In The Deadly Nightshade Family

Dramatis personae

'The Towers' – A stately home, built in Hamilton Ontario in 1895 for Mr. Merit Taggert and his family; setting for a charity fundraiser. It is a 'castle on a hill,' a compilation of several architectural styles created inside and out to make an impact on all who encounter it. (If you went to MME16 you will recognize this building…I have used the original house for a starring role)

Caliber 'Caleb' Burke— age 30. A smooth Southern gentleman from Virginia, up in Hamilton to learn about the tobacco manufacturing and distribution business.

Dominion Police Commander Francis Broadstreet— Head of DP security detail.

Detective William Henry Murdoch of the Toronto Constabulary- age 40. Possessing of a keen intellect, he is a science-minded, creative problem-solver and tinker-er with devices which help solve crimes. Husband to Dr. Ogden, he has the most compelling brown gaze under thick black lashes. These eyes are only for his wife and he would do anything for her, while at the same time often being baffled by her.

Doctor Julia Ogden- approaching 40 (but a lady never tells!) Psychiatrist, pathologist and suffragist; Guest of Mrs. Prudence Carter and wife to Detective Murdoch. She is tall, blonde and loves her dark and handsome husband, while occasionally being frustrated by his emotional obtuseness.

Mr. August- Butler for the Taggert household. He came from the States with the mother of Miss Charity Taggert; he treasures punctiliousness.

Mr. Arthur Percy Sherwood- Subtle, long-suffering Commissioner of the Dominion Police force of Canada, the national security arm of government. He will eventually be knighted for his service to his country.

Mr. Endeavour Taggert- age 84 and Patriarch of the Taggert Family; lives next door in 'Myrtle House.' He made his money in tobacco. A widower for 59 years, he outlived his only son, Merit. A demanding man, he has a firm grasp on his business and family, which will have to be pried out of his cold, dead hands before he'll let go of either.

Mrs. Prudence Carter-age 40. Widow and granddaughter of Endeavour Taggert; lives at the 'Towers' and is hostess for a charity fundraiser. Childhood friend of Julia Ogden. She is an intelligent, capable and thoroughly modern woman who is conflicted because she wants love and recognition from her very old-fashioned grandfather.

Miss Genevieve Latcher – age 39. Small and feisty, one of only a handful of female photographers trying to make a living with her work; acquaintance of Mrs. Carter.

Mr. Trevor Howard- Executive in the Taggert tobacco company and engaged to Miss Joy Taggert, Endeavour'syoungest granddaughter. He is as interested in his upcoming nuptials as he is in joining the firm as a partner; he is already living at the 'Towers' as well and plans on staying on after the wedding.

Mr. Gregory Sanford— Makes his living taking chances; befriended Caliber Burke

THE OTHER HALF-SISTERS—all daughters of Merit Taggert with different, deceased, mothers:

Mercy Pomfret- age 33. Also widowed and a granddaughter of Endeavour Taggert. She mourns both her husband and her young son; living at the 'Towers'.

Charity Taggert- age 27. Never married. Living at the 'Towers' in high dungeon about her life as an old maid.

Joy Taggert- age 17. Raised primarily by her older sister Prudence after Joy's mother perished. Currently planning her wedding; living at the 'Towers.'

# # #

Prologue:

The clock struck twelve notes of its tune as Caliber "Caleb" Burke stared intently at his reflection in the long looking-glass, moving side to side to take in the cut of his new suit and the shine on his brogans. A thin build and high forehead amplified his height which was just shy of five feet, eleven inches. He brushed long, tapered hands over his dark carmine, tone-on-tone embroidered waistcoat and fluffed his red and black silk cravat until he was pleased with the result.

Look at me, he chuckled. Six months ago, I couldn't buy a hummingbird on a string for a nickel, as my grand-pappy would have said.

Pushing one end of his watch chain through the proper button hole and placing the other end in his pocket, he patted it in place before squaring his shoulders. Caleb approached the glass to look more closely, smoothing his wavy, chestnut hair behind his ears and fingering the mustache over his fine lips. He carefully examined his large eyes, level brows and tanned complexion burnished from almost 30 years under Virginia's sun, and frowned. He knew he was too dark-skinned to be fashionable this far 'up North' but for his part he was satisfied his exotic looks were to his benefit and quirked his mouth in a sardonic grin. He'd used his impeccable social graces and unfamiliarity with Hamilton Society as a method for gaining a certain kind of sympathy, having no trouble at all attracting the fairer sex, and outlets for his other ambitions… Bless their hearts. He chortled to himself again in anticipation. This afternoon's garden party and civic fund-raiser were going to be a sort of unofficial launch into the city's most rarified social strata and he could not wait.

Smiling broadly back at himself and with a flowing drawl, he addressed the rakish image before him: "There. I think that will get some notice!"

# # #

"Detective William Murdoch of the Toronto Constabulary," he said, clearly frustrated. "Please tell me what is going on here! How many times, to how many different persons and in how many different ways must I announce myself?" William was rapidly losing his composure with the Dominion Police officer blocking his passage through the tall wrought-iron gates surrounding his destination. The destination, he reminded the guards more than once, to which he'd been expressly invited, on appointment. Eventually the young copper beech and other trees in the landscape will shade the estate, but for now he adjusted his homburg seeking a tiny amount of relief from the bright sun. I've been barred from better places than this, he sighed to himself. At least I am now talking to the head of the perimeter detail. "I am not a guest at the event; that is why my name is not on the guest list. Rather, I have an agreement with Mr. Endeavour Taggert to interview him regarding an important murder investigation and he is expecting me." The emphasis, in his clear baritone voice, was on 'murder.' He checked his timepiece pointedly... "Fifteen minutes ago, in fact."

