Poor Tom Is Cold (34 page)

“Where are the shells?”

“Why? What are you doing?”

“You know damn well what I’m doing. I’m going to save your arse for the second time. Where are the shells?”

“In that box.”

Jarius snapped a cartridge into the shotgun. “You look in the stalls. I’ll do the tack room.”

“Jarius –”

Gibb swung the gun around so that it was pointing at Frank. “It will be quite easy to have two accidents instead of one. She aimed this gun at you, you struggled, boom. You both die.”

“My God, are you going to shoot her?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“She doesn’t really know what happened.”

“It’s got nothing to do with that.”

“What then?”

“For Christ’s sake, Frank. Why are you always so stupid? You know the woman is in the way.”

He tucked the gun under his arm and gave his brother a shove. “Come on. We don’t have much time.”

Peg saw Jarius come into the barn and heard him call to her. She had run into the carriage room and was crouched in the far corner. He must have gone to wake up Frank because she heard voices. She crept to the edge of the partition that separated the carriage room from the rest of the barn. She peered through a crack in the wall. Frank and Jarius emerged and Jarius was carrying a shotgun.

She ran for it.

In front of her was the ladder to the loft and she was up it in a flash.

“There she is,” Jarius shouted.

Peg tripped and sprawled on the floor. She knew Jarius must be close behind her and she turned, cowering against one of the hay bales. She heard somebody climbing up the ladder and Jarius’s head and shoulders appeared.

“Please don’t shoot me. You can have the book. I won’t tell anybody.” But she wasn’t even sure she had spoken out loud. If she had, the words made no impact on Jarius. He turned sideways, leaning against the ladder so he could take aim. There was a terrifying deliberation in his movements, as if he were on a duck shoot and preparing himself.

Frank came up close behind him holding a lantern.

Peg tried to press herself into a bale. Jarius raised the gun and she heard the click as he cocked the trigger. She covered her head with her arms.

T
INGLE HAD JUST PULLED UP HIS CAB
in front of the Eakin house when Murdoch heard the boom of the shotgun. Sergeant Hales was standing in front of the barn doors with Augusta Curran and her husband. He saw Murdoch.

“This way,” he shouted, and he started to run along the side of the stable. Murdoch raced after him, Constable Dewhurst at his heels. They were at the side door in a moment and into the barn. Horses were screaming and the air was thick with the smell of cordite. Frank Eakin was lying on his back close to the wood stove. Jarius Gibb was almost on top of him. Somebody was moaning dreadful sounds of pain. As Hales and Murdoch approached, Jarius tried to get to his feet but his leg splayed out at an angle, and with a cry he fell forward.

Murdoch felt rather than heard the whisper from above his head. Peg was looking down at him.

“Here. I’m up here,” she said.

Peg was not injured but in such a state of terror, she was unable to move. Murdoch hoisted her over his shoulder, fireman style, and carried her out of the stable, while Hales tended to Gibb and Frank. He sent in Tingle to calm the horses and ordered the Currans into the house under the supervision of Constable Dewhurst. Augusta was weeping ceaselessly, her antagonism for her brother apparently forgotten. Her husband said nothing.

Peg was seated on the bench in the yard and it took several minutes before she could stop a kind of dry, choking sob. She kept repeating that she had dropped Jarius’s diary in the barn, and it was only Murdoch’s firm insistence that he would get it that calmed her down. He chafed her hands and kept talking to her and finally she was able to tell him what had happened. When she tried to relate how Jarius had stood and aimed the shotgun at her as if he were at a hunt, she broke down again, and Murdoch had to wait patiently for her to recover. She was not entirely sure what had happened next, but she had the impression Frank had grabbed Jarius to stop him and they had both fallen from the ladder.

At that point, Dr. Clark arrived with two burly attendants from the asylum. Fortunately, he was a sensible
man and, when he saw how Peg was with Murdoch, he made no attempt to interfere. Murdoch accepted responsibility for his charge and the doctor hurried into the barn to tend to the injured men.

As soon as Tingle had dealt with the horses, Murdoch persuaded Peg to go with the cabbie to the Kitchens’. He made her promise she wouldn’t try to run away but he knew she wouldn’t. She was still dreadfully shaken, but as far as he could see, she was quite sane. He knew that Mrs. Kitchen would take very good care of her, and if Peg needed anything, it was some motherly attention.

