Let Darkness Bury the Dead

by Maureen Jennings

  JACK PICKED UP THE PACK OF CARDS, shuffled them, and laid out six, face up on the kitchen table. The knave fell into the third spot. He scooped them up, reshuffled, and laid them out again. This time the knave was in the fifth spot. Another scoop, another shuffle, and the cards laid out. Knave was in the second spot. He did this another half a dozen times. In none of the layouts did the knave land on the first or sixth place.

  The sergeant says it’s random but it’s not. They always put the blank in either the sixth or the first spot. Either end of the line. The central guns, directly facing, are most likely to be spot-on accurate so they are always loaded.

  THE QUESTION

  How will I die?

  He asks the nurse who steps by his bed

  Softly

  As they do for the “soon-to-be-dead.”

  “I will bring the doctor,” says she,

  And subsequently

  He arrives.

  In white coat and stethoscope.

  “I hear you have a question for me.”

  “I’d like to know how I will die,”

  Is the reply.

  “Chin up, there’s a good chap.

  That’s a morbid thought.

  You ought

  To think of getting better.

  You’ll soon be just grand.”

  The boy sighs again.

  Despair settles in.

  “I want to know what to expect.”

  His voice is fading fast

  And

  At last, the doctor,

  A good man, give or take,

  Sees what’s at stake.

  “Well then, since you ask,

  We can’t fix you up,

  But the opiate will increase

  And you will fall asleep.”

  “Never to awake again,” adds the boy.

  “That’s right.

  There will be no more pain.”

  “Thank you, sir, that’s all I need to know.

  Let’s hope my dreams are sweet.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR

  MURDOCH CONCLUDED THE MEETING soon afterward. He thought it had been very productive. There had ensued a lively discussion about whether or not to put out a warning that there might be a madman roaming the streets who was attacking young men who weren’t soldiers. Croome and Montgomery were all for notifying the newspapers, but Murdoch decided against it. He didn’t want to alarm a city that was already filled with anxiety. And they didn’t know for sure if that really was the link between Arthur Aggett’s attacker and Morris Swartz’s. He promised to notify all beat constables, especially in the Ward, to be extra vigilant. He sent the detectives to follow up with their own specialties and assigned Watson and Young to step in for the ill Archibald and Rawlings.

  “Let’s pay a visit to all establishments that we suspect might be gambling dens. Rattle them.”

  As everybody was gathering up his belongings—tobacco pouches, cigarette cases, and so forth—Murdoch added one more instruction. “For God’s sake, don’t get the flu. We can’t afford to be even more short-handed.”

  He returned to his office, pausing to study the chess board. The little knight was pawing impatiently, eager to go in for the kill. The two queens were long retired but were trying to manipulate moves from the sidelines. His rook seemed impregnable.

  It was funny how chess was all about capture and conquer. He wondered if the generals had ever studied the game and if it affected the moves of battle. Probably not. Here on the chess board there was no cold, teeming rain, no glue-like mud, no rotting bodies clogging up the trenches. All calm, orderly moves with no bloodshed. Interestingly, the king himself was pretty feeble; it was the queen who had all the power. Mind you, those bishops could be pretty nifty, dashing across great distances. Never straightforward, always slipping sideways. As for the poor pawns, what a dull life they had. Usually sacrificed early, there were no swift moves for them. Unless they got promoted, which didn’t happen often. A promoted pawn could be ruthless. Reminded him of a constable’s life.

  The telephone on his desk rang, startling him out of his thoughts.

  “Sir, there’s a lady here says she needs to speak to you at once. It’s concerning Miss Curnoe.”

  “Really? What’s it about?”

  “She wouldn’t say. Said she could only speak to the chief officer and the lady herself. I told her you, as senior detective, were the only one available at the moment. She said you would do.”

  “Will I, indeed?”

  “Sorry to put it that way, sir, but those were her words.”

