Mercy Me

by Tracy L. Ward

  “Amy said that the necklace was a gift from a man who agreed to take Clemmie’s baby, to buy her baby.”

  “It’s hard to believe such a thing is legal.”

  Jeremiah winced. “Not exactly illegal but questionable. There are any number of charities in the city willing to match childless couples with orphans or foundlings. Making a private arrangement is highly frowned upon. Resembles the slave trade too closely. Apparently, whoever this couple was, they gave Clemmie a considerable amount of money, which she sent home to her mother in Ireland.”

  Mercy could feel the story unfolding. “But when she miscarried that meant she had to give the money back.”

  Jeremiah smiled and nodded. “Exactly.”

  “So they killed her.”

  The words hung in the air, completing the circle of logic. Clemmie was killed because her baby had died.

  Mercy sat down abruptly in the chair behind her. Her stomach churned as her head grew heavy. “Oh dear God. And Bolton. The Bolton baby must be part of this as well.”

  “But Lord knows where the child is. The father must have her somewhere.”

  “He doesn’t.”

  “Ms. Eaton, my officers have checked every school and orphanage within thirty miles, and the Mission.”

  Mercy couldn’t help but smile. “I’d wager they never checked the abbey.”

  “Edith’s school?”

  “I have evidence that Louis may have been lurking outside the abbey.”

  “Why the abbey?”

  “Because Mrs. Bolton left the baby in a laundry basket at the back door. The sisters of the abbey have been taking care of her this entire time.”

  “She’s at the abbey?”

  “No, she’s with my sister, Connie.”

  “How did the baby end up in your sister’s care?”

  Mercy hesitated. “It’s a long story. The point is she’s safe and well cared for. That’s the main reason why I came. I figured you deserved to know.”

  “Thank you for that.” He kept his gaze on her long after he spoke.

  Mercy felt her cheeks grow hot under his scrutiny.

  “I’ve been an absolute beast to you.”

  She scoffed and broke their stare. “I wouldn’t say an absolute beast.”

  “No, I have.”

  She looked back with purpose. “Yes, you have. I wasn’t going to say anything but since you’ve brought it up, I’m forced to agree.”

  “I need you to know I am under a great deal of stress at home,” he said.

  Mercy raised her eyebrows in interest. “Really?”

  “My wife left me.”

  “Oh.”

  “I haven’t seen her in twenty-two weeks and three days.”

  “You’ve counted down the days?” Of course he had.

  Jeremiah let out a deep breath. “And I haven’t a clue where she is.”

  Mercy nodded absently while her mind ran away with all manner of possibilities. “How awful.”

  “Her abandonment seems to be affecting me more than I initially realized. When she was home I was much more approachable and, I’ll admit, I probably looked better put together.”

  “Oh, I think you look just fine.” She looked up sharply. Had she truly just said that out loud?

  Thankfully, he said nothing about her eager compliment, though Mercy did see a slight smile.

  “I’m only telling you this in the slim chance that you may… receive a message or…” He seemed genuinely uncomfortable in admitting that her abilities might, in fact, be real. He laughed, most likely astonished by his own words. “I’ve been told of your abilities. I’ve seen them for myself. There must be something to it.” He looked down to the papers on his desk and adjusted the corners so they lined up together. “If you get a feeling or intuition regarding my wife, if she appears to you… or something… I’d be much obliged if you would tell me.”

  Mercy wanted to tell him her abilities didn’t work like that but the events of the evening prior proved otherwise. “Of course,” she said. “I can’t ask the spirits for anything, believe me, I’ve tried… but if I get anything, I will let you know.” She kept her gaze on him, marvelling at the vulnerability he was now showing her. A police officer with feeling, who’d have imagined.

  Jeremiah smiled and broke the trance. “Thank you.”

  MacNeal walked in the room and stopped when he saw Mercy in the chair. “I’m sorry. Were you two having a moment?”

  Both Mercy and Jeremiah looked to him.

