He took a whistle out of his pocket and showed it to her.
“Something you could have purchased at any shop,” she said.
He took a steel shield out of his pocket, something Muriel knew many constables were using nowadays.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“My name is Mary Mase,” she said, praying it wasn’t the name of a person around here.
“What are you doing out in the middle of the night?” he asked. “It’s my experience that a person wandering the streets this late is up to no good.”
“I am staying with a relative down the street,” she said. “I couldn’t sleep and decided a bit of air would do me good.”
“Staying with whom?” He sneered at her. “There are no Mases around here. I would know.”
“Mase is my married name,” she said.
“Then who are you staying with? The Johnsons, the Cages, the Wilmonts?”
“None of those,” she said. “I’m staying with my late husband’s aunt. She is quite ill, and it has been a long day.” Muriel prayed once again that her subterfuge would work. There was almost always someone on a street that was elderly, and ill.
The constable took a step back. “Mrs. Crackle? She is friends with my wife and I hear she has been ill, but I haven’t heard of any relatives coming to care for her.”
“I just arrived this morning,” Mary said.
“Come then, I’ll escort you back to her house,” he said. “But first, did you see a lad run by here? He was wearing a dark hat, but I didn’t get a good look at him.”
“No, I didn’t,” Muriel said. “And, if you don’t mind, I don’t want to go back to the Crackle house just yet. I am tired, but unable to sleep. I need to walk some more.”
“Then I will accompany you,” he said.
“And stop your search?” Muriel backed away from him. “I would feel rather poorly if something happened because you did not find the man you are searching for. Is he a crook of some sort?”
“He’s… we’ve… that is the business of the authorities,” he said. “But I would feel even worse than you if something happened to you after I did not see you safely home.”
“Mr., or rather Constable… what is your name?”
“Mrs. Mase, my name is Issac Targent.” He bowed in her direction.
“Constable Targent, I live in London, and trust me I don’t have lot of money, so I live in an area that is not Mayfair, or Kensington, or the like.” She prayed the Crackles didn’t have a lot of money, so he would not question why she was a poor relation.
“What is your point?” the constable asked.
“My point is that since my husband died I have taken care of myself, and sometimes that means I have been out late at night. I work two jobs, one at a pub and another at a shop. I assure you I can take care of myself on the streets of Bangor.”
He leaned closer and said, “All right, take your walk, but don’t leave this street or I will know.”
“I was hoping to find a park nearby, where I could possible find a pond to walk around. Is there one nearby?” When he didn’t answer she said, “Constable Targent, I have seen no one on these streets except for you. I am sure I will be fine.”
After a few moments, he relented and told her there was a park about a ten-minute walk from here. And then, thankfully, he pointed her in the direction she’d been planning on going.
A sharp noise behind them caught both their attentions.
“There’s your man,” she said excitedly. “I am keeping you from your duties. Run and get him, go!”
Targent ran off without looking back at her, and Muriel hurried toward the main street. She was sure Ewan had caused the distraction to get her out of a bad situation. At least she prayed it was him and not someone working with the gang who had kidnapped Phee Robson-Jones.
She picked up her skirts and rushed down the street, bypassing the park with the pond and heading toward the pub. There were people in this area, most of them men, but no one paid her any attention. So, when a hand took hold of her shoulder she broke free, wheeled around and shot her doubled up fist toward her assailant. Whoever it was hit the ground with a satisfying thud.
“Muriel!” Ewan cried out, and then she heard him laugh. “I am happy you know how to defend yourself, my love, but it is me, your husband.”
“You frightened the living daylights out of me,” she said.
“I wanted to catch you before you got to the pub,” he said. “There was more than one constable, and it was all I could do to get away from him. I’m sure they will be watching for us. We need to go to Pregarin’s house and get inside, now.”
“But you owe me whisky,” she said with a laugh as he took her hand and led her away from the pub.
“Later,” he said.
They took a few steps then stopped dead in their tracks when a man called out, “Sir, sir!”
“Into the pub,” Ewan said. “Maybe they have a back door.”
They rushed inside. The place was teaming with people. Ewan guided her toward the back door, but they stopped suddenly, and she said, “What?”
“Listen,” he said. “I just heard the word body.”
They didn’t move, but Muriel didn’t hear what he had, and she shook her head.
Ewan put out his hand and stopped a passing serving girl. “Excuse me, but has there been trouble tonight?”
“Found an old woman dead, they did,” the girl said. “Near the pond at the park. I heard her throat had been slit. Scary.”
She hurried away without asking if they wanted drinks.
“Phee,” Muriel whispered.
“She said old woman,” he said. “My guess is Mrs. Wiggins. She ran at the first sign of trouble and her confederates got rid of her. Come on, we need to get to Pregarin’s house sooner rather than later and pray there is no one there waiting for us.”
Chapter 22
About twenty minutes later, Muriel wondered if Ewan really knew where they were going. Finally, after they’d ducked down streets then doubled back on the next one over, she jerked on his arm.
“Where are we going?”
“I don’t want anyone to follow us,” he said.
“I’m sure we lost any pursuers many streets back,” she said. “If you are lost, Ewan, just admit it and we can go back to Mrs. Wiggins’ house.”
