Snifter of Death

by Chris Karlsen

  Ruddy had no words of consolation to offer him. As far as he could tell, the man was right. He’d made a major mistake and now paid a heavy price. Ruddy had no great fondness for army life and was happy to leave it behind. But for some men, the discipline, the routine is what they need. They need the sense of purpose the army gives them and the camaraderie.

  “’Til tomorrow then,” Ruddy said.

  “Oh, I never got your name.”

  “Rudyard Bloodstone.”

  “Call me Tony.”

  “Call me Rudyard or Ruddy.”

  Tony shook his head. “Not while I’m in your employ. You’re Mr. Bloodstone to me.”

  “Your choice.”

  As Ruddy stepped through the door Tony said, “I’ll have an extra pint and a pie with real meat in it tonight on you, Mr. Bloodstone.”

  “Good. See you tomorrow.”

  Outside Archie said, “Two quid is more than that poor man has seen at one time in a year. He looks like the right person to teach you what you need to know though.”

  “I expect I’ll find myself on my arse a whole lot in the coming weeks. Better it’s from him than Napier.”

  “Napier is not going to expect you to know anything about Marquess of Queensberry Rules. He’ll figure to run roughshod over you.”

  Ruddy smiled. “I’m counting on it.”

  ****

  After his lesson the next day, Ruddy spent the entire shift catching up on paperwork for his open case. The whole time he was trying and failing not to dwell on his miserable performance working out with Tony. He’d secretly believed he’d do better than he did in spite of being a beginner at the sport.

  He ignored Archie’s glances his way that went from curious to concerned as the first hour after morning roll call wore on. Ruddy hadn’t finished his first cup of tea before Archie finally said, “You’re very quiet. How did your lesson go?”

  “I don’t feel like talking about it.”

  Archie recoiled slightly like he’d been slapped. “We’ve always spoken freely with each other.” He leaned in. “What happened? Tell me.”

  “Nothing terrible. I just don’t want to discuss it right now.”

  “Ruddy, you...”

  “Leave off the subject, Arch,” Ruddy snapped, instantly regretting it.

  Archie looked more worried than hurt. It was one of the qualities Ruddy appreciated the most about him. He’d put what a friend might be going through at a particular moment ahead of his personal injury.

  “Sorry, Arch. The time’s not right. Later maybe.”

  “Sure Ruddy.”

  Neither broached the subject the rest of the day. Ruddy and Archie kept their conversation to talk related to current cases. At the end of watch, Ruddy went straight home.

  ****

  Ruddy hadn’t even opened the boarding house front door when the aroma of Mrs. Goodge’s evening meal washed over him. Whatever she was preparing it included sautéed onions. Onions being fried in butter, bread baking, and bacon cooking were three of the world’s best smells. If you wanted to get him drooling like a junkyard dog, get those going on the stove.

  He immediately headed for the kitchen. Mrs. Goodge would invite him to share the evening meal with the rest of the boarders. She always asked and meals came with his rent. But having grown up in a family of ten children and then spending nine years in the military eating with a company of men, he had no interest in sharing a table with large groups of people.

  Besides the delicious smells from her kitchen drawing him like a lemming, he’d more than likely find Winky, the starving stray dog he adopted the year before in there. Mrs. Goodge watched the pup during the day while Ruddy worked. Winky was a regular sentinel in the kitchen at mealtimes, ready to snag any morsel that might fly from the skillet.

  “Good evening, Mrs. Goodge.” Ruddy perched over her cast iron fry pan, closed his eyes and inhaled. “Sautéed carrots and onions, they’ll set a man’s mouth-watering and stomach rumbling.” He opened his eyes. “What are you making?”

  “Good evening yourself, Mr. Bloodstone. It’s shepherd’s pie tonight. Does this mean you’ll be staying and dining with us?”

  “No, but thank you. I’m going to have a hot bath and then I am going out. Where’s Winky?” he asked, looking around and not seeing him.

  Just then the wire-haired bundle of canine energy raced in and leapt into Ruddy’s arms as he did every night. Right behind was ten-year-old Luke, the son of a widow boarder of Mrs. Goodge’s. All skinned elbows and knobby knees, Luke reminded Ruddy of himself at that age. The memory lightened the dour mood he’d been in all day.

