He said a prayer for the poor souls who had died here, then hurried downstairs to the constable.
“Unlock the door, if you please. Come in with me and bring that candle.”
The hall where the constable had been sitting was gloomy and he’d lit the wall sconce.
Once inside, Murdoch went directly over to the hearth. “Constable, I’m having a hard time bending down. Will you take a careful look at the floor right about here? Is there anything you see? Use the candle, it’s dark in here.”
Whiteside crouched down close to the floor and wiped his fingers on the threadbare carpet.
“Just bits of plaster, sir.” He glanced up at the ceiling. “Looks as if they came from up there.”
Murdoch strained to look up. All of the ceiling was cracked and chipped but here, just to the right of the chimney, there was a fairly large piece of plaster broken off. The lathes of the floor in the room above were visible. No wonder the carbonic monoxide gas had infiltrated the Tugwell room.
That had been the point.
When he walked into the station, Seymour beckoned to him. “Our tramp friend is insisting he talk to you. He refused to say a word to me, but I’m thinking he’s ready to make a confession.”
“I don’t know about that, Charlie. I’ve made a discovery. You know we kept saying, Who would want to kill old man Hicks? Well I’m sure now he was just unfortunate. The intended victims were the Tugwells. The murderer was diabolical. He knew that by creating carbon monoxide in Hicks’s chimney, the gas would drift up to the next floor. He must have given Hicks prussic acid to make him unconscious so he could block the chimney and stuff the windows. Then he used a broom handle to aggravate a missing patch of plaster in the ceiling and left the rest to fate.”
“My God, but same question, why kill them?”
“I believe Mrs. Tugwell went to visit Howard shortly before he died. I think she may have told him something incriminating about somebody, God knows who, or exactly what, at this point but I’m starting to guess. The what part anyway. Josie Tugwell was on the game. Perhaps her mother told the pastor about Josie’s customers.” He took Howard’s letter out of his pocket. “Miss Dignam took this from the pastor’s desk, but for her own convoluted reasons that I’ll tell you about later, she didn’t admit to it until this morning when she brought it to me. It’s not addressed to anybody and it’s not finished, but listen to this: ‘It is with heavy heart that I write this letter. I wish I was not privy to the information I have just now received which I must impart to you.’ What does that sound like to you, Charlie?”
“If, as you say, Esther Tugwell came to confide in him, she wasn’t talking about some piece of gutter slime who dipped his wick when he could, but somebody respectable, somebody known.”
“Exactly. And I’m wondering if that same pillar of society came to the office while Howard was writing his letter. There could have been a big confrontation and the selfsame respectable cove killed him.”
Seymour whistled through his teeth. “My goodness. This is a new turn of events. So you don’t suspect our man, Trevelyan, at the moment?”
“I’m ruling out nothing. Let’s see what he has to say, shall we? I’ll pay him a visit.” He headed for the cells at the rear of the station. “Keep an ear out will you, Charlie? If I yell, come quick.”
Murdoch slipped aside the peep-hole cover in the cell door. Traveller was lying on his back on the hard, narrow bed, his eyes closed. Murdoch unlocked the door and went in. The tramp was alert instantly and he rolled over and propped himself on his elbow.
“Mr. Murdoch, ye’re a busy man. I asked to talk to you an hour ago.”
“Forgive me for not coming running, I was investigating the case.”
“And what did you find then? The mayor committed the crime? Or maybe it was Reverend Power wanting to get rid of the non-believer?”
Murdoch was in no mood for jokes and he felt irritated. “What did you want to talk to me about, Mr. Trevelyan?”
“Oh, it’s Mr. Trevelyan, is it? I thought we’d progressed to Christian names at least. I was going to call you Willie and you can certainly call me Jack if you like. Or even Traveller, which I prefer.”
He was grinning in a good-humoured way and Murdoch shrugged. There were two beds in the cell and he perched on the opposite one.