  “How very mysterious. All right. Bring the woman down and see if Miss Curnoe can join us. Give me a chance to get the lie of the land before you do that. I’ll buzz.”

  After a moment, there was a tap on the door. Wallace ushered in a woman who walked with the help of a cane.

  “Mrs. Flynn, sir.”

  Murdoch stood up and came around the desk.

  “Good day, madam. Please have a seat.”

  He’d seen her initially as middle-aged but now he wasn’t so sure. Her clothes were shabby and worn and her lined face showed evidence of a difficult life, but she was neatly dressed, and he thought he could see evidence of rouge on her cheeks. She could have been any age.

  Murdoch returned to his place behind the desk.

  “I was hoping I could speak to the lady police officer.” There was the faint suggestion of an accent to her speech. Murdoch guessed she was originally from Ireland.

  “May I ask what it is in connection with?”

  “I live at number 45 Louisa Street and I wish to report that my neighbour, Mrs. Payne, is conducting an illegal operation.”

  Fully expecting she was going to report a violation of the Temperance Act, Murdoch couldn’t help but frown.

  “What does this have to do with our officer?”

  “She came to investigate. Now mind you I didn’t twig as to how she was the police at first. She was wearing very nobby clothes, you see.” She nodded somewhat apologetically at Murdoch. “I suffers bad from rheumatics. If my husband hadn’t left me with insurance benefits I would be in the workhouse because I can’t get around much at all. So I sits in my window most of the day. It passes the time.”

  “And one of the things you see is what occurs at Mrs. Payne’s house?”

  “That’s right, sir. After a while, I saw the lady leave. I needed my constitutional anyways so I decided to follow her.” She indicated her cane. “Like I said, I’ve got rheumatics and I don’t walk too fast so I never caught up. But I was close enough to observe her come in here.” She clapped herself on the forehead. “I thought to myself, I thought, Bertha Flynn, you’ve just run into one of those lady policemen. She must have been in disguise.”

  “I see. And you wanted to talk to her about the illegal selling of liquor?”

  Mrs. Flynn stared at him. “What in the Lord’s name gave you that idea? What I have to report is much more serious than that. My neighbour, Mrs. Payne, is selling something all right, but it’s not liquor, it’s babies.”

  Murdoch buzzed the front desk to send for Madge.

  As soon as she entered the office, Mrs. Flynn exclaimed, “Yes, that’s her. That’s the lady was at Mrs. Payne’s.”

  Murdoch addressed Madge. “Miss Curnoe, Mrs. Flynn just made the rather startling assertion that Mrs. Payne is, as she put it, ‘selling babies.’”

  Mrs. Flynn ducked her head. “It’s true. I’m not making it up.” She glanced at Madge. “That’s why you was there, ma’am, wasn’t it? You come to investigate her.”

  “I was following up on an advertisement she had placed in the Star. A child was being offered for adoption. I went to see if all was above board.”

  “I’ll bet my boots she wanted money for the little one.”

  Murdoch looked to Madge for confirmation.

  “It wasn’t quite that direct. She said she needed money to cover her expenses. Medical bills and so forth.”

  “How much d
id she request?” Murdoch asked.

  “Seventy dollars.”

  Murdoch whistled between his teeth. “Steep.”

  “I knew it would be,” said Mrs. Flynn. “And that’s not the first one, either.” She paused, waiting to see the effect of her words.

  “Would you elaborate, madam?”

  “Winnie Payne is older than she looks. They like to keep her looking young so they can put the screws to any gentleman foolish enough to fall for it. You know, charge him with seduction. She had a bebbe last summer. I’ll guess come spring she’ll be with child again.”

  “What happened to the other infant?” asked Madge.

  “Same thing. They puts an advertisement in the paper and along comes a couple of swells and off they go with the infant. That was a girl, that one.”

  Madge frowned. “You are making serious allegations, Mrs. Flynn. Winnie told me that she had met a soldier who then went overseas. Her mother felt he had taken advantage of the girl.”

