Chapter 7
"Do you think he is, umm… gone? Was taken from here and, well... or his…remains taken, then gotten rid of?" Detective Callahan went on without pause or breath on this theme or variations of it (without ever saying the words dead, death or body) for the entire two minutes Murdoch spent examining the detritus and the suitcases. When he knew enough, he grabbed the other man's arm in a tight squeeze to get his attention.
"Detective Callahan. There is no blood evidence, no obvious, definitive evidence of a murder or any death here. There is evidence of someone being here, quite alive, and very, very recently. And I can confirm that Miss Burdick was here I believe, as this," he brought up an envelope, "was addressed to her." Murdoch's breathing was elevated and he felt his pulse rise.
The American grabbed the paper, and rummaged through the suitcases. "Yes. They were here. Where is he now? We expected a slim chance of finding a live child," he looked balefully at Murdoch, and saw the Canadian meet his eye in acknowledgement. "Thought we'd find he…passed away, his er… remains… but for him to just be missing..."
"It is just as possible he was retrieved and is alive…there is another reward for his safe return, so the incentive is to keep him alive."
"But he is still missing." Callahan walked slowly out of the building to gaze unhappily at the acreage spread out horizon to horizon. His chest was tight and cold. "Some louse has him or has killed him. It is almost better to have found him than to think he is just gone. If I cannot find him alive, I gotta come back to Buffalo with his remains if only to quell some of the heartache of his family. But how can we ever find where the kidnapper buried him, in all this?"
William raised his voice to get through to Callahan. "Someone was here. It is possible to tell that because of the evidence—food such as apples, brown at known rates when exposed to air and become infested with insects as does other offal or waste, in series. The size of the bites in the apples leads me to believe they come from a child's mouth."
"We have not found anyone in any of the buildings. Where would he go? If we can stumble on this place, then anyone who is looking for him for evil would have huge lead on finding him. Face it, Detective Murdoch. The kid is…gone."
Callahan walked dejectedly to the carriage, trying to keep Murdoch from seeing him weep. Murdoch felt his heart hammer in frustration and admitted to having this hope dampened by Callahan's despair. He checked his watch and dithered a moment about whether he should gather up the evidence and take it with him or leave it to examine in situ. He decided it should come for the sake of expediency and repacked the suitcases and found a small crate for the rest after quickly sketching where everything was positioned. He hauled all this to the carriage and asked for assistance. While Callahan brought himself under control and did as requested, Murdoch automatically brushed at the copious strands of plant material on his suit, while settling into the driver's seat.
As he turned the horses and rig to go back down the long lane to the main road, Murdoch began to visualize the scene and think out loud. "If someone retrieved the lad, we need to reconsider this case entirely. Not only is the boy missing but so is the ransom money. And there is the matter of Mrs. Emerson's death. How is that investigation going?" He was trusting that the Buffalonian's police instincts could be brought back to the fore by making him focus on a problem.
The carriage jostled hard in a rut while coming around. That seemed to bring Callahan out of his distraction and slowly engage in conversation. "We took finger marks of course, not that I am sure about what use they are in all cases, but found none we found useful. Mrs. Emerson was killed by someone slamming her head on the carved pineapple newel post in their foyer, within an hour, more or less, of when her husband called the police. One single hit, splitting her skull with a great deal of blood everywhere. It was very brutal." Even in the heat, Callahan blanched remembering the scene.
Murdoch could not contain himself in eagerness. "Finger marks? The Buffalo force is using finger marks? Are the courts accepting that evidence?" Murdoch grappled to tuck the notion away for later. He had no idea that was happening across the border and was so excited about the possibilities he almost let the conversation go off target. He cleared his throat. "Who are your suspects?"
"The kidnapper, therefore I am assuming it was Mr. York, as your constable Crabtree suggested…." Callahan ceased talking as the carriage stopped. "I still don't understand who killed him…"
"Perhaps there is a third person involved, which also one of Constable Crabtree's speculations. Someone who may have actually killed both Mr. York and Miss Burdick—used them both for the scheme." Murdoch was looking over his shoulder at how the sun was creating shadows. Something is out of alignment. He felt his skin prickle and abruptly changed topic. "Detective Callahan. How was the straw bale enclosure, exactly when you first saw it? Were they taken apart and set aside from the outside, or just dragged or pushed?"
