The gang stayed the whole night and into the early morning, until the inferno was finally extinguished. While it was true that they could do little to help (besides Julia tending to the occasional fireman, Murdoch fixing a few mechanical issues, the others keeping civilians a safe distance back), they found it difficult to leave. It was terrifying to watch but also oddly exhilarating. Bearing witness to such untamed elemental forces in all of their raw power was mesmerizing. They became so enthralled with the spectacle that likely none of them would have been able to sleep even if they had gone home. And there was always the remote chance that the fire could have travelled all the way to their residences, in which case, sleeping would have been a bad idea.
Their fears had been for naught for the fire had stayed within the wholesale district (for the most part). Even so, the devastation was immense. Many city blocks had been almost entirely destroyed. These included Front St, Wellington, and Bay. Little of the once proud warehouses and other buildings could be discerned amongst the rubble and debris. And still, they had no idea what had caused this calamity. The fire chief's best guesses were either an electrical failure or a heating stove had been left on. These were not satisfactory conclusions for Murdoch considering a charred body had been found under the rubble of the building just next to the E. & S. Currie. So he thoroughly examined the area himself. Unfortunately, he was unable to ascertain anything insidious, but there was still more rubble that needed to be shifted.
However, in speaking with the revived watchman later that morning, Murdoch found things beginning to get clearer (through his mental haze and general tiredness). The man had inhaled enough smoke that he had partially suffocated and as a result had been relocated to Toronto Hospital for more intensive care. He seemed to be quite pleased with all the attention he was getting. George was present taking notes for the constabulary and a very pregnant Ruby was doing the same for the gazette. Being the reporter wife of a policeman tended to have its benefits, not that Murdoch thought this had anything to do with them courting and then marrying. He was sure that they actually loved one another. It was written all over their faces. Well, possibly not today that is.
Ruby seemed to be giving her husband the cold shoulder and it was little wonder why. In an act of foolish chivalry, George had decided against contacting her about the fire, thinking he would put the baby in danger. In any case, she heard the news quickly enough and rushed down to the scene, to George's utter consternation. A loud fight ensued and Murdoch was vividly reminded of similar ones with his own wife while pregnant. There was no hope of winning when the hormones took over all rational thought. His protege should have known better since this was Ruby's second pregnancy. Even so, George had his sympathies.
"Mr. Ryan," said Ruby, "could you state for the record what happened in the place of your employment, one E. & S. Currie building, on the night of April 19th, shortly after eight o'clock?" Murdoch cleared his throat and Ruby glanced at him. "I did it again, didn't I?"
Murdoch shared a look with George, who seemed silently apologetic. "Yes, as a matter of fact, you did." Without waiting for a pointless (and likely insincere apology), he directed his attention back to the surprisingly bright eyed watchman. "If you would be so kind, sir, would you please answer Mrs. Crabtree's question?"
"Well, I was in the middle o' me first round, when I noticed somethin' strange down the way. I 'eaded over ter the elevators and before I got there, I could tell there was smoke comin' out o' them cracks! I could smell it too! Like Satan 'imself were comin' ter get me! I opened the shaft ter see 'ow far it had spread and nearly 'ad me 'ead blown off! The fire was up and down the length of it and there was no way I was gonna be able ter put it out, not all on me lonesome! So I double checked ter make sure no poor soul was still in the buildin' and then 'igh tailed it out o' there! I barely got out alive! But I made sure ter call them fire fellows straight away!"
The watchman had a strange way of speaking, almost like a mixture of both British and Irish. Needless to say, it was a bit difficult to understand him at times.
"Thank you, Mr. Ryan, that was quite...exuberant."
"It makes for one 'ell of a story, don't it?"
Murdoch raised an eyebrow. "Yes, sir, that it does. Now tell me, Mr. Ryan, do- did you have an intimate knowledge of the buildings layout?"
"Why, o' course I did, detective! It's part o' me job!"
"If one were planning on planting some sort of incendiary device, that wouldn't be easily detected, where would that be?"
Ryan scratched his unshaven chin. "I dunno, I suppose in the basement level, where they store all the merchandise that ain't sellin'.
His thoughts precisely.
"Did you catch anyone wandering around this area during your shift?"
The watchman looked at him incredulously. "Don't yeh think I would've reported somethin' like that?!"
Murdoch smiled. "Please answer the question, sir."
"No, no one was down there, 'cept me. Not that I saw anyway." A brief pause. "But..."
"Yes?"
"Well, just before me shift started I saw some men comin' out o' the buildin'."
"And this was odd how?"
"I didn't recognize 'em and I have a good eye fer faces." He shrugged. "At least, that's what mama always used ter say. God bless 'er."
Murdoch was becoming faintly interested. "And could you describe these men in detail?"
"O' course I can detective!" he replied, nodding eagerly. "It'd be me 'onour to 'elp out the constabulary!"
Murdoch had the impression that he would have bowed if he hadn't been propped up in a hospital bed.
"There were four of 'em and one was an injun but he was dressed all proper like the rest of 'em. Two had big bushy blonde mustaches and the last one, I think he was their leader, he was clean shaven like the injun but with lighter hair. They saw me approachin' and ignored me and I thought that was kind o' rude but-"
Nodding curtly once, Murdoch cut him off. "Thank you very much, Mr. Ryan. I'll let you get some rest now."