Officer Broadstreet appeared to be intelligent despite his bulk, so William waited until the other man signaled surrender. "I will accompany you to the door, Detective, but I hope you understand I cannot discuss anything beyond that we are here to discreetly secure the property."

William shot him a look at the word "discreetly" and Broadstreet managed not to blush at such a ridiculous pronouncement: The entire gated property was shut down tightly with DP or Pinkerton's at every entrance, proclaiming to all and sundry that there was something very special going on with very important people inside the multi-turreted, red-brick-and-sandstone house, perched on a prominent rise at the corner of King and Queen Streets.

William traversed the walkway and gained the stone steps to knock on a pair of black coffin doors, held in place with enormous iron hinges, each door decorated with a large diamond pattern in relief. Above him was a Roman arch with two facing, rampant Griffons, and Divitiae in Domo Mea carved in the Potsdam sandstone over the entrance. So this is the house that "tobacco" built, he observed to himself as he let his gaze wander over the building's protuberances, towers and quixotic roofline. He was getting a better appreciation for the engineering side of constructing a home now that he and Julia were moving forward with their house, since an architect was being asked to translate his model home into actual scaled-up building plans. It turns out roofs are harder than they look, he groused to himself.

When no one immediately answered, Officer Broadstreet, eager to get back to his duties, took a turn pounding on the wood, using his meaty fist. The right-hand door swung abruptly inward, nearly pitching the officer forward towards a small vestibule and into the arms of the slender woman who held the door. The woman's bright cornflower-coloured eyes were fixed beyond the large officer who was trying to extricate himself from her grasp with many embarrassed apologies, and on to the detective, who stood gape-mouthed on the step.

"William!" she asked, her voice pitching up in surprise. "Whatever are you doing here?"

"Julia?"

-Chapter One-

"Perfect timing, detective." Julia said brightly, much to the astonishment of both men. She pulled the doors open to admit them, then firmly closed and latched them behind her.

"Julia?" William asked again as he removed his hat, trying to take it all in at once: he knew she was in Hamilton for a few days visiting her friend, Mrs. Prudence Carter, but was shocked to find her in the role of Butler at the Taggert home. More than that, she was wearing the most intriguing gown of gauzy fabric in a muted ocean-blue colour that made her eyes even prettier than usual. The unfamiliar garment had no obvious structure to it, falling from wide shoulders to just above her toes with a thick, soft belt at the waist. The whole effect took him completely off guard. "What are you doing here?" He started to kiss her on the cheek, but held back considering the Dominion Police Officer was right there. Before allowing her time to answer, he peppered her with another question to satisfy his curiosity: "And what is so perfect about the timing?"

Officer Broadstreet tried to interject to regain control of the situation, clearing his throat. "Miss… er.. You know this gentleman? He says he is a Toronto Detective and has an appointment with Mr. Taggert. Can you confirm this?"

Julia flicked her gaze from one face to the next and snorted lightly. "Officer…?" she asked, prompting him to supply is name.

"Broadstreet, Miss."

"Officer Broadstreet, of course I know him. Detective Murdoch is my husband!" She said this with a fond smile, then her slight amusement faded. "Gentlemen, we have a small problem." She backed up, away from the entrance and into the wide oak-trimmed foyer, allowing both men to view the central hall. On the right was a large, elongated yellow-brick hearth, with a slab of white and ochre onyx for its mantle. Immediately to the left was a small library with fine windows suitable for admitting reading light, completely paneled in blonde gumwood with a large mirror above the fireplace. Two other rooms followed on the left, opposite an angled staircase off the hall, also completely covered in a veritable forest of quarter-sawn oak on the floor, walls, even the hexagonally-coffered ceiling, consisting of perhaps a half-mile of built-up trim-work for the several rooms, hall and staircase. Both men kept their expectant eyes firmly pinned on her, but she saw William wrinkling his nose.

Officer Broadstreet made the first move. "Mrs. Murdoch, what is the nature of this problem and would you know if Mr. Taggert is available to keep his appointment…?"

William inhaled for breath to correct him, but Julia crossed over and extended her hand, forcing Broadstreet to shake it in greeting. "It is Doctor Julia Ogden, Officer." She backed even further away and motioned them to come forward past the fireplace to reveal a spot of chaos amidst the otherwise staid and properly proportioned space, designed to show off the owner's wealth and taste. "The problem, is this…"

Both men stopped in their tracks. Two bodies were on display, one face up on the floor with no obvious wound and one impaled face down, from stomach through the back, on what William took to be one of a pair of bronze electrified statues, topping a hefty oak newel post. "Good Lord!" declared Officer Broadstreet. His eyes were wide and his face drained of colour surveying the gory scene and the victims.

