Read Death and the Running Patterer Online
Authors: Robin Adair
Death and the Running Patterer (35 page)
“Get to the point, damn it!” ordered the governor.
The patterer nodded, unperturbed. “Then I found a German link, Schweinfurt. And a book on poisons took me even further.”
“What’s that got to do with it?” Darling asked, still dissatisfied.
“Everything. It brings together our words
Schwein
and ‘green,’ which
does
turn out to mean Madame Greene.
And
the manner in which she died. You see, ‘
Schweinfurt
green’ also describes a paste of copper arsenite and starch dried onto dress material and polished to a high sheen. It’s popular in Europe, but it can be highly dangerous. Particularly here. In a hotter climate it can be lethal. As it was for Madame Greene.
Schwein
and ‘green,’ which
does
turn out to mean Madame Greene.
And
the manner in which she died. You see, ‘
Schweinfurt
green’ also describes a paste of copper arsenite and starch dried onto dress material and polished to a high sheen. It’s popular in Europe, but it can be highly dangerous. Particularly here. In a hotter climate it can be lethal. As it was for Madame Greene.
“Her best-loved gown and turban were made of tarnatan, a muslin originally from Bengal and treated in Germany with the paste. She wore them as often as possible, as well as her shoes covered in the same material, outside and inside, day and night. I’m sure we’ve all seen her. She danced furiously and sang in sweltering halls, under hot lights.
“Every time, the poison was absorbed through her skin, as was white arsenic from her makeup and the poison in her dyed hair. Minuscule glittering flakes from the material were also shaken into a cloud that entered her mouth and nose.
“That dress, Miss Dormin, was all your work.”
“THAT MAKES ME a murderess?” she asked, arch now, unsmiling. “Even if I innocently made the dress in question? I know nothing of this material.”
The patterer looked at her sadly. “Ah, but you do. And you were very patient. You had the deadly dress in planning for a long time—allowing for ships’ passages, perhaps a year. Which suggests how long you plotted to kill Madame Greene, how far back your grudge against her lies.
“When the dressmaker here from whom you had obtained work made out an order for fabric from Europe, you were suddenly inspired. You secretly added your requirement for some of the poisonous cloth. When the consignment finally arrived, it went to
The Gleaner
. No one there opened it; had you told the office that such a parcel was coming for you? Even if they had pried, the contents would have meant nothing to them. But …
The Gleaner
. No one there opened it; had you told the office that such a parcel was coming for you? Even if they had pried, the contents would have meant nothing to them. But …
“That’s where Muller somehow uncovered you. Perhaps he saw you with the material? He was widely read, from the Schweinfurt area and, when Madame died and the description of her strange death circulated, he put two and
zwei
together. Whatever happened, he had to die. But, at the end, he was able to point to Casa Alta, to name your ingenious murder method—and to name you as the ‘bloody hand,’ ironically in the only German to which he completely regressed.
zwei
together. Whatever happened, he had to die. But, at the end, he was able to point to Casa Alta, to name your ingenious murder method—and to name you as the ‘bloody hand,’ ironically in the only German to which he completely regressed.
“Oh, and don’t imagine that you can bluff it out here and later destroy the evidence. I have what’s left of the consignment—even the dress, which I’m sure Dr. Owens can analyze.”
Miss Dormin was wide-eyed now. “But, how … ?”
“Rather simply,” replied Dunne. “I stole it—or, rather, had it stolen—from your hiding place above the shop, where the disabled mistress of the house has never lately ventured. Recent events guided me. When I was a felon on the run, what better place to hide than among felons? Who would look there? You had applied the same thinking to the green dress. What better place to conceal it than among many other dresses?”
Miss Dormin frowned. “Why would I have killed Elsie?”
The patterer sighed. “Why do you ask that? I’ve only just informed these gentlemen that Elsie was murdered—you’ve never even been told.” Rachel Dormin paled.
“But, since you ask,” continued Dunne, “she was another danger to you. She might find the poisoned
maquillage
. But, more important, she might have asked you to return the dress. Remember, Captain?’ he addressed Rossi. “After we left the theater that night, Miss Dormin had the dress. And she kept it. As we left her at her front door, she said something. You took it to be directed at you—that she ‘would not call for the police.’
maquillage
. But, more important, she might have asked you to return the dress. Remember, Captain?’ he addressed Rossi. “After we left the theater that night, Miss Dormin had the dress. And she kept it. As we left her at her front door, she said something. You took it to be directed at you—that she ‘would not call for the police.’
