Shadow of the Dolocher

by European P. Douglas

  The aroma of vegetable stew and the sound of Kate humming as he stirred it, greeted Mullins when he got home.

  "Done already?" she asked in surprise when she heard him come in.

  "Customer wasn't there. I waited and checked around, but he didn't show."

  "What a waste of an evening," Kate said with a sympathetic look on her face as she put a hand on his arm.

  "I know, and it's cold out there now too."

  "Well, this will warm you up. It's ready now, I was just keeping it warm."

  "Great." Mullins dropped his bag by the door where he would see it on his way out in the morning and not forget about it and sat down at the table. Kate poured a large bowl and brought it over to him.

  "There's a little bread," she said nodding to it. He took it up, and it felt as hard as stone, he broke strips from it and dropped it into his bowl where the liquid would be absorbed and make it more palatable. He tore more strips and put them down where he knew Kate was going to sit. She came over with her own food and put a hand on his shoulder in thanks when she saw the bread.

  "Do you think he'll come back to you again?" she asked when they had both eaten a little.

  "I still have his money. I'm going to send Scally back with it tomorrow. He might still want something done."

  "Try to tie him down to work during the day if he does. I don't like the idea of you walking the streets at night with these murders going on again."

  "I don't get to decide love, you know that. I have to take the jobs as they come."

  "I know, it's just that I worry."

  "I know love, I don't like it myself." He knew she was very much afraid of the fact of these murders, afraid that he would be killed. He didn't have this fear, his size had never let him fear violence really, but he did have a fear of being in the wrong place at the wrong time and ending up in 'The Black Dog' again. He hated the idea that this killer was in the same area as the last time. Why could he not kill over on the north side somewhere? It was a big city, and there were plenty of places outside the Liberties were he could go.

  "The shop is doing fine isn't it?" Kate asked, "Can you not afford to turn down jobs in the evening?"

  "I can at the moment Kate, but things can change very fast, and there could be times when there are no customers for days at a time. That's why I need to take anything that comes my way when it does, to have money saved for quieter times." He could see that she knew he was right but her worry wouldn't let go and she couldn't say so. "How are Mary and Sarah?" he asked, hoping to lighten her mood.

  "They are good. Actually, a man, a Colonel in the army is paying Mary for her to sit while he paints her."

  "Really?"

  "Yes, over in his house somewhere across the Liffey."

  "What does she have to do?"

  "She just sits there, and he paints her."

  "I've never seen a picture with a woman with scars in it."

  "Neither have I, but apparently he says that she has a unique face."

  "She does I suppose."

  "He's paying well too."

  "Odd." Mullins leaned back in his chair as he spooned up the last of his bread. "Is there water for tea?"

  "I'll make you one," Kate said with a smile.

  While she was at the pot, he looked out the window and saw that it had started to rain. He was glad he was inside before that came down. Paying a woman with a scarred face to paint her, now he had heard it all. What could he be doing it for? He recalled feeling a little odd about being where he had been tonight, and now he knew why, now that Mary had been mentioned and more specifically her scars. He had been in the very spot this evening where she had been attacked by Cleaves, the place where she had almost lost her life. She had been one of the lucky ones, some local men had heard her screams and came to her aid. He had been there tonight, had probably stood in the very places that her blood had spilled. She had been so lucky to escape that night, and he was glad that she was finally getting some luck in relation to it come her way. She was a nice young girl, and she deserved it.

  Chapter 29

  Kate stood at the corner of Henrietta Street and looked at all the houses. She had been in this area before, but she had no idea which house belonged to the Alderman. She had tried to ask a couple of passersby, but they had just ignored her, assuming she was begging or something like that. Understandable considering her clothes were so tatty, and she looked so poor compared to everyone else in this part of the city. Finally, she caught an errand boy on a message, and he told her which one was the Alderman's house.

  She climbed the steps of the imposing house and stood at the door. She looked around to see if anyone was watching her. Kate worried that she would just be sent away and that she would have made a wasted journey. She teetered between knocking and seeing what would happen and just turning around and leaving. Perhaps she could try to talk to the Alderman the next time she saw him in the Liberties. But she knew she couldn't do that. Edwards was always with him when she saw him. She knocked as hard as she could and stood back a step to wait.

  A man answered, not elderly but getting there and he looked at her with disdain but answered politely.

  "Yes Miss, can I help you?"

  "I need to speak to the Alderman."

  "Is he expecting you?"

  "No," she thought better of lying, "But I have some information that he will find very interesting."

  "The Alderman is very busy. If you would like to leave a message, I will ensure that he gets it?"

  "No, I need to talk to him myself. Can you tell him it is about the identity of the murderer he is looking for?" The man stiffened at this.

  "Wait here," he said, and he closed the door.

  About four minutes later, which felt a lot longer to Kate, the door opened, and the same man ushered her inside.

  "The Alderman will see you in here," he said leading her into a room just off the hallway.

  The Alderman came in with a flourish and greeted her a few minutes later.

  "Hello, I am Alderman James," he said extending his hand for her.