"Two men dead?" William came forward cautiously to get a better look, giving the sign of the cross in blessing. He looked at Julia for an explanation, careful to not disturb the utterly appalling crime scene. There was copious amounts of blood on the stairs and stairwell's expensive wall-paper, running in a small stream to pool at the bottom of the steps. William recognized the smell of bowel and blood that teased his nose when he came into the house.

Julia gestured to the tall, angular man in a black frock coat lying face up on the floor. "No, not two. The butler, Mr. August, is still breathing. He appears to have merely fainted and then knocked himself out. He has quite a nasty contusion on the back of his head, consistent with hitting the floor…a concussion perhaps." She looked innocently in William's direction before her next comment. "Some people can't stand the sight of a little blood, I guess." Then she frowned thoughtfully. "Although…I suppose he could have been assaulted by a person or persons unknown, but we will have to get him awake to learn the truth. Do either of you have any smelling salts on you?"

William immediately took charge. "We must call the Hamilton police, right away. I assume this just happened? Or you just happened on the scene?" He looked around for a telephone. He spied one in the library and started off for it when Officer Broadstreet, who had not been as respectful as William of the blood spatter while he was checking out the victims, stopped him.

"No," Broadstreet declared. "As the commanding officer of the Dominion Police security detail, I am taking control of the situation, and as for right now, we are not calling the local authorities, at least not until I confer with my superior. It's a matter of…"

"National security?" William and Julia asked in unison, causing Broadstreet to do a double take and William and Julia to roll their eyes, unimpressed.

Broadstreet dithered a moment, clearly debating if it would be better to leave the two of them with the body, call another officer into the house, or send one of them to fetch his boss. None of the choices seemed wise. "Let us concentrate on keeping anyone and everyone out of this area and getting Mr. August upright and talking, as well as his wounds tended."

William and Julia looked at each other for a brief exchange, seeking mutual agreement. They had been at unexpectedly strange odds recently over building their home and pursuing adoption - neither having realized just how stressful and frustrating the whole process entailed, and to have thought they could do both at once without a problem had been a serious miscalculation. William and Julia's personal psychological adjustments post the ordeal with Eva Pearce had not helped matters either. Conversation had become awkward between them resulting in a bi-lateral retreat into intellectualization or awkward speechlessness. Fits and starts on endless house plans, purchasing the land and financing the construction, adoption paperwork and uncomfortable interviews with disapproving orphanage board members…even two determined, organized and loving partners such as themselves experienced sandpaper-moments between them under the combined pressure.

Julia was rethinking about exactly how she wanted to become a mother, but was not ready to discuss that with William. And as much as she adored her husband, she could only take so much information about the fluid dynamics of state-of-the-art plumbing and the physical conduction properties of potential radiant-heat flooring materials….all his nattering-on used to fill the silences either gave her a headache or a desire for sherry. Julia implied she needed a break from her hectic work schedule at the morgue and the asylum. She knew William was intelligent enough to infer she really needed a break from their tension and his obsessive plans for their shared future, so when the opportunity to come down to Hamilton presented itself to Julia, she thought it was a perfect excuse to unwind the tension between them and each get some precious solo time to relax. Julia knew it made William unhappy for her to (even symbolically) leave him, but as he could not stop her, off she went and he was forced to readjust his personal plans as well. Even when annoyed at him, thinking about her husband could give Julia a lift of pleasure…He did make certain the night before I left was memorable…no conversation required.

Never-the-less she had quite looked forward to her mini-vacation in Hamilton, escaping the vagaries of her professional and personal life in the pursuit of "Good Works" in the comforts of that city's high Society. She was therefore supremely irritated at present: Of course a murder would intrude! Julia took in a long breath, held it, then nodded back at him in acceptance as she exhaled.

"Right, then," William said once he was certain Julia was together with him on this; it was comforting to know they were going to take a team approach. Whatever is was going to be, he told himself. "I will assist Dr. Ogden with Mr. August if you need to secure the other doors. I happen to have some smelling salts…"

While the DP officer checked out several sets of doors to close off the central hall, William and Julia conferred in hushed tones while trying to bring Mr. August around. In answer to William's question about her presence in the house, Julia explained: "You knew I was staying in Hamilton with Prudence…Mrs. Carter, and today is the event I told you about. Prudence is Endeavour Taggert's eldest granddaughter and the nominal hostess for a rather large party taking place in their garden as we speak. There are two hundred or more of the richest, most politically-connected individuals in Hamilton and beyond, who are here to be persuaded to do something about improving health care for mothers and infants. Prudence asked me to be here to help her lobby specifically for maternal health needs."

William retrieved a small object from his jacket and broke open the phial of ammonia carbonate under the butler's nose, waving the acrid scent around. "And all this…?" he asked, meaning the bodies.

Julia exhaled, and slapped Mr. August's round cheeks as the man started to gasp and cough. "Prudence asked me to come inside and fetch her fan. I came in from the garden, through the ballroom and into the hall and, well… there they were. I took the time to check Mr. August's pulse. The other man was clearly well-past life." She grimaced. "I was on the way to use the telephone myself when I heard the door. So I opened it and there, much to my surprise, you were! So, what did bring you here, William?"

"I am here to interview Mr. Taggert in connection with the Toronto horse-racing deaths we are investigating. It turns out that Mr. Taggert has a strong interest in horse breeding as well as betting, and his name came up in the investigation. Considering his position as an ex-mayor of Hamilton I was told to come see him at his home rather than ask him to come to Toronto for the interview, also because he was hosting some important event today; now I know what that was. He gave me an appointment for this afternoon…so here I am."

