Mercy Me

by Tracy L. Ward

  “Where’s her belongings?” he asked.

  “Mr. Gladstone had ordered me to clear out her part of the room last night… after you left.” It was clear, by the look on her face and the hesitation in her words, that the girl wondered if it was the right thing to do.

  “Did he now?”

  “There wasn’t much,” she said, fiddling with the chain at her neck. “Like I said, she didn’t have much.” Amy pulled a bonnet from the nearby hook and left the room.

  ***

  Jeremiah was in the front garden surveying the many ways one could gain access to the drive and the carriage house when Mercy stepped out of Mrs. Gladstone’s front door and onto the front porch. He watched as she paused, a look of contemplation on her face as she stared off at nothing in particular. She made her way down the front steps on wobbly legs. Before she could reach the bottom Jeremiah was at her side, guiding her to a nearby bench under a large shade tree.

  Her body collapsed rather quickly, leaning into him as he took a seat beside her. A moment passed before she was able to look up, her eyes registering his presence.

  “My apologies,” she said, rather abashedly. She inhaled and exhaled slowly as if to steady herself and relieve the obvious pain she was in.

  Jeremiah spied the smallest speck of blood that had dried on the underside of her nose.

  “I’m not quite feeling like myself,” she said, readjusting herself on the bench so they were no longer touching.

  “I knew this wasn’t a good idea,” Jeremiah answered.

  “I think I found something,” Mercy said. “I think Clemmie was pregnant.”

  Jeremiah shook his head. “How do you know?”

  “I saw it in her memories. I was sick. At first, I didn’t think it was anything but Mrs. Gladstone told me she had a beau. She said that was the root of all Clemmie’s trouble.”

  “What you mean you were sick?”

  Mercy closed her eyes and turned her face away from him slightly.

  “This is how it works, Detective,” she said. “I touch their skin and I become who they were. I see life from their eyes. I was sick. I remember the feeling from when I carried Edith.”

  Instinctively, Jeremiah opened his mouth to protest but closed it again. He couldn’t fathom such an ability or comprehend its origin. “Your gifts are unlike anything I have ever seen before. Bear with me as I endeavour to come to terms with it.”

  “When you find a way, be so kind as to let me know so I may follow suit.”

  Her words came to him as a surprise. Nothing in her manner indicated any sort of uneasiness or questioning.

  “I still struggle with it, Detective,” she explained. “It may appear natural to me, but it’s anything but.”

  A shadow consumed them from the path.

  “Back again, are we?” Nigel leered at them as they lifted their gaze. “I imagine you’d like to know I filed a complaint against you this morning, Detective Walker,” he said, sliding a hand into one of his trouser pockets.

  Jeremiah’s breath caught.

  “Chief Johnson was most distressed and assured me you have had an impeccable record… until now.” He flashed a self-assured smile and adjusted his cuffs. He worked hard to appear disinterested. “I must admit it did give me a small amount of joy.” He looked to Mercy. “You don’t look well, Ms. Eaton.”

  Mercy didn’t acknowledge him. Her eyes were fixated on something Jeremiah could not determine.

  Nigel cleared his throat. “Perhaps you’ve had too many spirits.” The man chuckled to himself and started toward the house.

  “It’s him.”

  Jeremiah looked to Mercy. “What did you just say?”

  “He’s Clemmie’s beau.” Mercy grabbed Jeremiah’s hand and looked him squarely in the eye. “He’s the one who got Clemmie pregnant.”

  “Wait, how do you know?”

  “His cufflinks. I saw them when he was with Clemmie. He killed her. He killed her because he didn’t want to admit the baby was his.”

  Jeremiah stood but he didn’t move.

  Nigel was climbing the stairs of the porch.

  “Are you sure?” Jeremiah asked.

  Mercy nodded.

  “Nigel Gladstone,” Jeremiah said. He started to walk toward the porch and pulled a pair of handcuffs from his inside pocket.

  Nigel turned.

  “You are under arrest for the murder of Clementine Howden.”

  Chapter 27

  “I didn’t kill that nobody maid,” Nigel said once he was seated in Jeremiah’s office. His hands were cuffed in front of him, resting on the desktop.