  "Mrs. Mullins," she introduced herself warily as he shook her hand.

  "Is your husband the blacksmith?" James asked with a look of recognition in his eyes.

  "Yes."

  "And you have information about the killer?"

  "I think so."

  "You think so?" he suddenly seemed to have an air of irritability.

  "Yes," she said meekly, she was worried now at what he might say to her and if she could get in trouble for what she planned to say. He was looked at her with questioning eyes, and she couldn't match his gaze.

  "Well," he said gruffly, "Out with it."

  "Sir?" she was flustered and didn't know quite what he meant.

  "What did you come here to tell me?"

  "I think I know who is going around doing all these murders."

  "And who is that?" She hesitated now, afraid to say the name but knowing that she had come too far now not to.

  "Mr. Edwards," she said after a pause in which he poured into her with his eyes, making her feel doubtful about everything she had to tell him. She saw his face change but not angrily and not quite in shock either she felt. He looked away from her and walked over and peered out the window.

  "What makes you come to this conclusion?" he asked dryly. There was no sense of anger or bitterness in his voice, and it gave her the temerity she needed to go on talking.

  "He's spoken to me a few times, and it's in the way he says things."

  "Has he admitted to anything to you?"

  "No, not exactly," she felt her voice tremble and her visit becoming useless.

  "What does that mean?" he asked looking at her again. He looked tired.

  "He wants me to leave my husband and go to him," James raised an eyebrow in surprise at this, but she ploughed on, "He speaks to me sometimes in allusions to the people who have been killed. He seems to know a lot about each one."

  "He does know a lot abou
t each one," James said in a matter-of-fact tone.

  "I don't mean in the way you know a lot about them, but, as though he was the one doing the killing."

  "I don't understand how you come to this answer."

  "It's a feeling I have, like he is threatening me with their fate." The Alderman sighed.

  "This information is of no use to me Mrs. Mullins. If you have something else, please let me know, but I can't do anything with your 'feelings' about Mr. Edwards."

  "Please!" she said grabbing his sleeve, she could sense that he was ending their conversation, and that nothing was going to be done. She looked him in the eyes deeply.

  "Mrs. Mullins, please!" he said taking his sleeve away from her grasp. She felt the tears come and his angry face softened at the sight of this. "Sit down," he said motioning to a seat by the window guiding her to it. "Don't cry," he added softly.

  "I'm sorry Sir."

  "Have you been having an affair with Mr. Edwards?" the Alderman asked when she had composed herself.

  "No!" Kate cried, she wondered what he thought, should she tell him the truth? He probably already knew about her past. "I used to work in Madam Melanie's house, and Mr. Edwards was a customer there."

  "I see," James said, his face unable to hide a little disdain for her former life.

  "I don't work there since I was married, but Mr. Edwards has stated that he wants me to go back there."

  "And you said no?"

  "Right, and then he sent me a letter telling me he loved me!" Again the Alderman's eyebrow raised, "And that he wanted me to leave my husband and go live with him."

  "Extraordinary," James said like a fish wife who'd just heard some shocking gossip. She waited for him to say something else or ask a question. "What does your husband say to all this?"

  "He doesn't know anything about it," she said shamed, "and he can't find out about it."

  "I know your husband," the Alderman admitted.

  "He's a good man, but he can have a temper, and I'd be afraid what he'd do if he found out." She must have sounded scared because he then said,

  "Well, he wont find out from me Mrs. Mullins."

  "Mr. Edwards scares me," she said, feeling that they were getting off track.

  "What is it he said that leads you to believe he is a killer?"

  "I know you know him Sir, but there is a dark side to him that you may never have seen. Any of the women at Melanie's will tell you the same thing. He can get angry, or cold and bitter and there is no reasoning with him."

  "I have to admit I've never seen anything like this in him."

  "He stops me sometimes when I am coming home, or on my way somewhere, and he asks me to go with him. When I decline, he starts taking about how unsafe it is for me to walk the streets alone with all the killing going on. He always mentions the most recent killing and describes to me in horrible detail how they were killed."

  "That does sound odd."

  "I'm very frightened of him. I've known him for years, and even at his worst, I've never felt afraid of him. Not until very recently."

  "And this feeling you have is why you think he is the killer?"

  "I know it sounds pitiful," she knew it did, "But I'm almost sure of it." The Alderman looked out the window once more.

  "Every piece of information is precious in some way or another," he said after a pause. "I'll keep an eye on Mr. Edwards, I'll find out what I can, but that's all I can do for now."

  "I understand," Kate said nodding. "Thank you."

  "For what?"

  "For listening to me."

  "I'm sorry I can't do anything about your other problem."

  "That's my own concern, and I just have to hope he gives up soon."

  "I think you're right not to tell your husband. Most likely that is what Mr. Edwards wants you to do." She thought about this for a moment and understood what he meant by this.

  "I see what you mean," she nodded. "I know it is him, Alderman. You have to stop him." She was more sure of this than of anything else in her life.