  “Because it looked like you were having a moment.” He switched his gaze between them and waited for a reply.

  Mercy looked to the floor while Jeremiah snatched the papers from his hands. “What is this then?” he asked, eager to change the subject.

  “The list of everyone Clemmie and Cynthia may have come in contact with,” MacNeal said, handing the pages over.

  “And?” Walker spread the papers out between the desks.

  “There’s a few overlaps,” MacNeal said.

  As they went over the investigative notes, Mercy went through her own notes in her mind. A couple in want of a child, in so desperate want of a child they were willing to pay two women for theirs. And when both avenues of surrogacy end fruitless they commit murder. Why? What has made them so desperate?

  “Who was found first?” Mercy asked suddenly.

  Both men on the other side of the desk looked to her.

  “We found Bolton first, you know this,” MacNeal said.

  Jeremiah held up a hand to quiet him.

  “But was Cynthia killed first or was Louis shot first?” Mercy allowed her mind to run through the different scenarios. “Cynthia had her baby for three weeks before her husband was shot. Sister Elizabeth at the abbey said the baby was left at the back door sometime before morning on Tuesday. That was after Louis found his way to me. If he knew where the baby was why didn’t he tell them?”

  “They had a change of heart and wanted to keep the child,” MacNeal offered.

  Mercy shook her head. “No. She told me she was alone when she was dropping off the baby at the abbey. She was scared, truly scared. He’s a gambler, yes?” She was focusing on Jeremiah, who nodded. “What if he was the one who promised the baby in exchange for money? What if Cynthia Bolton had nothing to do with the deal?”

  Jeremiah looked to the necklace on his desktop. “She ripped off the necklace when she realized she couldn’t go through with it,” Jeremiah said.

  I have to find Maggie. Find Maggie.

  “Louis wasn’t looking for his wife. He was looking for the child.”

  Jeremiah nodded. “Amy told us Clemmie had secretly met with a man behind the carriage house months ago. He gave her money, and the pearls as well. What if our mystery man had the same arrangement with Bolton? Months go by and he discovers Cynthia had her child and had no intentions of giving it up. Feeling betrayed he pulls Louis off the street, tells him ‘find the baby or else,’ and releases him onto the sidewalk, a gunshot wound to show him the killer wouldn’t back down.”

  “Find Maggie!” Mercy moved to the edge of her seat in excitement.

  “Bolton nearly died of his wounds,” MacNeal pointed out.

  She shrugged. “A miscalculation, then.”

  “Once recovered Bolton left the hospital in quite a hurry,” Jeremiah added. “He said, ‘If I don’t find Maggie they are going to kill my wife.’ He was terrified.”

  “He was too late, though. Cynthia was already dead,” MacNeal said, fumbling through the papers until he found Bishop’s report. “She died a few hours prior to her body being found.”

  “The killer found her first, without the baby.” Mercy turned to Jeremiah. “She knew she wasn’t safe. She had already taken the baby to the abbey.”

  Jeremiah nodded. “And when he discovers Clemmie is no longer pregnant he kills her too.” He tosses his notebook to the pile. “Damn it.”

  “This answers why but the real question is who.”

  If
I don’t find Maggie they are going to kill my wife. Mercy repeated the sentence over in her head.

  “He said they.”

  Both officers looked to her.

  “There’s more than one. He said they. It’s a couple. Two killers.” Her mind immediately went to the only expectant couple she knew who were cunning enough to concoct such a plan. “I know who it is,” Mercy said. “And I should’ve known this entire time.”

  Chapter 34

  Mercy loathed the thought of crossing the threshold of the offices of The Empire, but realized her choices were limited. Alistair George was surprised to see her. His stood up and squared his shoulders as she walked toward his desk in the newspaper office. “Ms. Eaton.”

  “Mr. George, you remember Detective Walker.”

  The newspaperman’s face fell when Mercy stepped aside and gestured to the policeman behind her.

  “Yes, of course—”

  Walker had him by the collar before he could say anything else. He led him backward to the wall, and gave an extra push right before the man’s body made contact.