"The bales looked like they could have been pulled down from outside or pushed out from the inside just enough that someone could crawl out." Callahan answered.
Murdoch stilled the confused horses. "So, hear me out. The boy would have been lonely, bored, uncomfortable, hungry, thirsty-likely even had heard people come to feed the goats, may have cried out for help, but who would have heard him over that din? What if the lad finally moved the bales just enough to destabilize them. The drive for life is tremendous. What if he pushed through?"
"What do you mean?" Callahan asked.
"Look there. Notice how the crops are in neat rows, and there, angling off to the rear is a path through the vegetation. Someone passed through there not too long ago. Within a few hours I would judge. "
Callahan "Murdoch, that could be anything, deer…"
Securing the reins, Murdoch came off the carriage. "We should follow up on every lead, not give up. Surely that is why you came all this way, Detective Callahan."
The two men started racing along the field until gaining on the odd shadows trailing through the crops, stretching from the hayloft in a drunken line to the rear of the property. Murdoch looked at his map as they ran. There was a farmstead beyond through gently rolling green fields and the bent stems lead right to it.
# # #
Roll call - Saturday July 2nd
Constable Hodge was busy pulling apart Schnecken and feeding morsels of it to a giggling blonde boy as Inspector Brackenreid walked up to the high lobby desk of his Station House. Master Windsor Emerson was appearing thin, dehydrated, but no worse for wear after being tended to by Dr. Wallace and pronounced healthy. The youngster, scrubbed clean and decked in a sailor-suit picked out by Mrs. Brackenreid, was in the process of depositing a second gob of sticky walnuts on the stack of messages Hodge was valiantly trying to disperse to the intended recipients, but the boy was a distraction of the most captivating kind, encircled with new gawkers as the day shift reported in to work.
"Ahoy Constable Hodge! Looks like you have a mutineer there." Brackenreid reconnoitered the area, and saw Detectives Murdoch and Callahan were conferring at Murdoch's desk, leaving the young lad to fend off admirers. "Hodge, over here." Brackenreid motioned for the boy. "Let me take him over to my office while we wait for his father to arrive and claim him."
"Yes, sir." Hodge groaned with the lift. "Should be here by nine at the latest."
Brackenreid fetched a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped most of the mess off the boy's hands and face, bringing him into his office and installing him on the couch with a toy boat to occupy him, which the inspector "just happened to have" in his coat pocket. The emotions welling up as he looked at the boy might be unseemly but were genuine: It reminded him again about how his own son went missing and Murdoch brought him back, safe as houses. That is no reason to give Murdoch a promotion to full detective, he had had to argue with Margaret at the time. I can't promote him any time soon. It would be like I was repaying a personal favour, not like he actually earned it! He suspected Murdoch likely saw the logic of that, even if my wife did not, which caused some friction in his household for months afterwards.
Last night when word came in that the boy was found in the root cellar of an empty farmhouse that had already been searched, there was quite a cheer rung up. It was dumb luck that Murdoch and Callahan found the trail from one farm to another in the grass, as the shelter the boy was found in was crossed off the search list in the early hours of the hunt. The boy explained that Miss Burdick had made a special 'fort' for them to play together in, and that he was to imagine giant game of hide- and- seek, and not to reveal himself until she came back for him. He found he just could not keep waiting and loneliness and thirst drove him to pull at the 'fort' until a portion came free.
Knox and Brackenreid spent some telephone-time congratulating themselves on good police work, which was really just a squabble over which station house would get the credit. Chief Constable Stockton decided it must go to Station House No. 5, since the leads developed out of investigating Miss Burdick's death and the boy was, after all, found in their precinct. Stockton also said, "You're in luck, Thomas. I believe Knox will take Murdoch off your hands as his new acting detective, and will be making an offer tomorrow."