  Jeremiah admitted, if only to himself, that it was quite satisfying to see the man in irons.

  “She worked for me once but she was useless. I passed her off to my mother.”

  “If she was useless, why burden your mother with her?” Jeremiah asked. “Why not set her loose?”

  Nigel shrugged. “I don’t know. I guess I felt obligated to her.”

  “Obligated?” Jeremiah was surprised at the man’s choice of words. Men like Nigel Gladstone felt an obligation to no one but themselves. “What made you feel obligated?”

  “She was fresh off the boat, as they say, straight from Ireland. Never had a job before in her life. I took her in. I felt… obligated.”

  Jeremiah nodded as MacNeal took notes next to him.

  Nigel’s gaze went to the glass partitions that circled Jeremiah’s office and Mercy standing with her arms crossed on the other side. A look of worry flashed over his face. “What did she tell you? Did she tell you she received a message from the spirits? Is that how police conduct business nowadays? They take a charlatan’s word for it.”

  “Don’t you worry about her,” Jeremiah said quickly. “Tell us what happened with Clemmie.”

  “Nothing happened with that girl.”

  “How long did she work for you?”

  “Maybe a year. I’m not sure.”

  “That’s a long time. Why’d you let her go in the end?”

  “I told you. She was useless.”

  “You don’t keep a useless girl on for a year, not a smart businessman like you,” Jeremiah said. He waited but no answer came. “I think you were sweet on her.”

  Nigel’s expression contorted to show his disgust. “Certainly not!”

  “You liked her, admit it.”

  “No. It was the other way around,” Nigel confessed. “She were hinting at me. It was embarrassing the way she followed me around. I got rid of her to save herself the embarrassment.”

  A loud succession of raps started on the window. Everyone looked to Mercy, who stood enraged just outside the room. “He’s lying!” she yelled, her voice muffled slightly by the pane of glass.

  Jeremiah got up from his seat and opened the door.

  Ms. Eaton tried to push past him and into the room. “You forced her to have sex with you and when you found out she was pregnant you threw her aside like a piece of trash!”

  Jeremiah guided her away from the door and closed it behind him. “Settle down,” he said, soothingly.

  “How can you let him lie like that?” Mercy demanded.

  “I’m not,” Jeremiah said, stealing a glance to MacNeal and Nigel through the glass. He led her further away from the door and turned so Nigel could only see his back and not Mercy.

  “It certainly looks that way,” she said, folding her arms over her chest.

  “Look, Ms. Eaton, you have your methods for getting answers and I have mine. Can we just agree that, right now, we need to do things my way?” He looked at her expectantly. She was not unreasonable—he knew this—but his words had little effect on her present mood.

  “He threatened me,” she said.

  “What? When?”

  “The other evening at the Queen’s Hotel. He cornered me at the end of a hall and told me to tell his mother to enter a business deal with him, a risky venture only he would profit from.”

  “How exactly did he threaten
you?” Jeremiah asked.

  Mercy looked incredulous. “If someone a foot taller than you grabs your arm and pulls you from the floor when no one else is around, you wouldn’t feel threatened?”

  Jeremiah rubbed his temples.

  “You don’t believe me.”

  “Now, I didn’t say that. I know Mr. Gladstone is more than capable. What exactly did you see from Clemmie that told you Mr. Gladstone killed her?”

  “Someone was in bed with her,” Mercy blushed slightly as she spoke. “I know she had intercourse.”

  “Was Nigel the man?”

  “I didn’t see his face until after.”

  “You didn’t see him?”

  “I saw his cufflinks.”

  “His cufflinks?”

  “Yes!” Suddenly embarrassed, Mercy looked down the hall and lowered her voice. “She didn’t want to do it. He forced her to do it.”

  “You didn’t see his face, though.”

  Mercy hesitated. “No, but I know it was him. The bedclothes were expensive. They’d never be provided to servants.”

  Jeremiah closed his eyes.

  “I’m not lying.”

