Let Loose the Dogs

by Maureen Jennings

  He stood up, fighting off a feeling of desperation. He didn’t have too much to go on. One way or the other, he wanted to know for certain if his father was John Delaney’s killer. No, “wanted” was too pallid a word. He had to know.

  Chapter Thirty-four

  THEY WERE ALL GROUPED AROUND Margaret’s bedside as if it were her deathbed. She was propped up on her cushions, her eyes closed. Adelia looked at the gaunt face, the distorted hands that were resting on the hot water bottle lying on the quilt. How she wished her father would stop maintaining the fiction that Margaret was an active participant in family affairs. For many years now she had increasingly retreated into a world of her own, driven by unremitting pain and the dependency she had developed on her opiates. She was very different from the pretty, vivacious woman that Adelia remembered from her childhood.

  On the bedside table there was a delicate, painted porcelain lamp, which had started to smoke badly. Charles stopped in mid-sentence to stare at it.

  “The chimney needs a good wash, Carmel,” he said in a mild voice.

  “So I see,” replied his sister-in-law. She didn’t add a complaint about how much work she had to do, but the reproach was clearly there in her voice. She was seated on the other side of the bed, across from Adelia, who avoided looking at her as much as possible. Carmel was Margaret’s younger sister by six years. She was inclined to be stout, and her light brown hair was turning mouse grey. Whatever resemblance there may have once been between the sisters was long vanished, except in the colour of their eyes, which were a peculiar green-blue. Adelia thought that her aunt had been complimented far too often on her fine eyes when she was younger because she still frequently and inappropriately cast flirtatious glances at any person in trousers who came to call. As she was so fond of saying, she could have had her choice of several suitors but had sacrificed the pleasures of matrimony for the duty of family loyalty. When Margaret had become debilitated by severe arthritis when she was less than forty years old, Carmel had come to nurse her and take care of her poor children and husband. She had stayed ever since.

  “Perhaps you could take charge of cleaning the lamps, Adelia. It would help lighten your aunt’s burden,” said Charles.

  “No, Brother-in-law, I wouldn’t dream of it. My niece has plenty to do, and she is always willing to help me if I ask.”

  Adelia flushed. It was not true what her aunt said. She hated doing housework and never helped out with a good grace. She preferred to spend her days practising her recitation pieces. Besides, she knew Aunt Carmel was kind only in front of her father.

  “Very well, then let us recap the situation and discuss the various choices that are before us,” said Charles.

  Still stirred by the previous remarks, Adelia spoke with unusual directness. “I thought you told us we had no choices, Papa.”

  He waved his hand impatiently. He didn’t like to be interrupted in his judiciary.

  “We’ll see, we’ll see. Now, James, recount your tale again.”

  Craig Junior had brought in a dish of oysters and his after-lunch glass of port. He took a gulp before he answered.

  “I was in the music room, as Mrs. Delaney insists on calling it, accompanying Miss Kate on my flute when he came in. He said he was with Newcombe and had come to see the dog, but I knew him right away.” James looked slightly discomfited. “He was in court at the same time I was. He’s not a man you forget easily.”

  “Oh, James, what trouble you caused us,” said Adelia.

  Her father held up a warning finger. “Enough has been said on that topic. I believe James learned his lesson.”

  Adelia’s assertiveness disappeared, as short lived as a struck match.

  “You are certain this officer didn’t recognise you?” asked Carmel.

  James hesitated. “I can’t be absolutely sure. He acted as if he didn’t, but I thought there was something there when he first saw me.”

  “And you gave no indication yourself?”

  James grinned. “Not a wink. Mr. Irving himself could not have done better.”

  “If he was not passing by innocently as he claims, why was he there?” asked Adelia, her voice low.

  “I wish you would speak up, Addie,” said her brother with considerable irritation. “We have to strain to hear you all the time. It’s most aggravating.”

  “Adelia’s question is most pertinent,” interrupted Charles. “In fact, it is the question. Why indeed is a policeman paying a visit to the Delaneys at this late date?”

