Several telegrams later Murdoch was coming to terms with his old life. He was looking forward to returning to the more modern, less crowded streets of Toronto. At least he had enough funds to reimburse Anna for her help and to pay for his passage home. But he still felt the rough gaps in his memory scraping at the edges of his consciousness. He was uneasy with himself; he remembered his Catholic faith, but much of his childhood and its influences on him remained shrouded. Perhaps his parents could help him.
He hoped he had kept journals these past few years; he wanted to know more about this Julia, whom he apparently had met through his work as a detective. Perhaps he had solved a case that affected her family closely.
Inspector Brackenreid had also written that a Dr. Ogden wanted to check his injuries as soon as he returned to be assured of his fitness to resume his duties.
In preparation for sailing, he had picked up a few magazines and books so that he would have reading material for the ocean crossing. He recognized his affinity for scientific discoveries and the works of John Donne and even Rudyard Kipling as he was making his selections; with a slight surprise he noted that he could read French almost as easily as English and picked up the untranslated versions of two works by Jules Verne that sounded unfamiliar.
A week without reading material would be difficult indeed, especially since he was traveling in second class and would not have access to the finer salons and library on board the liner. He'd actually considered third class for the sake of economizing, but the men at the Bristol constabulary had taken a collection to bridge the difference to allow him a few more amenities and a less crowded atmosphere.
oOoOo
With one change clothing, toiletries and reading materials in one easily carried satchel, Murdoch made his way from the landing to the train station. A few more bits had come clear to him on his voyage. Though he found Kipling's Captains Courageous uplifting on the whole, he wasn't sure he'd ever want to read that thin volume again because of the longing it had stirred as he remembered his own childhood and youth. Perhaps he should consult Susannah or Father Keegan about his remaining questions. The scientific journals allowed him respite from the emotions and fed his curiosity. The layered meaning in Donne's poetry forced him to think on different levels simultaneously, a pleasant exercise, and there was enough variety that he laughed and worshiped and even blushed, and at some point recalled that the beautiful Julia was indeed Dr. Ogden. What else about her had he not recovered?
oOoOo
Entering the station house, his free hand automatically removed his homburg as cheers burst from the gathered men and Julia rushed forward to greet him with a kiss. The sudden outbreak overwhelmed him; he smiled but stiffened ever so slightly, and dropped his bag to return the doctor's embrace with a schoolboy's awkwardness. Surprise lit his eyes, as he wondered speechless, "Were we so … informal with each other, in public?" He colored and looked away from her sheepishly.
Quickly Murdoch extricated himself from the embrace by bending to retrieve his belongings and dashing purposely toward his office before anyone else could approach. This greeting was more than he had anticipated. After the anonimity and mental solitude of his week of travel, he gladly closed the door seeking a moment to compose himself once again. He had barely begun to sort the correspondence that had accumulated on his desk during the past three weeks when a tap at the door brought him to attention. His shoulders tensed and he glanced about for another place to retreat, finding none, he looked at the door and called, "Yes?"
His eyes met those of the florid man who closed the door behind himself before addressing him. "Too much at once, then. Are you alright, old son?"
"I think so, Sir. Just surprised by the … intensity … of the moment. I have still a few gaps in my memory, and perhaps that is part of any …"
"I've seen such reactions before during my time in the army. You'll be fine as long as you don't try to force things along; it will come back in time. Now, take a few minutes to get yourself together, and then Dr. Ogden does need to see you, professionally," he said with a glint in his eye. "Get over to the morgue so she can look you over. If you're physically fit, I'll need your help on a robbery case."
"The morgue, Sir?" he swallowed and asked somewhat bewildered.
"She's the coroner, son," the inspector shook his head with a sad smile, "but she's a fine doctor and often puts injured constables to rights in her spare time." Brackenreid departed leaving the door open and giving instructions to a few of the men as he crossed the room to speak to the doctor who waited in his office.
