. I believe he stands in his shop doorway all day long, watching us. Why, I don’t know, but it is most unpleasant.”

On his way to the house as he walked along Gerrard, Murdoch had seen Drummond doing just that.

Her anger toward the elder had enlivened Louisa and she jumped to her feet and walked over to the fireplace, stretching out her hands to the blaze.

“Is that all you wished to know, Mr. Murdoch? I must confess I am feeling very tired.”

Murdoch paused, trying to find the tactful way to ask his next question.

“There is something else, ma’am, and forgive me for the delicacy of the topic …”

He could see her back tense but she didn’t turn around.

“I repeat, sir, I really am most fatigued. I don’t think there is any more I can say to you.”

“This concerns Miss Dignam.”

Again Murdoch had the distinct impression this was not the question she expected. She glanced over her shoulder in surprise.

“I realize she has had a dreadful shock,” continued Murdoch, “and she is most upset, but I wondered if she had a special relationship with your husband.”

This question did bring Louisa about to face him. “Special? What on earth do you mean, special?”

“Miss Dignam is a spinster and perhaps has been a lonely woman. Sometimes in those circumstances, women develop fanciful notions about men such as their doctors or their ministers.”

He hated himself for putting it that way. He could almost hear Amy Slade’s voice castigating him.

Louisa Howard actually laughed. “Sarah Dignam fancied herself in love with my husband, is that what you’re getting at?”

Murdoch nodded. “So you were aware of it?”

“Of course I was. Half of the parish knew. She was making quite a fool of herself. Always coming with little gifts, waiting around after prayer meetings, coming early.

Staring at him with eyes that would put a puppy to shame.

Poor Charles, she was driving him to distraction.”

Neither Mrs. Howard’s voice nor her expression were in the least kind. Murdoch wondered why she had so little sympathy.

“Surely you don’t suspect Miss Dignam, do you?”

“I’m just gathering information, ma’am.”

“She is a pathetic old soul, but I’ve never considered her to be deranged. And why would she kill the man she adored?”

She didn’t wait for an answer, which was just as well.

Because Murdoch would have had to say that Miss Dignam might have considered herself to be spurned. And hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. That path was quicksand and not one he could in conscience explore with the widow herself. He’d have to speak to Miss Flowers.

His back was seizing up on him and he eased forward in the chair, trying not to wince.

“I won’t keep you much longer, Mrs. Howard, but there is one other matter I should tell you about.”

“Yes?” Damn, there it was again. Wary as a wild cat.

“When I was here before I asked you if your husband had any enemies. You told me about the work he did as a volunteer for the city’s charitable institution and we both thought it worthwhile questioning some of the people applying for charity who he would have visited.”

“Yes? It is of no matter now.”

“It may be more than we think. I did make inquiries specifically of the ones he had been forced to reject. This morning I discovered that one such family has died in what is probably a tragic accident.”

“Why are you telling me this? Surely it has nothing to do with my husband’s death? Poor people die all the time. He could not have been responsible.”

“I did not mean in the least to imply that he was. The cause of death was carbon monoxide poisoning. The chimney was blocked in the downstairs room and the fumes came up into their room. The downstairs lodger died as well and two other people were made quite ill.”

“I am sorry to hear it, but perhaps you can understand that my capability for sympathy is somewhat limited at the moment.”

“Of course, ma’am. But I wonder if your husband ever mentioned this family to you. The name is Tugwell, Esther and her daughter, Josie, and son, Wilfred.”

Louisa’s shock was palpable. “Tugwell? No, I never heard the name before.”

You’re a bloody poor actress, Murdoch said to himself.

“You say it was an accident?”

“It would appear to be so. As I said, the source of the carbon monoxide was the downstairs chimney. The fumes filled the house. The Tugwells got the worst of it as they were directly above.”

For some reason he couldn’t fathom, that seemed to relieve her.

“Mr. Murdoch, I realize you are only doing your duty but all this talk of death is most upsetting. I really must ask you to leave.” She leaned over and tugged hard on the bell pull. “You have your culprit and I beg you not to bother me again until you have made that arrest. Then I shall be happy to receive you.”

Doris came into the room.

“Please show Mr. Murdoch out, Doris. And I will receive no more visitors today.”

“Mr. Swanzey is here, madam. I was just about to let you know.”

Louisa looked flustered. “Yes, of course. Show him in. Goodbye, Mr. Murdoch. Forgive me if I sounded rude, it’s just …”

“I quite understand, ma’am. I will keep you informed of my progress.”