Julia looked at him. "So, in other words, the mountain was told to come to Mohammed?"

William flushed. "Yes. Quite. I believe that colourful phrase came from Francis Bacon?" William pounded Mr. August on the back to help the wracking cough and then assisted him in rising, rather unsteadily, on his feet. "But it is agreeable to see you, Julia, in any event. You look…"The pleasantry was interrupted when William grabbed Mr. August to prevent him from keeling over again when the butler saw the ghastly corpse festooning his employer's staircase.

"Steady there, man. Come over here and sit, and tell us what happened." It seems kissing my wife will have to wait. William on one side and Julia on the other, they guided him to the library so as to be out of the line of sight of the body, and found him a seat. Mr. August, whom William judged to be about fifty, collapsed his lanky form into a hard-backed chair and took a few breaths to compose himself.

William whispered to Julia as an aside: "We need to check and make sure he has not been chloroformed, or gassed" giving her a sour look, "considering how often the Dominion Police have been known to use that tactic. Where there is 'national security'..."

"…There are spies," Julia finished. William's remark reminded her of just how often her husband had been rendered unconscious by one spy or another.

When Mr. August appeared sufficiently aroused, William made introductions while Julia tended to his head wound with one of William's handkerchiefs.

"Oh…ah…yes. Detective Murdoch... You are here to see Mr. Taggert. I am, er… I was expecting you, sir… that is Mr. Taggert is expecting you. I just came into the hallway to, er…em…to… and then I saw…" Mr. August's stammering ceased all together.

William sympathized. "Yes. Very difficult sight I imagine. Enough to unnerve any man. What time did you come into the house and see the body?" William asked, hoping the question would focus the man on something concrete and calm his nerves.

"I am not sure exactly. Everyone was out of the house by twelve noon when the first guests started arriving." Mr. August was coming around and his pained expression was for more than the dead body and knock on his head; he was distinctly uncomfortable being tended to by guests of his employer and sitting on a chair in the Library, possibly a breach in protocol he had never dared at any time in his whole life in service. He stood abruptly and swayed for a moment before straightening his jacket and searching for any dirt that may have befallen him. "The last thing I remember was coming into the house from the garden, I don't…I don't actually remember more than seeing….him." A massive walnut longcase clock, situated at the end of the hall, chimed the eight-note Westminster Quarters.

William confirmed with his own watch. "It is two-thirty. Mr. August, do you think someone assaulted you, or perhaps were you were overcome and…"

"Fainted...Detective?" The butler tried to raise an eyebrow in affronted displeasure, but the attempt brought more pain to his wounded head. His shoulders slumped. "Yes, I suppose I did." He winced again as Officer Broadstreet returned.

The Dominion Police officer assessed the situation. "Doctor Ogden, is it? You are staying with the family this week-end I believe. Is Mr. August well-enough for him to quietly find Mr. Taggert and Arthur Percy Sherwood, and ask them to come into the house? Mr. Sherwood is the Chief Commissioner of the Dominion Police and in attendance at this event, and as we are responsible for security," Broadstreet swallowed, "he must be notified."

"Mr. August, how are you feeling?" Julia monitored his vital signs as best she could. She looked again at his eyes—they were equal and reactive, his pulse was strong and his colour was better. He no longer appeared ready to swoon. "He was not assaulted, Officer Broadstreet, but he did pass out and hit his head fairly hard. If Mr. August says he is fine I don't see the harm in it, but after that he should rest and get Cook to fetch some ice for that lump."

"Excellent. Then while Mr. August is doing his duty, I will get men from outside to remove the corpse from the…from its position. Detective Murdoch, Dr. Ogden, if you will remain here with the body and see that no one comes in?" Broadstreet asked. "Mr. August, I don't suppose you recognize the victim, do you?"

That sent the butler reeling again. "I…I…I, don't think…" He grasped the back of his chair with white knuckles.

"Officer Broadstreet, the victim is head-down and covered in blood. His own mother would not recognize him," Julia spoke up. She saw that her husband was restless and cocked an eyebrow at him.

Broadstreet relented. "Very well. We will wait on identification. Mr. August, please ask Mr. Taggert and Mr. Sherwood to come back to the house, saying only that 'Francis Broadstreet is in the foyer hoping for a word.' That will alert them to extricate themselves from the crowd and come inside. I will go get men to move the body and clean up the mess."

As soon as the butler left, William confronted Broadstreet. "I don't want to tell you how to do your job, sir, but moving the body and interfering with the crime scene…" He gestured to the staircase. "You will ruin the evidence."

Broadstreet shook his head and looked carefully at William and then Julia before speaking. William recognized that flat, black-eyed look shuttering over the man's eyes. "My job is the security of the nation, detective. I answer to the Commissioner and he answers directly to the Prime Minister." Broadstreet stared in an obvious attempt to intimidate, but William did not back down. And to her credit, neither did Julia, William reflected with pride. Having won nothing, Broadstreet excused himself and went out the front door.

As soon as the man's back was turned, Julia looked at William with a knowing grin, speaking as soon as the door closed. "William, perhaps we can do a little preliminary investigation before the body is moved?"