  “Luke, how would you like to earn sixpence?” Ruddy asked, knowing the boy never had sixpence to himself before. Sixpence to a ten-year-old was like six-hundred quid to a grown man.

  Luke answered with a vigorous nod. “Yes, Mr. Bloodstone sir.”

  Ruddy gave each of Winky’s ears a good scratch and then set him down. “Bring ten pails of hot water to my flat. I’ll give you an extra tuppence if you can bring five additional ones. I’ve a mind to soak in a hot tub for a while. Can you handle that many pails up three flights?”

  “No worries, sir.”

  In his flat, Ruddy shrugged out of his frock coat. Like always, he took time to brush off the city’s dust before hanging it up in the armoire. All the frock coats and morning coats he owned were expensive, for a man of his modest means anyway. Suits and a decent set of shirts made of good material were a promise he made to himself years before when he was a young constable. He never doubted his ability and always believed he’d be promoted. Then he’d have the money he needed. As a child, he wore nothing but badly worn out cotton and linen hand-me-downs from his brothers. Serving her Majesty in the army he wore the roughest, itchiest, most godawful wool, and as a young Peeler the wool wasn’t much better. It was that first year with London Metro he made himself the promise.

  Ruddy left the door ajar so Luke could come and go. The last of the buckets of water filled the tub a little more than halfway. Ruddy was the only tenant with a private bathroom. He also had the entire top floor to himself, two rooms plus the bathroom. Mrs. Goodge liked having a policeman on the premises and rented the larger space to him for the same price as the smaller flats. He’d looked forward to a long hot bath all day. After his lesson, he’d cleaned up before going to the station, but that was a quick, cold bath. His sore muscles needed this soothing hot one.

  “Did you catch any dangerous criminals today, murderers or masked highwaymen? Did you arrest anyone due for a hanging?” Luke asked, wiping away sweat from his forehead with his shirttail.

  “Aren’t you the bloodthirsty one? Sorry lad, not today.” Ruddy had started removing his starched collar and shirt cuffs but stopped. He sat on the curved edge of the tub so he was closer in height to Luke. “Never wish to see a man hang, Luke. It’s a terrible, terrible thing to witness, a sight that’ll forever be a dark stain on your heart.”

  Ruddy stood and began unbuttoning his dress shirt.

  “If you say so, sir.” Luke dropped down onto the bathroom stool, clearly disappointed. When his mother came to live at the boarding house the year before, Luke’s low opinion of Peelers was typical of boys his age. They heard the worst about cops from the broadsheets and many of the men in their lives who had run-ins with law enforcement. Luke’s opinion began to change as he got to know Ruddy, who’d done his best to let him see the other side of the story. He also wanted the lad to have a more positive male influence in his life.

  “Tell you what, we’re working a case at the moment where the man we’re hunting steals lady’s stockings. When we find him, how about I bring you to the station and you can see him in lockup? It’s not exciting as a highwayman. You’ll not be allowed past the lockup door; but afterward, I’ll take you around the rest of the station.”

  Luke popped up. “Oh would you? I’d like that very much.”

  “It’s a promise.”

  Luke looked at him,
clearly baffled. Ruddy thought you could almost see the gears and wheels of confusion grinding away in the lad’s head. “What’s the thief want with ladies stockings? Sounds like a silly thing to want.”

  Ruddy gave himself a mental kick. He should’ve anticipated a young boy’s natural curiosity, having been one. He had to think fast. He certainly didn’t want to discuss the thief’s odd sexual proclivities with the lad. “He’ll sell them on street corners to unsuspecting women. Now off with you. I need to undress and soak. I was hit by a locomotive called Tony today and am sore as the devil.”

  “Did you beat him back?”

  “It wasn’t that kind of fight. No, I spent a lot of time learning how not to be trounced. When I’m done, I’m going out. I’ll give you a shout and you can come empty the tub.”

  Winky had lain patiently on the rug by the tub. He wagged his tail and watched with innocent eyes as Ruddy removed his boots. Ruddy wasn’t fooled. Winky was an incorrigible sock thief. The moment Ruddy had his off, the chase would be on so he put his shoes and socks out of reach. The act resulted in a spurt of rebellious barking.