  Chapter 30

  Edwards stood in the dark of the alcove at the square that led from Christchurch Cathedral to ‘Hell’. He looked in the dim light at the carved statue of the Devil that resided there. The torches in this alcove were always extinguished, nothing supernatural but simply people pranking the whole time, thinking it funny that others should be wary of entering by this way. It had been long dark now as he waited.

  That afternoon Edwards had gone to the blacksmith's to Scally and asked him to bring a message to Lord Muc when the workday was over. It was Lord Muc he awaited now in this most auspicious place. Few people passed tonight, and those that did could probably see him in the alcove and avoided it, not knowing who he was or what his designs were. There was a killer at large after all.

  Muc appeared in the distance, his hulking aggressive frame unmistakable in the shadowy light. Muc looked directly ahead, not caring what was to either side of him until he got to the alcove. Edwards was about to speak when Muc grabbed him by the throat and shoved him hard up against the wall, directly under the statue. Edwards couldn't breathe for a moment, but he kept his cool, stopping his hand from clutching Muc's wrist.

  "What do you mean by sending some boy to my house and summoning me here at this hour?" Muc said through bared teeth, his warm spittle and alcohol tinged breath flushing Edwards' face. Edwards didn't try to talk, knowing that he wouldn't be able to if he did. He looked passively at Muc as if trying to convey boredom at his antics. Muc pressed in harder on his windpipe and then eased up suddenly. When he was free Edwards fixed his collar and smiled at Muc.

  "Thank you for coming," he said in a friendly tone as though nothing had just happened.

  "What do you want?"

  "I want to give you some money."

  "In return for what?"

  "Following a couple of people."

  "A couple, how do you propose I do that?"

  "Not at the same time of course."

  "Who?"

  "The blacksmith Mullins and a Colonel."

  "I don't know any Colonel's."

  "I'll point him out to you, he frequents the bars and coffeehouses in this area some of the time."

  "Why?"

  "To see what they are up to?"

  "What do you think they are up to?"

  "Best you don't know that."

  "You think they're involved in these murders?"

  "It's possible," Edwards answered. Muc looked around to see if anyone was watching them.

  "Do you have someone following me?" he asked.

  "No, this is not your style." Muc smiled at this.

  "So, you think I have style?"

  "I think you have 'a' style," Edwards clarified. Muc was silent for a bit as he seemed to be thinking about it. Edwards followed his distracted gaze to the statue of the Devil.

  "Who made that?" Muc asked nodding to it.

  "I have no idea," Edwards answered truthfully.

  "Thought you might know seeing as the crowd you go around with," Muc said, and this surprised Edwards a little. This was an allusion to his Hellfire Club membership, not something he would have thought Muc knew anything about. They were silent again, and Edwards waited for him to say how much he would want for such a task as this.

  "You know there's danger in this for me?" Muc said finally. "If I'm seen out on the streets on the night's murders happen, I'll be suspected again. I've already had the Alderman breathing down my neck about this."

  "You can leave the Alderman to me, you won't have to worry about being a suspect."

  "Tell me first what you suspect of the blacksmith."

  "He's been seen in places near where the bodies were found. We know he is strong and able and he was a good friend to the Dolocher."

  "You think he's trying to avenge him?"

  "Maybe."

  "It has nothing to do with you wanting his wife for yourself?" Muc’s face wore a malicious sneer now, and Edwards was genuinely shocked t
hat he knew anything at all about this. Muc's informants seemed to be every bit as good as his own, perhaps even better. He didn't like being on this end of the information tree.

  "There are plenty of other lowlife's I can get to do this if you are not interested!" Edwards snapped. He regretted this instantly when Muc laughed.

  "Very touchy," Muc said. Edwards made a move to leave, and Muc grabbed his arm. "I'll do it," Muc said, his face serious again.

  "You haven't asked about payment."

  "That's because you don't know what it is." This confused Edwards, but he put his hand in his pocket all the same and coins jingled as he felt for the proper coin sack. Again Muc took his arm, “It wont be money." Edwards looked at him.

  "What then?"

  "I want you to take me to that house you have in the mountains, where you all meet up."

  "I can't take you to a meeting..."

  "I don't want to go to a meeting. I want you to take me up there one night when it is quiet. I want to see it and what is inside of it."

  "It's not what you think."

  "I still want to see it," Muc insisted. Edwards shrugged, this was a much lower price than he had set out to pay this evening.

  "If that's what you want for payment then fine, but you will be very disappointed that you didn't take the money," he smirked.

  "You let me worry about my disappointments," Muc said.

  "I need you to start straight away. Come to the Eagle on Cork Hill tomorrow night about eight, and I'll show you the Colonel, his name is Spencer."

  "What about the blacksmith?"

  "You can follow him after a couple of nights of watching Spencer."

  "Are you expecting me to witness a murder?" Muc asked with seeming glee at the idea.

  "No, but you can keep tabs on the people they meet, the places they go, that sort of thing."

  "If it's worth anything to you, I don't think the blacksmith has it in him to kill anyone, not on purpose anyway."