“In fact, she was telling Elsie, who was going back to the brothel, that she ‘would not call for the pelisse,’
p-e-l-i
-double-
s-e
. I later learned that this is an overgarment that goes with a lady’s gown. This particular example was furred and, doubtless, unpoisoned. And it would seem not to be incriminating. But …” He turned to Miss Dormin. “You eventually did want the pelisse. Its existence on its own could always raise the question of the whereabouts of the dress. I also found the pelisse. You killed Elsie, and made it look like a lover’s suicide. And you killed all the others, too, didn’t you?”
p-e-l-i
-double-
s-e
. I later learned that this is an overgarment that goes with a lady’s gown. This particular example was furred and, doubtless, unpoisoned. And it would seem not to be incriminating. But …” He turned to Miss Dormin. “You eventually did want the pelisse. Its existence on its own could always raise the question of the whereabouts of the dress. I also found the pelisse. You killed Elsie, and made it look like a lover’s suicide. And you killed all the others, too, didn’t you?”
RACHEL DORMIN NODDED, almost dreamily.
“I’m sorry about Elsie,” she said at last, softly. “At first she thought Dr. Owens had poisoned her mistress with his eternal lozenges. But then she remembered something: where she had seen me before, in another life. That’s why she surely had to die. Yes, I killed them. Every one.”
Only the ticking clock broke the silence as she paused.
“I killed the soldier in the lane just as you deduced. He suspected no attack, only had time to invite me to urinate with him, then ask what I was doing there. Will Abbot at the
New World
also died much as you said. I don’t regret telling him that he was about to die, even if he was more cunning than I could have imagined. I waited until he paused to fiddle with the tray of type, then I stepped behind him, clapped the pistol to his face and fired. I took back the document for setting and, on the spur of the moment, decided to leave another significant, yet confusing clue. And, yes, more disguises delivered The Ox to me.”
New World
also died much as you said. I don’t regret telling him that he was about to die, even if he was more cunning than I could have imagined. I waited until he paused to fiddle with the tray of type, then I stepped behind him, clapped the pistol to his face and fired. I took back the document for setting and, on the spur of the moment, decided to leave another significant, yet confusing clue. And, yes, more disguises delivered The Ox to me.”
She rushed on, brooking no interruption. “The Lumber Yard blacksmith? Male vanity and lust sealed his fate. Again in my first disguise, I played the tart and made up to him as he went to work. He greedily accepted my offer of some
bhang
. What danger could a native harlot pose? With the promise of my favors, I persuaded him to demonstrate the workings of the flogging apparatus. I secured him there and … you know the rest. You’re correct about the tawse and the scalpel. The green sugar? Oh, I accidentally spilled hair dye.”
bhang
. What danger could a native harlot pose? With the promise of my favors, I persuaded him to demonstrate the workings of the flogging apparatus. I secured him there and … you know the rest. You’re correct about the tawse and the scalpel. The green sugar? Oh, I accidentally spilled hair dye.”
“Why?” Mr. Hall got in a word. “Why, in God’s name, mutilate him in that horrific manner—even worse than the others?”
Miss Dormin’s fierce frown returned him to fascinated silence. “I chose the way that bitch, Madame, died quite deliberately. I wanted her to sicken slowly, not go out quickly. You were right, in the main, about Elsie,” she said to Dunne. “But only partly correct about Muller. His main offense was to know the same secret that sealed the maid’s fate. But neither of
them
deserved the mark of sugar,” she added cryptically.
them
deserved the mark of sugar,” she added cryptically.
“What the devil has any of this got to do with Sudds?” asked the governor. “And what is the truth of your messages?”
Miss Dormin eyed him steadily. “The business of the
zuzim
was just something I came across, but somehow it summed up my mood and plans. I wanted someone to know what was happening. Did I want to get caught? Perhaps. Who knows?” She gave a brittle little laugh. “My attempt at typesetting was rather a failure.”
zuzim
was just something I came across, but somehow it summed up my mood and plans. I wanted someone to know what was happening. Did I want to get caught? Perhaps. Who knows?” She gave a brittle little laugh. “My attempt at typesetting was rather a failure.”
“What were you trying to say?” asked Mr. Hall gently.