  “This is why everyone says I’m a bad parent. These temper tantrums on your part,” Ruddy admonished Winky. “At least you kept your crime to the gnawing of sock toes and heels.” He gave Winky a pat on the head.

  “Shall I walk Winky while you’re out?” Luke still hadn’t left but dawdled rearranging Ruddy’s toiletries. Ruddy recognized the stall as a gamble for another pence or two. Ruddy was torn between pride and fear that he’d sparked a wicked mercenary streak in the lad.

  “I’m taking him with me but thank you for the offer.” Ruddy winced as he stripped down to his trousers. The left side of his ribcage hadn’t discolored but was bruised enough to ache when his arm bumped the area. He didn’t want to undress completely in front of Luke and told him, “Time to go. I want to soak before the water grows cold.”

  “What happened to your arm?” Luke pointed to the puckered skin of the burn scar on Ruddy’s forearm.

  “I was in a hospital fire many years ago.”

  “Did it hurt bad?”

  “Yes.”

  “Does it still hurt?”

  “Sometimes, when I sit too close to a fireplace with that side to the fire. Enough questions. Run along now.”

  Luke finally left and Ruddy hurried taking the rest of his clothes off. He moaned as the warm water soothed his aching muscles. The morning workout with Tony had left him drenched necessitating that fast cool bath before going to the station. He sank down into the hot water until it was up to his neck. The warmth felt like heaven to his battered body. His shoulders and arms had taken the brunt of exercise. They screamed in protest throughout the day whenever he moved wrong. He rested his head against the tub, closed his eyes and just relaxed, wiggling his toes and feet, the only parts of him that didn’t ache.

  Of course, Archie wanted to know how the session went. Ruddy wasn’t ready to admit how embarrassed he was by his performance. He considered himself in good physical condition, far better than most. From the look of him, Tony had ten years on him. Ruddy figured a decade of hard living had to take a toll. Maybe it had but if so, then Tony was a force to be reckoned with in his younger years. Fast on his feet, quick with his hands, the jabs came at an insane pace. Ruddy hadn’t taken a blow to the face. For pride’s sake, he’d like to think it was due to an action he’d taken. He suspected that saving grace was more because of Tony not aiming for his face than any block Ruddy put up.

  He stayed in the tub until the water turned lukewarm. After dressing, he went through his flat opening windows. On hot nights like tonight, most Londoners opened their windows in hopes the evening might bring a cool breeze from the river.

  “Winky, come.” Winky trotted over, tail wagging in anticipation of whatever adventure awaited them outside. A bundle of energy from the first day Ruddy had him, Winky loved exploring. Ruddy buckled the leash he made himself to a fine leather collar Archie and Margaret bought for the dog as a gift. On the way out of the boarding house Ruddy knocked on the widow’s door. Luke answered.

  “I’m done. Ask Mrs. Goodge for the key to my room. Empty the tub and when you’re done, lock the door and give her the key back. Here’s the six pence. If you don’t do a proper job, I’ll be getting my coin back from you,” Ruddy warned.

  “I’ll go right now.” Luke pushed past him and ran toward the landlady’s room.

  ****

  Ruddy’s favorite table at the Boot and Bayonet was empty. It was one of Morris’s smaller tables. Most of his customers didn’t like sitting at it, as they had no room to play checkers or cards with more than two players. Ruddy wasn’t big on either game so the table suited him. Winky sat at his feet gnawing on a marrow bone Ruddy brought with him to tide the dog over until dinner.

  “Are you eating tonight?” June, Morris’s granddaughter asked, setting a tankard of Ruddy’s favorite beer down on the table.

  “I am. Do you happen to have any shepherd’s pie?”

  “Not tonight. There’s some left over from last night, if you’d like, we can reheat that for you.”

  “I’ll take a big bowl for me and a small bowl for Winky.” Ruddy stretched his legs out and leaned back to watch a game of darts with half-hearted interest.

  Morris pulled a chair over from another table and joined Ruddy. “Is something wrong? You look like you just got assigned a month of latrine duty.”

