Hustling the 'cake' into the building through the Club's service entrance immediately produced one bit of information: in Julia's estimation the wooden crates stacked in the kitchen were a near perfect fit for the dimensions of some of the scrapes on Dobbs' back. The working theory therefore was that was how Dobbs' body was taken from the Bacchus to the docks and thence to the lake.
At approximately 10:15 pm, William found himself tucked away in the corner of a large room as a few of the sons of the most wealthy and powerful in Toronto unwound. Since he was here simply as an employee of the Star Room and most decidedly not of the female persuasion, William admitted that Julia had been right that no one was going to pay much attention to him, and after watching Miss Bloom jump from the cake, the evening was in full swing. The theme for the evening was an "English Hunt" because the birthday party was in honour of a young man who was about to be launched into Society across the pond on a European tour beginning with Mother England. The 'cake' was decorated with hunt scenes and Miss Bloom was decked out in a costume suggesting a red fox, complete with "tail" and a mask with "ears" topped by a bright red wig.
Miss Bloom was a beautiful young woman, and her voluptuous curves most plwasing to gaze upon - quite unlike Julia's slender body. Yet after admiring Miss Bloom's shapely form for a few moments, William found his gaze had gravitated, as always, to Julia, and he could not take his eyes off of her every move. Though she looked decidedly different from her usual self, he found himself attracted to his wife in her latest guise, confidently working the room and making idle chit chat as though this were her regular occupation. He was particularly glad that she was, for all intents and purposes unrecognizable, therefore decreasing the chances that she would be identified by an old acquaintance of her family or even Darcy's - both of whom had the potential to be here tonight.
With elaborately coiffed red hair, Julia was a striking vision in a borrowed corset strategically padded to make her appear more endowed than she really was, brightly painted lips below her own plain black mask and her throat adorned with sparking paste jewels that glittered in the light and helped, (along with a liberal application of makeup) obscure her bruises. Her black silk dress sported a neckline plunged scandalously low and hem rising provocatively high to just above her knees, showcasing her long, shapely, legs which he adored, particularly when they were wrapped tight around his waist. He began to fantasize about taking her behind one of the crates in the service area and having his way with her. I absolutely love her legs…
Realizing that his mind had most decidedly wandered from the task at hand, he cleared his throat, and made it a point to stare at the guests, wondering if there might be anyone he recognized among them. Adjusting "Gideon's" borrowed glasses, and hoping that the thick round frames would obfuscate his eyes, he didn't know whether or not he was relieved or disappointed. Even with their excellent disguises, William was nervous. He would be glad to retrieve the recordings, and leave with both Nina and Julia in one piece and as soon as possible. He just prayed that Robert Graham would not be here this evening; he wasn't sure he could maintain his composure if he were to see the man.
Glancing back over at Julia, William assured himself that all was relatively well, and that the general handiness of the men was nothing Julia nor Miss Bloom couldn't handle for a few minutes. He decided that it was time to retrieve the recording which Meyers claimed would be here, hoping no one had discovered it; having heard from Percival Giles how effectively Davis tidied up after himself, it was a wonder if the recording went undisturbed.
All eyes were on Miss Bloom; he doubted anyone would see him leave. Stepping outside the room, he closed the pocket doors behind him and tried to imagine the scene as Lydia Hall had described to him.
Immediately, he saw a large closet to the right of him and walked to it, wondering if he could find some sort of evidence. Stepping inside, he took out his electric torch and looked around, wishing he had the items necessary to check for the presence of body fluids. As it was, he spotted a few dark drops that might possibly be the blood of Edward Dobbs and marks on the floor which could be from four chair legs; the damage to the wood finish was grim testimony to Mr. Dobbs' struggle to live. There was a smell of urine as well coming from the floor boards, it being not uncommon for the bladder to let go in death.
This is definitely the crime scene. He made a mental note to ask Watts to come by and see if there was a way to gather evidence from the closet and take pictures of the marks when he came to pick up a crate as an exemplar.
William found the ventilation shaft that Meyers had described on the wall, about seven feet high on the wall. The only way up was a lone wooden chair. William suppressed a shudder. This was likely the chair Dobbs was in when he met his end. He examined it carefully, noting scratches in the arms from where Dobbs' wrists were bound to them. Another piece of evidence, he added to his mental list. He moved the chair, careful not to leave fingermarks, stepped up and pushed on the grate, quickly pulling himself into the small enclosed space. According to Meyers, the recording device was somewhere nearby, and blessedly, he quickly found it! The Edison machine was bolted rather firmly to the wall, and William was unable to free it up, certainly not without either damaging it or causing so much noise that he'd give away his presence. Sighing, he prayed again that the cylinder would contain the information he needed.
Placing the cylinder into his satchel, William heard the music and gaiety of the party, realizing he had the perfect opportunity to observe the actions of the party guests completely anonymously. He quickly crawled over to the grate that looked out onto the other room, taking the entire scene in for himself.
Miss Bloom is doing a great job staying the center of attention, William noticed. She was not ever going to have gotten any evidence that way, surrounded as she is by all those men shamelessly pawing at her.
It made him appreciate Julia's insistence in coming here tonight, despite the risks. She was circulating with the champagne, keeping glasses full and casually asking the attendees if this was their first "cake" party, trying to ascertain who else might have been in attendance the night of Dobbs' death while fending off physical advances. He overheard her snag one comment already from a young man who explained it was the birthday boy's own father who came up with the idea after going to just this sort of party a week ago in this very room.