“Do you have some baccy?” Trevelyan asked him. “I’d fain give my soul to the devil for a pipe of good black Durham.”
“Here.” Murdoch fished out his own pipe and tobacco pouch and handed it to him. He waited until the tramp had lit up and taken a deep, grateful pull. The tiny cell was filled with pungent smoke.
“There’s some people coming to see me in about half an hour, Traveller, so I’d be glad if you’d get a move on.”
Traveller eyed him shrewdly and beamed his gap-toothed smile. “I’m getting more and more the sense that you ain’t got me on your hanging list. Am I right?”
“I’m not sure you ever were, but I do know you’re holding out on me. You’re not telling me what really happened in the church on Tuesday.”
“What makes you think I was in the church? I recall telling you I was catching a kip in the greenhouse.”
“Let’s just say you left something behind.” In answer to Traveller’s raised eyebrow, he added. “A smell. There was a powerful smell of sulphur in the church. Fumigation every night and the clothes stink. I know mine were terrible.”
Traveller laughed. “Folks think we tramps smell like that because we ain’t washed, but that ain’t it. I’ve had a bath three days in a row and been fumigated three days in a row.” He sniffed at his sleeve. “They reek. If hell smells this bad I’m going to live a very good life and make sure I don’t end up there.”
“Start with telling the truth then. That should give you some marks in God’s balance book.”
Traveller drew in some smoke and blew it out slowly. “All right. I was in the church that afternoon. It was a cold day and I’ve sometimes slipped in there for a little kip before finding my bed for the night. It was empty at that hour and I goes upstairs to the balcony and stretch out on one of the pews. I’ve dropped off nice when the next thing is I’m wide awake because I can hear coves shouting downstairs. They must have been loud because they was in the back where the offices are.” He puffed on the pipe again and Murdoch shifted impatiently. “Just rein in a bit, Willie, I’ll say it in my own good time. It’s not often I have such rapt attention from a frog. I know what you were going to ask me, but no, I couldn’t make out what they were saying. All I can tell you is that one in particular is real mad about something. He’s shouting more than the other. It don’t go on too long, hardly enough to say how do you do, how are you, and how’s your mother’s health. Then they shuts up and a few ticks later, I hear a door slam shut so I gathers one of them had left by the back way. All nice and quiet now and I tucks myself back into my wooden bed. I ain’t interested in other folks’ barneys. I drops off properly this time, but wouldn’t you know I’m woke again cos I hear somebody come pitter-patting down the aisle. I takes a peek and I sees this lady. She kneels down in front of that rail they’ve got in the front of the church. Oh no, Jack, don’t tell me we’re in for a prayer meeting, I says to myself. I know how it’ll be if I get found.” He sniffed. “I’m leery of the type of Christian ladies who fancy themselves good Samaritans but who want you to keep your place and that ain’t asleep in the balcony of the church. Anyways, she doesn’t stay long on her knees but trots off through the door at the back of the church. I’m a sitting there wondering if this ain’t a good time to leave when the next thing I know, the woman is shrieking her head off. She don’t come back into the church, but I can hear her outside, crying like she’s seen the devil himself. I thinks it might be wise to do some investigating myself so I slips down the staircase that leads to the back of the church where the offices are. Well, I can smell the blood right away and I know something bad has happened and I’d better not linger. The door to on
e of the offices is open and I can see a man lying on his back. He has a knife sticking out of the side of his neck and his face is all smashed in on one side.” Traveller paused to take a particularly long pull on the pipe. He blew out slowly. “Needless to say, the poor cove is no longer one of the living –”
“How long do you think he had been dead?”
“Well I didn’t touch him, but I got the sense it wasn’t long. The wounds were still oozing.” The tramp glanced over at Murdoch. “Would you say I am being of assistance to the police in this case and that will balance out any little sins I might have committed?”
“Yes, yes. Get on with it, for God’s sake.”