  “I never thought you were lying. But there is a methodology regarding evidence. You can’t just—” His words were cut short when Chief Johnson appeared with Mrs. Gladstone at his side. “Chief. Mrs. Gladstone.”

  The pair stopped in front of Mercy and Jeremiah.

  “Nigel Gladstone is to be set free,” Chief Johnson said, glancing through the glass and into Jeremiah’s office.

  “Sir, I have reason to believe he committed a terrible crime,” Jeremiah answered.

  “My son is innocent of all charges,” Mrs. Gladstone answered. “He may be a scoundrel and a swindler, but he did not harm that girl, not recently, at any rate.” The woman looked genuinely abashed. She opened a folded piece of paper in her hands.

  “Mrs. Gladstone has provided us with ten names from various gentlemen around town who are willing to swear to having seen Nigel at his offices yesterday and The Club the evening before.”

  “Whatever was done to that girl it was not at the hands of my son,” Mrs. Gladstone added.

  Chief Johnson handed the paper to Jeremiah.

  “Thank you, Chief Johnson, for showing me around but I must be going now. I trust my son is able to come with me,” she said.

  “Yes, of course, ma’am,” Chief Johnson said, before tapping on the glass with a knuckle. For MacNeal’s sake he pointed a finger at Nigel and then directed him to the door.

  During the entire exchange Mrs. Gladstone did not once look to Mercy.

  “You knew,” Mercy said before the woman had the chance to walk away. At the sound of Mercy’s voice, the woman turned. Despite her forthright demeanour in dealing with Jeremiah, she looked outright embarrassed when Mercy addressed her.

  “You knew Nigel had been taking advantage of Clemmie and you did nothing,” Mercy pressed.

  Mrs. Gladstone lowered her gaze. “I did not know until after the maid was with child. I offered to take her onto my staff to see that she received the proper medical care.”

  Jeremiah saw Mercy’s features harden.

  “What happened to the child?” she asked.

  “It ended in miscarriage,” Mrs. Gladstone said, “which is just as well. My physician wasn’t entirely sure she’d survive the birth anyhow, such a slight thing she was.”

  Mercy closed her eyes and turned her head.

  Jeremiah looked to Nigel, who thrust his bound wrists toward MacNeal. He said something but he spoke so quietly Jeremiah could not decipher what was said. When Jeremiah looked back the chief and Mrs. Gladstone were making their way back down the hall. Mercy remained beside him.

  “He forced her,” Mercy said, “a fifteen-year-old girl, and then he sent her away with a child to care for all on her own.”

  “Ms. Eaton, I could lose my badge.”

  “Your badge?”

  “I arrested an innocent man from a prominent Toronto family.”

  “Nigel Gladstone is far from innocent.”

  “The chief just saw you. He knows you are helping me with this case. How am I supposed to explain your involvement?”

  “Tell him the truth.”

  “What is the truth exactly? You told me you were sure Nigel Gladstone killed Clemmie. We now know that’s not possible.”

  The door to Jeremiah’s office opened and Nigel walked out, followed by MacNeal. Jeremiah couldn’t bring himself to watch as MacNeal led him down the hall to the desk sergeant.

  “I’ve wasted an entire day on this and I’m not any closer to finding Clemmie Howden’s or Cynthia Bolton’s killer.” Jeremiah felt his jaw involuntarily tighten.

  “Wasted a day? We found out a considerable number of details that I doubt you would have discovered on your own, Detective.”

  Was she mocking him? He took in a breath to steady his anger. “Thank you for your assistance today, Ms. Eaton. I think we can take it from here.” He made a gesture to the front of the building—the exit. “You’ll forgive us for not being in a position to escort you home.”

  Affronted, Mercy looked to him in surprise. “I’m being asked to leave?”

  A small part of him told him to stop. He was being unreasonable and allowing his pride to dictate his responses. But he couldn’t stop. He needed her to go.

  “Thank you for your help, Ms. Eaton. We are indebted to you.” He forced a smile. “Truly.”

  She hesitated, second-guessing her instinct to do as she was instructed. A look of defiance flashed over her face, a look that was almost immediately replaced with hurt. Uncharacteristically, she turned and left without a peep of protest or a stinging rebuke.

