The bread was dry and Murdoch used it to sop up the last bit of soup. He wiped his mouth on his sleeve.
“Oi, that’s Ed’s good coat,” said Olivia. “I’m going to buy him a new one.”
The young woman in the shawl was now at the front of the line and she received her helping, got her two slices, and started to walk away.
“Go and talk to her, quick,” said Murdoch. “Tell her who I am and that I must talk to her about what she said to you. I won’t prosecute.” He squeezed Olivia’s arm. “Please give me a good reference, I’m depending on you.”
“Take care of my pail.” She got up and hurried over to the girl. They were out of earshot, but Murdoch could follow what was being said. First the surprised greeting, then the sudden alarmed glance in his direction (he smiled), then the vigorous shaking of the head, then more talking, Olivia’s hands gesticulating (another smile from him), finally a reluctant agreement. Olivia took the girl’s arm and led her to the bench. She was even younger than she had seemed from a distance, but poverty had worn away most of the prettiness she might have had. She had the pasty skin typical of somebody who doesn’t eat decent food. Her dark brown eyes were hard and wary.
“Mr. Murdoch, this is Ida. She’s agreed to help but only if you promise she won’t get into trouble.”
Murdoch stood up and touched his hat. “Hello, Ida. It’s not you I’m after. I want to follow up on something you told Mrs. Bagley.”
“I told who?”
“Me,” said Olivia.
“Are you the frog’s shill?”
“No, I’m not. He’s making me do it.”
Murdoch was irritated by this remark and his voice was sharp. “Let’s say we struck a bargain. Both sides benefit.”
Olivia sucked in her cheeks. “We’ve all got to make a living in this sorry world, haven’t we?”
“Yes, we do, and that includes me,” Murdoch snapped back at her.
Ida had watched this exchange with interest and for some reason it seemed to bring her more over to Murdoch’s side.
“I’m getting perishing here while you two barney. Can we get on with it so I can go home?”
Murdoch forced himself to calm down. “You mentioned a certain man to Mrs. Bagley here. You said he was a Visitor with the city. Do you know his name?”
“Can’t say as I do.”
Murdoch reached into his inner pocket and took out his money clip. He had five one-dollar bills. He pulled out two of them.
“Will this further our conversation?”
“Two won’t, but three might. I’m not that chatty.”
“All right, three dollars and no more.”
Ida took the money from him and stuffed it inside her jacket. Then she laughed, a loud, coarse laugh that was nevertheless genuine.
“You should have heard first and paid after because truth is I really don’t know the cove’s name. They don’t introduce themselves. They’ll ask for yours, mind. They ask all sorts of questions of you. They poke around your room to make sure you really are starving and freezing and not just malingering. Mostly they want to see if you are hickey and even if you’ve downed some vile brew to help you forget your godforsaken life, they don’t give a pauper’s dilberry. You’re shit out of luck if you’re caught. Then like God Almighty himself, they decide if you are going to get a docket for a few bits of coal that won’t last more than three days and food that isn’t enough to feed a dog anyway and for this you have to bob and bow and look ever so grateful or you’re off their list.”
This flood of bitterness washed over Murdoch. “Are they all like that, all the Visitors?”
“Yeah, they all are. Some just have more cream on the top than others, but underneath they’re the same sour milk.”
She plopped herself down on the bench and removed the lid from the pail. “I’m going to have my pig’s swill now. Talk away.”
“The man who propositioned, er –”
“I know what that means. The man who wanted to have some touch up in exchange for a couple of dockets.”
“What did he look like?”
Ida raised her pail to her lips and, like Murdoch had, half ate, half drank the soup. “Can’t tell you that either, he was muffled up. Didn’t want his mug to show.”
“Was he tall, short? Fat? Thin?”
She sighed. “Let’s put it this way, mister. I wasn’t paying much attention. They’re all the same to me because from where I’m working I usually can’t see their faces anyway.”