The inspector wondered if Murdoch had already received the call, and if he accepted. Murdoch who had taken off yesterday with two constables, a carriage and the American. Murdoch who racked up a hefty overtime charge for Crabtree and Blake. Murdoch who was already importuning about using a new investigation tool, something called finger marks that they are using in the States... Brackenreid thought it was no wonder the Chief Constable assumed Murdoch was not wanted by Station House No. 4 considering the downside of dealing with such an odd duck.
Bloody Hell! Murdoch, who was probably the only person capable of finding the lad… He thought to himself: Thomas Brackenreid was not a fool and was capable of doing the right thing, if only it was not too late.
Constable Crabtree brought in his tea and morning paper while Brackenreid read the overnight reports and bulletins, and then prepared the day's assignments. While he sorted the messages he took notice of the front page of the Toronto Gazette, splashed with the story (rather exaggerated story) of "Baby Emerson's" rescue with Detective Callahan and Inspector Knox shaking hands with the boy hoisted behind them. The theme was cross-border cooperation, etcetera. He grunted and noticed it was time for inspection and report.
Young Emerson stood at attention in line with the rest of the men, one hand up to hold onto Crabtree and one to hold onto Blake, but as his four- year- old ability to stay still was in short supply, report was brief and to the point. New orders for searching for Mr. York's killer were handed out. Brackenreid gave the lad back to Hodge and Crabtree and went to confer with Murdoch and Callahan who were still huddled, having never made it out to witness morning report, a breach of protocol Brackenreid was feeling generous enough to overlook, at least this one time.
Brackenreid stuck his head into Murdoch's door and smiled, with a knock on the door fame getting the men's attention. "Good morning. Detective Callahan, I understand Buffalo Mayor Bishop and Police Superintendent Morganstern are very happy with you today. And Detective Murdoch, I have to say, 'good work' closing the death of Miss Burdick and your efforts in finding the boy, er…even if Knox stole the credit…." He gave a brief grimace of empathy, before grinning broadly again in good humour. "So, gentlemen, other than waiting on Master Emerson going back to the arms of his family in Buffalo, what are your next moves?" His words were met with odd flat looks from both men.
"Sir. It may not be that simple." Murdoch offered. He felt a twist again in his gut and his heart was racing after what he and Callahan had been discussing.
"What? Why the long faces? All's well that ends well for the boy, is that not right?" He looked from face to face, seeing the men appeared tired and looking like they had not slept much, although they were shaved and presentable. "Between you two, you solved the murders of Mrs. Emerson and Miss York, a kidnaping and rescued the missing child. You both should try to bask in the glory while you can because soon enough, Detective Callahan, you will have a new case to deal with, and Detective Murdoch, you still need to find out who did Mr. York in. Our various masters and the public have short memories for what we do successfully…." The inspector was unsure why he was not getting smiles in return.
Callahan and Murdoch shared a guarded look and Murdoch reached around to close the door. "Sir. Do you remember joking this case was about love and money?"
"You were exactly right, Inspector." continued Callahan. It had taken all night to sort through the evidence and he had argued heatedly with Murdoch about the conclusions, but ultimately admitted Murdoch was correct in his approach. As soon as he capitulated on that, the two of them worked well together, right through the hours.
Murdoch explained. "Late last night Detective Callahan and I finished going through all the evidence we gathered yesterday. Miss Burdick did indeed truly love young Emerson. In fact, by reading letters she received and ones she did not yet have the opportunity to post, we think that Mrs. Emerson actually gave her son to Miss Burdick for safe keeping." Murdoch handed the letters to his superior.
"What? That makes no sense!" Brackenreid wondered if Murdoch finally went crackers and took the American "over the falls" with him.
Murdoch continued. "Sir, Dr. Wallace says that the youngster had gotten pretty roughed up in the past. Bruises, newly healing broken bones."
"Some of that must be from the kidnapping," argued the inspector.
