“Unexpected is not unwelcome. I’m delighted. Please be as bold as you wish as often as you wish.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Ruddy lay like a damp rag on the bench outside the boxing ring. Every part of him ached with the possible exception of the bottoms of his feet and his butt. “Is there a point where I stop hurting?” he groaned out loud.
“Eventually. You’re getting better, stronger every time we meet. I can see you’re coming along well.” Tony sat next to him wiping his sweat-drenched face. The perspiration barely disappeared before rivulets reappeared and ran from his scalp down his cheeks to his chin.
Ruddy rubbed his towel across his wet chest and down his arms. He brought a towel from home with him whenever they met for sparring. Tony swore the towels at the athletic club were washed after each use but Ruddy had his doubts. Grey and dingy as they were, he questioned if they were laundered regularly, what they used for soap, and what was left behind.
“I visited Kelly’s Athletic Club,” Tony said.
Intrigued, Ruddy sat up and hung the towel over his neck. “When?”
“More than once, actually. You said early on that the fellow you’d face worked out there. I thought I’d go and see if I might observe him.”
Ruddy racked his brain and couldn’t recall ever telling him Tony Napier’s name. “I don’t remember mentioning his name.”
“You were discussing the fact that the fellow was a local champion. You were putting your gloves on and the name Napier came out at the time. I could sit in on sparring sessions there without drawing attention. No one in a hoity-toity club like Kelly’s would know me. I asked a few discreet questions and found out when Napier usually came and slid in to watch.”
“What did you think? Do I stand any chance of beating him?”
Tony clasped Ruddy on the shoulder. It didn’t take a genius to recognize the universal man-to-man shoulder clasp preceded the worst possible answer. “There’s always a chance, my friend.”
“So, no.”
“Not a full blown no, like I said, there’s a chance. Napier is skilled. His years of practice reflect that but he’s not without faults, faults that can be taken advantage of. Our next session, we’re going to concentrate on those.”
Finally a ray of light. He might walk away from the fight with his pride and his arse intact. “Tell me there are a lot,” Ruddy said. Sweat had gathered at his temples as he talked and ran down his cheeks and dripped from his jaw. He grabbed a club towel from the stack and wiped his face, forgetting his hung around his neck and how disgusting the club towels were.
“Sorry to say, but no, he’s not a sloppy fighter. He hasn’t many flaws but he has a couple, which may get you a razor thin win.”
“I’ll take it.”
“Your ability to take advantage will depend on how observant you are. Napier is right-hand dominant by nature. However, he’s a fooler in the ring. His power punch is in his left. He signals when it is coming though. It’s subtle but it’s there if you’re observant.” Tony crawled between the ropes and back into the ring. “Come back in for a minute and I’ll show you.”
Ruddy did as he asked.
“Take your ready stance, fists up, feet positioned like they’d be at the start of the round. Don’t bother trying to counter strike, just block me.” Tony threw a slow-motion punch with his right, which Ruddy blocked. Tony drew his right hand back and threw another slow-motion punch and Ruddy blocked it. “Now watch close,” Tony said.
Ruddy expected the left and had his right arm ready to block. Tony threw the punch faster than the two from the right. Ruddy only managed to partially block the hit and Tony made contact with the side of Ruddy’s jaw.
“That left of Napier’s is going to come at you fast and furious. He’ll go for your face or chin, hoping to either break your nose or knock you out with a good hard shot to the jaw.”
“What did I miss?” Ruddy pressed his fingers to the spot on his jaw where Tony’s left connected. It’d be sore later but probably not bruised enough to discolor. He didn’t want to discuss his workouts with the other detectives. Only Archie knew. If the others knew he was trying to train, they’d be naturally curious about his progress. He’d rather not answer a bunch of questions. “Show me what he does.”