Olivia snorted in disapproval.
“There’s bin so many, I can’t tell one from the other,” continued Ida. “I make it a point, really. Why should I remember them? They don’t want to know me,”
Murdoch couldn’t help himself. “But you’re hardly twenty, surely?”
She snickered. “You’re out by two years, mister.”
“I’d have said close to thirty myself,” chipped in Olivia.
“Nobody asked you, did they?”
Both women looked as if they would like to continue in this vein, but Murdoch quickly brought Ida back to the matter at hand. “Had this man been to see you before?”
“No. I do know that much. This one was new. But he was a gawdelpus, I can tell you that.”
“How do you know?”
“He had to say his prayers first. ‘God forgive me for what I am about to do and forgive this daughter of Eve.’ Horse plop like that. I ain’t looking for forgiveness. Then he prayed even worse afterward about what a wicked man he was. He got himself all worked up, made me nervous. But it’s all bollocks as far as I’m concerned. If it bothers your conscience so bad, don’t do it. Or go somewhere private and flog the bishop.” She wiped the bread around the rim of the pail to mop up the last vestiges of the soup. “Do you know what kind of soup this is?”
Murdoch shook his head.
“Nor me. S’s good though.”
Murdoch hadn’t finished half of his second slice and he offered it to the woman. She nodded thanks and stuffed it into her mouth, licking her dirty fingers. Olivia made it clear what she thought of such disgusting manners.
Then Ida snapped her fingers. “You know what, that old Tom did give me a name. Some of them like you to say their name, then they can pretend they aren’t really paying for it. I get it all the time. ‘Oh Ida, tell Johnny he’s got a lovely big cock.’”
Olivia looked shocked and glanced at Murdoch in dismay. Ida grinned more. “This one wanted me to scold him. That was fine with me. ‘Oh, you are a very bad man. You shouldn’t be doing this, Mr. Howard.’”
Murdoch flinched. “That was his name? Howard?”
She shrugged. “That’s what he said. Christian name, Charles. I made a joke of it, ‘Oh Prince Charlie how ’ard you are.’ But he didn’t like that at all. I thought he might even haul off with a stotter.” She stared at Murdoch. “Why’ve you got that face on? Don’t tell me he’s your best friend?”
Chapter Forty-Six
MURDOCH TRIED TO COMPREHEND what the girl had just said.
Ida poked him. “Oi. You know for a copper you give too much away on your ugly mug.”
Olivia was also gaping. “She ain’t talking about the pastor that was done in, is she?”
“What pastor that was done in?” Ida asked, her hard eyes flashing with excitement.
Murdoch didn’t answer. “Ida, when did this Visitor last come to see you?”
“Monday afternoon. That’s their regular hours. But come on, what’s the gabble on a dead pastor?”
“I’m investigating the murder of a Reverend Charles Howard. He was killed on Tuesday afternoon.”
Ida upended the pail to make sure it was truly empty. “Too bad for him.”
“And too bad for you too. No more bargains to be made,” said Olivia.
“Oh I don’t know about that. I’m planning to meet the cove this very afternoon, as a matter of fact.”
“Dead men don’t meet up with anybody, the last I heard.”
&nb
sp; Ida laughed, her hearty coarse laugh. “Most of the men I deal with are dead. That’s why they come to me. It’s my job to bring ’em back to life.”
Murdoch jumped in. “What do you mean, you’re planning to meet this man today?”
“Just what I said. He came by on Wednesday and said to meet him in the Gardens after I’d done at the depot.”
Olivia turned to Murdoch. “So it isn’t the pastor. She’s talking about somebody else?”
“It would appear that way. Either he gave out Howard’s name or it’s an amazing coincidence.”
“Too bloody amazing to be believed, if you ask me.”
Ida frowned. “What are you two gabbling on about? Are you saying the dead gawdelpus was named Charlie Howard?”
“That’s right,” Murdoch answered.
