A Journeyman to Grief (36 page)

“She knocked me down, sir. I’m sorry.”

“Never mind that now. We should get a doctor for Mr. Archer.”

“I can look after him,” said Mrs. Archer. She used her sampler to staunch the blood.

“You’re a tough old rooster, aren’t you, Stanley? You’ve survived far worse than this.” She nodded at Murdoch. “Go and do your duty, detective, we’ll be all right.”

Murdoch left them in Fyfer’s care.

It took him almost half an hour to get to the Elliott Hotel as, in spite of his willpower, his muscles refused to move quickly. His back had gone into a painful spasm and at one point he doubted whether his legs would ever support him again.

The hotel was in darkness and he went around to the rear where Mrs. Dittman’s room was, afraid she might have already fled.

He need not have worried. The curtains were not drawn and there was a low light shining. He could see her seated in a chair by the window and he knew she was waiting for him.

She saw him coming and stood up to let him in by the French doors.

“Good evening, Mr. Murdoch. I was expecting you. Please come in.” She indicated the tea trolley. “I can offer you tea if you would like, but I cannot answer as to how warm it still is.”

“No thank you, ma’am.”

Normally, Murdoch would have been angered by this hypocritical facade of good manners, but there was something about the woman that softened his response.

“I shall have to take my medicine, if you don’t mind, Mr. Murdoch. I can speak with a clearer mind then.”

“By all means, ma’am.”

She limped to the dresser and poured something from a brown vial into a cup on the side table. She took a deep swallow and shuddered slightly. “Not the best taste in the world. It quite ruins the tea, but it does its job.”

Murdoch had taken the chair in front of the fireplace and she sat down opposite him.

“I suppose you are expecting me to go through a song and dance of denial, Mr. Murdoch, but frankly I don’t have the energy. I know why you have come and I am willing to be quite truthful with you.” She paused and smiled a wry smile. “On the other hand, perhaps I should hear from your own mouth why you are here. I should not be too premature.”

She thinks it might be better to stall a little longer, thought Murdoch.

“I have come because I believe you are implicated in the deaths of Daniel Cooke and Thomas Talbert and in the attempted murder of Reverend Stanley Archer.”

That startled her. “What do you mean, the attempted murder?”

“Somebody shot at him tonight in his home. Fortunately, they missed, but the intent was to kill him, there is no doubt about that. I was present. The assailant was a woman. It was your maid, Faith.”

She stared at him in horror but made no protest.

“Where is she? I’d like to speak to her.”

“I’m afraid that won’t be possible. I have sent her back to New York.”

“How long ago did she leave?”

“Some time ago.”

Murdoch pointed to the telephone set on the desk. “I would like to make a call, ma’am.”

“By all means.”

Murdoch could see how much his news had upset her. She hadn’t known anything about the shooting.

Fortunately, the unctuous clerk, Oatley, hadn’t yet left, and Murdoch was able to get him to connect him with the police station. He gave the order to send two constables to Union Station
and gave a description of the maid. “She is armed and dangerous.”

Mrs. Dittman had hardly seemed interested in his call, and when he returned to his seat, she said, “A few moments ago, you said I was implicated in the deaths of a Mr. Cooke and a Mr. Talbert. What do you mean by
implicated
?”

“You were complicit in the whipping of Daniel Cooke. You were present and a witness to the shooting of Thomas Talbert.”

“I see.” She had laced her fingers in her lap and had been studying her hands and now she looked up at him. “I said I would be honest with you, sir, and I will be. I am totally responsible for the deaths of those two men. Daniel Cooke died more by God’s hand than by mine, but in the case of Thomas Talbert, I was the one who shot him.”

“You realize that I will have to arrest you?”

“Yes, I do realize that and I am prepared for it.”

“Mrs. Dittman –”

“That is not my real name. I borrowed it.”

“Should I call you Mrs. Cooke then?”

“No!” she spat out the word. “But I see you have discovered me, Mr. Murdoch.”

“I paid a visit to Reverend Archer. You were there shortly before me, I believe?”

“Yes. He was an old friend. I was sorry to see his state. I am relieved that he was unhurt. That had nothing to do with me.”

“I know you did not pull the trigger, if that’s what you mean.”