William exhaled in relief and nodded. "I rather think we should. You don't know him I take it?" he asked as they took up positions on either side of the staircase to look for evidence and measure the width of the blood spatter with William's tape measure.

"No. I do not recognize him, but his face is obscured and his suit looks generally like what most of the men are wearing. I'd estimate he is your height, lighter by at least ten pounds and younger by a good ten years." Julia said all this without making any eye contact with her husband, in case he was sensitive about the comparisons. "I make that seven feet from the farthest droplet in this direction. And look at this, I'd say his shoes are brand new." William observed the un-scuffed soles she pointed to.

"Ah, yes. There are no foot prints in the blood spatter that I can see, other than these smudges which I saw Officer Broadstreet make. Do you see anything from your angle?" William asked, having written down the measurements and made a quick sketch of the scene.

"No, I do not," Julia answered. "There is nothing in his hands that I can see and nothing in his hair." She noticed a small bit of detritus on the floor and asked for his magnifying glass. While peering at, what turned out to be bits of grass, she asked, "Do you really like the dress? I had absolutely nothing suitable to wear for a garden-party, and certainly nothing that fit the sort of Society occasion this event is. I borrowed it from Dennie, and I think I'd like to own something like this. It's from Paris!" she gushed, as she picked up the weeds and placed them on a piece of white paper, also recovered from William's jacket pockets.

William knew he was supposed to praise the dress, and to be honest he appreciated the colour, even if the cut reminded him of Julia's more intimate clothing and less of the straight-forward suits she usually wore that were form-fitting or snug in the waist, showing off her figure. In fact it was taking some fortitude not to want to touch the silky cloth, with her in it. She's only been gone two days but I miss her. He listened for any noises approaching, and stood up, coming next to her. When she straightened as well, he kissed her, chastely, and grinned. "You make the dress beautiful, Doctor." He was rewarded with a beaming smile in which he momentarily basked, until getting distracted by the interesting blood pool.

"Julia, look at this. What do you make of the blood stain? Can you tell how long it has been…? And by the way, who is Dennie?" he asked, leaving her to the blood while he went about cautiously peering up the square opening of the staircase. He took in a set of three fine stained-glass panels on the back wall of the house on the first landing, depicting a woman in white in the center and flowers of some kind on the side panels, then looked all the way to the third floor. He was starting to calculate the trajectory of the suspected fall, when he and Julia were interrupted by three men coming through the front door with grim looks on their faces, led by Officer Broadstreet.

"Men, we need to carefully remove that body from that position and get this area cleaned up. Try to remove it," he gave a glance to William and Julia, "as carefully as possible. You may have to take the whole bronze statue with it…" He shrugged. He appeared to have reconsidered his earlier reaction. "Would that be your advice, Detective?"

William looked at Julia and came forward. "Ideally we would study the body in place and take the whole thing, weapon, well I suppose you can call it a weapon, the whole thing to the morgue for Dr. Ogden to examine in situ." The four other men stared in confusion. William could not keep a little satisfaction out of his voice. "Dr. Ogden was at one time Chief Coroner for the city of Toronto and currently serves as acting coroner."

Broadstreet explained. "This lovely woman, gentlemen, is Dr. Ogden."

It took the four of them with considerable grunting and an assist with a rope to get the body off its undignified display and onto the floor. They accomplished it quickly with minimal extra fuss or discussion, and set about scrubbing the blood after getting a grudging OK from William. William was a little unnerved that this crew of men knew how to remove so much blood and apparently had the equipment and chemicals on hand.

Julia was taking a rapid survey of the body when her host, Mr. Taggert, opened the ballroom's pocket doors, followed by a gentleman of military bearing with a brown mustache over generous lips she assumed was Mr. Sherwood. Mr. Taggert gasped and put a hand on his companion's arm. His skin paled to match the wispy white hair crowning his high forehead and full white beard, mustache and mutton chops which were trimmed in an old-fashioned style to match his old-fashioned gentleman's suit. His rheumy eyes were round and wide in distress. Julia thought he was going to be the next man to faint, he was over eighty years old after all, so she took a position on his other side and eased him onto the hall bench.

Mr. Taggert muttered, "A lady, er…you should not be here…" He managed to sound offended rather than grateful for Julia's assistance.

"Your welcome," Julia answered sweetly, much too sweetly.

William noted that while this was going on the other man barely broke stride and joined Broadstreet by the body. "It's not him," he noted cryptically under his breath and stood up, exhaling. William saw Mr. Taggert was still in some shock when Officer Broadstreet, calmly made introductions.

"Sirs, may I present Dr. Julia Ogden who is a houseguest of Mrs. Carter, and this is Detective William Murdoch of the Toronto Constabulary, here to conduct an interview with Mr. Taggert. Dr. Ogden, Detective Murdoch, this is Mr. Arthur Percy Sherwood, Commissioner of Dominion Police, and this is Mr. Endeavour Taggert." After the handshaking was done, Broadstreet continued. "Dr. Ogden found the bodies…well, she found the butler, Mr. August, unconscious next to the body, then opened the front door to admit Detective Murdoch and myself. Dr. Ogden and Detective Murdoch are…"

Sherwood's' large, clear eyes had a touch of humour. "Yes, I am aware of who they are, Broadstreet." William and Julia looked at each other. "Well, you both have reputations and have given service to your country before, have you not? I am familiar with your files." He turned again to Broadstreet. "Have we identified the victim yet?