That done, he went into the barn.

Dr. Clark had just finished administering morphine to Jarius Gibb, who was propped up against the knee of one of the attendants. Sergeant Hales had brought out more lamps and the scene was bathed in light.

“Mr. Gibb has dislocated his hip,” said Clark when he saw Murdoch. “We can take him to the hospital, momentarily.”

“And Mr. Eakin?”

“He cannot be moved. I fear his back is broken.”

Frank looked dreadful. His skin was ashen and his face was already swollen, his eyelids puffed to the point of closure.

Murdoch crouched down beside Jarius Gibb. “Can I ask you what happened, sir?”

Jarius scowled. “I’ve already talked to the sergeant. I’m not going to repeat it.”

“As you wish.” Murdoch stood up and pointedly beckoned to Hales, drawing him off to one side, out of earshot.

“According to Mrs. Eakin, she was up there in the loft and Gibb climbed up and was about to shoot her. She thinks Frank saved her bacon by grabbing Gibb and they both fell. What did he tell you?”

“He said she was the one with the gun and that he climbed the ladder so that he could talk to her. Persuade her to come down. She aimed at him. He managed to wrest the gun from her, in the process of which it went off. Then he lost his balance and fell off the ladder, taking his brother with him.”

“Is that likely, do you think?”

“Dog droppings, if you ask me. Look over there.” Hales pointed to a low, splintered hole in the next partition. “I’d say the gun hit the floor and discharged and I’ll wager it was him was holding it when he fell. He intended to kill the woman, I’m sure of it. When I got to the house, I saw Mrs. Eakin running into the barn. Just then Gibb came up. Said he could look after it.” Hales frowned in chagrin. “I shouldn’t have allowed him to go in but he was soft as shite. I’ve seen lunatics before and I know how riled up they get at the sight of a uniform. So I let him. But as soon as I heard him throw the bolt behind him, I knew something wasn’t
right. I’d have gone after him at once but Mrs. Curran got all hysterical and I had her to deal with.”

“There’s some kind of diary of Gibb’s that Mrs. Eakin came to get. She thinks she dropped it in here somewhere. I’ll have a look.”

Gibb had been watching them while they talked, but he was distracted by the pain of Dr. Clark trying to immobilize his hip with a makeshift splint. Murdoch crossed in front of him and went into the tack room. A black official-looking ledger was lying in the straw. He picked it up, opened it, and glanced at the contents. He saw enough to think that Peg was right. Holding the journal, Murdoch returned to the doctor. One of the attendants had laid out the stretcher and they were about to lift Gibb onto it. He scowled at Murdoch.

“That’s mine, I believe. May I have it?”

“I’m afraid not, sir. Police property until this case is cleared up.”

“What case is that, officer? You saw her. She’s insane. Can’t help herself. I won’t press charges.”

“That’s not what I’m referring to,” said Murdoch, and he tapped the ledger. “Let’s see if this gives us some answers.”

“Lie down, if you please, Mr. Gibb,” said one of the attendants. “We’re going to lift you.”

Reluctantly, Jarius obeyed and the two men heaved him onto the stretcher. Although the movement must have caused him great pain, Jarius only grunted. He had
expressed no concern for Frank, or Peg for that matter. He lay looking up at the ceiling but Murdoch knew there had been fear in his eyes and he was glad of it. The attendants carried him out to the ambulance.

Murdoch turned his attention back to Frank Eakin.

“How is he?” he asked the doctor.

Clark shook his head for an answer. He took a small bottle out of his bag, unscrewed the top, and held the vial underneath the injured man’s nose. Frank opened his eyes, flinching. He couldn’t move his head away from the stinging smell.

“Can you get this weight off my chest?” he whispered. “I can’t breathe.”

Dr. Clark shook his head. “Mr. Eakin, there is no weight, you have been injured.”

“I can’t seem to move my arms. Have you tied them down?”

“No, we haven’t, sir.”

A look of panic came into Frank’s eyes. “I must have hit my back on the stove. Jarius was on top of me.”

He licked his lips. “Could I have a drink of water?”

“I’ll get him some,” said Hales.

“Am I dying?” Frank asked; his breath was raspy.

Dr. Clark was a decent man and his voice was gentle when he spoke. “If you wish I can send for a minister immediately.”

“No. I thought I heard that detective. Is he here?”

“Yes, I am.” Murdoch knelt down, leaning in close.