  Margaret opened her eyes. “Charles, do we have to move again?”

  “I am not sure, dearest. We are discussing the matter at this moment.”

  She turned her head, wincing at the pain of the movement. “If so, I would like to go where it is warm.”

  “I know, my sweeting. We will, of course, take that into account.”

  Craig continued, his voice measured and pensive as if he were contemplating a fine point of philosophy as he had done when he was a student at Oxford.

  “The answer to the question is that we do not know at present why he was there. Does he have Newcombe under observation? A trifling matter of keeping a gaming house? Or is it more sinister? Does it involve us?”

  “We can’t assume that, Papa,” said Adelia. “Surely he cannot know. I beg you not to make us move again. I have been preparing for my Christmas recital. I really cannot bear the thought of leaving right now.” Her voice was shaky with held back tears, and Craig frowned.

  “You must not be selfish, Adelia. There are others to consider. Your mother would benefit from being in a warm climate, Florida perhaps. Moreover, we cannot risk that, in fact, this officer is on our trail. Do you agree, James?”

  “I think we must. If it is a false alarm, we can always return.”

  “Carmel?”

  “I suppose so. We really have no choice as I see it.”

  “Precisely.”

  Charles leaned over and patted his daughter’s arm.

  “Don’t fret, child. We won’t go all at once. That would look very strange. I am suggesting that James and I leave immediately. We will announce that my mother is very ill. Margaret, I’m afraid you will have to stay here until we know how the land lies. But I do promise you at the very least a long holiday in the sun in the new year.”

  “Thank you,” murmured his wife. She appeared to be drifting into sleep.

  “You can’t go alone,” said Carmel. “You are both as helpless as newborn lambs when it comes to looking after yourselves. I will come with you. Adelia is quite accustomed to taking care of her mother.”

  Craig beamed at his sister-in-law. “How generous of you, Carmel. That would certainly be the best arrangement. Margaret won’t have to be disturbed at this time, and Adelia can go to her recital. Is that agreeable with you, child?”

  Adelia’s hands were clasped tightly in her lap, but she had had too many years of training to reveal what she felt, how resentful she actually was, and underneath that how hurt.

  “I’m sorry you won’t see me perform,” she said.

  Craig stood up and bent over her to place a kiss on the top of her head.

  “And I know I am speaking for all of us when I say that we, too, are sorry. You must give us a private demonstration.”

  “Yes, Papa.”

  “That’s settled then. James, will you go down to the railway station at once and make arrangements.”

  “Yes, Papa.”

  Adelia looked up at her brother. “And what will you say to poor Kate Delaney? She had already gone into one decline because of you. Will you send her to her grave now?”

  James laughed. “Don’t be so melodramatic, Addie. I will write her a tender note informing her that my beloved grandmother in America is desperately ill, and I am accompanying my father to her bedside. Shortly, dear grandmother will recover some of her health but be precarious. I will write letters of increasing scarcity, but eventually I will inform Kate that another has won my heart and that will
be the end of that.”

  “No, you won’t,” said Craig, his voice sharp. “One letter to say we are leaving, and that’s it. Letters can be traced.”

  “Yes, of course. Sorry, Papa.”

  “How can you be so callous, James?” Adelia burst out. “You break their hearts like a boy smashes robins’ eggs just to see what’s inside.”

  “My, my, don’t tell me you have become attached to somebody, Leila? Is that really why you are riding me so? Has Mr. Pugh won your heart? He has, I see. Look how she blushes, Papa.”

  Craig scrutinised his daughter. “Is that the case, Adelia? Is that why you are being so obdurate?”

  “No, Papa. I am upset that my brother has developed the morals of a tom cat.”

  James burst out laughing, rather pleased with her words. “She’s fibbing, Papa. She is in an amour with the cheeky Mr. Pugh.”

  Adelia didn’t respond, but her knuckles had turned white with the pressure of her grip.