Doris opened the door and Swanzey came in. He hesitated in the doorway, but Louisa held out her hand to him.

“Matthew, dear friend. I’m so glad to see you.”

Murdoch saw Swanzey flinch, but then he hurried across to her.

Murdoch left. He felt like a hound that had suddenly hit the scent of the fox. He didn’t know where the creature was hiding, but he was sure he was on its trail.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

W
HEN
M
URDOCH RETURNED
to the station, Olivia Bagley and Ed Parker were both sitting on the bench in the main hall waiting for him. Olivia was wearing an appalling array of rags as to be almost unrecognizable. She didn’t have her false teeth in and when she saw him she smiled a gummy grin.

Murdoch beckoned to them. “Come with me.”

They followed him back to his cubicle. He’d forgotten to get an extra chair, so Olivia generously offered the one seat to Ed and she stood beside him. Murdoch went behind his desk.

“We’ve done what you wanted,” said Olivia. “I’d like to get my boy now.”

“As soon as I hear your report, you can both go,” said Murdoch. He took out his notebook and fountain pen. “Ed, let’s start with you. Oh, by the way, I’d like to thank you for your prompt action in the bathhouse. I would have been discovered for sure if you hadn’t diverted Dr. Ogden.”

Ed looked at him oddly. “Why do you say that?”

“Because he knows who I am –” He saw the expression on Ed’s face. “Hold on, are you saying you didn’t throw a fit in the bathtub as a distraction?”

“Well, er, as a matter of fact, no. If you get into the infirmary, you at least get some supper and it’s quieter.”

“Parker, you were supposed to be helping me in there.”

He shifted in embarrassment. “Sorry, Mr. Murdoch, I didn’t think. As soon as they said a doctor was coming in, I knew I could get myself transferred … but I did let you know which of the coves might have my old boots on.”

Murdoch had collected boots from all four of his nabs and lined them against the wall.

“Have a look at those. Can you identify any pair as yours?”

“I’ll have to try them on.”

“All right. Mrs. Bagley, help him, will you?”

Olivia came around and undid Ed’s laces, easing off the tight boots. Both of them made ostentatious noises as she removed the boot from his injured foot, she of sympathy, he of pain. Murdoch waited until Ed had tried on all three of the other pairs, his expression heavily concentrating, as befitted a man conducting a test of such importance. He tried on each boot a couple of times, even got to his feet and hopped around the tiny space of Murdoch’s office.

Finally, Murdoch put a stop to it. “Well?”

“It’s very hard to say, sir. I’d only had the boots a couple of months myself, but of all of them, I’d pick these ones.”

“It’s them for certain,” chipped in Olivia. “Who’d got them?”

Murdoch saw no reason not to tell them. “Jack Trevelyan was wearing them.”

Ed and Olivia exchanged glances. “Does that mean he was the one who did for the pastor?” asked Ed.

Before he could answer, there was quick rap on the wall outside his cubicle and Gardiner thrust his head through the reed curtain.

“There’s a message for you, Mr. Murdoch. Dr. Ogden called. She wants you to telephone her right back. She says it’s urgent.”

Murdoch got out of his chair as quickly as he could while the two plungers eyed him curiously.

“I’ll be right back, don’t touch anything,” said Murdoch.

“Couldn’t stand us a cup of tea, could you, seeing as how we’re helping you with your inquiries? We’re fair parched, aren’t we, Ed?”

Ed nodded vigorously. “Do you mind, sergeant?” Murdoch asked Gardiner. It was clear the sergeant wasn’t happy with the request.

“If you think it’s necessary, I’ll have Callahan make a pot for them,” he said.

Murdoch made his way to the telephone table in the front hall. He picked up the receiver and the constable connected him, then went off on Gardiner’s orders to mash the tea. Murdoch was glad to have the privacy. Callahan was a nosy chap and Murdoch was sure he stored up bits of dropped information to use later, like a chipmunk gathering nuts. Gardiner, still in a sulk, went back to his desk.

The telephone rang for such a long time Murdoch was on the point of hanging up when Dr. Ogden answered, sounding slightly breathless as if she’d run to the telephone. He picked up the mouthpiece.

“Dr. Ogden, William Murdoch here. I understand you wanted to speak to me.”

“Yes. Good. I’ve just completed the post-mortem examination on Mr. Hicks and I thought you should know immediately that I found prussic acid in his stomach. As soon as I cut him open I could smell it. Very distinctive odour of bitter almonds.”

“Good heavens.”