She snickered. “Cheeky tom then. Must have read about it in the papers. It happens. The best one I ever heard was a cove telling me he was the prime minister … come to think of it, maybe he was.”
“Watch your tongue, Ida Harper,” said Olivia suppressing a laugh.
Ida seemed to be enjoying her role as teacher of the game. “They’ll say anything to keep you off the track just in case you fancy putting a bit of a squeeze on the wife. One fellow said he was dying and he was a virgin and his doctor had recommended female connections before he passed on. Said it might prolong his life.” She laughed. “Must have, because he’s still in the land of the living six years later. Big nob with city council. This Howard cove tried to excuse his little sin by telling me he hadn’t had conjugal relations for weeks because his wife had one under her apron.”
“Didn’t you tell me the pastor’s wife was expecting?” Olivia exclaimed to Murdoch.
“Yes, she is. And he wouldn’t have learned that from the newspaper.”
Ida tapped Murdoch’s arm. “Is that all because I have to get going?”
“You swear it’s one and the same man who came to see you on Monday? You said you couldn’t tell one Tom from another.”
“Not to look at, but I know voices. He sounded like he had a cold, but that was probably a lot of gammon too. Of course it was the same one. And he wants the same thing. He must have been happy with our exchange of favours.” She wiped her mouth with a filthy handkerchief she took from her pocket. “I’m off. He won’t wait.”
Murdoch grabbed her by the arm. “You’re not going anywhere. I need to talk to this fellow.” He took out his money clip and removed the last two dollars. “Here. Take this and I want you to swap shawls with Mrs. Bagley.”
“This is my good wool,” protested Olivia.
“So’s mine,” said Ida. But the truth was her shabby plaid was far inferior to Olivia’s hand-knitted shawl, as they both knew.
“Please, ladies. We don’t have much time.”
Reluctantly, Olivia removed her shawl and handed it to the other woman.
“Ida, what is your last name and where do you live? No, you won’t get into trouble, but I’ll have to come back to talk to you.”
“I’d like that,” said the girl with a lecherous smile that elicited another snort of disapproval from Olivia. “It’s Harper. Ida Harper and I live at 310 Sherbourne, the first room at the back.” She wrapped the shawl over her head. “Do I get to keep this?”
“No.”
“Yes.”
Olivia and Murdoch spoke simultaneously, and he had the feeling he had just said goodbye to half a week’s wages.
“Where exactly were you to meet this man?”
“In the Horticultural Gardens. There’s a greenhouse on the south side, the one with the water wheel and the pond. It’s nice and private with all the shrubs.”
“He’s taking a risk, ain’t he?” said Olivia. “People go through there.”
“Not so much at this time of the year. He said it was convenient for him.”
“In what way, convenient?”
“He lives close by. He can boil the kettle, pop out for a bit of dock, and be back in time to mash the tea. But if you want my opinion, he’s the kind that gets excited if there’s summat of a risk involved.”
Murdoch got to his feet. “Ida, thank you for your help.” He took Olivia by the arm. “Come on. We have to hurry.”
She allowed herself to be led away. “I still don’t know why I had to give that tart my good shawl.”
“Because I want you to pretend to be her.”
She stopped in her tracks. “Pretend to be a tart? Never. Besides, it sounds dangerous. You seem to suspect this cove of doing for Mr. Howard.”
“I don’t know that for sure. I just want to talk to him. You’ll be quite safe, I promise you.”
“You and your promises. You couldn’t defend a fox from a rabbit in your condition.”
She was right about that, and the last thing Murdoch wanted was to see her hurt. “All I want you to do is be there so he at least comes into the greenhouse and I can identify him.”
She studied his face. “Did your ma want you to be a copper?”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“If she did, she’d be beaming on you right now the way I’ve seen the mothers of some of the bloody priests. They go to every mass and think they’re Mary Herself.”
Murdoch didn’t know if he completely understood the comparison and Olivia’s comment opened up all sorts of possibilities for future reflection but not right now.