She is a marvel… he thought, and he was proud of the information and name she got already. Watching her move he imagined he was among the guests and receiving her attentions, her long legs scissoring in and out of her high-cut dress and a sparkle in her face. And Julia does love her experiences, he grinned to himself, imagining his hands travelling up those very legs along the open front of her skirt. For a moment he imagined that he was one of the guests, a man daring to be so bold as to take a few liberties with her in a room full of others. He certainly liked his experiences as well, and the fantasy of engaging in such public behavior with her was exciting in a multitude of ways.
But it had been such a long while since he'd dared to loose the reins on his passions, considering the past year had been so difficult for Julia and he hadn't wanted to push her any further than she was ready to go. But seeing her move about the men so effortlessly and in high-spirits, he wondered if that time hadn't come, forgetting for a moment that he was stuffed in an airshaft and they were in mortal danger being hunted by a ruthless enemy (or two).
But, he quickly caught his train of thought and redirected his attentions to the party as he overheard the next exchange.
"You are quite beautiful," the young man remarked boldly. He was perhaps twenty one, tall with smooth light brown hair and was the one who told Julia about the birthday boy's father. He was drinking but did not appear intoxicated, unlike most of the rest of the guests. "Our Mistress Fox is quite a looker," he said, "but you are more my type. I like older women…you are perhaps, what, thirty?" He asked this quite rudely, William thought, but heard Julia giggle as if flattered. Prickles of irritation began in William's stomach. The man's voice continued. "I am going to Europe, for the experiences of art and for the literature. Unlike Cadwallader there, I have no plans on returning to this dreadful town after my tour. I have a taste for the finer things, and I possess excellent judgement of other people's characters."
"Do you now?"
Julia asked in a teasing voice. "What do you think of Mr. Cadwallader and his father?"
"That they are both bores, and both cheat!" He laughed conspiratorially. "You, on the other hand are never boring, but I'd say that you are bored in your current life, which is why you are here."
William could see him move closer to Julia, already too forward and familiar for William's liking. He had to remind himself that this was one of the things they expected to have happen. Julia, he saw to his discomfort, did not move away.
"Oh?" Julia asked, her painted lips forming a perfect 'O' in surprise. "What makes you think that?" she asked flirtatiously.
"I have been to a few of these type of soirees before – nothing too vulgar. There is always one interesting woman—beautiful, elegant, intelligent, amusing….and bored at home with her husband, come looking for a little thrill."
"That is quite presumptuous of you," Julia answered. "You can hardly say you know me…" she teasingly replied, stepping closer to the youth and fingering his shirt collar.
"I'd say that describes you perfectly," he interrupted. "There's no point in denying that you are married, you may not wear any rings, but I can still see where they have left their mark," he murmured, tracing the indention where her wedding rings had been until last night. "Or perhaps it feels as if your husband is bored with you…?" the young man asked, placing his hands around her waist and pulling her into him.
William was beside himself—appalled at what he was eavesdropping over and eager to leave, whilst being just as transfixed by wanting to know Julia's answer. When he got it he nearly gave himself away by banging his head on the top of the small space.
"Well, young man, perhaps you are right on both counts….," she replied as he took her mouth with his, clearly trying to kiss her with his tongue.
Hoping she would reprimand the boy, scolding him for his forwardness, William was dismayed that she did the opposite, apparently enjoying the boy's attentions.
In fact, she didn't even flinch when the boy slipped his hand up her short skirt. Julia admonished him for taking such liberties with her, but she didn't seem that upset about it either.
William was both hurt and angry at the same time, when his evening took another immediate turn for the worse. All of a sudden, the door opened and in walked none other than Robert Graham.
Despite his roiling emotions, William fought back his instinct to immediately flee, stopping only to grab Julia and Nina. Instead he cautioned himself to remain calm, straining to see and hear what the man was up to.
Forcing himself to think and use his logic and police training, William soon noticed that Graham was not removing his coat, which hopefully meant that the man wasn't staying long. In fact, Graham called over two of the party's guests and motioned them to accompany him outside.
Taking advantage of the raucous noise coming from the party, William pushed himself backwards in the ventilation shaft, so that he could overhear the conversation in the hall. Soon joining Graham outside were two older men, one of them the father of the forward youth acquainting himself with Julia.
William got as close as he could, but he strained to make out their conversation.
"…have to wait. We can't go forward right now. Too much attention looking at us," Graham defended himself.
"…you said the meddlesome people were taken care of, bought off," one of the men countered.
"It's just for a week or two at the most. It's not permanent. Ever since Franklin Williams' untimely death, there's too much attention on the project and my connection to Williams. I believe Chief Davis is taking care of the rest. We need to wait," Graham reassured them.
"This is not going to make our investors happy," one of the men replied.
"It's just temporary. I can't go forward right now. Just give me a few weeks, and we proceed," Graham promised.
After the exchange of a few more heated words uttered in low voices, the men dispersed, with two returning to the party and Graham quickly departing rapidly.
William turned the information over in his head.
Interesting that the other men mentioned nothing about murder…they think people have been bought off, not killed off…and Franklin Williams is now dead as well?
He knew he had to get to Davis' "keys" or notes as soon as possible and hopefully exert pressure on the Chief Constable. Now he had to find out how Williams met his end. Was it as the result of his wound from Julia, or was it by someone elses's hand?
