Let Loose the Dogs (7 page)

Chapter Fourteen

T
YLER MUST HAVE BEEN WATCHING
through the other window because he came into the room immediately. “Visit go all right then?”

Murdoch looked up at him, willing himself not to take out his anger on the man.

“It depends on what you mean by all right. I didn’t hit him, or he me. I suppose that means it was all right.”

The guard whistled through his teeth. “Like that, is it?”

Murdoch got to his feet. “Do you think I could talk to the warden?”

“He wants to. Told me so personally. He’s put off his inspection of the cells on your account.”

His tone was enigmatic, and Murdoch couldn’t tell if Tyler thought this was a reason for respect or resentment. He decided that in the guard’s eyes, this deviation from Warden Massie’s usual routine had elevated Murdoch’s status. He followed him back down the corridor.

“I must say that the prisoner is no trouble. I wish they were all like that.”

Murdoch made no comment.

They were outside the warden’s office. Tyler tapped and at the “Come,” they both went in.

Warden Massie was behind his desk, reading from a sheaf of papers.

“Ha, good. I wonder if you would join me in some morning tea, Mr. Murdoch. Or would you prefer coffee? We have that.”

“Tea if you please.”

Tyler left.

“Good choice if I may say so. Our coffee here resembles weak mud. At least I imagine that is what mud would taste like.” Massie glanced over the top of his pince-nez. “How was your meeting? You haven’t seen each other for, what? Twenty-two years you said?”

“Yes. No contact at all. I was not sure my f–” Murdoch still couldn’t get his tongue around the word “father.” He continued. “I wasn’t sure if he was even still alive.”

“Ah, quite so.”

“He’s asking me to do some investigating of the case.”

“I expected he would.”

“What is your opinion, Warden? You followed the trial no doubt. Do you consider him guilty?”

Massie hesitated. “In cases of serious crime I attempt to be knowledgeable about the circumstances. The prisoners, naturally enough, will present their own side. I have had to write to the convicting magistrate more than once to find out the truth.” He sighed. “I regret to say, Mr. Murdoch, that the longer I am in this position, exposed to such elements of society, the more hardened I become. I have almost lost my faith in the capacity of men, any men, to tell the truth. In this case I will tell you frankly, I am not certain. Since he has been here, Harry Murdoch has been sober, quiet, and industrious. He has returned to his own faith.”

“That could be seen as hedging your bets, couldn’t it? He
is
facing death, after all.”

Murdoch realised how callous his words sounded by the puzzled expression of Massie’s face. But the warden’s voice was kind.

“Quite so. Unless there is a significant intervention. I have here a copy of the court records. I thought you might be interested to read it.”

He pushed the papers toward Murdoch, who did not touch them.

“Mr. Massie, you have avoided answering my question. You said that the prisoner is being docile and pious, but you have not offered your opinion as to whether he is guilty as charged.”

The warden removed the pince-nez and rubbed at the red spot on the bridge of his nose where they had marked him.

“I have twice gone through these papers. The evidence seems irrefutable. In my opinion, your father is the one who murdered John Delaney. I’m sorry. I wish I could say otherwise.” He tapped the papers in front of him. “I thought perhaps it might set your mind at rest, given the circumstances.”

“Those being that Harry Murdoch and I are related by blood, and that if there was an outside chance he was innocent, I would therefore seize any opportunity to prove that?”

“Quite so, but I see …”

Massie was saved from continuing by the return of Tyler with the tea tray.

The warden, in Murdoch’s opinion, was wasted in the prison system. He should have been in the ministry. He was the most sympathetic and tactful of men. He directed the conversation to general matters about the conditions in the city. He was all for allowing the streetcars to run on Sunday, as he thought it would benefit the poorer classes. It was difficult for some families to visit the prison when they lived a distance away. And he was adamant that his charges benefited from contact with those who might arouse their more tender feelings. By the time they had finished their cups of tea, Murdoch had calmed down sufficiently to want to look at the trial records. Massie set him up in a tiny adjoining room while he went to do his daily tour of inspection. Tyler replenished the teapot, brought him some notepaper and pen and ink, and left him to it. Murdoch picked up the bound documents. They were typewritten duplicates, and for a moment they made him think of Enid, whose work often consisted of making copies of legal documents. That thought was not a happy one either.

The presidingjudge was Falconbridge, a man Murdoch had encountered once or twice when he’d had to testify in court. He was a sharp-beaked old fellow, who either tried to live up to his name or had been shaped by it, and he had the reputation of being both shrewd and irascible. His concluding instructions to the jury were incisive. It was extremely unlikely they would bring in a contrary verdict if Falconbridge considered the accused to be guilty. He had obviously so considered.