“I said he’s subtle. First, he’ll lean his right shoulder in but not too far.” Tony took Ruddy’s hand and placed it on his shoulder. “Feel the movement?” Ruddy nodded. “Just that far. At the same time, he’ll tip his head to the right and rise up on the ball of his left foot. He’s readying to push off and give that left hook of his impetus, put extra force behind. But that’s also when he’s most vulnerable because for a fraction of a second, he’s off balance.”
Ruddy jerked back as Tony lunged coming inches from Ruddy while simultaneously hitting his own left palm with his right fist. “That’s when you hit him and hit him hard,” Tony stressed.
“I’ve a bit of time until I need to leave. Let’s practice that move of his and my attack.”
Tony smiled his usual tight-lipped way. He was missing several teeth. Ruddy thought he was probably self-conscious about it.
“Get ready,” Tony said.
Ruddy got into position. They worked out the moves several more times before he finally had to leave.
****
Ruddy and Archie left the last of Skinner’s neighboring businesses. They’d re-interviewed the employees and tenants previously questioned by a constable who had been at the murder scene.
“Strange, an alley open to a busy street and lined with busy offices yet no one saw someone breaking into Skinner’s office,” Archie said.
“The more I think about it, the more I believe, with all the foot and court traffic, dozens had to see him. They just don’t know it. A person stood at the window long enough to cut a hole that they could fit their hand through and undo the lock. I believe that person is someone we see but don’t notice, someone common to our everyday life,” Ruddy said and worked his sore jaw side to side a couple of times.
“What’s wrong with your jaw?”
“This morning Tony was demonstrating a left hook. I didn’t block in time.”
They’d left the last business by the rear door and walked back to Skinner’s, stopping in front of the damaged window.
“How are your lessons coming?” Archie asked. “You’re moving better this week.”
“I’m doing all right, not terrible. Walk part way down the alley,” he told Archie. Archie did. “You’re passing by and look at me standing here doing something to the window. No one called us so even if you can’t make out what I’m doing you’re not alarmed. Who am I?” Ruddy turned to Archie. “Who holds no interest for you?”
Archie paced, eyeing Ruddy. “Window cleaner, rag man, janitor, he had to be dressed like a workman. He couldn’t look like a ruffian who’d been a defendant at the courthouse.”
“They dressed to blend into the background, brought a glass cutting tool, toiled away without consequence, and managed to have Skinner get rid of Button. The audacity to even attempt this in an active location during the day astounds me. We’ve yet to find the hint of anyone who hates him this much to risk this.”
“It’s as baffling as Cross’s murder in that regard. Who in their right mind cared nothing of risk and entered his home while it was fully staffed? Who hated him that much?”
“Nothing makes sense,” Ruddy said. “Shall we start for the station? I’m peckish and would like to buy a bite of something to eat at my desk.”
“I can eat.”
As they were about to step inside the teashop, a woman screamed from up ahead. Her scream was followed by the rapid calls of police whistles. Ruddy and Archie broke into a run. Somewhere a copper needed help. When they crossed into the next block a man carrying a knife shot out from a side street. Running close behind him was an exceptionally fast woman holding her skirts high out of the way and two men flanking her. Ruddy recognized the three as Flanders and his stocking thief d
ecoy team.
Flanders reached the thief first and tackled him to the ground, struggling to disarm him. Ruddy and Archie caught up to the team. The five of them wrestled with the suspect who fought like a rabid dog, slicing at the officers with the knife.
The suspect booted one of the team in the face. Blood spurted from his nose but he managed to hold onto the offending foot and twist, eliciting a screech from the suspect. The other officer grabbed the suspect’s other leg. Flanders was still fighting, fending off blows from the thief’s free hand. Archie pummeled the thief as Ruddy bent the knife wielding arm backwards and stepped on the suspect’s elbow. The thief cried out.
“Let go of the knife.” Ruddy applied more weight and twisted the wrist of his knife wielding hand. “Let go or I’ll break your arm.”
The suspect screamed and Ruddy wrenched the knife from him.
