~Chapter Eleven~

~ Station No. 4

"Did he say why he was there, Hodge?" Inspector Lamb asked the constable under his breath as they both stood outside the station interrogation room. Beyond the grill, Marshall Kingman was pacing the room, unable to sit still while he waited for the inspector.

"No sir. He seemed so…nervous, when we found him at the rail yard. Contradicted himself he did. We thought for a minute he might be fleeing the area, considering all the trains and that he had a valise with him."

Hodge's feet and legs ached painfully from hunting Mr. Kingman all over Toronto – finally locating him at the city freight yard where the man ostensibly had gone on business. Hodge was so looking forward to his new promotion as Sergeant, if for no other reason it took him permanently off foot patrol. The position, the responsibility and the pay were nothing compared to the relief on his feet! "Sir, we know he has changed his story more than once, and was not shooting skeet as he claimed. Now he says he went to the rifle club, but decided against shooting to take a nice walk in the woods instead. My instincts say there is more."

"Everybody lies, Hodge. We know that. Everyone has secrets they do not want revealed. The question is from whom, and exactly what, he is hiding." Lamb was thoughtful.

"Well sir, it's easier to lie about things you've lived," Hodge offered that bit of wisdom from his many years on the job, "so he used his habit of going to his club to shoot as a cover for other activities. Maybe he was merely hiding from his wife something he preferred she did not know; I wonder if Mrs. Kingman understands about her financial situation any more than Mrs. Walters knew about hers." The two men looked at each other. "Sir, could Mrs. Walters really have killed her husband out of revenge for his lies and for nearly bankrupting them—essentially stealing from her?" He nodded to Kingman who was still pacing, "Or because Dr. Walters was choosing Mr. Kingman's financial welfare over her own?"

"That is hardly a noble motive, and makes her no less a murderer." Lamb put his hand on the door knob. "We know Mrs. Walters is lying about where she was. I am going to find out what Mr. Kingman is hiding. You go bring his wife in, and we'll see what happens when we stir the pot."

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~Cabbagetown

Julia gave herself a draught of Willlowbark extract for her head, then called Mr. Gordon's office to leave a message outlining what she and William concluded regarding a shooter positioned across the street, and making sure Gordon understood their information on Mr. Kingman. Dennie and Mrs. Hastings were busy finishing preparations for Joseph's sister's arrival and arranging the house for the following day's wake. The decision for a closed coffin was fortuitous, Julia thought. Her father shut himself in his rooms, banishing even Mrs. Hill, which suited Julia just fine.

For her part, she was determined to see about Katie Tough. "I need to speak with her," she had insisted, over the objections of the entire household.

"Well, only if I go with you. I won't be persuaded otherwise." This was from William Murdoch. Much to Julia's relief, he was the only one who did not outright block her idea. He had been rather determined to help as well, bustling off to get the pony trap harnessed by Mr. Granger.

"You don't have that much time," he told her. "Get in, I'll drive."

She had no choice but to comply, shoving a long pin through her black chapeau and getting into the carriage seat.

That was twenty minutes ago. Julia's headache lifted but she fidgeted more the closer they rode to Dyer Lane, plucking the edge of the handkerchief in her lap. "I am very worried about Mrs. Tough, worried that something must have happened to her. I cannot for the life of me understand why she would deny that I was with her, considering I was there for hours. Besides, someone else would have had to see me!" She was scared for Katie, wondering what could have happened. So many images intruded into her thoughts she squeezed her eyes shut against them.

'For the life of me,' indeed. William considered her words literally. Julia might be right about that. "I think you need to start worrying about yourself. We need to find someone who can verify your story." His hope was that they could do so without being charged with intimidating a witness or interfering with an investigation.

Julia was instantly defensive, her headache threatening again. "My 'story'?" Her hands kneaded her black skirt, rutching the fabric into wrinkles with her damp palms.

"You know what I mean." William maneuvered the vehicle through traffic, trying to decide what would be encouraging without being patronizing. "If not Mrs. Tough, then someone else. Besides, perhaps Detective Slorach was lying about your patient's statement, or exaggerating. I know the authorities manipulate suspects that way."