  “Did she now? I wonder which soldier she was referring to. There’s been so many trooping up to their door it’s a wonder she can tell them apart.” Mrs. Flynn shifted in the chair. “Don’t think I enjoy telling you all of this because I don’t, but it’s time somebody put a stop to it. There are three other kiddies in that house. God knows what they will grow up like seeing their sister selling herself to the highest bidder.”

  “Are you saying that the children are present when these, er, these men come?”

  “Oh yes. They’re shoved outside no matter what the weather when their sister has, shall we call it, a visitor? But they know what it’s all about. Mrs. Payne takes herself off for a walk. Used to be she went to the tavern but now she can’t. At least, she can’t legally, but we all know there’s lots of places willing to flout the law.”

  Murdoch and Madge exchanged glances.

  “I’m surprised she hasn’t been charged before now,” Mrs. Flynn continued. “One of your officers comes regular.”

  “One of my officers?”

  “That’s right. I wondered who he was at first. He wasn’t in no uniform, but he must have seen me, because when Winnie answered the door he flashed his badge. I guessed he was a detective like you.”

  As far as Murdoch knew, nobody in the department had been on this case before Madge.

  “He was a stout fellow. Ruddy face. One of those big moustaches you see on generals.”

  “And when was this exactly?”

  “He came first off just before Christmas of last year. He’s been another couple of times since then. Last time was after the babe was borned. Must have been October.” The woman regarded Murdoch. “Something should be done is all I can say.”

  “Thank you, Mrs. Flynn. We will certainly pursue this matter further.”

  She struggled to her feet. “Well, I’ve done my duty. I’d best be off. It’ll be dark soon and I don’t like walking the streets by myself.”

  “I can have a constable escort you home.”

  Mrs. Flynn actually shivered. “You’re not thinking straight. If I was to show up holding onto a policeman I’d never live it down. My name would be mud. Or worse.”

  Murdoch went to open the door for her. “Thank you for coming in.”

  At the door Mrs. Flynn paused. “Winnie told you she had been took by a soldier, did she? Might be the only true thing she did say. There was a couple of young fellows come to the house just yesterday.”

  “Soldiers?”

  “They weren’t in uniform but I could tell they was soldiers. I saw her open the door and she looked pretty pleased. They was returning soldiers, if you ask me. One of them had his arm in a sling, the other had a cane like me. He had an awful disfigurement, too. On his face. Like a V it was.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  MURDOCH TALKED MRS. FLYNN INTO accepting an escort as far as the end of her street. After she had gone, he turned to Madge.

  “What the heck do you make of this, Madge?”

  “It’s probably what Mrs. Flynn suggested. Prostitution. Then if Winnie gets in the family way, they can extort money from her seducer or prevail on a willing adopter for funds, the way they did with me. I’m saying ‘they,’ but essentially Mrs. Payne is the one running the show. God knows Winnie’s still a child, whatever her exact age. We need to step in.”

  “We do, or the Children’s Aid.”

  “I’ve been in touch with them already.”

  Murdoch rested his head in his hands. “Madge, there’s no doubt the recent visitors were Jack and his pal, Percy. What the hell was he doing? Surely he wouldn’t be mixed up with a girl who’s prostituting herself?”

  Madge stood up and leaned on the desk in front of him.

  “William Murdoch, you have raised a good and honourable young man. You have to trust in that.”

  “Madge, this war has changed everything. I fear it has pushed even good young men to the breaking point.”

  “Well we can’t stick our heads in the sand. I suggest we pay a visit to Mrs. Payne.”

  —

  There was a dim light shining in the Paynes’ window and Murdoch could see, across the street, an even dimmer light revealing the shadowy figure of Mrs. Flynn at her vigil. He and Madge had discussed the situation and, rather reluctantly, she had agreed that he should go by himself. She might be needed at a future time to go under cover in this neighbourhood.

  He knocked on the door, and after a long time it was opened by a raggedly dressed young boy. His expression was wary.