From behind them, Endeavour Taggert's hoarse voice intruded, a slight quaver in his speech. "That, gentlemen, is Caliber Burke. He is the son of my late son's business partner and has been staying with me next door in Myrtle House for several weeks to learn about retail tobacco manufacturing, marketing and distribution. A little raw in the business-sense, but the right kind of mind, focused on the bottom line." Mr. Taggert hauled himself as upright as his stooped back would allow and moved next to the body forcing himself to look, then wincing at the terrible, obvious wound in the man's abdomen. He took in a ragged breath. "He was barely thirty. Comes from Virginia. No….no family." Words failed the old man again and he closed his eyes, remaining standing with effort.

"I take it the cause of death is not in question?" Sherwood did not seem to require an answer.

Julia joined in even though she was not asked. "I am fairly certain of the proximal cause of death, but not the manner of death. The cause appears to be impalement with organ damage and subsequent blood loss, but I don't know what all the contributing factors are." Mr. Taggert glowered more balefully about Julia delivering such an assessment. Each of them understood: no one could have escaped such an evisceration with their life, but how it happened and why were the really important questions to be answered.

"Sir," William insisted, "we should call the Hamilton Police. They need to gather the evidence, question witnesses, and identify suspects…"

"No, detective. We will do no such thing. The Hamilton Chief Constable is a guest at this party as is Wellington Jeffers Morden, the current Mayor, two past Mayors, several high-ranking political figures and important businessmen who will not take kindly to being considered suspects or witnesses in a murder and do not need to be panicked with any announcement of this unfortunate death. There is also a very serious national security angle to consider." Sherwood turned to scowl at Officer Broadstreet and his men. "I am wondering how in hell this could have happened, right under the nose of a security detail, my security detail, gentlemen!" he said angrily, not caring he swore in the presence of a lady. "Ordinarily I would have the Dominion Police on site investigate this, but considering that they failed their duty, I have lost a certain amount of confidence in their abilities."

Sherwood's voice rose only slightly but the tone sent his officers to stiffen and colour in anger or shame. "Besides, putting in a telephone call like that could alert anyone in a wider conspiracy that something has happened when they see the police mobilize. What if this is all a feint to draw police presence off their real target?" Sherwood shifted his hands behind his back. "This has all the earmarks of an attack on the very establishment of our country, or at least that is how Ottawa is likely to read it, unless it can be ruled as a tragic accident?" Sherwood's eyes locked on to William, sounding almost hopeful. "Detective, what do you think?"

William paused before answering, mindful of the uncomfortable truth this man had a file on him and Julia. He supposed he should have known, but the notion of Terrance Meyers' making reports on them was unsettling, especially considering their contentious encounters. He flicked his eyes toward his wife, who merely raised her eyebrows. "Sir. If you would allow Dr. Ogden and me to examine some of the evidence, perhaps we can answer that one question for you?"

Obtaining consent from Mr. Sherwood over Mr. Taggert's objection, William and Julia climbed the stairs past three panels of coloured glass on the landing, each topped by transom window, to do a cursory examination of the second floor. Julia had never searched a scene with William before in quite this way; usually it was one of his constables who performed these duties. She surreptitiously observed what William was doing and copied him. Nothing seemed obviously amiss. The floor possessed a central lobby from which various doors led off to bedrooms and Julia pointed out the one she was staying in.

William's curiosity got the best of him. "I take it Mr. Taggert does not approve of the modern woman?" he asked with a straight face as they made note of the back hall and servants' staircase.

Julia placed her hand firmly on her hips. "Endeavour Taggert is an old fossil for whom women have one and only one place!" she said between clenched teeth. "It was he and my father who were close in age, and shared a certain skepticism about women in the world. Prudence's mother and my mother on the other hand were similar in age, and occasionally played bridge. That is how I met Dennie, obviously short for Prudence. Dennie and Jules, two tomboys breaking all the conventions imposed on girls. While my father was displeased, her grandfather was outraged and curbed her severely. No one brooked Endeavour Taggert's iron control over his family." Julia's own outrage about the memory threatened to make it too hard to keep her voice down.

"You and Mrs. Carter have a lot in common?" William assumed there was more. He examined the carpet from different angles to see if there were drag marks."

Julia smiled when she understood what William was doing and got down on the floor with him for a better view of the carpet. "Yes, we do. Our mothers passed away around the same time, even our husbands…." Julia stopped. "Darcy was killed the same month her husband died. Neither of us could bear children." She got quiet. "Dennie's gotten pregnant but miscarried every time. The last one nearly killed her as well. She was a great friend when we were young and we recently reconnected. That is why I agreed to help her today with this fundraiser for women's health needs." Julia's face scrunched in guilty embarrassment. "She probably thinks I abandoned her."

"I am sure that has been taken care of, somehow. How is it she is living here now?" William asked. He was learning more about the family that could help—more data, in his estimation, always did. It also had the side benefit of helping him understand more about his wife.