“Prussic acid is a favourite poison of suicidal persons, but I don’t remember even seeing a bottle when I first examined him. Did you find one or a suicide note?”

“No, neither.” Murdoch hooked his foot around the spare stool by the desk, pulled it over, and sat down, suppressing his groan. “Could it have been an accident?”

“That is most unlikely. You can hardly mistake a bottle labelled ‘poison’ for a glass of water. There wasn’t a large amount in the stomach but sufficient to bring about unconsciousness almost immediately. That’s why it’s so often chosen by self-murderers, it acts quickly before they have a chance to change their minds. But it’s most peculiar you haven’t found the bottle. You’ll have to search thoroughly.”

“I intend to, ma’am.”

“It is not completely out of the question that Hicks took the poison somewhere else in the room, say, then walked back to his chair where he collapsed. I’m wondering if he didn’t block the chimney himself, hoping his death would seem like an accident, not even thinking he would cause the deaths of innocent people. You’ll have to see if he left a will or has an insurance policy on his life.”

“Yes, I’ll do that. I must say when I met him, he didn’t strike me as a man who was in a precarious state of mind.”

“Ah yes, but these people are cunning. I’ve known instances when the closest family members had no notion at all of what was going on in the suicide’s mind. Did you say anything that may have upset him?”

Murdoch considered her question. “Not that I am aware of, although he did talk about his deceased wife whom he was sorely missing.”

“There you go, then. Does he have children?”

“He said not. Was there any other wounding to the body?”

“None.”

“Could another person have forcibly administered the poison, for instance?”

“I saw no such signs.”

“Have you examined the other bodies yet?”

“No. I will report back to you when I’ve done so.”

She disconnected and Murdoch hung the receiver on its hook. Goddamn it. So much for his sensitive nostrils sniffing the air. It seemed that the Tugwell connection to Howard’s murder was a coincidence after all. And he supposed that Louisa Howard’s odd reaction to the news of the tragedy had to do with her hearing that in some way her husband would be held responsible. Poor old Hicks. He got slowly to his feet and walked over to Gardiner.

“Will you send a couple of the constables over to the house on Sherbourne Street. Have them take Mr. Hicks’s room apart. We’re looking for a bottle of prussic acid and maybe even a suicide letter and any papers at all concerning his affairs, a will, insurance policies, that sort of thing. I’ll come as soon as I’ve finished here.”

“I’ll have Fyfer and Higgins go over at once.” Gardiner hesitated. “Will, I have to tell you, I am a Christian man, but I’m itching to get my hands on that tramp. When are you going to make the arrest?”

“I don’t know. We don’t have enough solid proof yet.”

“Leave me alone with him and I’ll beat the confession out of him.”

Murdoch nodded. “I’ll take care of it, Henry.”

“The pastor deserves justice. He was a true servant of our Lord.”

“Yes, I’m sure he was. Tell Fyfer I’ll join him as soon as I can.”

He made his way back to his cubicle. Olivia had taken over his chair and she was in the process of gulping down her mug of tea. Murdoch saw how greedily she was drinking and he felt guilty.

She moved back to Ed as soon as Murdoch came in.

“Everything all right, then? Not terminal, are you?”

“What?”

She grinned hideously. “You just had an urgent call from a doctor and you come back looking like thunder. I just wondered if she was telling you bad news.”

“Never you mind. Let’s get on with this.”

Murdoch sat in his chair and was rewarded by the stab of pain. He winced.

Olivia noticed. “Eddie said you hurt your back. You should put a mustard poultice on it. And take a purge.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Bagley. Now do you have any news for me?”

She smiled slyly. “As a matter of fact, I do. I went to each depot in turn and started up a good chin with the others in the queue. Lot of walking it was but I will say, it’s the first time I’ve felt stuffed for weeks. And if you ever want to know, the soup they serve at St. Peter’s Church is the best.”

“Thank you, I’ll keep that in mind.”

His tone made her a bit huffy. “Just trying to be helpful. Well, anyway, the third time round, I went to the depot just up here on Oak Street. And let me tell you, Mr. Murdoch, I got the sixpence. There was a young woman in front of me, a bit disreputable if you ask me but I did like you said I was to do and engaged her in conversation. ‘I was lucky with my Visitor,’ says I. ‘He coughed up a ticket right away.’ ‘That so,’ says she, ‘well you were dead jammy, weren’t you.’ ‘Did yours give you a hard time,’ I asks. ‘Ha,’ says she. ‘I just got a new one. The first was tight as pigskin as usual, but this one was willing to give me a ticket all right under certain conditions.’ ‘What conditions?’ asks I. ‘You
know
what,’ she says, ‘I get my docket as long as I — him.’ And she used a word I won’t sully your ears with repeating but in common parlance it means have intimate connections.”