“Lumbago or no lumbago, Olivia. I won’t put you in danger.”
She gave his cheek a quick pat. “Don’t worry. I’m good at taking care of myself.”
It didn’t take them long to reach the Horticultural Gardens. The grounds and the outside of the pavilion looked as deserted as ever.
“We’d better not be seen together,” said Murdoch. “I’ll go in first.”
“What if he’s already there?”
“So much the better. Then I won’t have to involve you.”
Olivia frowned. “Hold on. You’re not thinking straight. You could go and arrest some innocent geezer who’s just in there sniffing the flowers. You need to catch this cove in the act. Don’t say no. You wouldn’t be able to prove a thing unless he actually says or does something.”
“Olivia, I can’t –”
She interrupted him. “I told you, I can take care of myself. Besides it’s worth my while to get in good with the frogs, especially you with your conscience.”
Murdoch was about to protest again, but she stopped him. “Get a move on, for Christ’s sake. I’ll wait here. If he is inside, you’ll have to walk on by, but at least you’ll get a gander at him.”
She was right.
“Give me five minutes. If I’m not out by then it means he isn’t there and I’ll have found a hiding place. The greenhouse where they’re supposed to meet is to the left through the connecting door. Near the end of the path, right next to the water wheel, you’ll see a tool shed. I’m going to try to hide in there.”
She nodded and pulled the shawl closer around her face. “Poo, this thing stinks.”
Murdoch left her there, pushed open the door into the greenhouse, and headed for the connecting door to the left. When he went through, he was disappointed to see the place was quite deserted, no muffled man on the prowl. He’d been jolted when Ida said this rendezvous was convenient for her Visitor. There were two men who fitted into that category, Swanzey and Drummond, and both would know the more intimate facts of Howard’s family life. He grimaced. So much for intuition. Until now, he wouldn’t have suspected either one capable of misusing his position as Visitor the way this one was. And certainly not of killing Howard. But one of them had.
Chapter Forty-Seven
MURDOCH WALKED DOWN the ramp and along the path to the bend where the pond and water wheel were. His back was worse. He felt sympathy for women condemed to wear tight corsets. His entire lower back felt as if it was being held fast by whalebone. Running was impossible however much he willed himself to override the pain.
Ida’s Visitor
had chosen well. This section of the greenhouse was completely secluded, the windows obscured by the lush shrubs and the entrance quite hidden by the bend in the path. A bench was at the corner. He smelled again the soft perfume of the hyacinths.
The entrance to the little hut was through a gate with a notice, WORKMEN ONLY, and a short path led to the door. Murdoch thanked God it wasn’t locked and stepped inside. The one small window must have been broken because it was partially boarded over and the interior was dark. Murdoch opened his eyes wide, willing himself to see through the gloom. After his eyes adjusted, he could see now that he was in a tool shed, with gardening implements, spades and forks, stacked around the walls. The hut was in disrepair and there were gaps in the wood slats. He could hear the splashing as each paddle of the waterwheel hit the stream rushing from the wall. By pressing his face to a space between the window boards, he could see the path but only a few feet to his left. It was too late to find another place now, but he might have attempted it if Olivia hadn’t suddenly appeared. She walked by, paused, and turned to face the way she had come. Murdoch tensed. Just as suddenly a man appeared a few feet behind her. He was fairly tall, bundled up in a long black coat. A muffler was wrapped around his neck and face and his black fedora was pulled down low.
Who was it?
Murdoch saw rather than heard Olivia greet the man. The noise of the wheel drowned out her words, but some sort of exchange went on. She was keeping the shawl wrapped around her face all this time, but she shook her head. Murdoch could see the man recoil and suddenly, he reached and yanked the shawl away from her. Olivia backed away. Murdoch knew she was talking fast to assuage him, but he looked around. He shouted and this time Murdoch could hear him.
Vices of My Blood Page 30