For her part, Julia hoped she was not ruining the borrowed dress, but the freedom of movement it gave her was delicious. I could never have done this crawling around in a corset! No wonder Dennie had gone step farther and adopted trousers for her work at the family's tobacco factory. She brought herself back to answer William. "She moved here after her husband died. Dennie had already substantially raised her youngest sister, Joy, so she came here to run the house for her grandfather, and take over some of the business functions Mr. Carter had been responsible for. All four granddaughters live here—some more happily than others…" She stood, shaking her head. "I see nothing of value here."

"Myself as well." William moved to bend over the balcony to look at the staircase below. "Julia, how much would you say our victim weighed?"

"I'd say about 145 to 150 pounds, give or take. He's taller than average and slim. Why?"

"Because I do not think he could have come from this height and impale himself with enough force to drive that bronze object through his midsection and out the back like that." William took out his notebook to begin sketching again and made a page for calculations.

Julia came over and looked down. "Well, it is only a guess, it would be better to measure both his weight and his height, as well as his proportions."

"Yes, better data produces more accurate results, but," William caught her eyes and offered her a small grin, "I will take your guesses as most accurate, considering your knack for estimation has tended to be supported by instrumentation."

Julia took pleasure in the compliment and blushed. "Why, detective, thank you for noticing. You flatter me."

William smiled back in satisfaction. "Let us go to the third floor, shall we?"

The third floor was laid out much as the one below it. They counted eight doorways off a central lobby plus the servant's staircase. As private, family space, it was not as lavishly decorated as the ground floor, and boasted only one window wedged in between two parts of an angled roofline. The pair looked at the oak railing and the beginning of the staircase below. "William, did you notice how Mr. Sherwood and Officer Broadstreet actually appeared to relax a bit after seeing the body up close and in better light?" Julia whispered.

"Quite. I noticed that was well. I heard Mr. Sherwood mutter something like 'It is not him.' I wonder what that signified." William kept his voice low and frowned in concentration.

"Yes. Curious. I never met Mr. Burke, but that was the man Dennie spoke of as being taken under her grandfather's wing." Dennie had said a great deal more, but Julia did not think now was the proper time to gossip. She looked for evidence of a struggle, anything broken…a button connected to the killer conveniently lying on the floor. "William. This searching over the scene for physical clues is quite stimulating." She scraped at a bit of dust. "I wonder if refusal to call the local police has more to do with the scandal or embarrassment of allowing the death to happen than national security." Julia paused to search her mind. "Although, it is almost as if they expected a death of some kind and even a particular victim. I wonder if that is the real reason for all the security, especially security from the Dominion Police, for what is after all a social occasion, not a political rally." She ran her hand along the railing and looked closely at the floor by the balustrade and sighed. "Nothing obvious here." She made sure the men on the ground floor could hear those words.

He nodded in agreement to both of those opinions. "Julia, I think we need to keep our speculations to ourselves, for now." In a louder voice he said: "I see no indication of a struggle as well, but we need to know exactly where he went over and if there is any way to tell if this was a simple accident. Doctor, will you take the other end of the measuring tape and run it down to the newel post? Then hold it there while I strike off the angle?" Out of his dark brown summer-wool jacket pocket came a tape measure and protractor.

"Of course." Julia took the tab-end and went down the stairs, finally putting her hand where the tip of the lighted statue had been. "Remember, detective, there was a definite point on the object, capable of piercing flesh I would guess."

On the ground floor Officer Broadstreet and the other security men were nowhere to be seen, and all that was left of the blood spatter was damp spots on the wallpaper and floor. Julia was glad she and William had taken some notes before this evidence was erased. I must learn what they used to remove the stains and if they'd share the secret with me as a professional courtesy. She made a note to herself to ask.

After several moments she heard a "Thank you, doctor, you can let go now," and watched the tape zip up to the third floor, then William descend. He took one last look up the third floor and joined Julia with Mr. Sherwood and Mr. Taggert in the library.

William took out his notebook and stood to lecture while the clock gave the hour as three. "Gentlemen, by my calculations, since force equals mass times acceleration and gravity accelerates at 9.8 metres per second squared, Mr. Burke would have to have fallen from the third floor in order to build up enough force to impale himself as he did. Using myself as a stand-in for his height, and considering our guess about his weight, I can say with a degree of certainty that only going over the railing where I have marked it upstairs, would produce the damage we saw on the body. I can give you the mathematical proof if you like?"

He asked somewhat hopefully, Julia noticed.

Sherwood waved him off, so William continued. "Therefore he was not placed there after death as some sort of macabre message, and a limp or dead body pitched over the railing would have had a different trajectory. Alternatively, he could have been pushed over to obscure some other very proximal cause of death such as a stab wound, even a bullet wound I imagine, but there would have been no guarantee he'd have hit the newel post in that particular manner. Regardless, only an autopsy will deliver that information." Mr. Taggert, who had been sitting quietly, seemed to groan at those details.

Sherwood narrowed his eyes. "A degree of certainty, Detective? How so? Based on what evidence?"

"Based on the laws of physics. And, well…pigs." William made himself say the last bit solemnly. "Sir."

"Pigs? Did you say, pigs?" Sherwood's voice sounded skeptical but William thought his eyes telegraphed amusement.

