Vices of My Blood (24 page)

“Ma’am? You didn’t answer my question. Why did you take the letter?”

His voice was by no means sharp, but she shrank back into the chair. “When you first came to talk to me, Mr. Murdoch, I had the impression that you are a kind man and I must trust that impression now because what I am about to tell you could easily invite your ridicule and contempt and frankly, I would find that hard to bear.” Finally, she met his eyes. “You see, Mr. Murdoch, what I have to tell you is that Charles Howard and I loved each other.”

All he could think of was Louisa Howard’s angry words:
Poor Charles, she was driving him to distraction
.

Miss Dignam didn’t seem insane. She was speaking calmly, not weeping, and the only sign of emotion was a slight flush on her thin cheeks and a brightness to her eyes. “Let me explain,” she continued. “When Charles was chosen as our new pastor, he was not the unanimous choice. Our previous pastor was a conservative man who died as he had lived, without much reverberation. Some of us had been hoping for a minister who might bring new vigour to the church and Charles was such a man. He was well travelled and urbane and had actually experienced the battle of Khartoum, as a civilian, you understand, not a soldier. He had many stories to share with us and he brought exactly the breath of life we needed.” She paused. “My throat is a little dry, Mr. Murdoch, perhaps I will have a cup of tea after all.”

He poured the tea and waited while she sipped at it. He didn’t know where all this was leading, but he knew he must be patient. And there was something about this little wan woman that tugged at his heart.

She replaced her cup on the trolley. “It fairly soon became apparent to me that Charles was developing special feelings for me. His wife is a good woman but, I regret to say, rather shallow and far too caught up in the prestige of her position as a pastor’s wife. I say that only to you, of course. May Flowers shares my view, but that is all we have shared. I do not gossip, Mr. Murdoch. I never told Miss Flowers what was happening between Charles and me. I did not know how we were going to resolve our dilemma, but I trusted he would find a way and on Monday, by certain signals that he sent me, I knew he was going to openly declare his love.”

“What were these signals, Miss Dignam?”

Unexpectedly, there was a flash of fire in her eyes and her voice was stronger. “I know what you’re thinking, Mr. Murdoch. How could a woman such as I, no longer in her youth, be an object of attraction to a man in his prime? A man who is already married? I myself doubted it many times, but finally I was convinced. The signs? A woman knows these things. They were in his special smiles to me, the way he would touch my hand when we parted, the expression on his face when he thanked me for my little gifts but especially the way he was in our prayer meetings.” She smiled slightly, remembering. “There are some things that transcend differences of age or station. Ours was a meeting of minds, an excitement created by the awareness of mutual understanding that was shared by no other woman.”

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

“You asked me earlier why I had taken the letter from Charles’s desk … I did so because I thought it might have something to do with us and our dilemma.”

“You thought he might be writing a letter to his wife?”

“I glimpsed the first few words and that is what I assumed. Perhaps I have not made myself clear, Mr. Murdoch. Charles had asked me to comment on the text for that Monday.”

She paused again and Murdoch could see how hard she was struggling for control. “You see, this was his way of signalling to me his intention.”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand, Miss Dignam.”

There was a flicker of impatience across her face. “No, of course not, how could you understand? The text in question that Charles asked me to study was from the Song of Songs, chapter eight, verse six; ‘Set me as a seal upon thine arm: for love is strong as death; jealousy is cruel as the grave…’ You see, Mr. Murdoch, Charles was about to discuss how we could realize our love publicly and somebody has made sure that wouldn’t happen.”

Chapter Forty-Two

M
URDOCH REMAINED WITH
M
ISS
D
IGNAM
for another half an hour, during which time, seemingly relieved at having unburdened herself of the secret, she wept ceaselessly. However, when he pressed her to say more about what she had insinuated, she became shifty. “He was the soul of discretion, but I cannot say with complete certainty that his wife was oblivious.”

Half the parish knew. She was making quite a fool of herself
.

Finally, Murdoch escorted her home where he left her to the untender mercies of her friend Miss Flowers, who appeared to be staying at the house. He didn’t know what to make of her statement, whether to believe her. On the surface, it wasn’t likely, but then he hadn’t known Reverend Howard. Perhaps the intellectual compatibility she was convinced they shared had been seductive. On the other hand, what if she had expected Howard to declare his love? According to Mrs. Howard, he was going to declare the exact opposite. Had that driven Miss Dignam into a kind of madness? She didn’t strike him as cunning, but what if her madness took the form of a sort of amnesia? What if she had killed Howard and now didn’t remember? Fyfer had said she was covered in blood when he saw her. Her explanation for that was plausible, but what if there was a more sinister reason? The attack had been vicious and it was hard to see Miss Dignam capable of it. Murdoch ran his fingers through his hair. While he was on the subject of sinister, could he believe the newly widowed Mrs. Howard? Her murdering her own husband also seemed most unlikely, but as Miss Dignam had quoted to him, “jealousy is cold as the grave.” And many a time he’d heard the Christian Brothers warning their young charges about trifling with a woman’s affections. “Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned.” Murdoch, shy and awkward around the few young women he did meet, had been rather afraid of that possibility and vowed to deal honourably with any woman he might encounter as an adult. He winced at that thought, still not at all sure he was behaving honourably toward Enid Jones. On the other hand, jealousy was a powerful emotion, as he knew all too well, that could take over a man or a woman, and he was beginning to wonder if the green-eyed monster wasn’t somehow at the centre of this murder.

