“I don’t know exactly what you’re planning with that Olocher boy,” he said, “But I think I can see the bones of it.” Edwards didn’t say anything to this; instead he would wait for the powerful brute to go on. “I taught that boy well, but don’t forget, I taught him everything he knows, but not everything I know!”
“Where are you going with this tiresome display,” Edwards said regaining some of his composure. He didn’t think Muc would kill him right here and now if he really were the second killer.
“I’m warning you right now,” Muc said, “and this will be the only time. If Olocher tries any shit with me it will the last thing he ever does, and when I’m done with him I’ll be coming after you!”
“You don’t need to concern yourself with those worries,” Edwards smiled at him. He looked at Muc but could read nothing. It didn’t sound as though he were the man plaguing Olocher but Edwards just couldn’t be sure. He was practically unreadable except in anger.
“Keep it that way,” Muc said and then let go of Edwards’ neck. It felt good to breathe again and he thought of the revenge that would come at some point in the not too distant future.
“What is the German doing in there?” Edwards asked.
“Telling stories about the Devil,” Muc answered, “You know him?”
“Only recently, he just arrived in Ireland last week.”
“Who is he?”
“That’s the question isn’t it,” Edwards mused.
“What?” Muc looked perplexed.
“His name is Daniel Deek,” he replied, “But that’s about all I know about him. That and his Devil obsession.” Muc shrugged at this, not very interested.
“Has your boy been harassing Mary Sommers?” he asked Edwards.
“No, why?”
“Someone has; her and that Kate girl and the other one from the market.” Edwards was surprised to hear this and he felt at once it was the other killer at work.
“What did he do?” he asked wanting to rush straight to the apartment now to see that Kate was alright.
“Throwing dead rats and things like that, and then I hear Kate ran into Spencer in some place they’d all been staying down by the river,” Muc said and then laughing added, “They’re all living in with the blacksmith now!” These words tore into Edwards worse than the thought of Kate being in danger.
“Living with Mullins!” he said not able to hold it in.
“Yes, but you needn’t fret, they’re not back as a married couple. The girls are in the bed and he’s out on the floor like a dog in front of the fire.” Muc laughed again at this image.
This was something at least but Edwards didn't like the idea she was back there at all. He would have to talk to her, to do something about this before it was too late.
“The blacksmith is inside the cabin too,” Muc said, “He’s well gone on drink, I’d say even you could take him in a fight tonight if the fancy took you?” Muc looked at him like he would quite like to see such a spectacle and it was very hard for Edwards not to take him up on it.
“That’s not my style,” he answered, still thinking about Kate. He hated the power she had over him but at the same time, he didn’t think he’d be able to live without her having that power.
“Well, I’m going back in, I want to talk to this Deek character,” Muc said and he walked out of the laneway. Edwards stayed where he was and stared at the ground. If Mullins was inside and in such a state this might be a good time to call to his house and see Kate. He looked for something to make him think twice about such a plan but nothing was coming to mind. He thought about the others being there but surely they would know everything by now so what harm them over hearing him talk to her?
Pulling his coat up against the cold, he set off for Dog and Duck Yard, to a house he never saw himself calling in to. Until now.
Chapter 66
Alderman James’ correspondence was in disarray. The letters that had been forwarded on to him in Waterford had never met him there and were only now starting to show up and be sent back to his office. This morning, however, the usual post carrier came and at once James felt there was something significant in the pile today. It was the letter on the very top that spooked him; he knew there was something wrong about it but he couldn't put his finger on it. Though he didn’t recognise whose writing it was, he was sure he’d seen this hand before. He could only hope it was not some goading letter from the killer who now took up all of his days and nights since returning to Dublin.
Setting down the other letters, he drew closer to the fire and carefully opened this one. A single folded sheet inside and nothing more, no markings on the inside of the envelope. The paper wasn’t fancy or thick and nor was the envelope. He folded out the letter and read the brief couple of paragraphs; it read:
Dear Alderman James,
I am writing to you to inform you of my innocence of the murders for which I once confessed. It was a strange time in my life and I cannot explain what was happening to me. Despite this, I have now come to believe, no to know, that I was not responsible for any of those murders. I have acquired my old diary and this has cleared me of two murders. I am working on clearing myself from the others and hope to do so soon.
I apologise for leaving the hospital, but I did not think I would be able to clear my name from within those walls. As soon as I have the evidence I need I will turn myself in to you. I have heard all the rumours about my being involved in this new spate of killings but as I am sure you are aware the first of these, at least, happened while I was still locked away.