“I repeat, the attempt on his life had nothing to do with me. I swear to you I am not implicated in that, as I am with the other two deaths.”

“Forgive me saying so, ma’am, but I don’t believe you alone would have had the strength to haul up Mr. Cooke to the rafters, or to whip him in that way.”

“You would be surprised what strength passion can bestow on a person, Mr. Murdoch. I have had many cruel years to contemplate what sort of revenge I would visit on Daniel Cooke. Thirty-nine stripes seemed fitting. I had to endure them more than once.”

Murdoch spoke gently. “Mrs. Archer has told me your story.”

Again she returned to studying her fingers. “I expect she told you I was sold as a slave many years ago.”

“Yes.”

“What she probably didn’t tell you, Mr. Murdoch, because nobody here knew, was that my husband of one week was the one who sold me.”

Murdoch had suspected as much.

“He received three hundred dollars. The slave trader resold me for four hundred. I should say that it seemed like a sign from God that Daniel had that precise amount of money in his safe.”

“Which you stole?”

“
Stole
is a harsh word, Mr. Murdoch. It suggests I participated in a robbery. In fact, I was merely recovering my dowry, you might say. I took what was mine.”

“And you whipped him until he had an apoplectic attack and continued to whip him after that?”

“Yes.”

She was watching him defiantly. He changed tack.

“He must have been shocked to receive your message.”

“He was, indeed. His crime returned from the grave. He was still quite pale when he arrived at the stable. I suppose he thought I was dead.”

“Yes. He did. He had received a letter from a doctor saying he’d been there at your deathbed.”

“He must have bribed him. It would have given him an
excuse to stop searching. I had no encounter with a physician, even perhaps when I needed to, until recently.” For a moment her thoughts turned inward, and Murdoch didn’t have to guess what she meant by that.

He brought her back to the present. “I understand your motive concerning Cooke, but why did you shoot your own father?”

She frowned as if he were rather a dull student and she the teacher. “Because he was complicitous. I saw his signature on the bill of sale.”

“According to Mrs. Archer, your father had nothing at all to do with the kidnapping. He almost went bankrupt trying to find you. Signatures are easy to forge.”

She stiffened. “I don’t know if that is the case.”

“Is that why you threw money onto his body?”

“Yes. Judas wages.”

“And then you placed him into the Spanish Stoop?”

“Yes, that is correct.”

Murdoch leaned toward her.

“Miss Talbert, you promised to tell the truth, but you are not doing so. I think you have sent your maid away so she cannot speak for herself. A witness says that a man and a woman visited Thomas Talbert the evening he was killed. Perhaps you went there with Elijah Green.”

“Who is that?”

“The man from the stables? The man that Faith spoke to when she was getting the lie of the land.”

“Why do you say that? I don’t know him.”

“Miss Talbert, when you were talking to the Reverend Archer, he was confused. He thought you were your own mother. But you were inquiring about a boy named Isaiah. I assume that you were asking about your own son.”

She moved away from him. “I have no son.”

“I think you do, ma’am. He was rescued as an infant and brought to Toronto by way of the Underground Railroad. He was adopted and he is a grown man. His name is now Elijah Green.”

Murdoch waited, and he felt as if the entire world was balanced on the edge of a razor.

“Was Green your accomplice, Miss Talbert? Was he helping you to get your revenge? He didn’t know Thomas was his grandfather or that his mother had been married to Daniel Cooke and been cruelly betrayed. Did you tell him and ask for his help?”

“No! Absolutely not. I have never met the man you speak of. Faith was the one who spoke to him when she went to the barn to inquire about a carriage. No, you must believe me, I have had nothing to do with him.”

She could contain herself no longer and she burst into deep, gulping sobs, all the more painful to watch because they were almost soundless. Murdoch stood up and went over to her, putting his hand on her shoulder.

“Your maid was your accomplice, wasn’t she?”

She could not speak at first, then she looked at him through her tears. “Yes, she was.”

“Did she whip Daniel Cooke?”

She nodded. “I also took part at first, but when we saw that he had died, she continued.”

“She was the one who shot your father?”

“Yes. I was accusing him of betraying me and he went to come over to me, perhaps to convince me he was innocent. She thought he was going to attack me and shot him.”

“Then she tied him into the Spanish Stoop?”