The defending counsel was a solicitor named Clement, who as far as Murdoch could tell had done a competent, if uninspired, job. The prosecuting counsel was Greene, and Murdoch knew of him from reputation. Word was Greene would as soon shoot himself as lose a case. You might as well fly the pit; save yourself the time. In that respect and given that John Delaney was described as a worthy pillar of the church and a devoted family man, the odds had been against Harry. Murdoch knew how the men on the jury were wont to feel about strangers. Some of them would have known Delaney personally. From their point of view, a culprit had been apprehended and why should they look further.

He took one of the sheets of paper and began to write notes.

He must have been at it for more than an hour when Massie returned. Tyler was right behind him carrying a tray.

“Mr. Murdoch, I am about to take my luncheon. I usually do so at my desk, and I wondered if you would join me?”

“I would appreciate that, sir, and if I could trespass on your time, there are some questions I’d like to ask.”

Tyler, who seemed to act as much as a butler as a guard, put his tray on the desk, and began to unload plates and soup bowls. Massie sat at his desk, and Murdoch took a chair in front of him. Tyler moved over a second small table.

“Thank you, Tyler. We’ll manage ourselves now.”

Luncheon consisted of some kind of thin vegetable broth and slices of bread and cold mutton.

“I take my meals from the kitchen,” said Massie. “I believe that the men in my care should not be indulged, neither should they be treated as vermin. They receive a plain but nourishing diet.”

Murdoch sipped at the tepid broth. Plain it was. He didn’t know about nourishing. It tasted like some kind of turnip.

“Please ask your questions.”

Murdoch consulted his piece of paper. “What I have done is extrapolate the main points in the evidence against him. First, there was the bruise on his right cheek. He says he fell, which is plausible given he was full of liquor.”

“That is true but does not account for the corresponding graze on Delaney’s left hand.”

“Point taken. Second, with regard to the blood on Harry’s sleeve and the front of his shirt. He says his dog was bitten by the rats, and he got the blood on him when he picked him up. Did anyone examine the dog to see if it was injured?”

“Not at the time and when the case came to trial, if there had been an injury, it was long healed.” Massie wiped his mouth with his napkin. At least the china and the linen were befitting his position.

“The fact that he was in the ravine at all was, of course, most suspect. It certainly suggested he had been lying in wait for Delaney, who had to go that way to get home.”

“Quite so.”

“I suppose there is no doubt that money was missing?”

“None at all. The hired man at the tavern has a head for figures. It was he who brought the matter to the attention of the prosecution, otherwise it might have been overlooked. Lacey kept an exact record of the wagers and what was won and lost and remembered exactly. Delaney left with almost one hundred dollars, and that was not the amount in his pouch.”

“To be exact, he won ninety-four dollars and seventy-two was found in his pouch. Twenty-two dollars unaccounted for.”

“Mr. Clement couldn’t get Lacey to budge an inch on that.”

“He tried to suggest that Delaney had taken out his money to count it, and some bills blew away. It sounded like a ludicrous proposition to me.”

“It was and it lost him credibility. The jurymen actually laughed when they heard that.”

“There was no search conducted at the time, I understand.”

Massie waited until he had swallowed his piece of bread and could speak without his mouth full. “Not for the money. As I say, nobody knew it was missing until shortly before the trial. The constables were looking for a murder weapon, and that was soon discovered close to the place where Delaney was found.”

“Mr. Greene was determined that Harry had hidden the money intending to return for it later, but if so, why didn’t he take the entire pouch?”

“On that matter, Greene was most persuasive. He suggested that Harry tried to make the whole thing look like an accident by rolling Delaney into the creek. He took only a small sum of money, hoping it would not be noticed. He did not count on Lacey having such an excellent memory. Of course, jurymen are never sympathetic towards men who won’t relinquish stolen goods, and it didn’t help Harry’s case that the money was not recovered.”

“Speaking of excellent memories … The witness, Mr. Pugh, is another man in possession of such. Even in the midst of the shock of finding Delaney, sending the boy for help, and so on, he was able to remember exactly what the accused said.”

“Ah yes. ‘He got what he deserved,’ wasn’t it? The prosecutor could paint Harry as a remorseless and vindictive killer. According to the coroner, Delaney was killed by at least two or three severe blows to the back of the head. His torso also showed several bruises. As I recall there were clear impressions of boot tips, as if he had been brutally kicked by somebody in a rage. Harry was wearing boots. His anger was not in question.”

Murdoch tried to eat some of the mutton on his plate, but it was greasy and unappetising. He stayed with the buttered bread, which had been sliced in thick pieces.

“The question of course is, if Harry Murdoch did not murder John Delaney, who did?”