“Well, you know now how important a good pair of boots is to a tramp. I see the poor dead fellow is wearing a pair that are a sight better than mine. He obviously don’t need them any more, so I get them off fast as I can and then let myself out by the side door. There weren’t anybody around, thank goodness, so I go straight over to the Gardens so I could change the boots.”
“Did you also take the man’s watch?”
Traveller shook his head. “I didn’t see no watch. I told you the gospel truth when I said I found that one in the entrance to the greenhouse.” Again he took a pull of the pipe. “I’m thinking it might have been laid there as a trap. The chain weren’t broke for one thing. I should have known better but there you go, we’re all human, aren’t we? It was a handsome piece and I couldn’t resist it.”
Traveller had a good point about the watch, Murdoch thought.
“Did you see a biscuit tin in the church?”
“A tin? Oh, you’re right. I forgot. It was laying right beside the body. I seen it under the lady’s arm when she was a praying. She must have dropped it when she came on him dead like that. I did pick it up. No sense in wasting good food. I ate the cake and left the tin under a bush in the greenhouse if she’s looking for it.”
“Was it a man who was arguing with the pastor?”
“Of course it was. There wouldn’t be shouting like that if one of them was a lady, would there?”
“Would you recognize the voice if you were to hear it again?”
“Nope. Like I said, I couldn’t even make out words, just that they was having a big barney. That much was clear.”
Murdoch tapped his fingers on the bed. “You tell a good story, Traveller, but then you’ve had lots of practice. How do I know it’s true? It could just have easily been you who went into the pastor’s office, asking for money. He was distracted by something and wouldn’t talk to you. You became enraged and struck him with the letter opener, then kicked him in the side of the head. This version fits the facts just as well.”
Traveller laughed out loud, genuinely amused. “Look, Willie, if I had lost my temper and done in every man who ever turned me down, I’d have been hung more times than fifty cats have lives.” He gazed at Murdoch through the haze of smoke between them. “Speaking of overhearing, I heard you and your inspector having a barney earlier. He’s hell bent on sending me to the gallows. I’m charged and convicted with him. I thought about it and decided I’d better tell you the truth so as to give you a chance to find the real culprit.”
It was Murdoch’s turn to laugh. “And here I thought you had repented of your sins and wanted to help me.”
Traveller waved his pipe. “That too.”
Chapter Forty-Five
OLIVIA AND ED WERE WAITING for him in the front hall.
“You’d better hurry up, we don’t have much time,” said Olivia. “There’s sure to be a long queue already.”
“I’m ready. I just have to change coat and hat with Ed.”
“What’s he going to do now?”
“He can stay in my office.”
“That’s a laugh. Ed in a frog’s job. Let’s hope he won’t have any plungers to deal with.”
“Don’t worry, all he’s going to do is sit there and shut up.”
Clearly Olivia was a mite jealous of Ed’s change in status, even if it was pretend. As for him, he was beaming and when Murdoch slipped on the dirty-looking hat and the long, heavily stained coat, he could see why. Even with the sealskin coat, Ed was definitely getting the better end of the exchange.
Leaving him safely ensconced behind the desk with a copy of the chief constable’s annual report to keep him occupied, Murdoch and Olivia set out for the depot. She had softened toward him again and chatted away as they walked up Parliament as fast as he could manage.
“Ed and I are thinking of getting hitched this summer.”
“I thought you didn’t believe in marriage?”
“Who told you that? It’ll be good for business and Tim needs a father as he’s getting older.”
She seemed oblivious to the fact that her business as she called it was on the other side of the law. Murdoch had promised them a pardon if they helped him and he hoped he’d be able to honour that promise.
“We’ll invite you,” she added.
The depot was at the corner of Parliament and Oak Streets on the front steps of the Methodist church. The queue of applicants was already about twenty strong and Olivia and Murdoch slipped in at the end. A trestle table was set up in front of the church doors and two well-dressed ladies were standing behind it with aprons over their fur coats and soup ladles at the ready in their hands.