“Yes. I was not present when she did that.”

“You didn’t know she had made an attempt on the life of the Reverend Archer, did you?”

“No, I did not.”

“Were you aware that she also attacked me? She put me in the Spanish Stoop. She said she was teaching me a lesson.”

Emeline drew in her breath sharply. “I did not know that either. I am sorry. I was distressed after you left here. I suppose she was referring to that. She was ever my bulldog.” She caught his hand and held on to it as if she were drowning. “Mr. Murdoch, please believe me. I did not know about Elijah Green until this moment. He does not know of my existence, and I swear I have not involved him in any of my affairs.” She looked at him beseechingly.

“I believe you, ma’am.”

Her body almost collapsed as she sank back with relief into the couch.

“Thank you.”

“Forgive me for bringing such grief upon you, ma’am. Reverend Archer did not know Elijah was your child, and Elijah has grown up not knowing that Thomas Talbert was his grandfather. I don’t believe he even knows he was adopted.”

She shifted slightly on the couch, and he saw pain shoot across her face. “As I am sure you have guessed, Mr. Murdoch, my life’s thread is about to be shorn in two. I assume you will arrest me now?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“For being an accessory?”

“That’s right.”

She gave him a wry smile. “Mr. Murdoch, I must have you know that Faith, or Fidelia, as is her real name, is not in any way my servant. We took those roles because we could move freely about the country. She is my dearest friend, truly my soul sister.”

“I see.”

“I have told
you
the truth about what happened, but I will not repeat that to a judge. No, it will be useless for you to try to make me. I will deny I ever said what I have said to you. But I have seen
the sin of my ways, and I intend to confess to the murder of both Daniel Cooke and Thomas Talbert. I worked alone and unaided.”

“I cannot go along with that, ma’am. I will have to report what you have said.”

“Of course. But I tell you now that I was saying all those things only to avoid being charged. I am totally responsible. I do have a plausible motive, after all. A jury will believe me.”

“I intend to find your ma – your friend.”

She gave him a wan smile. “Fiddie and I long ago learned to get out of tight corners, Mr. Murdoch. She won’t be at the train station. You will never find her.”

She reached out as if to touch his hand, but she stopped herself.

“Mr. Murdoch, you took me by surprise a little while ago. I consider myself a shrewd judge of character, and I must now throw myself on your mercy. It will serve no good purpose for, er, for Elijah Green to know that I am his natural mother. He has a family. He appears to have lived a good life to this point. Why should I shatter that with the news that his mother is a murderess who killed his own grandfather? You seem a man of conscience, Mr. Murdoch. I beg you to give me your promise that you will not reveal this to him. As you can see, I am ill. I have a tumour that is eating my stomach. There is nothing to be done. Please, keep my secret, Mr. Murdoch. It is the last wish of a dying woman.”

Murdoch hesitated. He couldn’t see much would be served by bringing Green into the picture. The selling into slavery was enough reason for the revenge that Emeline had long sought. The newspapers would rejoice in that.

“Please, Mr. Murdoch,” she said again.

“Very well. I promise I won’t tell him or anybody else unless I deem it absolutely necessary to the case in question.”

She placed her hand on his. “Thank you again, sir. I’m sorry that I will put you in a rather difficult position, but I know it is for the best. You simply first heard the panicky ramblings of a distraught woman. I repeat, I am totally responsible and that is what I will say from now on.”

She got to her feet and paused while a wave of pain rippled through her body.

“Perhaps you would be so good as to bring my valise.”

EPILOGUE

M
urdoch was lying close beside Amy. It was almost midnight, and she had been waiting for him to return from the jail. The doctor who had examined her immediately placed Emeline Talbert in the infirmary. She was not going to live long enough to go to trial, so Judge Rose was content to accept her supposed confession and leave things as they stood. The wondrous thing was that when the story had been reported in the newspapers in all its lurid details, Mrs. Archer had gone to visit her. “God in His infinite Wisdom has given her punishment enough,” she said. “It is not for me to judge her.” Soon afterwards, a few members of the Queen Street Baptist Church had also begun to visit, and Murdoch thought Emeline was comforted by their company. He himself went every two or three days. At first, Emeline was aloof, but he never pressed her to retract her story about the crimes and she gradually relaxed in his presence.