He walked a few feet and stopped beside Ruby. "Did you get enough to satisfy the masses?"
"Yes, as a matter of fact I did." Mrs. Crabtree flashed him a smile. "But not nearly enough to satisfy me."
Sighing internally. "Try to keep it to a minimum, won't you?"
"Cross my heart, detective."
Murdoch did his best not to roll his eyes at that.
"Come along then, George."
The acting detective attempted to give his wife a kiss but she turned her face away at the last instant and moved closer to the bed. George saw that he noticed and grumbled to himself.
They reached the carriage and stepped inside, immediately getting some relief from the chill morning air. As they passed by the smouldering ruins, where search and rescue teams (some police, some firemen and some civilians) were still underway, George interrupted the somber mood.
"How much damage do you think this was? Financially speaking?"
Murdoch was thoughtful for a moment. "I'm not sure, George, but I'd estimate in the *millions."
"Millions of dollars, sir!" he exclaimed, wide-eyed. "Boggles the mind!"
Though his wife had a large inheritance, it wasn't close to that realm of wealth. And even if she did, he would still be trying to prevent her from using it as much as possible, not wanting to spoil their children at all.
"That it does, George." Murdoch frowned slightly. "But I'm a bit surprised by your outburst. Surely you must have something close to that amount by now?"
George glanced away, looking sheepish. Murdoch kept staring at him intensely like he would a suspect until he cracked.
"To tell the truth, sir, I've been getting a little carried away with my spending habits and..."
As if you weren't before?
"And what, George?"
The sheepish expression came back and he rubbed his neck. "I might have invested a large amount of it in the wrong enterprise."
"How bad is it? Are you bankrupt?"
"No, nothing like that, Will, but things have certainly taken a turn for the worse." George sighed. "I know what you're going to say, I had this coming. You always warned me that this would happen. First with the bowling alley in our home and then with the film franchise idea. So let me have it, Will. Tell me what a fool I am."
Indeed he had been thinking all of these things but that was besides the point now.
"Does Ruby know?"
"Not yet."
That's a bit surprising. Perhaps her reporter instincts have gotten rusty during her pregnancy?
"You have to tell her."
"I know," he said, sighing once more. "I'm just waiting for the right time."
"There is no right time, George. Trust me, just tell her. You'll feel a lot better if you get this off your chest."
"I don't know...she's already mad at me...this revelation isn't going to help matters."
Murdoch was well acquainted with the Ogden wrath and didn't envy his brother-in-law's position.
"No it won't, George, but you owe her the truth and keeping secrets of that magnitude are never good for a marriage. From everything we've seen during our careers, you know this to be true."
She's more likely to kill you if you continue to obscure the truth rather than to just tell her.
"All right, Will, you win. I'll tell her when this investigation is over."
"Good."
They sat in silence the rest of the way back to the precinct. Once there they headed straight to the inspectors office to give him an update. For a change he wasn't leaning back in his seat and indulging in his favourite past time. Brackenreid was busy on the telephone and he was having a civil conversation for once.
"...won't forget, Margaret." A brief pause. "I love you too, muffin."
Hanging up the receiver, he caught them watching him from just outside his office and scowled.
"What are you two looking at? Isn't a man allowed to express himself to his wife?"
It always amused Murdoch how sensitive his boss was about such matters, as if showing the smallest amount of emotion somehow made him less of a man. Neither replied and Brackenreid grunted and then stood up and headed over to his alcohol cabinet.
After pouring himself a drink and offering George one, which the acting detective gratefully accepted and downed, he said, "That was a job well done, bugalugs, calling in everyone as quickly as you did. Took a lot of moxie to take initiative like that instead of waiting for your superior officers say so."
Murdoch was unsure if this was a backhanded compliment, meant to chastise the younger man for what could be perceived as stepping out of line. Apparently George was uncertain too because he didn't respond.
Brackenreid frowned. "What? Nothing to say! Remind me not to give you compliments anytime soon."
A bit of an awkward silence ensued.
"So, lay it on me, Murdoch. What did the old codger have to say about the fire?"
"Quite a lot, sir," said Murdoch in his most formal pose with his hands behind his back.
"And was any of it actually useful?"
"Possibly."
Brackenreid had been in the middle of taking a sip when he responded but stopped and glared at the detective.
"Well?"
Murdoch filled him in on the men Mr. Ryan saw.
"So?" he said gruffly. "Where are these sketches?"
"I don't have any yet...nor do I plan on getting any."
Brackenreid was incredulous. "Why the bloody hell not?"
George was staring at him curiously too.
"I believe Mr. Ryan is lying about their existence."
"He seemed genuine enough to me, sir," said George.
"That may well be the case, George but no one else interviewed recalls seeing these men and I had the distinct impression that Mr. Ryan was an attention seeker. He was far too animated and nonplussed about such a terrible occurrence for my liking."
The inspector scoffed. "Even you would have been hard pressed not to be excited if your places had been reversed!"
Murdoch eyed him with a wry little smile. "Perhaps. Or perhaps Mr. Ryan created these men as a way to distract us from the truth."
"Which is?" both George and Brackenreid asked simultaneously.
"That he started the fire."
*10.3 million to be precise! Which is probably like a billion nowadays!
And in case you were wondering, yes, Ryan is modeled after Hagrid. I would say it's in tribute to the new series of movies to be made about fantastical beasts but I had written this long before that announcement.