A woman in the crowd that gathered fainted. Several other ladies near her stood wide-eyed. The rest of the crowd who’d grown around the battling men appeared disappointed at the donnybrook’s end. A ripple of laughter and whispers passed through the group when the police stood the suspect up and Flanders was revealed as the tough woman in the dress.
“Here,” Archie handed the officer with the bleeding nose his handkerchief. “We’ll meet you at the station. Get yourself to a doctor first and then ask him to come to the jail. I think the suspect will need his arm looked at.”
The suspect whimpered and cradled his elbow in the palm of his other hand. “I think you broke my arm,” he moaned. Ruddy shrugged. “You shouldn’t try to stab Peelers.”
The suspect yelled when Flanders pulled his arms back to cuff him. “Stop squealing like a woman,” Archie told him. “You’re embarrassing yourself.”
Ruddy patted Flanders on the back. “Good work. Let’s get this knapper to the station,” he ordered, relieved they had this case solved. After the disappointment and lack of leads on their double homicides, this was a great opportunity to please Jameson.
“I’ll sneak Northam in to get a photograph of Flanders in the dress before he can change,” Ruddy said low to Archie.
“I’ll make sure to delay him until Northam is set up,” said Archie, grinning.
Chapter Twenty-Two
“Drat, Me-Too, I have to do more research at the British Museum Library again,” Graciela said as she removed her bonnet. “The Chief Librarian there is so snippy. He was so condescending to me last time, I wanted to give him a swift kick in the shins.”
The cat sat up, her light eyes following Graciela as she walked around the bedroom, her pinkish feline brows furrowing at the mention of the Chief Librarian.
Graciela noticed and plopped on the bed next to Me-Too. “It can’t be avoided. I did some reconnaissance at Finch’s townhome. He lives in Mayfair, not far from the park. I could easily walk there from here and return in a decent amount of time. But I have the same problem as I had with Skinner; his family. I can’t guarantee that only he will drink the arsenic.”
Me-Too dug her nails into Graciela’s thigh. “Ow. I’ve no choice but to search the society pages of the newspaper archives. I need to find out where Finch works.” The cat dug the nails of both front paws into her thigh. “Stop it.” Graciela pushed the cat away. “No, I won’t give up. Two down, two to go.”
The cat jumped off the bed and onto the sill of the window, turning her back to Graciela.
****
“Weren’t you here several weeks ago?” the Chief Librarian asked. “Don’t bother answering. I know you were. I told you then, this is a serious place. Again, I repeat myself and tell you there’s nothing of foolish womanly interest here. You had need of one book we possessed last time, but I find it difficult to believe you have need of any of our resources a second time.” He sat back wearing that same thin-lipped arrogant expression he wore last time.
Graciela didn’t say, “Listen you parrot-faced little worm fobbing himself off as a man, let me in or else.” Although those words hovered on the tip of her tongue, she said, “I need an entrance ticket. I wouldn’t have come except it is important to my employer, Lady Zachary. I must search some newspaper archives for her. As soon as I have the information she requires, I will be gone from here.” Mrs. Zachary’s husband was a man of influence in his time and her name still carried some authority.
Upon hearing it, the Chief Librarian mumbled his displeasure but issued an entrance ticket. “Do hurry and sit in the back so as to not disturb the men who are conducting important work.”
Behind him, the Chief Librarian had a tea tray with a pot, a small tub of sugar and pitcher of cream. His half-filled cup of tea sat at his elbow on the desk. Graciela eyed the teapot on the tray as he wrote out the ticket. If I had my flask of arsenic, I could make you sorry you gave me or any other woman who came here stick.
“What are you staring at?” the librarian asked and looked over his shoulder.
“Nothing. I was just thinking.”
“Here’s your entrance ticket. Again, don’t be long.” He held the ticket out.
She found the information she sought in the Illustrated London News. The paper carried a story of the banns and description of the wedding of Finch’s daughter. In the banns, Finch was described as a renowned Harley Street doctor.