  “Hello, young fella. My name is Detective Murdoch. Can I have a word with your mother?”

  “She ain’t in.”

  “Is your sister Winnie at home?”

  The boy shook his head emphatically. “Not any more. She’s done a bunk.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “She’s done a bunk.”

  “Why is that?”

  “She said she didn’t want to live here no more.”

  “When did she leave?”

  “Last night. Her sweetheart came for her. He’s a soldier.”

  “Did you see him?”

  “No, I didn’t. She left him here. She says she don’t want him.”

  “By him do you mean her baby?”

  “That’s right.”

  From the room behind, Murdoch heard a baby break into wails.

  “Who’s taking care of the baby?” he asked the boy.

  “My mam.”

  “You said she’s not here.”

  “That’s right. Cissy’s looking after him until she gets back.”

  “How old is Cissy?”

  “She’s older than me.”

  “And how old are you?”

  “Dunno exactly. Nine most like.”

  Murdoch felt a flush of anger but he tried to hide it from the boy. The child was looking more and more nervous as the conversation went on. The sound of a deeply distressed baby continued.

  “What is your name, young man?”

  “Sidney.”

  “Sidney. Where would I find your mother?”

  “I dunno.”

  “Didn’t she say where she was going?”

  “No, sir.”

  “Did she say when she’d be back?”

  “No, sir.”

  “All right, Sidney. This is what I’m going to do. I’m going to get in touch with some people who will take care of the baby so you children don’t have to worry about him. I’ll tell them to bring some supper for you as well. They should be coming by sometime this evening.”

  “Ma won’t like that.”

  “I’m afraid she won’t have any say in the matter.”

  The boy shrugged but didn’t answer.

  The baby’s crying was starting to subside. Cissy was obviously doing something right. She’d probably had plenty of practice.

  “Get inside now, son. It’s cold.”

  “What shall I tell my mam?”

  “Tell her a police officer came by. Tell her not to worry. We a
re here to help.”

  Cynicism in such a young boy didn’t seem possible but Murdoch thought he glimpsed such an expression flit across Sidney’s face. He felt cold with anger. This was no way for a police force to be perceived. Damn it. Damn it. What the hell was the point of working to bring justice to bear if the very people you were trying to help mistrusted and hated you?

  —

  Murdoch went straight back to headquarters and found Madge. She was conferring with Peter Fenwell. He related the results of his visit.

  “We’ve got to get the Children’s Aid workers to the Paynes’ immediately. All of those children must be removed. If they don’t do something, I’m going to take them out myself.”

  “I’ll call them again.”

  “Say it’s an emergency.”

  She got up at once and hurried out.

  Fenwell waved at Murdoch. “Will, sit down. Get it off your chest before you explode.”

  “Why do people have to live like that, Peter? What the hell are we doing prosecuting petty crimes about breaking Sunday observance laws, selling liquor when you’re not permitted—” Murdoch slammed his fist on the desk. “It’s a load of shit. There are serious and major crimes happening out there and we hardly make a dent. There are children without enough to eat, not enough warmth. They’ll grow up to be criminals, sure as shooting, and we do nothing.”

  “What do you suggest?” Fenwell asked quietly.

  “No landlords should be allowed to profit from the misfortune of others, for one thing. They should be made to clean up those bloody slums. Fix the goddamn roof when they need to. Build a proper privy. The city should cough up money to support women who have no means so they don’t have to resort to selling babies.” Murdoch aimed his finger at his friend. “There should not be anybody in this city who is in need. Poverty should not live side by side with wealth. It’s wrong.”

  “Will, ever since I’ve known you, this has irked you. You should apply for the job of chief constable. You might have more heft.”

  “Oh sure. I’m still a Catholic, Peter. I would never get a promotion like that, even if I wanted it, which I don’t.”

  “So what’s going to ease your conscience, Will? Tender as it is.”

  “Goddamn it. I wish I could answer that. The only thing I know is that I’m going to be the best goddamn detective I can be.”