  Craig spoke soothingly. “We really don’t have a choice, Adelia. It is not impossible that this officer recognised your brother. What if he pursued the matter? What would happen to your mother if we were ever to be discovered and prosecuted? How could she face years of her beloved husband and son incarcerated? And don’t forget, my child, disagreeable as it is to your nunlike soul, you also are implicated. You don’t want to be in the Mercer, I assume, with women who are of the very foulest kind.”

  He always used this elaborate language, and Adelia thought it was like gold braid on a filthy coat. She stared at her own thin, pale fingers and hated him with all her heart.

  “Very well then. James and I will go on the first train. We will head to Chicago and will send you a telegram to the post office, the usual code.”

  “Are you going to leave the plates here?” asked Adelia.

  “Of course. Given that this policeman might be on to us, it would be most foolish for James or I to carry them with us.”

  “What if they demand to search the premises?”

  “They are well hidden in the usual place and will never be found. In the highly unlikely event that they are, you all will plead complete ignorance. Not a hint; not the slightest deviation. Do I make myself quite clear, Adelia?”

  She nodded, sullenly.

  “I will send you word when it is safe to move them.” “Do we have enough money to live on?” asked Carmel.

  “For a while.” Craig sipped again on his wine. “But I am thinking it is time one of my children made an advantageous match. A wealthy American heiress, for instance. What do you say to that, James?”

  His son shrugged. “All the same to me. As long as she’s pretty and not a bore, I’ll marry her. The problem is we haven’t stayed long enough in any one place for me to court anybody.”

  “I haven’t noticed that to hinder you, James. You seem capable of cementing a friendship with quite amazing rapidity as far as I can tell.” He looked over at his daughter. “We won’t talk about it now, Adelia, but you must start to consider your duty to your own flesh and blood. You are an attractive girl when you want to be. Next year I want you going out in society much more than you do. As the poet says, why be ‘a violet born to blush unseen … on the desert air’?”

  “What about Aunt Carmel?” burst out Adelia. “She’s still single. She could marry a rich widower.”

  “Don’t be silly, child. Carmel has long given up such notions. Isn’t that so, Sister-in-law?”

  “Long ago, Brother Charles. I have no other wish but to tend to my sister and her children until the time I am no longer needed.”

  The lie sat in the air, thick and cloying as the smoke from the oil lamp. Adelia felt as if she was choking.

  Chapter Thirty-five

  ALMOST AT A TROT, Murdoch headed over to Church Street where he could catch a northbound streetcar. He was also anxious to talk to young Billy. The lad was at the same spot, and when he saw Murdoch he called out.

  “More letters for me, Mister?”

  “No. I just want to make sure you delivered the one I gave you.”

  “I did. No gammon. I did exactly what you asked.” He grinned cheekily. “If I told you how she was, will you give me another nickel?”

  “Maybe. Depends if it’s worth it. But the truth only. No fibbing. Was she pleased?”

  “She was and she wasn’t. When I said the letter was from you, she looked alarmed. You know, as if you was going to write something bad that she didn’t want to hear. Then she stood there and read it and she looked happy; then she looked sad again.”

  Billy was suiting his facial expressions to his words so that the contortions made Murdoch laugh even though he didn’t like it that Enid had looked sad.

  “Did she say anything?”

  “She thanked me kindly for bringing the letter. She talks in a funny way, doesn’t she? Like she’s singing. ‘Thank you, young man. I am obliged to you.’” He gave such a perfect imitation of Enid’s Welsh accent that Murdoch laughed again.

  “Hey, mind your manners, fellow.”

  The arab was studying him shrewdly. “I should tell you, Mr. Murdoch, you’ve got a rival, a masher.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “’S true. He must have seen you give me the note. I hardly got round the corner there when he was on me. He offered me twenty-five cents if I’d tell him who you were.”

  “And did you?”

  “Not me. ‘Why do you want to know?’ I asks.” He squinted up at Murdoch. “Shall I tell you what he says?”

  “You’d better!”

  “All right, you don’t need to blow. He says, ‘Because I have reason to believe that man is of a suspicious character, and if you are carrying a letter for him it could get you in trouble with the law.’”