"He'll be over to see you shortly, Doctor. But go slowly; he's still a bit vague, I'm afraid. That fall must've taken a bit more from him than we thought. A memory of you may have started his recovery, but he seemed genuinely surprised by the location of your office."
"I see, so it wasn't just my imagination that he flinched when I kissed him?"
"No, I'm afraid not. It seems there's a bit more to accomplish before he's completely back with us, but patience and letting him work may be the best tools we have at our disposal."
oOoOo
Having successfully retrieved his address from his personnel file and consulted a journal which seemed more concerned with scientific experiments than relational ones, Murdoch put on his hat and suit coat and made his way down the block to the morgue. At least he'd remembered where it was. His internal map of the city was returning bit by bit as he walked, a good sign he hoped. As he entered and approached Julia's desk, he caught the recorded strains of Vivaldi's Four Seasons, and shyly inquired, "'Autumn,' if I am not mistaken?"
"Why, yes, William," she looked up and smiled. "I'm sorry, I meant, Detective. I should not have presumed … ."
He remembered that smile. His stomach twisted slightly. "Well, I … think that is why I am here … to see how much I have recovered." He nervously turned the hat he held in both hands.
"Well, then, set your coat and hat on the stand in the corner." She turned away to gather some supplies as she continued, "and I'll need you to remove your shirt as well. You may sit on the stool beside my desk. I believe you received a bullet to your upper arm?"
He was a bit embarrassed by her closeness as she turned back around. "Um, yes, but it passed cleanly through, and has shown no sign of infection."
She prodded the scars on his arm and used her stethoscope to auscultate his heart and lungs. "I can see that. Whoever dressed it for you must have washed it well. You may put your shirt back on."
He tugged his shirt into place and began buttoning quite rapidly. "Yes, Anna – Miss Fulford, I mean – was gentle and quite skilled," he was having trouble meeting the doctor's eyes. "I was … with her … when … I mean, she was … sitting with me when I … remembered you … I mean, when I began remembering … Doctor," he stammered; the room suddenly felt warmer, and he wondered if he should mention it.
"I see," she smiled again and tried to avoid the jealousy threatening to taint her words. Noting his discomfort, she asked, "Detective, is something bothering you?"
"I just felt warm for a moment, but it seems to have passed."
She gently touched his forehead as a mother might and remarked, "No fever.
"Now, tell me about your fall or what you can remember of your condition when you wakened in the coal car." She sat at her desk and began to make notes.
"Well, I don't know how long I was unconscious. The train's fireman found me at the terminal as he was checking his supply before the next run, I suppose. I'm afraid I gave him a fright. He had to help me to sit up and support me into the station. I was rather stiff, and my head and back were fairly sore. I may have cracked a rib or two, but mostly felt dazed and bruised. He helped my find the steamship ticket in my pocket, and so I made my way to the docks because he, or we, thought the name on the ticket was mine."
She continued to make notes, but looked up to ask, "How was your voyage to Bristol?"
"I don't remember much of it. I collapsed again in my quarters, and was sick several times, but I don't remember whether it was from the headaches or just mal de mer. I tried to sleep it off, I suppose. I was rather relieved to reach solid ground again, but have no recollection of how many days had passed. I don't remember much else until two men chased me after I tried to make inquiries about the man whose ticket I had used. One of them must have fired at me."
"I see, and Miss Fulford took you in then? How did she treat you?"
"First she hid me and persuaded my pursuers to look elsewhere. Then she dressed my arm and fed me and led me to a room … to sleep."
"In what condition were your previous injuries by then?"
"Well, my head and back no longer ached. But I may not have eaten for some time. I was rather famished so I consumed two bowls of stew, a half loaf of bread and, I think, two or two and a half pints of ale."
"I see, that seems unusual for you. How much help did you require when you stood up?" She continued making her notes.
"Well, I did feel rather light-headed, and she said something about me being unaccustomed to her fare. I'm afraid I must have leaned on her shoulder fairly hard, for I couldn't seem to stand without assistance. Perhaps I had lost more blood due to the gunshot than I thought."