A doctor, Graciela thought, could work to her advantage, much more so than trying to find a way into Skinner’s office. She could always fake an illness. A shadow appeared in her peripheral vision. She covered the card she’d written Finch’s information on with her hand and looked over. It was the librarian.
“Are you almost done?” he asked, eyeing her hand covering the card.
Momentary worry crossed her mind as to what he might’ve seen. But even if he did see the information it was just a woman writing the name of a well-known doctor down. Nothing suspicious in that. “Soon.”
“Good.” The librarian left.
On her way out, she dropped the ticket on the librarian’s desk. He wasn’t there. She glanced over at the tea tray where the pot sat unattended. You’re lucky I’m not a murderer, Mr. Librarian.
****
She’d chosen headaches as her particular medical problem. The directory of doctors included short commentaries from many regarding some of the various illnesses they routinely treated. Finch was among those who treated ladies who suffered headaches. All the doctors who mentioned treatment for those women said it was the result of an inherited gender flaw not found in men. According to those same doctors, men who suffered headaches always had medical problems as the root cause. Women, by virtue of their sex were given to hysteria; headaches were a natural byproduct.
“Balderdash,” Graciela whispered reading their arrogant assumptions and male crowings about so-called feminine defects. She’d nearly gone mad with crushing headaches for months following the rape. Headaches never troubled her prior to the incident. Eventually, they subsided. One thing she knew and didn’t need a medical degree to tell her, the painful episodes had nothing to do with her gender or hysteria.
On occasion, she battled other weaknesses. All her life she had loved swans. She loved to sit by the river and watch them swim by in pairs. Such elegant birds, such a sense of peace surrounded them. She’d been riverside gathering wildflowers and watching the swans that day when Finch and his buddies caught her. After that day and ever since, the sight of swans was no longer a thing of beauty to her but a sight that made her heart race and shortened her breath. When she and Zachary visited places where swans were present, she’d been fortunate and hidden the problem from Zachary by focusing attention elsewhere. She wondered sometimes if other rape victims had similar reactions. There was no way to know of course, no woman in her right mind admitted to rape.
Graciela had to take three trams to Harley Street. She’d been to Harley Street before when accompanying Mrs. Zachary to the doctor and the one solo trip. Those times they came by carriage, which was far more comfortable. This wasn’t the first time on public transportation. She�
��d taken streetcars visiting places on her days off but earlier in the day before the afternoon rush. Today the overcrowding on two of the trams and press of strangers on all sides of her as the cars lurched along, stopping and starting set her teeth on edge. She had enough on her mind thinking about fooling Finch without the additional irritating distraction the crowds caused.
She wanted to at least get a look at the building where Finch had his office. If possible, she’d like to take a peek inside. If he was as successful as Cross and Skinner, and in all likelihood he probably was, he’d have an assistant. She’d have to find a way of getting the assistant off the premises when the time came. Wouldn’t it be lovely if the ruse of a midday meal worked again, as it did with Skinner’s clerk?
Finch’s office was in a two-story brick building midblock from the tram stop. Finch was listed on a brass plaque by the entry door along with several other doctors. Graciela went inside where another directory in the vestibule listed Finch and indicated his office was on the second floor. Hmm, there’ll be no cutting of windows and breaking into his place.
She stood outside his door for several minutes debating whether to go in today or come back on her next day off. There was no reason to put off going in today and making an appointment. She grasped the doorknob but couldn’t bring herself to turn it and go in. A horrible sense of foreboding bore down on her and she jumped away from the door.
“Stop it, Graciela. What’s wrong with you? You’re just going into a doctor’s office. You’ve done that a dozen times.”
She stepped up and grasped the knob again. Again, she backed away as the press of a warning shadow filled her with an inexplicable fear. She leaned against the opposite wall and closed her eyes, trying to gather courage.
She pictured the attack in her mind. She went over the details step by step, remembering who did what, remembering the horror of how each pig felt pushing into her. She let the memory and her hate sustain her and give her what she needed. With hate buoying her, she entered his office.
Snifter of Death Page 18