  “Does it make you feel powerful to intimidate women?” Walker asked, his nose inches from George’s.

  “I… I don’t know what you are talking about.”

  Mercy stepped forward. “Walker, what are you doing?”

  “He threatened you,” he answered. “I’m going to make sure he knows to never do that again.”

  “We aren’t here for this,” Mercy answered. She looked out Alistair’s door and saw a few office personnel looking on. No one seemed eager to intervene, however.

  “Detective,” George began breathlessly, “whatever I have done to this fair lady—”

  Walker pulled him back slightly and forced him into the wall again. George groaned from the pain and closed his eyes.

  “Walker!” Mercy pushed between them, forcing the detective to loosen his grip. Walker released him.

  “I promise you… it will not happen again,” Alistair George said, clutching his shoulder and wincing.

  Mercy pushed Walker away. “What was that?” she asked in a low voice.

  “I couldn’t stop myself,” Walker confessed. “I remembered what he did to you.”

  Mercy had never had anyone stand up for her before. All her brothers had long left the house by the time she needed someone in her corner. Her entire life she had learned to fend for herself and never fathomed a time when someone would be willing to defend her.

  “I wasn’t going to hurt him. I just wanted him to think I would,” Jeremiah explained.

  “Let me talk to him,” Mercy said. She turned to the newspaperman, who didn’t look any worse for the wear. “We need to speak with your editor.”

  “My editor?”

  “We have an article we would like you to write and we’d like it on the front page.”

  “Front page?”

  “For tonight.”

  “Tonight?”

  Mercy and Jeremiah nodded in unison. “Anything less than that guarantee and we’ll have to take our information elsewhere, won’t we, Detective Walker?” Mercy looked over her shoulder at Jeremiah.

  “Oh yes,” he said. “Perhaps we will go to The Globe or The Evening Star.”

  “Don’t be so hasty,” Alistair said quickly, adjusting his collar. He glanced to his editor’s office door. “Let’s see if I can set up a meeting, yeah?”

  ***

  The plan was to entice the Forsyths out of hiding with an article about the case and a child who was safely in the care of the Sisters of Loretto Abbey. They’d have no option but to come kidnap the child, Mercy reasoned when she and Jeremiah were hatching their plan.

  “What’s stopping them from kidnapping another child?” MacNeal had asked, “Why risk everything for this one?”

  “They picked Clemmie and Cynthia for a reason,” Mercy explained.

  “They are both blond,” Jeremiah said. “And reasonably attractive.”

  “And they are both easily coerced by money,” Mercy added. “The Forsyths are desperate for a child of their own, one that would be accepted as blood and not adopted. One who would inherit. One to please Mr. Forsyth’s father. They’ve created this nearly yearlong charade. Telling everyone they are expecting twins.”

  “Why twins?” MacNeal asked.

  “An heir and a spare,” Mercy had answered plainly. “If you were to go through all this trouble wouldn’t you want to get the most for your efforts?” She shifted her gaze between the two. “If I’m wrong, I can live with that. This is our best chance catching them in the act, so to speak.”

  Jeremiah nodded.

  “But the mothers… what’s to keep them from telling everyone your child isn’t your biological child?” MacNeal asked. “They couldn’t expect to just keep giving them money. What would stop the mothers from demanding more and more?”

  “Death.”

  Mercy and MacNeal looked to Walker.

  “They planned to kill them all along but after they had the babies.”

  ***

  An hour later Mercy and Jeremiah were leaving the newspaper building, “You nearly ruined the entire plan,” Mercy said on the sidewalk.

  “How do you figure?” Jeremiah asked. He looked pleased with himself, unsympathetic to any harm he may have caused Alistair George.

  “He could have refused to help us thanks to your little act of aggression.”

  “The man deserved it. I thought he was going to wet himself.” Jeremiah chuckled.

  When they stopped at the corner, waiting for a lull in traffic before crossing, Mercy offered him a displeased look.