He parked his wheel in the stable that adjoined the station, enjoying for a moment the warmth and smell of the old white horse, Captain, who was standing, already partly harnessed in case he was needed to pull the police ambulance. There had been complaints from the drivers that the horse was getting too old and slow for his job, and Murdoch knew it wouldn’t be long before he was dispatched to the knackers. He gave him a quick pat on his wide rump, glad he was ignorant of his fate and left him to munch on his hay.

When he entered the hall, Murdoch found a sleepy and sullen-looking pair of queer plungers waiting for him. Damn, he’d forgotten he’d told them to come first thing and he was much later than usual.

“Good morning, folks. I’ll be right with you,” he called out a cheery greeting and went to hang up his coat and hat on the peg by the door.

Charlie Seymour was at his desk and he came right over. “Bettles and Kearney are confirmed to be at the House of Providence on Tuesday. The admitting Sister says they were there on Monday night and didn’t leave until close to five on Tuesday. The nuns didn’t want them to stay any longer. She says they are malcontents.”

“How certain is she of the time when they left?”

“Very certain, apparently. She had to get a porter to escort them out just before the new applicants were admitted at five o’clock.”

“Howard was dead by three-thirty that afternoon so unfortunately that means those two bits of scum are in the clear.”

“Shall I let them go then?”

“Wait until I’ve got Olivia and Parker in the duty room. No point in them being seen as narks. Bettles is the type who will take any excuse to throw his weight around. How’s Traveller doing?”

“He’s been pretty quiet except for singing sea shanties at six o’clock this morning. He says he thought we needed livening up.”

Murdoch grinned. Traveller had taken his advice.

“I’m going to talk to these two first, then you can bring him in.” Murdoch eased himself up.

“How’s your lumbago?” asked Charlie.

“About the same.”

“Did you speak to Amy or Katie? They’ll probably have some suggestions for what to do.”

“I’m sure they will, everybody does, but no, I didn’t see either of them at supper so I haven’t had the benefit of their feminine wisdom.”

Seymour gave him a searching sort of look. This wasn’t the place to go into it, but Murdoch was burning to know what Charlie knew about a certain Mr. Roger Bryant, rich man.

Murdoch beckoned to Olivia and Ed to follow him and they went down the hall to the duty room. There was more room in here than in his cubicle and as it was between shifts for the constables, they wouldn’t be disturbed.

“Sit down, please. Ed, how’s your ankle?”

“Better, thank you, sir. Somebody gave me a nickel this morning.”

“Ed!” exclaimed Olivia warningly.

“I weren’t doing nothing wrong. I was just standing there waiting to cross the road and I took my hat off to wipe my brow and before I knew it a kindly lady had dropped me a coin.”

Murdoch chuckled. “Before you know it, kindly ladies will have paid your rent. You’ll be able to milk that injury for a long time.”

“Frankly, sir, I can’t earn near as much just acting like a cripple as I can plunging. I think folks like the excitement of plunging.”

Murdoch took the big blackened kettle off the hob and poured more hot water into the teapot. The constables waited a long time before they emptied out the pot and it was already half full with tea leaves.

“Do you want some tea?” he asked.

Ed was about to say yes but Olivia got there first.

“No, thank you. We’ve already had our breakfast.”

She was very cool this morning and Murdoch knew he was still in her bad books.

He poured three mugs of tea anyway. “Mrs. Bagley, I’m sorry I was rude to you yesterday. It was uncalled for.”

She stared at him in surprise. “Well … apology accepted. You’re just doing your job, I expect.”

“You’ve been very helpful, both of you. I was frustrated with my own lack of progress.”

Both Ed and Olivia reached out and took a mug of tea. Wordlessly, Murdoch offered them milk and sugar. He filled up his own mug and for a moment, there was silence in the room, broken only by the clink of the spoons. Ed smacked his lips.

“Now that’s what I call a good cuppa. It’d take the blacking off the stove.”

Olivia gulped down the tea in a way that told Murdoch she had lied about having breakfast.

“I did think some more about what you said, yesterday,” she said. “I can’t promise you that I remember a lot more than I already told you, but some things did come back.”

Murdoch smiled appreciatively and nodded at her to continue.

“The woman was young. Younger than me by five years at least, about my height and she had a plaid shawl over her head. And a brown or black skirt. She was lathy, but then all the paupers get that way, don’t they?”