“I must talk. Tell you the truth.”

Hales had returned with a dipper and a bowl of water. The doctor dribbled water on Frank’s mouth. Murdoch bent over again.

“Mr. Eakin, Frank. Do you want to make an official statement?”

“Yes, I do.”

“I am sorry to say this, but for such a statement to be valid in a court of law, I must ask you if you are fully aware of your present circumstances.”

Frank blinked. “That I’m a goner, you mean?”

“Yes. That you realise you are dying and that what you are about to say is a true statement on your deathbed.”

“I understand.”

“Sergeant Hales, please write down what Mr. Eakin says.”

Murdoch waited for the sergeant to take out his notebook and pencil. “According to Mr. Gibb, Mrs. Eakin had the shotgun and was about to fire at him. Is this true?”

Anger seemed to give Frank strength. “No! Other way around. He’s a cold-hearted devil as ever walked on the earth and I ain’t going to die without him getting his comeuppance, same as me … He was going to shoot her. I stopped him. I couldn’t bear seeing her like that. Scared witless. I suppose you might say, the worm turned. He didn’t expect that. I grabbed his legs and we fell.” He managed to meet Murdoch’s eyes. “Is he hurt?”

“Yes. He’s smashed his hip.”

“Too bad it wasn’t worse. And her?”

“She’s in good hands. She will be all right … Frank, Mrs. Eakin says Constable Wicken came to the house the night he died …”

“Yes, he did. We’d all had a terrible barney the night before. Cooked up by Jarius, of course, and she was barricaded in the upstairs room. She’d called to Wicken from the window and he’d come to see what was the matter.”

He gagged and yellowish spittle ran from his mouth. Clark took a sponge from his bag and wiped him.

“Joke was, the three of us, Peter, him, and me, had been having a talk about what to do with her. Jarius kept saying as how she was a loony and should be shut away. Didn’t seem like that to me but he was pushing it. Then in comes the frog and she starts to tell him she was being poisoned …”

“Was she?”

“Not by me, nor Aggie, I’m sure. But I wouldn’t put anything past Jarius. He hated her from the first moment she come here. Thinks she’s going to whelp and cut him out.”

His breath was so harsh Murdoch wondered if he could keep on. He glanced at the doctor, who put his fingers on Eakin’s pulse. He used the vial of ammonia again and Frank continued, his words faster, as if he were trying to outrace death.

“I could tell the frog was swayed. Told her he’d look into it. Then she said other things. About me and the horses. Fiddling. He said he wanted to see the stables. He insisted and we all marched over. When he examined the horses, he got his dander up, cos he saw what I’d been doing. Him and me had words. It made me hot. I hit him. Hard. Side of the head … He fell down.”

Tears started to spill from under the swollen eyelids. “He was just a young fella … I didn’t mean to do for him … Will I go to hell for it?”

Murdoch winced. “Our Father is ever merciful.”

He wasn’t sure if Eakin even heard him but his urgency pushed him on. “Jarius took over as always. ‘You’ve killed him, Frank,’ he says, but did I? Did I? He looked bad, white as paint, but maybe he wasn’t dead, I don’t know. Jarius made us wrap him in a blanket and carry him over to the empty house. He had the key. ‘I’m doing this for your sake,’ he said, and he got Peter to prop him up. Then he shot him with his own revolver … he aimed it at the place where I’d hit him. He said it would be easy to make it look like suicide. He wrote the note and he got one of his whores to testify. The one you saw.”

His voice died away and Dr. Clark wagged his finger at Murdoch, warning him.

Murdoch took the sponge, wetted it, and bathed Frank’s face and mouth. That seemed to revive him sufficiently for him to continue.

“That bastard shouldn’t get away with it. He kept saying he was protecting me but he wasn’t. It meant he had me good then, forever. He made me put the revolver in between the officer’s legs. He thought it was a good joke. I’m sorry I did that; it wasn’t right.”

Again the tears spilled out and down his cheeks.

“Funny, ain’t it. Papa’s up there not able to move and I’m down here in the same way. Like father, like son. What a laugh. Well, at least he can say I’m following in his footsteps now.”

There was a sob that couldn’t get past the paralysed walls of his chest and Murdoch could see the light was leaving his eyes.

“I think you’ve got all you need, Mr. Murdoch,” said the doctor. “His sister should pay her last respects now.”