"Perhaps," she caught a laugh just before it escaped and made another note. "Did you receive any other injuries during your time abroad?"
"I don't think so, perhaps a bruise or two while fighting the assassin, but those are gone now. Is that all you need from me, Doctor?" he asked hoping to be excused.
"Yes. If you'll give me a moment to finish this report, you can carry it to the inspector yourself."
He was about to leave when she called him back with a concerned tone, "Detective, aren't you forgetting something? Your waistcoat is still on the hat stand."
"I apologize, Doctor. I must be forgetting things again." He nervously removed his coat again and dressed with his back to her.
"Is something else concerning you? Something I should know about your condition? Or something I could help you with?"
He hesitated before asking, "Are we not friends as well as colleagues, Doctor?"
"I should think so, why?"
"I … had to look up my address earlier. I could not remember where I live. It sounds foolish, but I … I hope I am not too forward, but would you help me to find it – my home? I think I remember how to get there, but with all that has happened, part of me seems … lost."
He wore a look that had always suggested to her that a little boy was hiding inside that grown man.
"Certainly. We shall find it together then."
"May I return for you around 6 o'clock?"
"Yes, that would be fine."
oOoOo
The detective set the report on his superior's desk and turned to walk out when the inspector inquired, "Well, what did she say, man?"
"It's all in her report, sir."
"She didn't tell you? Or you didn't ask?"
"I thought it better to let you see for yourself, sir."
Brackenreid was puzzled by Murdoch's evasions, usually the man in front of him enjoyed being "the smartest man in the room" and sharing information with others – at length.
"What's this remark about 'Be sure he avoids alcohol during the rest of his recovery'? I've never known you to touch the stuff. Did anything happen over there I should know about?"
"No, at least I don't think so," Murdoch appeared confused, as well. "Are there any other restrictions to my activities of which I should be aware?"
"Nothing that should interfere with this robbery investigation, unless you're planning to run after someone – Don't do that. Now, sit down and I'll tell you about the events. Then you can have George Crabtree and Henry Higgins fill you in on the avenues they have pursued for the past two days."
"George? Henry? Please join me in my office," he requested on his way through the bull pen. Now he would just have to remember which was which. Was George the one with a collection of aunts?
oOoOo
As the sun set he was still filling the chalkboard in his office with information on the robbery of a dentist's office. He was still not sure why the office had been targeted.
He turned to the tap at his open door. "Oh, I'm sorry, Doctor," his face colored slightly. "I'm afraid I lost track of the time," he said, dusting the chalk from his hands. "I was just trying to put some order to a puzzling inquiry."
"I was hoping you hadn't forgotten that I had agreed to help you."
"Just let me get my hat and coat."
When they stepped out of the station house, he took the curbside of the sidewalk and allowed a discreet space between them. She laughed when he told her another of George's stories about his aunts; this felt familiar, and he began to relax. She described an article she had seen about developments in vaccines. They discussed the difficulties faced by the working folk of the city in utilizing such advances. Before long they were approaching Mrs. Kitchen's boarding house.
"Thank you, Doctor. I hope I have not taken you too far out of your own way home." She was just turning to continue on her way when he offered, "Did you want to step inside for a cup of tea?"
"No thank you, Detective; I must be going. But thank you for a pleasant conversation; it was quite as invigorating as the walk."
"We should walk again, soon, then. Perhaps a visit to the botanical gardens tomorrow?"
"Well, that is certainly 'soon'." She was taken aback, usually advances in their friendship had come painfully slowly, well except once. She considered and replied, "Yes, I would like that; perhaps as a break from work in the early afternoon – to clear our heads?"
"That sounds ideal. Well, until then." He lifted his hat, and then watched as she turned again to go her own way. Passing through the door, a smile crept across his face, he had surprised himself.
oo
I do not know if this will remain a 'one shot' or continue, but it may have potential.