She reviewed the triumph in Detective Slorach's eyes as he made his accusations. "Oh, no. I don't think so. You did not see and hear him, Mr. Murdoch…er, William. He presented it as the crowning proof of my guilt." She looked around. Dyer Lane somehow looked different than the last time she was here, despite it being the same factory smells and the same brick tenements; today the walls seemed to loom ominously over her. She pointed to their destination. "There it is. I tied up the pony and gear on the left where there was a little shade."

William saw one of the problems right away—there must have been six other one-horse conveyances on the narrow lane. One probably looked as much like another, meaning that no one would find Julia's rig remarkable for any reason. "I don't suppose you paid a few pennies to a street urchin on Friday to mind your horse?"

She shook her head. "We are going to number twelve, on the fourth floor, door 17." William secured the pony and came around to her side. Instead of merely handing her down, he picked her up by her waist and swung her over the side of the carriage platform. It seemed natural for him to do so, and for her to put her hands on his shoulders.

In that moment she was transported—back to when she first met him, under tragic, gruesome circumstances. Back then she already had an inkling her marriage was turning out to be one of distant affection, a boring routine after less than three years. Her once dynamic and garrulous husband lost interest in his domestic life, focusing his energy instead on gentlemanly pursuits of cards and clubs. He'd even eschewed their once-mutual enthusiasm for reading or lectures on new scientific developments. Oh, they still went to all the 'right' social events, the theatre, the opera, the concerts, but the intensity of his interest was definitely not on their marriage. In that, her marriage was similar to most of the other women she knew. In contrast, William and Liza Murdoch were newly-weds of less than three months, clearly in the first flush of marital bliss. Julia had admired the couple for their warmth and sweetness, something which never diminished, even through their travails until Liza's awful death.

Julia also admired William's friendship with and loyalty to his wife, and apparent imperviousness to temptation.

None of that erased the truth: from the first time she saw him, she knew… she just knew—William Murdoch was the one. The stiff and proper, tea-totaling, oh-so serious, married, Catholic, school teacher, was the one, completely unattainable man she was undeniably attracted to, mind, body and soul. When she realized it, the power of it rocked her to her core, and sent her scurrying away so she could take a clean, guilt-free breath again. She never let on, never wished to disrespect him, his lovely wife, nor humiliate herself by disclosing her unwanted yet persistent feeling that in this life her one true match, her ultimate happiness, was an unrealized fantasy. She blocked the thoughts, refused to indulge in childish, romantic longings and firmly put those feelings aside. She thought perhaps they died their inevitable death.

But there was Julia, wrapped up in his strong arms so close she could smell the soap he used, see his long black eye lashes make shadows on his cheeks, her heart fluttering wildly. From one heartbeat to the next, the tremendous gift of recognition, of connection, strung between them. Their eyes met and stuck there, until William blushed (or at least she thought he did) and released her.

It had all lasted only a few seconds. Julia was unsure if it happened at all, but then she stole a glance at her companion. He seemed to be all calm and business like, except Julia saw a small quirk in the side of his mouth and his hand brush his forehead. He felt something too!

Julia took the lead up the narrow stairs, so that she could hide her face and gather herself to speak with Katie. William followed two steps behind, up the four flights, the air hotter and more oppressive with each storey, the smell of onions and cabbage permeating every floor. She listened at number seventeen, heard the sounds of children and their mother, then knocked on the door, hoping Katie's common law husband was not there and still at his job until quitting time at six. That gave her and William barely thirty minutes.

"Wot is't?" Katie's voice came through the door.

Julia pounded again, not wanting to say her name in case that ensured Katie would never open. There were scraping and shuffling sounds, then the door creaked open, revealing half of Katie's Tough's pale face.

"My God! Wot are y' doin' here?" Katie's voice was a hiss, her eyes wild. "Why'd you bring a copper, another one of them detectives? If Jimmy sees you…"

Julia made sure her foot was between the door and frame. "Katie, please. This is my friend, Mr. Murdoch. He is a teacher, not the police. I must speak with you, starting out with how are you? Are you alright?" She did not have to fake any sincerity—she was indeed concerned about Katie—relieved she was there and alive for starters. When she got a nod and an "OK" out of her, she smiled reassuringly at Katie. "Mrs. Tough, may we come in please? I have some questions about what you told the police when they asked you if I was with you on Friday."