Murdoch sighed. He knew Olivia was telling him the truth, but it wasn’t much to go on. There were likely several young, thin girls of medium height in the pauper queue and most of them would be wearing plaid shawls and dark skirts.

“Would you recognize her again?”

Olivia frowned. “Hmm. I might if I was close up.”

“Would you go back to the House with me and see if we can find her? They open the gates for the soup at noon, don’t they?”

Olivia shrugged. “I’ll go on one condition. You’ll have to put your old clothes on again. They’ll all know you for a frog and I don’t want to be seen as some kind of nark.”

Murdoch groaned. “You don’t know what you’re asking. I haven’t stopped scratching.”

They both grinned at him. “You’ll get hardened to it,” said Ed.

“Where are your duds, then?” Olivia asked.

“I asked the sergeant to burn them.”

“That’s a waste. There was still some use in those clothes.”

“Tell you what,” said Ed. “I can’t stand in no queue with this ankle. We’re about the same size, why don’t we do a swap? You take my hat and coat at least.”

Murdoch didn’t want to be impolite, but Ed was a good six inches shorter than he was and the coat and hat in question were decidedly on the seedy side. But he had no choice.

“Thanks, Ed.”

“You’ll look good as a detective, Eddie,” said Olivia.

Murdoch checked the clock above the fireplace. “It’s almost eleven o’clock. How far away is your boarding house?”

“We’re out on Queen Street in the country.”

“Too far to go there and back.” Murdoch reached for his notebook. “There’s a butcher shop just down from here on Parliament.” He scribbled a note, tore out the page, and handed it to Olivia. “The owner’s name is Mr. Davies. Give him this and he’ll make sure you have one of his best sausage rolls.” The look he caught in her eyes confirmed his first suspicion. They hadn’t had the money to buy breakfast. “Come back by half past eleven and we’ll go to the depot.”

“Can I have another splash of char before we go?” Olivia shoved her mug across the table and Murdoch poured her some tea that was by now soot black.

When they’d finished, he walked with them to the front doors and they left both livened by the prospect of further adventures and sausage rolls. Murdoch was about to return to his own cubicle when the telephone rang. Callahan answered and waved at Murdoch to indicate the call was for him. He picked up the receiver.

It was Dr. Ogden. “Detective Murdoch, I have just finished my post-mortem examination of the Tugwell women. I thought you’d like to know the results right away. The older woman was in poor condition with signs of early consumption. Her daughter had gonorrhea.”

“I see. And that would mean that any of her most recent er, customers, would have contracted it?”

“Undoubtedly.”

“And Mr. Howard showed no signs of the disease?”

“Of course not. Did you expect him to?”

“Not necessarily. I’m just making sure I have all the facts.”

Her voice on the other end of the telephone sounded cold. “Charles Howard was a respectable man of God. You forget I knew him. I cannot for the life of me imagine he would consort with a prostitute.”

Once again, her tone of voice grated on his nerves. “It’s surprising how many men conceal dark secrets, doctor.”

“You don’t need to remind me of that, Mr. Murdoch. I have seen too many of their innocent victims, their wives, in my consulting rooms.”

“Quite so.” Murdoch signalled to Callahan to pull over the stool for him. “Dr. Ogden, I wonder if I could get your opinion on another matter concerning Charles Howard.”

“I can only spare you five minutes. I must get to my surgery.”

Murdoch eased himself onto the stool and turned away so that the constable couldn’t hear him. As succinctly as possible he related Miss Dignam’s story.

The doctor actually guffawed. “Good Lord, the woman is delusional. She’ll get herself committed to the lunatic asylum if she goes on like that.”

“So you don’t think it’s likely that Reverend Howard was in love with her?”

“Utterly out of the question. Charles was always amiable to the women of the congregation. Who knows, perhaps he was a little excessive, but the fact is, he adored his wife. You haven’t seen Louisa Howard at her best, Mr. Murdoch, but to say that he would choose Sarah Dignam over her is absurd. What man would willingly reach for a withered winter apple when he could have a ripe plum?”

Her tone was scornful and Murdoch felt a brief pang of guilt on behalf of the male half of the population. “Is there anything else, detective? I really must hurry.”

“No, thank you, ma’am. I won’t keep you any longer.”

They hung up and Murdoch handed the telephone back to Callahan.

He walked over to the desk.

“Charlie, tell me something honestly. If given the choice between a shrivelled-up apple and a lush plum, which would you take?”

Seymour looked at him in bewilderment. “Is this a trick question?”

“No, well sort of. Which would you choose?”

“Neither. Plums give me the stomachache and an old apple isn’t worth it. I’d go for a pear. I like pears.”

“Thanks, Charlie. I’m going back to my office for a while. There’s been a new development in the Howard case. Come down as soon as the patrol sergeant relieves you and I’ll fill you in.”

Murdoch returned to his cubicle and sat down at his desk. He knew what his answer would be to the doctor’s question and he pitied the woman who had given her heart so completely to a man who, it would seem, was doing no more than his job called for.