“Oh, I meant to set ‘Exodus 21:22.’ But I couldn’t find the piece for a colon. That last number ‘3’ was meant to be followed by the words
more to come
or at least the printers’ abbreviation
mtc
, to indicate three more killings. However, it all became too hard. I had only
played
with type at
The Gleaner
and, of course, I didn’t think about the right way to put the pieces in place. I just went to the case Abbot had been using. ‘Exodus’ came out with a small
e
rather than a capital
e
, simply because I couldn’t readily reach the upper—the higher—part of the case. And it all turned out garbled. I wonder you could make any sense of it.”
more to come
or at least the printers’ abbreviation
mtc
, to indicate three more killings. However, it all became too hard. I had only
played
with type at
The Gleaner
and, of course, I didn’t think about the right way to put the pieces in place. I just went to the case Abbot had been using. ‘Exodus’ came out with a small
e
rather than a capital
e
, simply because I couldn’t readily reach the upper—the higher—part of the case. And it all turned out garbled. I wonder you could make any sense of it.”
“What
is
verse 22?” asked Wentworth.
is
verse 22?” asked Wentworth.
Rachel Dormin replied curtly, “‘If men strive, and hurt a woman with child, so that her fruit depart from her … he shall be surely punished.’”
Dr. Halloran frowned. “Is that the full verse?”
Her eyes glittered. “It is the only interpretation that I care to recall. It represents, gentlemen, what this whole sorry saga is all about. Those four men who were executed—I won’t say murdered—raped me. And that rape left me with child. And the lady in green made me a whore. And she had my baby killed, before it was even born.”
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Truly My Satan thou art but a Dunce,
And dost not know the Garment from the Man;
Every Harlot was a Virgin once …
—William Blake,
For the Sexes. The Gates of Paradise
(1820)
For the Sexes. The Gates of Paradise
(1820)
T
HE MEN SAT DUMBSTRUCK AS MISS RACHEL DORMIN CONTINUED. “I did arrive in Sydney in 1826 as I told you, Mr. Dunne. But by road, not by sea. The actual sea-landing
had
taken place, but six years earlier. That’s when I came to begin seven years of punishment—for stealing hair!
HE MEN SAT DUMBSTRUCK AS MISS RACHEL DORMIN CONTINUED. “I did arrive in Sydney in 1826 as I told you, Mr. Dunne. But by road, not by sea. The actual sea-landing
had
taken place, but six years earlier. That’s when I came to begin seven years of punishment—for stealing hair!
“Back home I had worked hard as a seamstress—although even then I longed to be on the stage—but it was barely enough to keep me and my poor aunt out of the poorhouse or the debtors’ prison. One day a lady inspected our wares and absentmindedly left behind a hatbox. I opened it, simply to seek some identification, and found a beautiful wig, made of real women’s hair. It was very valuable. Wigmakers, you know, seek hair, usually from poor girls’ heads, but there’s never enough. Thieves attack women in the street and even steal tresses from hospital patients and dead bodies.
“I did nothing, but I was still accused. I’d put away the box, anticipating the customer’s gratitude on its return and then forgot all about it. One day, however, I came from an errand to find the shop’s mistress confronted by the angry customer, who was accompanied by a constable.
“The box had disappeared and the woman accused us of stealing the hairpiece. She eventually believed my mistress. That left only me. Despite my protestations, I was arrested and charged. Together with a young man, who stood accused of stealing a brood of oysters, I was sentenced to transportation.”
She nodded to the patterer. “Upon my arrival in the colony and after induction at the Factory, I was assigned to a distant pastoral family, as you thought. They were kind to me, in a rough-and-ready way. And yes, I did learn to shoot—for we were always afraid of outlaws and blacks—and to ride, side-saddle
and
astride. It was there that Mr. Lycett, who was visiting, painted my miniature, adding it to the rude rendering of the
Eliza
.
and
astride. It was there that Mr. Lycett, who was visiting, painted my miniature, adding it to the rude rendering of the
Eliza
.
“After four years, I received my ticket and determined to start a new life in the town. How could I have returned to London? And why? God knows, my poor aunt was probably dead without my companionship and help. So, although I was freed, I was still in a prison whose bars were the sea. Thus, following a period sewing in Parramatta, I did arrive, but by cart, on a spring afternoon. With little money, certainly not 150 pounds.
“I was set down from the cart in George Street, near the Lumber Yard and spent some time wandering the nearby streets, enjoying the rediscovered bustle of a town. I then sought directions to St. Phillip’s, where my kind country mistress had always said I could receive advice on where to stay. Dusk was falling by then. Beside the main guardhouse, I asked directions of a soldier and explained my quest. Both actions were my undoing. He seemed drunk, but soldiers often are. Nevertheless, I allowed him to guide me toward a street he said led to the church.”
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