William hung back, letting Julia take the lead, but Mrs. Tough kept eyeing him instead. "Are you sure you ain't no copper? Y' look like one, although I have t' say you're a slight more bang up t' the elephant than most."

William had no idea what that colloquialism meant, but got the gist. "Mrs. Tough, I assure you I have nothing to do with the constabulary; I am merely escorting Nurse Ogden. We have come all this way just to see you. Won't you please speak with her?" William entreated kindly, using his most charming expression, the one he usually reserved for the most difficult mothers of the most difficult students at Sommerbank Academy. He held his breath and his smile. It almost always works…. The door opened and she came out into the hall… And there it was… Katie flicking her eyes left and right before settling her arms across her bosom protectively.

"I got two minutes 'afore my husband'll be back an' I don't need him seeing you here. Nurse Ogden, I am so sorry, but what's so important?" Katie looked skeptically at William then searched Julia's face.

"Please, Mrs. Tough…Katie, can you just please tell us exactly what you told the officer who interviewed you?" Julia asked, her gaze never leaving Katie's face.

"They comes pounding on my door, jus' like you did. I thought you sent 'em to arrest Jimmy for hittin' me! Did you?" Her eyes creased in anger until Julia shook her head and reassured her 'No.' "Then they was askin' about you. But I could not tell them you was here Friday, not in front of Jimmy, not when he was still so sore about losin' the baby. He'd come back you see and I din't want him t' leave again. So I had t' tell 'em 'no.' " She smiled a bit, her face pinking up. "My Jimmy, he act'ally sent them coppers on their way, sayin' he was with me the whole time and for them t' mind their own knitting." She lowered her voice to a bare whisper.

William and Julia looked at each other. "My goodness. I see chivalry is not yet dead," Julia mumbled, careful to keep the sarcasm out of her voice.

William spoke up. "Mrs. Tough, there has to be a way for you to tell the truth to the constabulary. You may not know this, but Nurse Ogden's husband, Dr. Walters, was killed on Friday, right about the time she was helping you with your, er….troubles. She needs you to confirm she was with you…"

Julia saw Katie's face freeze, then fall. "Oh my, I'm so very sorry. I, umm, don't read the papers." All her defensiveness melted away, tears springing to her eyes in sympathy. "So much death…" She grabbed Julia hands and held them. "Listen, I can't do that now—I can't have Jimmy find out you was here!" Her voice remained tight and scared.

"Mrs. Tough, you can do it in a way that your husband need never find out." William said gently. He hoped that was true, sensing that was the only way this woman was going to cooperate. Beside him, Julia was intently focused on her patient, seemingly to will the woman into agreeing. "We can have an officer come by…"

"No! Don't you dare!" The hiss was back. "I will take care of this, I promise, because you took such good care of me, Nurse Ogden, but you have t' go. Now!" With that, Katie vanished behind her grimy wooden door.

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~ Station House No. 4

Afternoon light did not penetrate the interview room where suspect and interrogator squared off on either side of a wooden table. Mrs. Kingman was sipping tea in Detective Slorach's office a few yards away, which was just enough pressure to get her husband chattering like a magpie once offered the promise his statement would remain confidential as long as he told the whole truth and nothing but the truth. Inspector Lamb was flummoxed by the story Mr. Kingman was selling. After admitting he slipped away from the shooting club for a round of gambling in one of the property's small outbuildings followed by an assignation with the wife of his business partner, Kingman was still holding something back. Lamb could not figure out what could possibly be even more sordid which needed to be hidden.

Marshall Kingman was adamant: "No, inspector, I did not think Joseph Walters was suicidal! That is ludicrous. He was upset that I was pressuring him, quite naturally… grumpy perhaps, but he made no despondent statement to me."

"But he discussed his Will with you. Did that not seem odd?" Lamb questioned.

"Yes! He told me about his insurance policy and changing his Will." Kingman scoffed, his blonde hair unevenly raked across his head after so many times pulling his fingers through it in frustration. "He thought that I'd be satisfied his debt to me was going to be paid no matter what, by making it all legit that way. I told him that was not good enough, so two weeks ago he said he'd work something else out, and yes he seemed a bit off his feed after that, but I thought he was just trying to manipulate me. I do not know how he was getting the money!"