“With her possibly dead?” He shook his head ever so slightly. “Buckley will consider us the first suspects. He’ll jail us the moment he finds us.”
“What if they are waiting at Pregarin’s house?” she asked. She felt an acute sense of fear at his words. They’d faced danger before, but never had there been not one but two deaths.
“For all I know he considers that we killed him, too,” Ewan said. “But I don’t think he’ll be waiting for us there. And, if I’ve guessed right, I don’t even think he’ll have the place watched. We need to get inside and off the streets.”
“And if they are there?” she asked.
“Then we’ll be inside, at the police headquarters. At least we’ll have a place to sleep for the night if that happens.”
Muriel snorted in response. “I’m so glad you’re feeling so confident about things.”
They took a few more steps and she pulled him to a stop. “I forgot to tell you about the box.”
“I know about the box, my love,” he said.
“No, you distracted me with sex and I forgot to tell you I found another one, in the kitchen.
“What was in it?”
“I don’t know, I didn’t open it,” she said. “I hid it in Mrs. Wiggins’ room, thinking we would open it together. But then all the things happened, and I forgot. Plus, where would I have hidden the box amongst my trousers, skirts and hat?”
Ewan’s smile made her feel better about things. “Well, Mrs. Wiggins won’t be needing it anymore.”
“We’re assuming it was her that was killed. There are other older women in this town,” Muriel said.
“Muriel, we can discuss this later,” he said. He pointed to a house at the end of the lane. “This is our destination.”
“We’ve been circling this area for at least an hour,” she said.
“True, and I think that proves there is no one in here, so let’s go inside.” He took her hand and kissed it. “I wanted to make sure there was no one here. When we get in, you search the living area and I’ll take the bedroom.”
“This won’t be easy because we’ve never been here before,” Muriel said.
“What in life is easy, my love?” he asked. “Just look for anything that screams Arthur, or Excalibur. We’ll decide what to do next depending on what we find.”
It didn’t take long for Ewan to pry open the door. Once they were inside they went to separate rooms and started to look. Her room was in the back of the house, so she took advantage of the fact and lit a candle. She’d noticed when they came in that the windows were covered with heavy cloths, but she didn’t see any light coming from his end of the house. That meant he was being cautious—more cautious than she’d ever seen to tell the truth.
Ewan was always careful but standing outside a house for more than an hour was more than careful, it was a bit over the top. She wondered what Buckley had told him that afternoon that he had not told her. She wanted the answer to that question, but she knew now was not the time.
Muriel picked up books, shook jars and, as she’d done in Mrs. Wiggins’ house, slapped walls and slammed her foot against the floorboards. Each time she came up empty she became more frustrated.
She stopped and looked around. As she did she saw a room full of things that belonged to a dead man. A man killed by people he’d thought were his friends.
“I’m finding nothing,” she said as she walked back to the front of the house. “If you’re having the same results we should go retrieve the boxes and then find a place to stay for the evening, some place the officials don’t know about.”
“No decent establishment is going to take us in the middle of the night,” he said. We need to stay here. Then in the morning we go to Monford.”
“Where the lake is?” Muriel sat in a chair. “Do you think that’s a good idea?”
“We’re not finding anything here.” He sat down next to her. “We need to take a hard look at what we know.”
“That won’t take long,” Muriel said.
“We stayed at Mrs. Wiggins’ house. She’s dead. We spoke with Mr. Pregarin about people who search for the sword, and he’s dead. Mrs. Wiggins went to Mr. Jameson’s house and you saw her arguing with a man. I’d say that man was either her husband, who is not dead as we know from Buckley, the man she blamed for her not dead husband’s death, Sisto Frae, or the mysterious Mr. Hulsey, whom she said was the other guest,” Ewan said.
“That’s a lot of choices,” she said. “How do we figure out whom is whom?”
“We go to Monford where the girl was killed last year,” Ewan said.
“And who do we talk to when we get there?”
“We ask for Mr. Hulsey, or for Sisto Frae,” he said. “That might rattle a few cages.”
“Do you think we should contact Buckley?” She knew the answer to that before she asked, but she felt the need to throw it out there, just to make sure they were on the same track.
“No,” he said.
“There is something wrong about that man,” she said. When he didn’t answer she said, “You saw it, too. That’s why you don’t want to see him before we leave for Monford.”
He didn’t respond, which, to her, reaffirmed what she’d said.
“We need the boxes,” she said.
“You’re right.” He took her hand and squeezed it. “And I think the best time to get them would be now, in the middle of the night.”
“Agreed.” Muriel said. “Let’s go now before it gets close to the sun coming up.”
They took one more look around the house and, finding nothing, left through the front door. This time they didn’t go up and down streets or pause to make sure no one was following them. They made it to Mrs. Wiggins’ area quickly, and it was the first place they stopped, moving into the shadows at the same house where Muriel had made her transformation when they’d left the first time that evening.
There was no movement, so they hurried down the street and up the steps to the house. Ewan put his hand out to shoo her back, and although she wanted to argue that she should go in with him she stayed on the last step, ready to run if necessary. She knew Ewan would be right after her, or at least she hoped he would.