  “That was a bit harsh, don’t you think?” MacNeal said, coming down the hall. “She won’t talk to you again. I think you deeply offended her.”

  “Look at me, MacNeal. Since when have I resorted to seeking the help of a spiritual medium—a fake spiritual medium.” Walker didn’t bother trying to hide his disdain. The afternoon had been an embarrassment. He had bought into her delusions, a poorly made decision that ended up costing him precious time. He felt he had been swindled. Mercy Eaton had given him nothing he couldn’t have figured out himself.

  “How long do you think it would have taken us to track down Clemmie’s former lover or to find out she was pregnant?” MacNeal asked. “How many witnesses would have to be interviewed, and lines of inquiry followed?” He shrugged at the obviousness of his statements. “It would have taken us weeks to get to the point where Ms. Eaton had taken us in just a few hours, and you know it.”

  “In the end it led to nothing,” Walker said.

  “We’ve led ourselves to nothing upon occasion as well,” MacNeal answered. “She didn’t have to help us. She’s taken time from her business and her life. Heck, she’s even placed herself in harm’s way to get information for us, something you forced her to do in the first place, if I recall.”

  Jeremiah’s heart sank remembering his least chivalrous moment of the last few days.

  “Even still, I’m done relying on snake oil salesmen and women masquerading as fortune tellers.” He began walking back to his office. “I need to concentrate on my job and she is a major distraction. She makes me so angry. She’s so pushy and arrogant.”

  “I think you mean confident.”

  Jeremiah stopped short of his desk.

  “Face it, Walker, she doesn’t need you. You’re going to have to find another method of wooing.”

  “What do you mean by that?”

  “She has her own life, her own business, her own money. She doesn’t need your protection or your approval. All the things you used to convince your first wife to say ‘yes’. Those things won’t work on Ms. Eaton and that really frustrates you.”

  “I am a married man.”

  “Your wife left you six months ago. You don’t even know where she is. You’ve spent four days with Ms. Eaton and I’ve seen your eyes light up more
often with her than I ever saw them light up when Ruth was around. You fancy her and I don’t blame you in the slightest, but that certainly isn’t through any fault of Ms. Eaton’s.”

  MacNeal was right. Even though Jeremiah didn’t want to hear any of it, the more his partner spoke the more he realized how correct he was. He had spent more time with Mercy than he had spent wooing Ruth and already he could see a future with her. He wanted to be near her, to speak to her, whether working a case or not. Jeremiah’s mood fell as the realization hit him. He had been an unequivocal ass.

  “Go apologize,” MacNeal said, as if reading his thoughts. “Quickly, before she washes her hands of you completely.”

  Jeremiah left, not wanting to have another necessary apology linger unsaid for days. He pushed past people gathered in the foyer of the station. He spied Mercy almost immediately at the door talking with Chief Johnson.

  Jeremiah took a step back into the movement of people and ran a hand over his face. He had no means to explain Ms. Eaton’s involvement in the case. What was she saying? But most importantly, what was Chief Johnson thinking?

  He cleared his throat and stepped forward just as Mercy pushed through the doors and walked out of the building. Chief Johnson turned and nearly collided with Jeremiah.

  “Walker, just the man I wanted to see.”

  Jeremiah froze at the chief’s words.

  “How well are you acquainted with Ms. Eaton?” Chief Johnson asked, taking a glance over his shoulder to see her walking past the front windows.

  “I’ve only just made her acquaintance recently, sir,” Jeremiah said, feeling his apprehension morph in confusion.

  “And what do you make of her then?” he asked.

  “I like her very well.” Immediately after saying it, Jeremiah wanted to take it back. He knew this wasn’t what Johnson had meant, but before Jeremiah could correct himself Johnson lowered his voice and leaned in.

  “She’s a spiritualist medium, you know. And she’s very good, if you ask me.”

  “Forgive me, sir, but… I did not realize you believed in such things.”

  “Oh yes. I don’t believe any of the charlatans out there, you know, but Ms. Eaton there, she’s the real deal, I tell you.”