"So you admit you were skeptical you'd get paid by your deadline after all. You did not see how he was going to do it?" Lamb's thoughts were trying to sort through every fact he knew so far from the case, all the time-lines and witness a statements. "Mr. Kingman, you are almost the only one who directly benefits from Dr. Walters' demise. His scheme for legitimizing your loan to him and guaranteeing you'd be paid has worked perfectly. That is a powerful motive to kill him."

"Inspector, really!" Kingman whined. "First he told me he was going to borrow the money from his father in law. Then he came back and said that was no longer the plan and came up with the insurance and Will scheme. Then he said never mind, he'd get the money after all…it's just that …" Kingman stopped dead, his round face getting choleric with distress and his eyes showing too much of the whites. "Well, he told me his father in law was not too long for this world…."

Lamb just stared back as he let the silence build. "So what did you think?"

Kingman burst out with it. "I do not wish to speak ill of the dead, inspector, but when I heard that there was a doctor shot dead and it was at the Ogden house, I did not think suicide…. Er…actually my first thought was Joseph had killed Dr. Ogden."

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~ Cabbagetown

Wordlessly, Julia and William descended the stairs to retrieve the pony trap, moving off in the opposite direction from which James Hammond was going to make his way home. Once clear of the narrow laneways, William headed west towards Sherbourne. Next to him, Julia was silent, so he let that be, assuming she was still processing her conversation with Katie Tough. At least he hoped it was that and not that she was upset with him for manhandling her out of the trap like that. What were you thinking? he asked himself. I have no idea where that impulse came from. I must figure out a way to apologize that does not embarrass either of us…

Of course, his other, inner voice whispered, you know knew exactly where the impulse had come from…roaring up at him from some unnamed primal place within. He'd always enjoyed a particular intellectual spark which flared between them when they interacted—sustained over about six years of their acquaintance. Julia was an intelligent, beautiful woman who had been more important to him than he realized. She hadn't just been a nurse to him and Liza—she had been a true friend to them both, and he had missed her.

In all that time it never occurred to him to want her…

The whole notion was outrageous and improper in the extreme. He grunted inwardly, knowing he was being love-struck ridiculous, just like his ward, Jack Brown, who was mooning over a girl in the candy shop the boy had never even spoken to. William knew such immature flightiness did not sit well on a man of his own age and station. He stole a glance at Julia, a lift in his heart betraying whatever it was he was feeling in her presence, and vowed he would never humiliate either of them by allowing the subject. He had a plan to restart his life which did not include Nurse Julia Ogden. He tightened his fists on the reins and went back to the more immediate problem: how to clear her name. Just to be safe, he thought he'd better revert back to calling her by her professional title.

"William?" she asked.

Just the way she said his name….his resolve to maintain distance sailed away. "Yes, Julia?"

"I am concerned that Katie is still in danger from her husband. I think before we explain the situation to the constabulary and have them get her statement, it is only right that I make arrangements for her to be safe." She ran several ideas over in her head before a smile erupted from her lips. "I can ask Mrs. Carter if she can find a place for Katie and the children in Hamilton, perhaps even a job in her tobacco factory," she said excitedly. "They can be on a train tonight. Mr. Crabtree explained I still have some money of my own to underwrite it." Julia beamed in delight. "Yes! It is perfect."

"What if she declines?" William frowned. "Worse yet, you could get charged with bribing a witness," he cautioned.

Julia hadn't thought of that. "I have to trust her to tell the truth no matter the consequences…that is also why I feel obligated to offer her safety to mitigate those consequences, whether she takes me up on it or not."

"'The truth is the rock upon which we must stand, no matter the consequences,'" William quoted under his breath, then repeated when she asked him to. "It is just something I learned a very long time ago from one of my first teachers. His words are the words I recall whenever I have a difficult decision to make." It was only much later you learned how painful and how much sacrifice came from absolute truth at all times, he reminded himself.

He halted the pony at a large intersection for the north-south city artery of Sherbourne Street. "Left towards Detective Slorach or right towards your home?"

"First we stop to see Mr. Crabtree about exactly how to go about selling the remaining stocks, then home, please, William," she said, spontaneously taking his elbow and smiling a little. Perhaps I can persuade Mr. Crabtree to bring me a dram of Scotch, by way of celebration. "Soon this will all be behind me."

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