He turned the knob and pushed the door open.
“Mrs. Wiggins,” he called out.
Muriel wanted to say that dead people didn’t answer but she didn’t. He called one more time and then motioned her forward.
“As far as I can tell there’s no one here,” he said. “We’ll grab the boxes and get out. We’ll go to the park, first.”
Muriel stepped into the doorway. Too late she heard heavy footsteps behind her and felt something heavy pushed into her back.
“What boxes would those be?” She recognized Jameson’s voice immediately. “Inside.” He pushed what she figured was a gun into her back and she went up the stairs. “And Mr. McClacken, don’t try to be a hero. I have a revolver pointed at your wife’s back.”
Ewan put his hands in the air and nodded. “Just tell me what to do.”
“Go inside and sit down,” Jameson said. “I have rope in my pack. Once your wife has tied you to the chair, and I’ve checked to make sure you’re nice and secure, we’ll have a little chat.”
When they were inside, Jameson pointed his weapon at a chair and told Ewan to sit. He handed Muriel a large length of rope.
“Bind him to the chair, and then tie his hands together,” he said. “And I’m going to check after you’re done, so don’t try and make the bindings light.”
“If you kill us it will seriously jeopardize your job with the railroad,” Ewan said as Muriel wrapped the rope around his chest and the chair. She wanted to give him room to come out, but she knew if she did that Jameson would notice.
“Pity,” Jameson said.
“Of course, they didn’t know when you and your friends killed that young lady last year,” he said. “But now that you’ve killed Mrs. Wiggins, a friend of yours, they might question things, especially if we disappear, too.”
Muriel wrapped the rope around Ewan’s wrists. She looked him the eye as she did, but his gaze was focused on Jameson, who stood near the doorway.
“My wife and I had a little wager, that you and Mrs. Wiggins were in on things together,” Ewan said. “She said no, I said yes. I was right. But I’m wondering about Inspector Buckley. Is he part of your scheme? You see he was very interested in the things happening here, but I can’t quite decide if he is in on it, or not. Would you do me the courtesy of telling if Buckley is part of your group?”
Jameson remained silent.
“I’m going to take that as a yes,” Ewan said.
Muriel finished tying the knots. She put two on top, keeping them loose so, hopefully, Jameson would be distracted by Ewan asking so many questions and would not notice she hadn’t done a good job.
Muriel looked back at Jameson, who was glancing over his shoulder toward the door. She hurriedly undid the top knot on Ewan’s bonds. This time their gazes locked. He nodded just a little and she nodded back. The meaning was clear. She would undo the second one and Ewan would continue distracting Jameson by asking him questions.
“Are you looking for your boss?” Ewan asked. When Jameson didn’t answer, Ewan continued, “We know you’re not the boss. You’re not smart enough to think these types of things through. I’m sure you’re the reason last year’s ritual failed, right?”
“Shut up!” Jameson yelled.
Muriel turned her gaze to him just as the gun jerked. She gasped slightly, worried it would go off and the bullet would hit one of them.
“I’m sorry if I’m bringing up bad m
emories,” Ewan said. “Did you face trouble for that? Did the leader of your gang spank you? Did he put you in the corner?”
“Shut up!” Jameson put both hands on the gun. “I’ll shoot you both, I swear it! Keep your mouth shut!”
“Was it Buckley, or was there someone else?” Ewan asked. “Did he make you take your breeches down for the spanking, or was it over your clothing?”
“Stop it!” Jameson wiggled the gun again. “Stop it, stop it, stop it!”
Muriel stood and launched herself in Jameson’s direction. She put her shoulder into his stomach. His oomph of pain was satisfying to her, and she pushed. He fell backward, and the revolver went off.
“Ewan!” she screamed, looking back to see her husband on the ground.
“Stay on top of him,” Ewan said. “The bullet hit the ceiling.”
“That’s because he’s an idiot,” a female voice said from the area near the front door.
A woman, in her early twenties, stood there with a man behind her. She had a revolver pointed at them. Muriel could only hope she was there to help, but she knew that wasn’t true.
Ewan stood up and said, “Well, Miss Robson-Jones, I presume?” He sighed. “I think I was partly wrong about the people working together, Muriel. I don’t think Buckley is a bad guy, but Miss Robson-Jones definitely is.”
* * *
Muriel pulled on the ropes that held her wrists together, but they didn’t budge. She supposed the man who had tied her and Ewan was Raef Montgomery. There hadn’t been any formal sort of introduction. Now, they were sitting on the divan, and Phee sat across from them, still holding the revolver.
“Where are the boxes?” Phee asked. She had a bright smile pasted on her face, and Muriel shook her head in disgust.
“The boxes are the reason you’re here, truthfully,” she said. “After last year’s disastrous ritual, Pregarin took them. We found one at his house and took it back, but the other three are missing.”
Four? Muriel hadn’t heard anything about a fourth box. All she knew about were the two, the one Mrs. Wiggins had given her, and the one Muriel had found hidden under the tinder in the kitchen, the one that now rested in Mrs. Wiggins’ wardrobe.
Muriel’s Adventures Page 27