  “What! Who the hell was this fellow?”

  “I told you, he’s trying to shove you out with your lady. That was just guff he was giving me about suspicious character.”

  Murdoch frowned. “Did you tell him my name?”

  “’Course I did. I says, ‘You’ve got it all wrong, Mister. He’s the law himself. He’s a Detective, name of Murdoch.’”

  The boy was grinning at Murdoch triumphantly.

  “Get on with it, Billy, for the Lord’s sake.”

  “That stops him right in his tracks. ‘Can I have a peek at the note?’ he asks, which was when I knew he was trying to move in on your lady. ‘Not a chance,’ says me. ‘This is private for her eyes only.’ ‘Very well,’ he says, ‘I am mistook in my suspicions,’ and off he goes.”

  Murdoch stared at the boy, who immediately shifted his glance.

  “You’re a little liar. You showed him the letter, didn’t you?”

  Billy flinched away from the raised hand. “No, I didn’t. I swear, Mister.”

  Murdoch stepped back, ashamed of his sudden temper.

  “Can you describe him to me?”

  “He wasn’t anything special. Not as tall as you. Brown moustache. He had on one of those waterproofs with a cape. He wasn’t no swell, but he didn’t look hard up either. Spoke sort of soft.” The boy regarded Murdoch anxiously. “That’s all I noticed, honest.”

  “You were probably staring at his money, that’s why.”

  Billy flushed and once again, Murdoch felt ashamed of himself. He cuffed the boy lightly on his arm.

  “It’s all right. I’d be the same if I was in your shoes.”

  “I just remembered something,” Billy said. “He took off his glove to pay me, and he had the top of his finger missing. This one.”

  He held up the middle finger of his left hand. Murdoch stared at the boy.

  “You’re not having me on, are you?”

  “No, sir. I swear that’s what I saw. This finger.”

  “All right, I believe you. If he comes and talks to you again, let me know at once. You can come to the station. They’ll take down a message. Don’t look so nervous. If you’ve got a clean conscience, nothing will happen to you.” Mur
doch fished another couple of pennies out of his pocket. “Here. Add that to your haul.”

  At that moment a carriage stopped at the kerb, and an elderly man leaned out of the window, snapping his fingers at the lad to clear a path to the hotel door.

  “Yes, sir. Here we go.”

  Billy jumped to the command, and Murdoch left him to it and continued on his way. Unless there had been an epidemic of amputations of middle fingers in the city, he assumed this man was the same one who had negotiated hiring Gargoyle for Mr. Pugh. Sam Quinn must have let it leak out why he was inquiring. Trying to stop gossip among the Fancy was as impossible as trying to stop fleas hopping from dog to dog.

  He wondered how the man had tracked him down. It was also embarrassing to think of another man reading his tenderest thoughts, but there was little doubt the boy had shown him the letter. How could he resist such an offer when it meant a night’s lodging to him? On the other hand, maybe it was strictly a coincidence about the dogs, and this man was truly a rival. As far as he knew, Enid had had no callers all the while she lived at the Kitchens’, and it seemed unlikely. So either the “bland as blancmange” stranger was interested in knowing about Murdoch because he was Enid’s suitor or because he was investigating the Delaney case. Both possibilities troubled him.

  Chapter Thirty-six

  THE COURTHOUSE FOYER was full of hazy blue smoke as many of the spectators were taking advantage of an adjournment to have a pipe or cigar.

  “Let’s look at the notice board,” said Newcombe, and he forged a path through the crowd to one of the massive concrete pillars in the centre of the foyer where the boards were fixed. In spite of his attempt to honour the gravity of the situation, the innkeeper was enjoying himself. He had accepted Murdoch’s invitation with alacrity, declaring it was not often he got to go down to the city.

  “There’s a case in courtroom A, which is that one to the right. We might as well start there.”

  They shoved through the mass of people and went into the courtroom.

  “Over here. There’s space in the third row, next to the prisoner’s box.”