"The doctor says no. Happened before then, and more than once. Sir, the boy was beaten. Badly. The letters indicate Mrs. Emerson may have asked Miss Burdick to remove her son to get him away from the father." Murdoch's face was a mask. "That explains why the kidnapping was so excellently done—because there wasn't one."
Callahan watched Brackenreid glance through the letters and filled in. "I did some digging of my own, made some calls, sent some telegrams last night. It seems Mrs. Emerson's family has the deep pockets, not her husband. They paid the ransom note, which I will remind you was mailed to them, not the husband. Also that Mrs. Emerson was not close with her parents and siblings lately, hadn't been seen much etcetera, her husband claiming illnesses. I am afraid that Mrs. Emerson may have been abused as well, or at least there was something going on in that house that was not as it should be. Even if it is lawful to beat your wife and children, I find it…distasteful to return this child to him, even though it will be my unhappy duty."
Brackenreid sympathized. "I see why you both look so sour."
Murdoch leaned in. "Sir, couldn't there be some way to let Mrs. Emerson's family in on our suspicions…"
"No. Not without proof. We'd all be out on our ears for defamation or custodial interference, especially since this is such a high-profile case now," said Brackenreid, grateful now his station house was not publically attached to this tragedy. His thoughts turned darker. "So then why did York murder Mrs. Emerson if there was no kidnapping? And bloody hell, where is the damn money!?"
Murdoch felt himself suddenly flush. He gasped and riffled though his notes excitedly. "We overlooked something. Mr. York could not have murdered Mrs. Emerson! We have witnesses who place him in Toronto on Thursday. Even if there are gaps in the timeline there is no way he could have been seen in Toronto and been in Buffalo during the required hours. We are still looking for witnesses, on either side of the border, who can confirm Miss Burdick traveling from Buffalo to Toronto with the child, and if a man also accompanied them."
Callahan jumped in. "So where does he enter this case?"
Murdoch looked at his chalkboard for a long moment, letting his thoughts chase each other. "What if he was her paramour, but turned out to be an opportunist as well? The ransom was paid on Friday, and we have no knowledge of Mr. York's whereabouts on that day, only that he was not involved in any of his usual habits. What if he knew about the child, took a chance at grabbing some money and then ran across the border with it?"
"Then when Miss Burdick finds out she gets angry or fears for the kid's safety, so she hides him from York, who wants to give him back perhaps…" Callahan added.
The inspector chimed in: "Or extort more money…"
"And she is beaten to death because she won't tell where the kid is? Or will tell the authorities about the ransom extortion? We have gone in a circle!" Callahan said in frustration.
Sharp knocking on the door made each of them jump before Constable Crabtree announced: "Sirs, Mr. Emerson and his in laws are here for the child and want to speak with the detectives, and I have some messages for you."
The inspector waved Crabtree in the room and accepted the pages. "Did you say the grandparents came as well? That is interesting."
"Yes, sir." Crabtree was drawn to the chalk board and started reading. "Sirs, I know it is not my place, but I could not help overhearing what Detective Murdoch and Detective Calahan have been discussing, and of course I have been reading some of the correspondence as it has come and gone," he blushed at confessing he was reading, but had after all volunteered to do the extra running, calling and fetching. "What if the money was engineered, if you will by Mrs. Emerson for the care of her child? She could have written the ransom note and had someone pick up the cash and ferry it somewhere to support her son and Miss Burdick, or even herself if she was going to leave her husband."
The inspector let out a hiss of frustration. "That is quite fanciful, constable. But we need proof, not whimsical stories. We have many more questions than answers and this kidnapping scheme has more holes in it than Swiss cheese!"
Murdoch continued. "No, gentlemen. We only have two questions. First: If Mrs. Emerson was not killed by Mr. York and not killed during the commission of a kidnapping, who killed her? Remember: motive, means and opportunity. Second: Where is the money? Who benefits? Not Mr. York, it seems. Not Miss Burdick."
Murdoch gave Callahan a quick stare before rising into action. "Constable, we have some things for you to do right away. Keep that door closed. Use the phone in here and get another Constable to help you if you need it…" The three men talked rapidly to Crabtree who did his best to keep up…