“With the Visitor?”

“Precisely. ‘But isn’t he a clergyman?’ I asks because most of the Visitors are. She laughs like I’d said something very funny. ‘Where’ve you bin all your life, in a manger? Reverends are the worst. And I’m not the first this one has bin after.’ ‘That isn’t right,’ says I, which it isn’t. ‘You
have
been brought up in a manger,’ says she. ‘It happens all the time. You’d better watch yourself. He’ll be after you next. He’s not fussy.’ I would have gone on talking to her, but we were about to get our soup then and that’s all she could see.”

Murdoch stared at her. “Did she tell you the man’s name?”

“No, the chin went pretty much as I’ve told it to you.”

Olivia looked at him, clearly expecting to be congratulated. Murdoch managed to beam at her.

“Well done indeed, but there’s no possibility she was making it up, is there?”

“None. Why’d she tell me something like that if it weren’t the truth?”

Ed interrupted. “Some people like to stir up trouble, Livvy. They’re in the dirt and they feel they might as well fling some of it around.”

“This weren’t like that. She let her hair down because she thought we were sisters. As if I’ve ever. Plunging’s one thing, selling yourself for a bit of coal and a loaf of bread is another.”

“Have you ever had anything to do with any of the Visitors?” Murdoch asked.

“No.” Olivia lifted her shoulders in pride. “We’ve managed to fend for ourselves, haven’t we, Ed?”

“But you were in the workhouse on Tuesday.”

“That was an emergency. We didn’t get much dosh that day, the weather was too bad, so Ed decided he’d be better off taking a turn in the spike. I begged him not to and I was right. Look at all the trouble it’s landed us in.”

Parker was about to protest and rekindle what was obviously an ongoing argument. Murdoch tapped his pen on the notebook. “All right, never mind that now. Mrs. Bagley, what did this woman look like?”

“It’s hard to say, she had a shawl over her head.”

“You’ve got to do better than that. You said a young woman. About how old? How tall? Was she dark or fair?”

“I just told you, she had a shawl over her head, I didn’t see.”

Murdoch knew perfectly well that this was Olivia’s way of getting her own back. Under protest, she had done what he asked her to, but she wasn’t going to make his life easier. For all her protestations, she did see the woman in the queue as one of her own kind. Murdoch wasn’t and never would be. He laid his pen beside the notebook and leaned over the desk.

“Mrs. Bagley, your son is probably missing you and you have indicated you miss him. I need to talk to the girl who was telling you this story. I’d like to get a description of her so I can find her. Until your memory gets sharper, Tim is going to have to stay where he is.”

Normally, Murdoch wouldn’t have behaved like a bully but he was tired, hungry, and his back hurt. He’d hardly finished what he was saying when he realized he’d made a mistake. He saw an expression cross Olivia’s face and he knew he now embodied all the tyrannical wardens, police officers, doctors, all those who had power to determine whether she ate or not, whether she had money to live or not, and above all who had rule over her life. She stared back at him with anger in her eyes.

“I’m sure Tim is getting some good grub where he is so I doubt he’s missing his ma that much so I ain’t much worried about him. But you can’t get blood out of a stone, Mr. Detective, no matter how much you stomp on it. I don’t remember anything at all about this woman. Nothing.”

In his own frustration, Murdoch flashed back at her. “Very well. I’m having you taken to the Mercer. Perhaps a little time in solitary confinement will jog your memory. I will talk with you tomorrow.”

Ed gaped at him in dismay. “Begging your pardon, sir, but that don’t seem fair to me. Livvy is doing her best.”

“Is she?” Murdoch knew his voice was too loud. “Let’s put it this way, Mr. Parker. A man, who for all intents and purposes was a thoroughly decent human being, has been brutally murdered. He leaves behind him two young children and his wife is carrying their third child. Last night, a kind old man died. He may have taken his own life, I don’t know for certain, but because of him, three other people lost their lives, one a crippled boy. Another woman is deathly ill and may not live. I met this old man and all he wanted to do was read books. He met Charles Howard, who was also the Visitor for the family that lived upstairs, and is now dead. I was starting to believe that was purely a coincidence, but I don’t like coincidences. Now you’re telling me about a woman who claims that one of the esteemed volunteers for the city might be what I would deem a rapist.”