Of course, this means that the true killer from last year is still at large and I suspect they may be responsible for recent crimes. I cannot promise I will find out who framed me but I aim to prove my own innocence,
Yours Sincerely,
Archibald Spencer
James looked at the letter for a long time. First, it was in disbelief that the man had wrote to him at all, but this soon changed to doubt and fear. If what Spencer said was true, James had missed something crucial before and now more people were dying as a result. Looking back at the case he wondered had he been so focused on bringing matters to an end that he’d been happy to take Spencer’s confession without question? Surely, this had not been the case, everything had pointed towards Spencer, the painting, his military past, his erratic behaviour and that was all before the man confessed. It didn’t feel right anymore.
The letter seemed so sincere to him and he read it once more. These were not the ravings of a lunatic or those of a man out looking to get even or settle scores. ‘As soon as I have the evidence I need I will turn myself in to you.’ He read that line a few times.
Mary Sommers came to mind and how she’d approached him in the street to tell him this same thing. At the time, he had been able to shrug off what she was saying as nonsense, but now that he had this letter, he saw that meeting in a completely new light. He saw her eyes again, the sincerity in them and the belief in what she was saying. There was no doubt that she believed Spencer was innocent despite her thinking her old boyfriend had been one of the victims.
A feeling of dread came over James and he felt sweat bristle on his brow. The killer was still loose, and what’s more, he was back at it again. He should have seen this coming, he cursed himself. Cleaves had taken an almost yearlong break between his killings and so had the previous killer. Now everything was starting up again and all the while the real culprit had been free and most likely laughing his head off at the chaos that went on around him.
Who else could it have been? His mind whirled as faces from the past few years whizzed by him. Each one had been a suspect at some point or other, if only for a moment in his own head. The idea of going back over all his papers and trying to see something new in them was daunting and even doing that wasn’t any guarantee that it would shed any new light at all on this case- assuming it was still the same person committing the crimes.
He would have to go back to Mary, that would be his
first port of call. He needed to know all that she knew. As he thought of her, something struck him like a thunderbolt. She had said Spencer believed someone from the Hellfire Club was the man responsible. Edwards’ cunning smiling face came to mind and James saw it with distaste.
Many times over the last few years, Edwards had come to mind for each set of killings, save the current ones so far.
“No,” James said aloud, “He was in Waterford with me when these new crimes occurred.” He couldn't argue with that, and if it was the same killer as before then it ruled him out of those ones too. Though he couldn’t think off hand, it was likely Edwards was also with James when some of the Spencer Killings- or the ‘Shadow of the Dolocher’ killings as they were known in some parts of the Liberties- took place. James sighed deeply. Investigating those old crimes also meant talking to Edwards once again. He was there through it after all and may recall something James himself forgot. Was he ever going to be free of this man, he thought.
Chapter 67
The night that Edwards was accosted by Muc in the alley off Cook Street, Steven Olocher made up his mind that he was not going to sit back and wait to see what his shadow would do. Olocher felt anxious about this man- he wasn’t fully convinced it was Muc- and he knew that it would affect his concentration and awareness in future killings if it was not sorted soon.
Edwards had told him to sit tight and wait for further instructions but sitting around waiting was not something Olocher was any good at. He thought that Edwards was most likely just going out to his club or drinking for the night, so he decided he would go out and see if his follower would show himself.
Dressing as well as he could, Olocher stepped out into the street and headed off towards the river. His thinking was that if he walked along here there was only one side of him that could be exposed to attack or proper surveillance at any time. When he crossed the river at one of the bridges, he would be able to see for a long time if someone was following him.
The night was cooling and quickening to cold. It wasn’t long before he was seeing the thin mist of his breaths as he walked along the banks of the Liffey. It was dark and there were few people about and none who seemed to show any real interest in him.
Some bawdy sailors laughed from the moored boats but he couldn’t see them, save one man who was peeing noisily into the river.
Olocher was almost directly opposite where he started about thirty minutes later and there had been no sign of his man. It was too open, that was the trouble. His follower was smarter than that and Olocher should have understood this from the start. If he wanted to meet this man and find out what he was all about, he was going to have to go into some of the lesser trod and darker parts of the city. He thought for a moment and then started his walk towards Newgate Prison. He wasn’t sure where he would go from there but it was a central point to everything that had taken place over the last few years so in that way it made sense to go there.
When he got there, he stood a bit off and looked at the tower. He recalled Edwards first telling him who he was and how his father had died up there. Panning across the road, he saw the blacksmith where he’d once been apprenticed to Mullins. For a long time he missed that work and missed also the man himself, but now he’d been steeled against such feelings. They would do him no good in this work he was completing.
He walked on towards the archway to Hell down by the Cathedral. As he got close to it, he felt that there was someone in there. The torchlight had been extinguished as it quite often was, and though he could see nothing, he felt sure someone was there. He stopped and looked around; not another soul in sight.
“Who’s in there?” he called out, doing his best to disguise his voice. No answer came but he got the sense of someone suddenly holding their breath and trying to be silent. “Don’t have me come in there and find out who you are?” Olocher threatened. His hand had slipped into the hidden pocket within his cloak where a blade was kept.