“Quite so. There were no other applicants, as it were.” Massie smiled at his own joke then glanced rather anxiously at Murdoch. He did not want to appear tasteless. Murdoch answered his smile.

“No, there weren’t. All the other people present at the match were accounted for. The only hole here is the absent Mr. White, who seems to have disappeared. Advertisements were placed in the newspapers, I understand, asking for him to come forward and testify at the trial, but he did not appear.”

“That is not necessarily a sign of culpability. He may not have seen the advertisements, and the trial itself did not receive a great deal of attention in the newspapers. He might not even be aware that a murder occurred. And the two Craig gentlemen did vouch for him. They were clear they saw him heading towards Yonge Street.”

“It is not totally out of the question that Delaney encountered someone else who had not been present at the tavern, who might even have been a complete stranger to him.”

Massie’s expression was kind. “That is true but I’m afraid not likely. If Harry Murdoch were not so obdurate about declaring his innocence, there would be no such debate as you and I are having.”

Massie reached for a small silver bell that was on his desk and gave it a brisk ring.

“I’m afraid I must be about my duties, Mr. Murdoch. I have taken all the time I can allow myself. Are you in any way satisfied?”

“As you say, the evidence does seem irrefutable. But I would like to speak to the prisoner again if I may.”

“Of course. You can do so at any time as long as it does not interrupt the routine of the prison.”

The guard entered the room. “Tyler, will you see if the prisoner, Murdoch, is available. The detective wishes to speak with him.”

Tyler went to collect the luncheon plates. “And by the way, please give my compliments to the cook. A most delicious soup.”

Murdoch thought the warden had been eating prison fare too long.

Chapter Fifteen

A
DELIA
C
RAIG WAS HAVING DIFFICULTY
with her recitation piece. Each student in the class was to present two verses of the popular poem “In the workhouse: Christmas Day” at the Christmas recital. Adelia had been assigned part of the first verse and the third from last, but the first wasn’t giving her enough scope to use the large dramatic gestures she thought her teacher liked, and the other was so sad she kept wanting to cry.

She tried again. She straightened the strip of carpet, which she had put in front of the piano as her stage. Her teacher, Miss Hamersley, insisted that her students treat every practice as if it were a real recital. This meant the walk onto the stage,
the walk is a mirror of character
; the recitation itself, and the final bow and retreat. Adelia took a deep breath and assumed an
active chest
. She widened her eyes slightly and tried to summon a few animated thoughts.
Bright face, always a bright face
,
nobody wants to see a pudding
. Adelia usually had difficulty finding lively thoughts as worry was always uppermost; and even though she liked her lessons, they were another source of anxiety. She dearly valued the good opinion of Miss Hamersley, and it was always hard won.

She inhaled deeply, pushing her chest out rather like a pouter pigeon, neck stretched upwards, head gracefully balanced. Her chin tended to recede, and she had to remind herself to thrust forward slightly to compensate. She bared her teeth in a ferocious smile and walked across to the centre of the carpet. Miss Hamersley was critical of Adelia’s walk, which she declared to be too timid and indecisive.

“Your audience wants to believe in you, Miss Craig. They are not going to listen to a young woman who looks as if she is about to turn tail and run out off the stage at any minute. Now, deep inspiration, assume active chest, and proceed.”

First, Adelia took up position one. Her weight was on her left foot, right foot obliquely in front, heel a few inches from the other foot. She remembered to curl her hands gracefully at her sides instead of clenching them nervously as she was wont to do. She began the recitation, her right hand moving to her heart.

It is Christmas Day in the Workhouse,
And the cold bare walls are bright

Both arms extended horizontally, palms up.

With garlands of green and holly
,
And the place is a pleasant sight;
For with clean-washed hands and faces
,
In a long and hungry line
The paupers sit at the tables
,
For this is the hour they dine
.

She indicated the paupers as if they were lined up in front of her in a row. Her forefinger and thumb were parallel, fingers slightly cupped.

Skip to the end of the poem. The poor man was denouncing the hypocrisy of those who had denied his wife entrance to the workhouse.

Up to the blackened ceiling
The sunken eyes were cast -
I knew on those lips all bloodless
My name had been the last;

Hands clasped on “cast,” head back and eyes up in supplication. She stopped. How should she move to “lips all bloodless”? Better not to overdo it. Miss Hamersley didn’t like her students jumping round like acrobats, as she put it.

Adelia said the line again. “I knew on those lips all bloodless” - a frown here. Fingers extended, slightly open and touching her lips on “bloodless.”

She’d called for her absent husband …

Hands cupped around her mouth, head turning from side to side.