“Where’s your pail?” Olivia hissed in Murdoch’s ear.
“I didn’t think to bring one.”
She smirked at him triumphantly. “No good at this, are you? Good thing I have mine.”
He glanced around and saw that all the other people in the queue were carrying enamel or tin pails of various sizes and shapes. The majority of the applicants were women. Behind him an old lady, wizened and toothless, muttered to herself and avoided his glance. She was carrying a blackened iron pot. In front of him was a coloured girl, about ten years old, who had a scarf tied over her summer bonnet for headgear. There were only two other men in the entire group, one middle-aged and bone thin, who shifted restlessly from side to side as he waited, the other younger and fierce-looking. He stood slightly apart from the others, ashamed of being in such company.
“Do you see the girl?” Murdoch asked Olivia.
She shook her head. “Not yet.”
The church doors opened and two men came out carrying a large, steaming soup pot between them, which they hoisted onto the trestle table. The queue stirred and shuffled forward. The women who were serving were friendly and brisk.
“Give your dockets to Mrs. Heller as you come up,” called out one of them. “Hurry up now, get it while it’s hot. Hold up your pail, there’s a good girl.”
This was addressed to the ten-year-old. She received her dollop of soup, covered it with a tin lid, picked up two slices of bread from the bin, and hurried away. Her pail wasn’t that large and Murdoch wondered how many people it was supposed to feed.
From where he stood, the soup smelled good and the eagerness with which the applicants in the queue stared at the pot confirmed they felt the same.
Suddenly, Olivia nudged him with her elbow. “There she is, over there.”
A young woman with a plaid shawl over her head was walking slowly up the road. She had a pail in her hands, which were ungloved.
“What do you want me to do?” Olivia whispered.
“Nothing at the moment. Just get your soup. And let her get hers, then we’ll talk to her.”
He could see the woman scanning the group and he ducked his head. He didn’t want anything to frighten her away and he could feel his heart beating faster in anticipation. She might hold the key to the murder.
She joined the end of the line just as Olivia and Murdoch were moved forward. He was so obviously in pain the two women serving at the trestle table smiled on him with sympathy.
“He forgot his pail,” said Olivia as she held out hers for her serving. The older of the two women, a sweet-faced matronly woman, reached down and brought out an enamel bowl from a box beside her.
>
“You can use this, but you’ll have to eat your soup here.”
Mrs. Heller intervened, “Do you have your docket?”
Murdoch groaned to himself. He’d forgotten all about that. “No, I don’t.”
She frowned at him, her good humour vanishing, a woman who was wise to the ways of paupers. “You did receive one, I hope?”
“Well, I, er –”
“’Course he did,” Olivia jumped in. “He’s on Reverend Howard’s list, if you want to check.”
“We don’t go by lists,” said the woman. “You have to present us with a docket.” She reached into a cloth bag on the table and pulled out a white slip of paper. “It looks like this.” She’d raised her voice as if he had suddenly become hard of hearing.
Olivia turned to Murdoch and snapped, “You’d forget your head if it was loose.” She swivelled back to the church woman. “I’ll vouch for him, missus. He hurt his back chopping wood and I think it affected his brain.”
Some brave soul from the rear of the queue shouted out, “What’s the hold up?”
The older matron hesitated, then nodded at her companion. Ungraciously, Mrs. Heller seized the bowl and spooned half a ladle of soup into it. Olivia’s pail was filled next and they picked up their bread and moved away quickly from the line, making their way over to one of the benches by the curb. Most of the people in the queue left immediately after they’d received their helping but some, like them, sat on the bench to eat the soup while it was indeed hot. Murdoch had no utensil with which to eat the thick glutinous liquid so he followed the example of a man next to him and brought the bowl to his lips and half drank, half chewed it down. Although the colour was an unappetizing grey, and the consistency was that of wallpaper glue, it was surprisingly tasty and he had no trouble eating it. Olivia took out a spoon from her pocket and used that.
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