“You better keep on moving if you know what’s good for you?” a gruff voice came from the darkness.
“I don’t know what’s good for me,” Olocher said, “Show yourself.”
“I’m giving you fair warning lad, don’t make me come out there to you or you’ll regret it. Now on your way.” Though the man had tried to sound as hard as possible, Olocher heard the slight strain in the voice and knew the man inside was more scared than Olocher himself was right now. He drew his blade and whispered harshly,
“On the count of three, I’m coming in there. What part of you meets my blade is of no concern to me!” As he spoke these words, his anger was up and he knew Edwards would be very angry with the way he was exposing himself right now. No planning had gone into this, no watching of the victim to see his habits. He didn’t even know who he spoke to right now.
The man in the archway did not wait for the count; he erupted from the darkness and set off at speed through the opposite side towards the Cathedral grounds. Olocher was surprised by his speed but quickly set off after him.
They ran through the grounds of the Cathedral and though Olocher was gaining, it wasn’t as fast as he’d have liked. The man could get to a tavern or some other open door and get away if the distance was not closed soon. Olocher couldn’t let that happen; he had to know who this man was and what he was after. It was clear that it was not Muc, but that was all that was clear from behind him. Olocher pumped his legs harder, pounding down on the balls of his feet and raising his knees as he increased his speed.
The man rounded a corner and Olocher heard the rumble of his body to the ground. He’d fallen! ‘I’ve got you now!’ he thought.
But that was not how it was.
The fist that pounded into Olocher’s face as he rounded that same corner was like iron. It was harder than anything he’d ever felt in his life. He only got a vague blur of the arm and shoulder on the man who’d delivered it before his legs went and he crumpled to the ground. He could see the man he had been chasing lying on the ground seemingly a victim of the same fate only he looked like he was unconscious. Olocher tried to look up to see who had done this to them both, but his own vision began to swim and soon he joined the other man in sleep.
Chapter 68
Deek was sitting in the same chair as before when Muc came back into the cabin after talking to Edwards outside. No crowd gathered around him now, however, and the man looked content with this. Muc appraised him from the bar and then met eyes with the man. Deek smiled and raised a glass to Muc who took this as an opportunity to go over to the stranger.
“You’ll have given some of the young lads here nightmares,” Muc said smiling as he stood at the table. “Perhaps even some of the older ones.”
“Please, sit,” Deek said with a large smile, “I don’t hope to give anyone a restless night.” Muc sat down and it was then that he saw how big this man was. The urge to fight him came on.
“My name is Daniel Deek,” he went on, “But I think you already knew that.”
“Why do you think that?” Muc asked surprised, but on thinking, this man probably saw him drag Edwards outside when he tried to come in.
“You look like a man who knows things,” Deek said.
“I know enough,” Muc said.
“But tonight I see you have a question?” Deek said.
“What happened that night when you went up to the bridge?” Muc asked bluntly.
“No matter where I tell that story, there is only ever one person who asks me this question,” Deek answered. He regarded Muc a moment and met his eyes once more before nodding as though confirming something to himself.
“What?” Muc demanded of him.
“You don’t have the evil of the Devil in you, but you have the mischief,” Deek laughed. Muc did not mind this; in fact, as he thought on it he thought it was probably a very good way to describe himself.
“I’ve had worse said about me,” he nodded smiling. He looked at the almost sleeping Mullins a seat over. It was clear he had no idea wher
e he was. Muc hadn’t seen him like this for a while now, since the early days of Kate being gone. There was no point talking to him tonight; no sense would flow from those lips before morning. Turning back to Deek he said, “So, what happened at the bridge?”
“The dark secret is that nothing happened,” Deek said, “No one was there waiting to frighten me or jump out. No noise greeted me at all save the wind.”
“So they really were afraid of the bridge at night,” Muc surmised. Deek nodded,
“And with good reason I think.”
“How so?”
“I went up there with eagerness in my young heart, happy to play along with whatever caper they were going to play, but when I got there and saw that no one was there I was at first surprised and a little disappointed. But then, as I stood there and looked at the bridge I began to feel differently.”
“Did you see something?”
“No, I didn’t see anything, but I felt something. It was like great sadness crushing down on me and I felt like I couldn’t move.” Muc looked at Deek and thought he was telling the truth. “I looked all around, expecting to see the Devil himself rise up out of the gorge and the sadness began to change very rapidly into fear; a fear like I had never known and to this day have never felt again.”
“So now you fear nothing?” Muc asked.
“It’s not that I don’t feel fear, but nothing can compare to how I felt that night.”
“How did it end?”
“I don’t honestly know,” Deek said, “It went on for a long time and then the next thing I knew I was lying in a bed at the inn. They told me I had come back to town raving about the Devil and had fallen into fever for three days. They thought I was going to die, but I snapped out of it. I was very tired but not much worse than that. I left the town that very day.”
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