O God! Had I but known -
Had called in vain and in anguish

“Anguish” was not quite as easy to depict as one might think. Miss Hamersley liked them to be original. Finally she decided to show anguish by bringing her right hand, clenched, over her heart and sort of collapsing inward as if she had been hit by a cold wind.

Had died in that den … alone
.

On the final line, she raised her shoulders, stretched out her arms, and slowly brought her hands together in front, pressing fingers together in prayer. She held her position for the count of three, then as the audience burst into rapturous applause, she took her bow. Right foot back into second position, bend forward slightly, bring right toe to the heel of the left foot and bend the knee, pressing firmly against the back of the left knee. She was still in a bow when the door opened and her brother entered.

“Bravo, Leila, bravo.”

Embarrassed, she straightened up.

“Were you practising your piece?”

She nodded.

“When am I going to see it?”

“I told you, at the Christmas recital.”

“Show me now. It will be a good rehearsal.”

Adelia hesitated, not at all sure if James would be a kind audience or not.

“It’s not ready yet.”

“Suit yourself.”

He went over to the mirror and fiddled with his Windsor tie, a new green-and-red-plaid silk.

“My, aren’t we a swell this afternoon,” said Adelia. “A little extra macassar oil, a new cravat, and very shiny shoes. Going calling, are you? Miss Delaney, I assume?”

“Don’t tease me, Adelia, I have no stomach for it today.”

“I’m merely making an observation. This is your typical courting apparel.”

“I would hardly say I’m courting. She is pleasant and I enjoy her company.”

“So you say. On the other hand, you do seem to have a predilection for rather dull farmers’ daughters.”

“She’s not and I don’t.” He frowned at her. Adelia was wearing a green velvet wrapper, and her fair hair was still in a loose bedtime braid.

“It’s late not to be dressed, isn’t it? What if we have visitors?”

“Like whom? The only people who come here are the butcher, the baker, or the candlestick maker, and Aunt Carmel attends to them.”

“I thought you said Mr. Pugh was coming this afternoon.”

“He doesn’t count as a visitor. He wants to sell me some books.”

“The way he was attending to you last week, I had the distinct impression he had more on his mind than
Woman: Maiden, Wife, and Mother.”

James came closer to her and whispered in her ear. “On the other hand, maybe that was exactly what he had on his mind, especially the wife part.”

Adelia turned her head away irritably. “That’s a stupid remark if ever I heard one.”

“Leila, come on, admit it. You were quite enjoying his company. You were laughing.”

“He had some clever magic tricks. They were amusing.”

“Suit yourself.” He planted a quick kiss on her cheek. “Well, I’d better be off. I’ll leave you to your practice.”

At the door he hesitated, looking over his shoulder at her. She looked so unhappy, he softened. “Do you want to come then? It might make things more agreeable if you do. Her mother or that lump of a brother are always lurking, and I can hardly get a moment with her alone.”

“Thank you, but I do have a lot more to do.”

“Are you still upset about the other day?”

“Of course I am. I hardly enjoyed testifying in a court of law.”

“You shouldn’t be concerned about that,” he said with a grin. “You were splendid.”

He switched to a girlish falsetto. “Why that old clock is so
LOUD
, Mamma is always complaining about it. I know for sure my father and brother came into the house at a quarter past eight o’clock exactly.”

She smiled a little. “I did not sound like that. And the judge made me dreadfully nervous. I felt he could see at once I was lying.”

“Of course he couldn’t. Nobody could. You were cool as a cucumber. A lovely
English
cucumber, I might add. Your lessons are paying off.”

“Just as I was stepping down from the witness box, I caught the eyes of the prisoner, the Murdoch fellow. He looked so afraid. I felt desperately sorry for him.”

James came over and put his arm around her shoulder. “Why is it that everybody in this family is feeling sorry for the man? Save your pity. He’s a murderer. And a brutal one at that.”

She put her hand lightly over that of her brother. “I suppose you’re right.”

“Of course I’m right. But if it will make you feel better, you can go up to the police station and tell them what really happened. ‘I’m afraid I didn’t tell the truth. I did not see my father and my brother at all that night.’ ‘Oh dear, where were they then?’”

“Stop it. I know perfectly well where you were.”

“I’m glad of that. For a minute I thought my own sister suspected me of knocking some poor man over the head.”

“Don’t be silly.”

James looked at her for a moment; then he shrugged.

“I’m off. If Mrs. Delaney invites me to stay for dinner, I shall accept.”

“In which case, I shall see you in the morning. I plan to go to bed early.”

She waited until the door closed after him, then she stood up, moved to the centre of her improvised stage, and addressed the empty chairs in front of her.

There, get ye gone to your dinners,
Don’t mind me in the least

For the first time, she raised her voice. The effect was so satisfactory, she did it for a second time then took her bow.