Murdoch in the Jungle: Prologue
It is December, 1904. William and Julia are married and Julia is pregnant with the child who will be their son. Detective Murdoch has been investigating the murder of a woman, following leads that have led to the dirty, rough, abusive world of the meat packing industry at the turn of the century. Suspecting that the victim's husband, who had been found dead late in the summer, had been hired to sabotage the competition of Toronto Pork tycoon, William Davies, by removing the ice on refrigerated train cars shipping the competition's butchered meat, the detective and Constable Crabtree go undercover posed as hobos riding the trains in search for work. Along the way they encounter Upton Sinclair, who is conducting research for his subsequent book, "The Jungle." Sinclair is also posing as a hobo and helps the Toronto policeman, not only with their investigation, but also with learning how to survive in this, dark, depressing and soul-torturing world of the early twentieth century jungle. Familiar people they encounter along the way are Alan Clegg, Terrence Meyers and Madame Ettie Weston.
The following is an excerpt from a one of the upcoming chapters.
Although it was not uncommon for William and Julia to fall asleep in each other's arms, they rarely woke up that way. Invariably, one or both of them would waken in the middle of the night and change positions. Thus, William was surprised to wake up and find they were tangled together, Julia's head still on his chest and her pregnant belly and thigh draped over him. Relieved that he had managed to wake up before the sunrise, for he needed to leave early today, he was glad that he would be able to turn off the alarm clock before it rang and woke Julia up as well. He took a deep breath, preparing to find a way to move without waking her, but also because he felt a heavy tug at his heart. He would be doing the one thing that caused her the most stress – going undercover, and all the evidence told him that she was having a particularly hard time dealing with his absence, and his being in potential danger, when they were this near to her due date – now little more than six weeks away.
Deciding there was no guaranteed way to rise without stirring her, he chose to try to slip out from under her, towards his side of the bed. Before he had even moved an inch, merely tightening his muscles to begin his departure, he felt her arm and her leg clamp tighter around him. A complaining groan broke the silence in the darkness. Clearly, she did not want to let him go.
Compassion flooded his heart, rendering the tenderness in his voice as he said, "Julia, I have to go," the words resonating deeply inside both of them, vibrating destiny's tuning fork, reminiscent of the words' portence so many years before, when their utterance had been accompanied by his tear-filled eyes, the last time their eyes touched before she left him for Buffalo. Her response to their utterance now was to hold on to him with even more force. Yes, this was going to be very difficult indeed. Rather than fight against it, he yielded, rolling even closer to her and wrapping her securely in his arms. His next deep breath guided her familiar scent deeply down into him, registering somehow in his soul. It was inescapable – he loved her more than life itself, and she him. And yet, he knew he would do it. He knew that she knew as well. He would go.
He rolled even further over, pushing her onto her side, opening a path behind him to ultimately move away, while moving closer to her. He pushed further, rolling her onto her back, and found himself becoming aroused as she lie so weak and soft underneath him. Instincts took over as warmth filled his chest, and his groin.
His demanding breathing rattled against her ear, as the morning stubble on his cheek scratched tantalizingly across her jaw and her cheek, and his fingers found her face, grasped it, locking it in place, before his lips took hers passionately. Her moan lured him towards his lustful horizons, deepening his kiss. Ultimately, he would taste all of her, touch all of her, bask in each moan … in each cry, swim in each distinctive odor, his senses seemingly heightened by the peril he faced, by the unconscious awareness that it may be the last time. Then she would return the favor, driving him over the edge of ecstasy as well.
Afterwards, they lie together, fulfilled, waiting for their bliss and reality to merge. The alarm would sound soon, the pre-dawn light now kissing the room, so he told her again, that he needed to go.
Wanting to feel his heart beating against her a while longer, knowing she would miss his smell, and his voice, and the feeling of his breath on her, she asked, urged, "Not until the alarm … at least not till then." Only a few moments later, the bell tolled and he reached over to quiet its dreaded proclamation. His deep breath announced the immanence of it, his leaving. With a gentle kiss to her hair, breathing her deeply in one final time, he rose, dressed and left, without a word, without a promise to be careful, knowing such words would not suffice to comfort her, knowing she had accepted the pain and the worry as inevitable and unavoidable.
He quietly closed their front door against the bitter cold and ripping wind. Hearing the crunching of his own footsteps in the newly fallen inch of snow, he reached up to nurture the ache in his shoulder. Now heading back into danger on the same case, the memory of the pain, both physical and emotional, from when he hung on the meat hook between two pig carcasses, driving him to coach himself to be alert. He waited on the sidewalk at the end of their path. "Don't look back," he told himself, hoping to avoid the worry, and the guilt. He envisioned how beautiful their new home, wrapped in Christmas decorations, would look softly cloaked in the clean, white snow. Instead, he peered down the street, "Concentrate on the task at hand," his own voice advised as he looked for the horse and carriage, squinting into the low morning sun.
The cab pulled up. He greeted George as he stepped in, taking a seat next to the constable. "You look wonderful sir," George declared, "Very convincing."
Julia dropped the curtain back down to rest over the window, now quite a while after his cab had pulled out of sight. She looked to the bed in their guest bedroom, the one in which her sister had recently stayed, in the room she had rushed to, hoping to get a final glimpse of William before he left her, possibly forever. "My God, I miss Ruby too," she thought. The emptiness, the loneliness, felt markedly worse than she had expected. She reminded herself that Isaac would be coming over to check on her later. She would be grateful for the distraction. Subconsciously her hand covered her belly as she reminded herself that she was not alone. "What shall we do till Isaac gets here, hmm, little one?" she asked out loud. "Breakfast," was the answer that came. Happily, she found herself excited about the idea, "Some bacon and French toast, I think."
"Do you think so George?" the detective asked. "It was a challenge finding these old, tattered clothes, particularly the coat – I purchased it from the charity box at my church. I actually had to tear them apart and soil them in the boiler room to get the look," he added.
"As did I sir! But I didn't think of the boiler room… I actually used the back area by the garbage cans," the constable explained.
"That explains the rather realistic and pungent odor," the detective declared with a smile, "Actually, it helps complete the whole hobo ensemble, George."