Julia was not so sure. "Detective Murdoch and I have conducted extensive experiments over the years to replicate the events of a crime, including recreating the wounds. The detective has developed charts that correlate to the physics of several kinds of crime, using pigs as a substitute for human beings. While it is not a perfect analogy…"

Sherwood barked a short laugh, startling Mr. Taggert into a coughing fit. "Detective, enough. Your reputation precedes you. Could it have been an accident of some kind? A slip and fall perhaps? Even that he was drunk and toppled over?"

Julia answered. "There is no overt evidence of alcohol with the body, and no evidence of any obstruction or problems with the flooring on the third floor that would cause such an accident. The railing is intact. Blood samples and stomach contents would be helpful. I think by the blood spatter he was alive when he hit the statue." Julia spotted Mr. Taggert blanching again and stopped any further descriptions.

William continued. "The height of the balustrade is scaled for a man of average height, between about five foot six to eight inches tall. We are guessing Mr. Burke was close to myself in height, and while I am taller than average, there is no way I could 'accidently' go over that railing, especially face first. No, gentlemen, he had to be pushed." He swung the cover of his notebook up in a snap and rocked on the balls of his feet. "I make it murder. Therefore we need to call the local constabulary."

# # #

This time both Mr. Sherwood and Mr. Taggert objected to calling the local police, and sent Julia and William out into the hall so the two men could confer in private.

William and Julia took the opportunity to do the same. In the hall, William gave an admiring perusal to the walnut clock, hoping the one he had ordered for his home with Julia would be as attractive. Inspector Brackenreid had convinced him that a gentleman's home was incomplete unless furnished with a tall clock that chimed every quarter hour.

Julia took his hand and settled them into a modest drawing room situated next to the library, enjoying how her skirts seemed to almost float around her. A second pair of double doors gave way to the dining room to the left which was outfitted-to-impress with massive oak built-in china buffet and cabinets, and an oak table set for twelve but clearly able to accommodate twice that many. Julia liked the cozy drawing room the best; when the morning sun was just right, splashes of colour from the stained glass at the turn of the stairs flooded across the hall and into the room. "William, while I am glad to see you, what are you really doing here? I am only going to be gone from Toronto four days…I expected you to be home dealing with the architect or happily working your way through your stack of American Journal of Mathematics and your new subscription to Journal of Electricity that I got you for your birthday. What could possibly tear you away from that?"

William's face fell. "I know. I am so disappointed." He wrinkled the left side of his mouth. "You were exactly right about the mountain coming to Mohammed. This Toronto horse-race case seems to never end, and Inspector Brackenreid is becoming aggrieved. When the investigation lead me to Endeavour Taggert, I was flatly ordered to interview him today, or not at all, so…here I am." He checked his watch. "I will be missing my train home, but hopefully I will get the interview." He turned back to her, admiring the way her dress played up the colour of her eyes. The house was so quiet and still the two of them could have been anywhere, on vacation in some serene location, delving into a detailed conversation on some scientific principle or new discovery…except for the body lying a few feet away and the smells of death that had not dissipated.

If anyone had asked, he could not deny he was enjoying himself.

Julia interrupted his reverie. "William, what do you really believe is going on with Mr. Burke's death? Is it possible it is linked to your visit here in some way? I mean, he did die right before you were scheduled to come. That's an awfully big coincidence, don't you think?"

William felt his skin buzz as if touched with electricity. That had not occurred to him at all, and was an unappetizing idea. It sent him to working through the variables. After a moment he said, "I don't think so, Julia, but you are right, it is a troubling coincidence, and we have learned to be wary of those, have we not? I think it more likely to have something to do with the security threat, or whatever passes for that, considering the effort put into guarding this house—for all the good that did. I recall how difficult it is to fail in one's duty to protect." William's mind went immediately to the death of an Alderman, assassinated in a carriage seated next to Mayor Hopkins, all the while under the protection of the Constabulary, and right under the noses of Station House No. 4. That caused William to wonder. "Did you know about the security detail ahead of time?"

"No. I did not. Mr. Sherwood is no more forthcoming than our old friend Terrance Meyers, was. I did not know about the Pinkerton's and Dominion Police until one of the guests commented on it. I suppose we will never get the truth from him…" Julia looked up as she heard the library doors open and saw Mr. Sherwood's shadow approach from the hall. "Speak of the devil," she said in a sotto voce, as the Commissioner cleared his throat and William helped Julia rise.

Commissioner Sherwood's face was closed and his speech clipped. "Detective Murdoch. I just got off the telephone with Ottawa. It turns out that our Prime Minister, Mr. Laurier, has taken a very keen interest in this tragic death. And, it also seems he is somewhat of an admirer of yours. You have been appointed to sort out which of the people in the house or on the grounds is responsible for Mr. Burke's death, until a Dominion Police Special Investigator arrives to take over. We need time to assess the whole scope of the national security picture, something that is being carried out right now with all good speed by government operatives in Ottawa. Therefore, he has ordered me to help you conduct a preliminary inquiry, here."

William felt his fists tighten and exchanged a glance with Julia, who looked equally bewildered.

Mr. Sherwood ignored William's agitation. "Your mandate is to eliminate as many people as suspects and witnesses as you can, so that this…incident… is kept as tightly under wraps as possible. Your country is counting on you, detective." He smiled tightly, pivoting slightly to Julia and bowing. "And you, Dr. Ogden, are to assist him. You have three or four hours, more or less, to do it. "