  “You don’t agree?”

  “About him wetting himself or about him deserving it?” She wasn’t amused. “I thought you were different than that, Detective Walker. I didn’t take you for one of them that would use their authority to lord over those beneath them.” Mercy started to walk. To think she had actually started to like him.

  “Hey, wait a minute.” Walker caught up with her on the opposite side and pulled her back to look at him. “I didn’t lord over anyone. He intimidated you, remember? I made sure he’d think twice before ever doing that again. He won’t dare hurt you, not now.”

  Mercy couldn’t bring herself to look at him. Her past experiences with police officers, especially her stepfather, made her distrustful of anyone in a position of power. Perhaps she had been fooling herself into thinking Jeremiah Walker was different somehow. That he was more just than the others she’d known. The other side of the issue was that he had done it for her, as a protective measure. And he hadn’t acted exactly as her stepfather would have. Jeremiah seemed far more controlled and he now looked genuinely apologetic.

  “If you think you can handle it on your own—”

  “No… I’m grateful that you would stand up to him on my behalf… it’s just… I didn’t know what you were going to do. I didn’t know how far you would take it.”

  “What do you mean ‘how far I would take it’? You saw. I only meant to scare him a little. I was never intending to actually hurt the man. Is that what you think of me?” Jeremiah took a step back from her. “That I’m some brute without a conscience?”

  “No. No, of course not. It’s just…” Mercy took in a breath. “My stepfather was an officer. He worked in Toronto until 1859.” She waited for recognition to take hold.

  “He was fired.”

  “Along with fifty-five other officers.”

  The entire police force at the time.

  Mercy closed her eyes and would have walked away had Walker not been standing right in front of her. She never had any intentions of telling him, but now that she was, she was glad for it. “In his case they cited excessive violence and disregard for the laws he was to uphold. He was known to beat prisoners to garner confessions and accept money from local taverns to overlook their licensing infractions. They didn’t rehire him as they had some of the others.”

  “He told you this?”

  “No, I
did my own research once I moved to the city.” Mercy didn’t want to tell him what else her stepfather had done but once she started speaking she felt she couldn’t stop. It was like a weight being lifted off her life, the shroud of secrecy finally torn, revealing all there was of her. “He’d had Edith’s father beaten within an inch of his life and then ran him and his family, his mother and sisters, and an elderly uncle out of town. He arranged to have their house burned to the ground so they could never return. I never got to chance to tell him I was with child.” A single tear fell from Mercy’s cheek but she didn’t bother trying to wipe it away. “Believe me, Detective Walker, when I say he was as brutal at home as he was in uniform.”

  She hesitated. There was so much more to her story but she couldn’t tell him. Not yet.

  “When I came to the city I made sure he couldn’t find me here. Only Connie knew where I was.”

  Jeremiah averted his gaze. She saw his fists clench at his sides and his jaw tighten. What she wouldn’t give to know what he was thinking. Had she told him too much? Would he respect her less for it? A floozy. A trollop. A sham and fraud. She’d been called all this and more without much care or thought to those who spoke the words. But if Walker spoke them she knew she would care deeply. It might break her. She knew she could never be with him, that his heart wasn’t free but to think he thought any less of her would tear her to pieces.

  “I’m so sorry,” he said, bringing his gaze back to her. “I didn’t know.”

  Not knowing what to say, she stood there, numbed by the memories of her past and horrified that she had dared speak to anyone about what her stepfather had done. She had kept her secret so close for fourteen years. What would happen to it now that it was out there and no longer within her control?

  Walker released a long breath. “Does Edith know any of this?”

  “No. And you mustn’t tell her.” Mercy stepped forward, desperation lacing her tone. She hadn’t thought of the secret finding its way back to her daughter. “I shouldn’t have said anything.”

  “It’s all right,” Walker said, “I won’t say anything. I promise.” He moved until she looked him in the eye. “I’m glad you told me. I understand now. I will do better to control my temper.”