  Ruddy shook his head, thinking there wasn’t any point in discussing the problem. Morris couldn’t help. Nobody could really help. “Nothing’s wrong.” Then he changed his mind. At least Morris offered an objective ear and would listen without prejudice. “That’s not true. I have a potential problem at work.”

  June brought Morris a tankard without him asking. “You?” He looked genuinely surprised. “A problem at work? You’re not on the fiddle, I know that. You’ve never been one to sneak about with another chap’s wife, I can’t see you as one of those sly boots Peelers who will lie about a man to justify an arrest. What’s that leave?” Morris took a long pull from the tankard and eyed Ruddy over the rim while he pondered possibilities. He swallowed. Eyes wide, he set the tankard down and said, “Bloody hell, you beat someone good.”

  “No, but you’re on the right trail.”

  Morris raised his tankard and took another swig while gesturing for Ruddy to go on.

  “There’s a good chance this bootlicker from the City agency is going to challenge me to a fight.”

  Morris shrugged. “So. You’ve been in dozens of fights. You haven’t been trounced yet. What’s the worry?” he asked and set his beer down.

  “I haven’t been in this type of fight. The bootlicker is the boxing champion of their agency.”

  “Boxing champ as in Marquess of Queensberry type of champ?”

  Ruddy nodded.

  “I don’t know much about that style of fighting. I’ve never been a fan. Is it that different than how you’ve fought?”

  Different? Is lamb different than beef? “Yes. They’re both meat but far from the same. Street fisticuffs and boxing are both fighting but they’re more dissimilar than similar.”

  June brought the shepherd’s pies. The bone cast aside Winky jumped up, his attention fixed on the bowl coming his way. Ruddy sprinkled salt on his pie without tasting first, a habit his mother chastised him for whenever he went home. Morris didn’t notice or if he did, said nothing. After the salting, Ruddy dug into the delicious-smelling meal.

  “You can take some lessons and learn the little differences, can’t you?” Morris asked.

  “Took my first lesson this morning. What a disaster. I stumbled around like a three-legged dog. I fell into the ropes more times than I care to count. Other times I floundered about completely unable to get my arms and legs to work together. A match is divided into rounds of three minutes each. For some inexplicable reason, I became obsessed with the time limitation. It kept preying on my mind that I had to get loads of hits in
before the time ended. My foolish distraction was a horrible detriment which only added to my clumsiness.”

  “The bootlicker hasn’t challenged you yet, right?”

  “Right.”

  “He might not. All this worry could be for naught.”

  He gave Morris his best you’re smoking opium if you believe that look. “A confrontation between us has been brewing for a long time. Sadly, I stand a good chance of losing to the arrogant toady.”

  “So you lose,” Morris said, shrugging the possibility off. “You’ve lost a few in the past. Life goes on.”

  “You don’t understand. I’ll never hear the end of it. I’ll get an earful from him every time our paths cross. I don’t doubt I’ll get a ration of scurrilous nonsense even when I cross paths with his co-workers. I can hear them now: Bloodstone-you’re the fellow Napier sent crashing to the floor. That will be followed by a jolly belly laugh.” Ruddy drained his tankard and raised it high for June to see he needed a refill.

  “You’ve a voice. Say no if he challenges you. There’s nothing carved in stone that says you have to accept this Napier’s challenge.”

  “Then I’d get labeled a coward.”

  “You’ve a bit of a pickle on your hands, my friend.”

  June brought another beer along with two shot glasses of rum. Ruddy had known Morris’s granddaughter since she was a young girl. Morris and his wife, Bess, raised her after she’d lost both her parents to influenza when she was still small. She was a lovely young woman now. Ruddy had never seen her parents but June had inherited much of her looks from Morris and Bess. She had her grandmother’s light brown hair and freckles and Morris’s dark brown eyes and cleft chin. When she smiled, deep dimples framed the corners of her mouth. Neither grandparent had dimples. Ruddy assumed they came from her parents. Both Morris and Bess were slight of build and so was June. For a tiny creature, she was strong as her one-armed grandfather. She carried trays of beer from the bar and food from the kitchen throughout the pub, no complaints.

  “What’s this for?” Ruddy asked with a nod to the rum.